— s 
 
 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 0: 
 
 ^p; 
 
 l7 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 0'3.
 
 COURSE OF LECTURES 
 
 INTRODUCTORY TO THE STUDY 
 
 OF 
 
 MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED 1!Y R. CLAY, BREAD-STUEET- HILL.
 
 COURSE OF LECTURES 
 
 INTRODUCTORY TO 
 
 THE STUDY 
 
 OF 
 
 MORAL PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 DELIVERED IN 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 
 
 IN LENT TERM, MDCCCXXXV. 
 
 BY 
 
 RENN DICKSON HAMPDEN, D.D. 
 
 PRINCIPAL OF ST. MARY HALL, 
 PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 B. FELLOWES, LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 1835.
 
 jOOLo 
 
 TO 
 
 THE REV. THE VICE-CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY, 
 
 THE VERY REV. THE DEAN OF CHRISTCHURCH, 
 
 THE REV. THE PRESIDENT OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE, 
 
 THE REV. THE PRESIDENT OF ST. JOHN's COLLEGE, 
 
 THE REV. THE SENIOR PROCTOR, 
 
 THE REV. THE JUNIOR PROCTOR, 
 
 Cfie lEIcctors 
 
 ON THE 
 
 FOUNDATION OF DR. WHITk's LECTURE IN MORAL PHILOSOPHY, 
 IN THE YEAR 1834, 
 
 THESE INTRODUCTORY LECTURES 
 
 ARE 
 
 RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 THEIR OBLIGED AND FAITHFUL SERVANT, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 St. Mary Hall, OxfORo, 
 October \st, 1835. 
 
 1308;VtO •
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 These Lectures, it will be perceived, 
 have immediately in view the class of 
 hearers to whom they were addressed ; 
 but it is hoped, at the same time, they 
 may be generally useful to any who have 
 not yet sufficiently thought on the nature 
 of Moral Science, or of its real importance 
 and interest. 
 
 Happily for Physical Science, a degree 
 of public attention has lately been at- 
 tracted to it, which promises the best 
 results in regard both to its advancement 
 in itself, and its more general diffusion 
 as a branch of education. I rejoice in
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 the circumstance ; and would not by 
 any means desire any portion ot that 
 attention withdrawn, or the zeal for 
 physical inquiry in the least abated. 
 But I am concerned for the cause of 
 Moral Science, and am most anxious 
 that it also should enlist in its service 
 the endeavours of those, who are now 
 so laudably promoting the well-being of 
 man, by enlarging the resources of his 
 mind. 
 
 It cannot indeed be expected that the 
 same kind of general interest should be 
 excited in the cause of Moral Science, 
 which has been exhibited recently in 
 that of Physical. There is not the like 
 occasion here for communicating results 
 of experiments, and comparing disco- 
 veries, and reporting progress, as in 
 physical pursuits ; and not that call, 
 therefore, for social exertion in the
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 cause. Wliat is to be wished is, that 
 Moral Science might enter more into 
 the business of education than it does 
 at present,— that an introduction to that 
 knowledge of our own nature which the 
 investigations of moralists and metaphy- 
 sicians have brought to light, should at 
 least be held as indispensable to the 
 educated man, as an acquaintance with 
 the elements of chemistry or astronomy 
 is generally esteemed. 
 
 The University of Oxford may seem 
 to have done its part in this respect, by 
 the provision which it has made, that 
 works of Ancient Philosophy shall be 
 studied by all candidates for classical 
 honours. My experience, however, in 
 the office of Public Examiner, has led 
 me to observe, that something more is 
 wanting on the part of our students, 
 than a mere reading of the works of the
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ancient masters of Moral Science, to 
 answer the spirit of the University re- 
 quisition. I have reason to believe 
 that our highest classical honours have 
 been not un frequently attained by per- 
 sons who, in fact, were ignorant of the 
 very nature of Moral Philosophy, — who 
 had read through the Ethics of Aristotle, 
 and made themselves masters of his text, 
 without knowing the connexion of that 
 work with Moral Philosophy, much less 
 its bearing on any of the questions dis- 
 cussed in modern speculation. The 
 simply lecturing on any book tends to 
 such an effect A knowledge of the 
 author, or rather of his text, becomes a 
 substitute for a study of the subject ; 
 and the pupil is naturally rendered more 
 expert in enumerating the arguments of 
 a philosopher, than in examining his 
 principles andweighing his evidence.
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 My chief design, accordingly, in pub- 
 lishing these Lectures, as it was in the 
 delivery of them, is to put the student 
 of the ancient philosophers on his guard 
 against the natural effect of the system 
 in which he is trained. I do not con- 
 demn that system in itself: for I think 
 it most desirable that such works as the 
 Treatises of Aristotle should be read 
 with that exactness which the present 
 practice of the University enforces. But 
 I desire to furnish him, at once, with a 
 supplement and an introduction to his 
 more exact studies ; — to assist him in 
 making his familiarity with the text of 
 Ancient Philosophy subservient to a 
 more enlarged knowledge of the inte- 
 resting matter contained in it. It is 
 but little indeed that I have actually 
 accomplished, in that way, by these 
 introductory observations ; but the active
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 mind, I trust, will find enough to set it 
 thinking in the riglit train, and will 
 make the work, what I intend it to be, 
 an instrument of suggestion in order to 
 a wider view of the points on which I 
 have touched.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 POPULAR VIEWS OF THE SUBJECT CONSIDERED. 
 
 p 
 Misconception prevalent respecting the nature of 
 
 Moral Philosophy. — Design of the present Course 
 of Lectures. — DiiRculty of addressing the general 
 hearer greater than in imparting physical know- 
 ledge. — Confusion of Practical Rules of Morality 
 with Scientific — and of Ethical Truth with Reli- 
 gious. — Independence of Moral Philosophy on 
 Revealed Religion argued. — Modern notions on 
 the subject derived from the early competition 
 between Christianity and Philosophy .... 
 
 LECTURE II. 
 
 CHARACTER AND IMPORTANCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Moral Philosophy not to be wholly identified with 
 Ethics. — Advantage of Physical Science in point 
 of immediate interest. — Popular distaste for moral
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 disquisition. — How far experimenting is practicable 
 in moral inquiry. — Benefits of the study of Moral 
 Philosophy: — 1. As concerns the conduct of in- 
 dividuals — 2. For the regulation of society — 
 — 3. In order to right views of religious truth — 
 4. As the study of principles, which are the ulti- 
 mate criteria of all human knowledge .... 35 
 
 LECTURE III. 
 
 PRINCIPLE OF MORAL INQUIRY. 
 
 General observations on the Nature of all Science. — 
 That man is in himself a Principle of Activity, the 
 great principle of Moral Inquiry. — Moral Actions 
 the proper evidence of this Activity — These to be 
 explored in their internal nature. — Tendency of 
 Moral Philosophy to strengthen man's natural 
 power. — Its connexion with Religion, and their 
 mutual reference in working the good of man . 69 
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 METHOD OF MORAL INVESTIGATION. 
 
 Method of Investigation the same in general in Morals 
 as in Physics. — Inquiry into Final Causes, the 
 method peculiar to the moralist. — Final Cause, in 
 the original sense, not implying Design, but mere 
 Tendency, or relation of parts to each other and to 
 a whole. — Doctrine of Final Causes strictly indis- 
 pensable in moral investigation. — Illustrations of it 
 from the History of Philosophy 105
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 NATURE OF MORAL EVIDENCE. 
 
 PA'iE 
 
 Contrast of physical and moral facts in point of 
 uniformity. — Moral facts more variable relatively to 
 human observation, but in principle more stable. — 
 Nature of Moral Evidence illustrated: — 1. By 
 reference to the use of moral precepts and laws — 
 2. As varied by the endless variety of distinct 
 moral systems in the individuals of which human 
 nature consists — 3. As varied also by the force of 
 imitation. — Consideration of Locke's assertion con- 
 cerning the demonstrativeness of Morality. — The 
 evidence in moral subjects properly characterized 
 by the term Analogy 143 
 
 LECTURE VL 
 
 CLASSIFICATION OF MORAL SCIENCES. 
 
 Two general divisions of Moral Philosophy into — 
 L The science of Moral Facts as they are in 
 nature — IL The science of what ought to be. — 
 To the first head belong — The Philosophy of 
 Human Nature in general — Rhetoric — Poetics — 
 Criticism — Logic — Politics. — To the second head 
 belong Ethics. — Ethics divided into two heads : 
 1. The Subjective, or Theory of the Moral Senti- 
 ments ; 2. The Objective, or Theory of Natural 
 Religion — Theory of the Moral Sentiments divided 
 again into two heads: 1. The inquiry into the 
 Nature of Virtue ; 2. The inquiry into the Crite- 
 rion of Virtue. — Explanation of Natural Religion 
 as the transcendental science of Moral Philosophy . 181
 
 XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 METHOD OF STUDYING MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Moral preparation on the \r,wt of each individual the 
 first requisite. — Moral conclusions from the same 
 data varying in different persons. — Importance of 
 personal observation. — The two methods of inquiry- 
 stated. — Three general rules given for the study of 
 moral theories : — 1. To consider the antecedents of 
 each by acquaintance with the History of Philosophy 
 — 2. To avoid excess in pursuit of consistency of 
 system — 3. To guard against the delusion of tech- 
 nical terms. — Course of reading to be followed. — 
 Distinction of Speculative and Practical Moral 
 Treatises. — In conclusion, the importance of Moral 
 Philosophy in reference to the interpretation of 
 Christian Doctrines 227
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 Moral Science has been the subject of more 
 misconception and confusion of thought than 
 other branches of human knowledge. Were 
 we to put the question to several persons, 
 what they respectively understood by Moral 
 Philosophy, we should probably obtain a dif- 
 ferent answer from each. Some, with Paley, 
 would identify it with " Ethics, Casuistry, 
 Natural Law," as " the science which teaches 
 men their duty and the reasons of it." Others, 
 taking larger views, would extend the name to 
 the science of human nature generally, — to 
 the intellectual as well as the active powers 
 of man. Some, again, would interpret it 
 simply in a practical sense, as a methodical 
 statement of the precepts of right conduct : 
 whilst others would characterise it as the 
 Theory of the Moral Sentiments. And most 
 perhaps would be found, when they came more 
 
 B
 
 I LECTURE 1. 
 
 fully to explain their views, to have very in- 
 distinct notions on the subject. 
 
 The prevalent misapprehensions are owing 
 to the peculiar character of moral science, as 
 comprising inquiries into the facts and laws of 
 our own nature ; and in no little degree, per- 
 haps, to the very imperfect manner in which 
 its principles have been set forth by popular 
 writers. That the inquiries themselves which 
 belong to this head of science, are beset with 
 difficulties of their own, every person will 
 readily admit who has been the least con- 
 versant with them ; and that in truth there is 
 no department of study, in which the patience 
 of thought, and largeness of view, of the philo- 
 sopher, are more strictly required. But over 
 and above this intrinsic difficulty of the matter, 
 every one brings with him from early educa- 
 tion, from the course of his reading, or his 
 own casual observation, some kind of general 
 acquaintance with moral subjects; and when 
 he first proceeds to the regular study of moral 
 philosophy, finds himself in the situation of 
 one who has been badly taught and has much 
 to unlearn. So that, without perhaps arro- 
 gating too nmch to himself, the professor of 
 this branch of science may fairly claim of the 
 general hearer a double portion of attention,
 
 LECTURE I. O 
 
 in order to bring the matter of which he treats 
 distinctly before their view : not unhke the 
 celebrated musician of old, who inflicted the 
 payment of a double stipend on those who had 
 learned beforehand of another master. The 
 world, and his own desultory studies and ob- 
 servations, are here the bad masters of whom 
 the student has learned beforehand; and he 
 must come prepared to forget the erroneous 
 lessons of these, if he would sit as a genuine 
 disciple at the feet of Socrates, and Plato, and 
 Aristotle, and purely drink of the wisdom of 
 these master-spirits in the school of moral 
 science. 
 
 I shall address myself accordingly, in the 
 present Course of Lectures, which I intend to 
 be a general introduction to the study of Moral 
 Philosophy, in the first instance, to the clear- 
 ing up of some popular misconceptions as to 
 its nature, and to the illustration of it in con- 
 trast with physical science ; pointing out, at 
 the same time, the strength of its claims to an 
 independent and zealous pursuit on its own in- 
 trinsic merits. I shall then be able to proceed 
 more satisfactorily to lay before you my views of 
 the true nature of Moral Philosophy ; the prin- 
 ciples on which it proceeds ; the leading heads 
 
 b2
 
 4 LECTURE I. 
 
 into which its inquiries may be divided ; and 
 the manner in which it ought to be studied. 
 These will form the principal particulars to 
 which I shall call your attention in the pre- 
 sent Introductory Course. 
 
 In the study of the external world, every 
 one readily admits his ignorance, previously 
 to some initiation into its mysteries by the 
 masters of science ; and is disposed in general 
 to receive the information imparted, without 
 questioning it at each point by the assump- 
 tions of his own untutored judgment. It is 
 true that the philosophers, who led the way in 
 the improvement of physical science, had to 
 encounter a fearful opposition from the rulers 
 of public opinion, who felt a superstitious 
 jealousy in the cause of true religion. But 
 even here it was not physical, but moral truth, 
 that excited the alarm and the resistance. 
 In the admission of the new physical philo- 
 sophy, the certainty of the religious system 
 taught by the church was conceived to be 
 overthrown; and the theory of the earth's 
 motion was condemned, not with the reason 
 of the king of Siam, because it was contrary 
 to experience, but because it militated with 
 moral convictions. In general, instruction in
 
 LECTURE I. 5 
 
 physical truth is received with deference. Men 
 listen with a kind of credulousness, as to the 
 stories of a traveller over new ground, to one 
 who discourses to them of the wonders of the 
 natural world. Moral truth, on the other 
 hand, has to stand the suspicions and cross- 
 examination of every one in the crowd, whe- 
 ther philosopher or no philosopher. Every 
 one flatters himself that he knows something 
 of moral science — if not of its formal enunci- 
 ations, at least of its real interior truths. 
 And so we might say he did, if we admitted the 
 Platonic doctrine, that knowledge is nothing 
 but reminiscence. For, by close and well- 
 directed questions, we might probably elicit 
 from any intelligent person, all the funda- 
 mental truths of the science, in the same 
 manner in which Socrates, in the Meno of 
 Plato, shows, by the experiment on a slave, 
 that the principles of mathematical truth are 
 in the mind itself. Every individual so far 
 has the truths in himself: they are part of 
 the furniture of his mind ; and, by appeal to 
 his consciousness, may be shewn to exist 
 there. 
 
 From the constant occasion, too, which 
 every one has of acting on some moral prin- 
 ciple or other, those principles on which men
 
 6 LECTURE I. 
 
 habitually act, become to them as instincts of 
 truth, and the representatives of all that is 
 to be known in morals. They feel no need of 
 a sage to discourse to them of what is regarded 
 as already familiar to their minds. Practical 
 rules, in fact, are not uncommonly mistaken 
 for scientific, here, as also in other sciences of 
 ordinary use. The practical arithmetician, 
 for example, is apt to mistake the rules and 
 processes which he familiarly employs, for 
 fundamental principles of the science. The 
 learner of logic confounds the technicalities of 
 his compendium with the real elements of the 
 process of reasoning. The carpenter probably 
 little suspects that there is any more recondite 
 knowledge of the subject, when he judges of 
 the perpendicularity of his work, by applying 
 his square and plumb-line. 
 
 It is just so in morals. Here there are 
 abundance of practical rules, of admirable use 
 i'or our direction in conduct, but which fall 
 far short of the accuracy and truth of scientific 
 principles of ethics. Take, for instance, the 
 popular maxim : — " Do as you would be done 
 by." How concise and ready a rule is here, 
 to decide the waverings of selfishness ! How 
 ])lain a precept for the simple intellect and 
 heart ! And yet this rule, if understood as a
 
 LECTURE T. 
 
 speculative truth of ethics, would present a 
 very fallacious basis for the construction of a 
 system. And so Paley well observes respect- 
 ing it : — •' I could feign an hundred cases, in 
 which the hteral application of the rule of 
 * doing to others as we would that others 
 should do unto us,' might mislead us ; but I 
 never yet met with the man," he pointedly 
 adds, " who was actually misled by it."^ 
 
 Again, *' Honesty is the best poUcy," is 
 another instance to the same effect. For, 
 suppose a person hesitating about some duty 
 that requires a sacrifice of feeling or of imme- 
 diate interest. How ready a correction and 
 support, at the moment, does such a maxim 
 administer ! so easily remembered, so plainly 
 and closely put in epigrammatic form. And 
 yet, take this maxim as an ethical principle ; 
 and to what immoral conclusions should we 
 not be led! It would at once abolish all 
 esvsential distinction between right and wrong, 
 were it held as speculatively true, that the 
 tendency of an act, its being expedient or not 
 expedient, were the test of its honesty. 
 
 Indeed the whole of our Scripture admoni- 
 tions and precepts are illustrations of the same 
 
 « Evidences, Vol. II. p. 54. Ed. 1816.
 
 O LECTURE I. 
 
 point. For the Scriptures addressing them- 
 selves to men at large, and not to the instructed 
 scientific intellect, avoid all statement of 
 scientific principles, and give such directions 
 of conduct as are of immediate practical force 
 and useful application. They are greatly 
 perverted if their wise and practical precepts, 
 so skilfully and benevolently provided for the 
 actual exigencies of our present condition in 
 the w^orld, are construed into laws of our 
 moral nature. The fallacy and mischief of 
 such a proceeding are not merely matter of 
 inference. They are to be seen, not only as 
 contemplated in the systems of theorists, pre- 
 tending to found the whole of moral science on 
 Divine Revelation, but as practically instanced 
 in the lives of fanatics. But yet how ready 
 are we to suppose, that the practical ethics of 
 which we daily make use, are the substitute 
 for a scientific acquaintance with the truths 
 themselves ; and to imagine ourselves moral 
 philosophers, when we have not even saluted 
 the truth at the threshold ! 
 
 In the Protagoras of Plato, this point is 
 touched with tlie graphic energy and liveliness 
 in which that philosopher so greatly excels. 
 The question is started, *' Whether virtue is 
 capable of being taught ?" and the fact is
 
 LECTURE I. 9 
 
 brought forward, that, whilst men use all 
 pains to have their sons instructed in arts and 
 sciences, they totally omit their instruction in 
 virtue. From this fact an inference is drawn, 
 that virtue is not a thing to be taught ; since, 
 if it were so, it would be the great endeavour 
 and business of every one to procure in- 
 struction in it for his children ; whereas, 
 the abandonment of any such attempt is a 
 proof that the thing is impossible and hope- 
 less. But to this it is replied, as an account 
 of the fact, that what is every one's profession 
 is ostensibly that of no one in particular ; or, 
 as we say, what is every one's business is no 
 one's. Every one, in a civilized community, is 
 informed in virtue, to a certain extent ; and 
 therefore no one appears as a teacher of it 
 professionally ; it being supposed that all are 
 teachers, and all may learn from all, in such a 
 community. It may yet be true, therefore, 
 notwithstanding this fact, that virtue is 
 capable of being taught. 
 
 Now in this observation we have a picture 
 of that state of things to which the moral phi- 
 losopher has to address himself, in inculcating 
 the truths of his science. His hearers are all 
 engaged already in teaching his science, and he 
 is viewed almost as performing a superfluous
 
 10 LECTURE I. 
 
 task in bringing his lectures into competition 
 with their unprofessional wisdom. I do not 
 mean to say, of course, that any one objects 
 to a systematical exposition of ethical truths, 
 or that he dislikes the popular moral essay 
 which sets forth the well-known truth with 
 the charms of a graceful or dignified elo- 
 quence. But the fact is, that all receive 
 with jealousy whatever is advanced in this 
 science not in accordance with their pre- 
 vious notions. All feel that we are here 
 speaking of things which it concerns them 
 to know ; of which they cannot confess them- 
 selves ignorant, as of arts and sciences, with- 
 out shame ; as moral agents, who have, during 
 every moment of their lives, to be engaged in 
 some of the phenomena to which our prin- 
 ciples refer. " For men do not like to be 
 
 •* 'Ej/ yap rote aWaiQ apeTOiQ, &airip irv Xiyeig, kav tlq 
 <Py ayadue auXrjri^c eivai, V aWrjv iivTivovv ri-^QfrfV rjy firi 
 k(TTiVf J) KaTayeXwaiv, ?) ■^aXtTralvovai, koI ot ot/celot irpoffiovree 
 vovOerovaiy wg jxaivo^Evov' Iv he. hiKaioavvr] kox iv rrj a\\j] 
 TroXiTiKrj d^JSTrj, lav riva Kai elcuxriy on aSiKog iffrtv, tav ovtoq 
 avroQ Kad' avTov TdXr)dfj Xeyrj tvavriov TvoXXHjy, o ekei (TU)(ppo- 
 (Tvpr]v iiyovvTo Eirai, raXridfj XsyEiv, ivravda jxavlav' Kal (j)aai 
 TtavraQ ^eIv ^avat eJvai ()iKatovg, kav te waiy, tav re jAr}' i) 
 IxaivEirOuL tuv fjitj TrpoairoiovfXEVov hiKaiofXvvqv' (oQ avayKa'iov 
 ovcEva bvTiv nvyt ufjiwayETrwc fXETE^EW avTfjr, J) jxii eivat iv 
 avdpwTToic. — Plato. Protagor. p. 112. Ed. Eip.
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 11 
 
 thought ignorant or mistaken in matters 
 with which they seem to themselves prac- 
 tically competent to deal, and which they are 
 known to be exemplifying, either well or ill, 
 in their daily conduct. The rivalry between 
 practical and theoretical men, so often ob- 
 served in general, holds in a pecuHar degree 
 here. The practical men are already in the 
 field ; theirs are the actions ; theirs the suc- 
 cess in life : whilst the ethical theorist appears 
 to come too late into the scene of action, and 
 to be laying down principles and rules without 
 which the work has been already accom- 
 plished. What Locke quaintly and unphi- 
 losophically observes of logic, that " God 
 has not been so sparing to men, to make 
 them barely two-legged creatures, and left 
 it to Aristotle to make them rational,'"' is 
 felt very commonly in regard to moral dis- 
 quisition. It may not be stated in words, 
 but there is a lurking suspicion in the 
 minds of many, that it is a work of superero- 
 gation, to discourse of passions and sentiments 
 and actions, of which every one is equally 
 conscious beforehand, and of which not phi- 
 
 "= Essay on Human Understanding, book iv. chap. xvii. 
 p. 244.
 
 12 LECTURE I. 
 
 losophy, but common sense, is the best inter- 
 preter. 
 
 Particularly too among Christian hearers, 
 the theological prejudice operates most inju- 
 riously in the same way. They are apt to ima- 
 gine that Revelation has already done that for 
 them, which the moral philosopher purposes 
 to do. Their fears for the truth and import- 
 ance of scripture-morals are awakened. They 
 suppose that whatever is said in morality, in- 
 dependently of, or beyond, what the Scripture 
 has said, detracts from that truth and import- 
 ance. Because the precepts of Revelation are 
 -practically necessary and indispensable to him 
 that would be truly good and holy in the sight 
 \ of God, they therefore conceive these precepts 
 to be also theoretically necessary for the esta- 
 blishment of moral truth : than which there 
 cannot be a greater error. This is, in truth, 
 to invert the case. It is to argue, as has 
 been often observed, in a vicious circle. For 
 the evidence of Revelation refers itself ulti- 
 mately to our moral ideas. We believe a 
 miracle as an evidence of a divine mission, 
 not simply because it surprises us by an in- 
 fraction of the customary order of nature, but 
 because it is conformable to our purest, highest 
 views of the Divine Being ; and these views
 
 LECTURE I. 13 
 
 are only the expansions and elevations of 
 those instincts of right which exist in the 
 heart. I am wrong, perhaps, in speaking of 
 our moral ideas by the name of instincts, be- 
 cause it is not necessary for the argument. 
 It is enough that we have moral ideas, how- 
 ever obtained ; whether by original constitu- 
 tion of our nature, or factitiously, makes 
 no difference as to this point; it is clear, at 
 any rate, that without their pre-existence 
 in the heart, no revelation could be properly 
 accepted. 
 
 In proof, however, of the prevalence of a 
 persuasion of a theoretic connexion between 
 Revelation and Ethics, I may refer to the 
 opinions which, I have understood, were ex- 
 pressed in this place not very long ago ; 
 when the alteration of our academical course 
 of education was under review, and an im- 
 proved system of examination was first in- 
 stituted. It was then proposed by some, 
 that the ethical works of heathen philoso- 
 phers should be discarded, and those of 
 christian writers adopted in their stead. The 
 proposition, however, as we know, was re- 
 jected, and the ancient philosophy happily 
 maintained its ascendency ; because it was 
 thought, that to introduce the works of modern
 
 14 LECTURE I. 
 
 ethical writers, who have not taken their 
 standard of duty from the Scriptures, would 
 be much more to slight the authority of Reve- 
 lation, than to use those composed in entire 
 ignorance of Revelation. What I would re- 
 mark is, that a decision on these grounds 
 implies that revealed truth ought to form part 
 of the theory of Ethics ; the notion which 
 appears to me adverse to all sound philosophy 
 on the subject, and, as I have already hinted, 
 a misapplication of the business of Revelation. 
 I conceive this notion to be, in a great 
 measure, a cause of that scarcity of ethical 
 treatises which modern literature exhibits. 
 In the scholastic ages there is no dearth of 
 such treatises ; for, in those times, a work on 
 Ethics naturally formed part of a theological 
 course of instruction. Witness the famous 
 " Sum of Theology," of Thomas Aquinas ; of 
 which the most important constituent is the 
 portion familiarly known by the name of the 
 " Secunda Secundae," containing an exposition, 
 admirable indeed in itself for its exactness 
 and copiousness, of the ethical system of 
 Aristotle. But since the separation of philo- 
 sophy in general from theology, whilst other 
 sciences have profited largely by their inde- 
 pendent cultivation, there has remained a
 
 LECTURE I. 15 
 
 timidity of speculation in Ethics, a backward- 
 ness to use that hberty of reason here, which 
 has been so beneficially adopted in other 
 branches of knowledge. There is a sort of 
 superstition on the subject ; the demons of 
 impiety and profaneness haunt the imagina- 
 tion, when we contemplate the establishment 
 of moral obligations, independently of the 
 revealed will of God concerning a future state 
 of existence. 
 
 The great success of one particular trea- 
 tise of Moral Philosophy, that of Paley, not- 
 withstanding its entire poverty of information 
 concerning the active principles of human 
 nature, may be mainly attributed to this 
 feeling. The unreal ground of expediency, 
 indeed, on which Paley has rested all duty, 
 has reasonably awakened suspicion as to the 
 soundness of ethical principles so established. 
 But the fundamental piety of the specula- 
 tion, — making, as it does, expediency the crite- 
 rion of the will of God declared in Scripture, 
 and therefore merging Ethics into Religion, — 
 has won for that work an admiration to which 
 its intrinsic merits as a theory of duty are far 
 from entitling it. In consequence of this feel- 
 ing we find Moral Philosophy among ourselves 
 consigned rather to the pulpit than to the
 
 16 LECTUHK I. 
 
 chair of the Professor. Or where express trea- 
 tises have heen written, they have been chiefly 
 of a polemical character, in refutation of views 
 regarded as hostile to Christianity ; as, for 
 instance, the celebrated work of Cudworth, 
 his *' Treatise of Immutable Morality," written 
 in opposition to the false ethical doctrines of 
 Hobbes. It is only very lately that the pre- 
 sent professorship has been revived in this 
 University : my lamented predecessor in the 
 office, having been the first appointed to it 
 after a considerable lapse of time : and this 
 circumstance may in itself be regarded as a 
 symptom of the prevailing feehng on the sub- 
 ject. Thus it has been observed by the learned 
 and eloquent apologist of our system, in ac- 
 counting for the fact that no more distinct 
 provision should have been made in the Eng- 
 lish Universities for so important a science : 
 " It is to the pulpit that we are to look for 
 the fullest performance of this branch of edu- 
 cation ; and it is in this service that we see 
 called forth amongst us the greatest efforts of 
 moral and metaphysical reasoning." ^ This 
 statement of the case is exactly in accordance 
 
 ^ Reply to the Calumnies of the Edinburgh Review 
 against Oxford, containing an account of Studies pursued 
 in that University.— P. 178. Oxford, 1810.
 
 LECTURE I. 17 
 
 with the general history of Moral Philosophy 
 in our country. It may be enough to refer to 
 the moral and metaphysical discussions of 
 Samuel Clarke, as contained in his Sermons 
 at the Boyle Lecture, and to the moral philo- 
 sophy of Butler, as delivered in his Sermons 
 at the Rolls' Chapel. It appears, indeed, that 
 Paley's views of moral science were originally 
 developed in the same form. ^ 
 
 A circumstance which has strengthened the 
 prejudice against an independent moral phi- 
 losophy, is the fact, that the great deistical 
 writers of our country, as Shaftesbury and 
 Bohngbroke, set themselves to the proof of the 
 independence of Ethics on Religion ; whilst 
 Cudworth and Clarke and others have 
 vindicated the intimate connexion between 
 theological and ethical principles. Christian 
 writers, sensible of the value of that pure 
 revelation which they professed as their rule 
 of life, naturally sought to maintain its exclu- 
 sive importance in that point of view ; instead 
 of simply evincing, as they ought to have 
 done, its superiority and greater practical force 
 in regulating our conduct. Sceptics in theo- 
 logy would as naturally feel the integrity of 
 
 ^ His additional Sermons, published within the last few 
 years, give indication of this. 
 
 C
 
 18 LECTURE I. 
 
 their philosophical morality impeached hy the 
 doctrine of writers, who thus made pure mo- 
 rality to flow exclusively out of that system 
 of religious belief which they did not admit. 
 Hence they would be induced to search into 
 the grounds of that morality, whose obhga- 
 tions on themselves they felt to be imperative, 
 and which some of them practically evidenced 
 in their lives, though unhappily insensible to 
 the higher obligations of Christianity. Thus, 
 both Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke have shown, 
 and I think unanswerably, that the principles 
 of morality are founded in our nature, inde- 
 pendently of any system of religious belief, 
 and are, in fact, obligatory even on the atheist. 
 Sound, however, as the arguments of these 
 philosophers are on this head; notwithstand- 
 ing, indeed, that the system of Shaftesbury 
 was adopted by Butler, and incorporated into 
 his own ; — the tide of theory has set in the 
 other direction : and we still perceive this in 
 the current opinion, that no unsound religionist 
 can be strictly a moral man. I have noticed, 
 at the outset of these observations, the fallacy 
 of confounding practical force with theoretical, 
 or of identifying the truth of a theory with its 
 actual success. But it is worth while to exa- 
 mine this point further.
 
 LECTURE I. 19 
 
 Is it not plain, then, that this opinion is a 
 mere hypothesis, at variance with the observed 
 fact? The history of false religion and su- 
 perstition shows abundantly that idolatrous, 
 fanatical, and absurd doctrines, tend to fero- 
 ciousness and profligacy of manners. So far 
 true religion is inseparably connected with 
 pure morality. It is essentially distinguished 
 from its opposite, or counterfeit, by those 
 good works which are its proper fruits. But 
 the case of a defective belief, or misbelief, of 
 the truths of a real revelation, is very different 
 from that of a creed fundamentally and totally 
 erroneous. Wherever there exists what is of 
 a nature to corrupt morality, its principles will 
 be corrupt; and the life of that man who is the 
 votary of such a system, unless so far as his 
 speculative belief is overruled by the voice of 
 better nature, must be depraved. Had Cicero 
 been a practical believer of that Paganism which 
 he professed in pubhc, we cannot doubt that 
 his private life would not have been unstained, 
 as it was, by heathen vices. But his case, and 
 others will probably occur to every one's re- 
 collection, is an evidence that pure faith is not 
 inseparably connected with moral conduct, so 
 that no morality can be found where this faith 
 is not. Let it be observed, that I am not now 
 
 c2
 
 20 LECTURE I. 
 
 referring to that morality which obtains the 
 name of hoHness ; to those good works which 
 flow from the grace of God, and are sanctified 
 through Christ to the life everlasting. To 
 make these the criterion of the validity of 
 ethical principles would be a petitio principii ; 
 as it would be to conclude, that no christian 
 works could be done without christian prin- 
 ciples, which it would be mere trifling to 
 dispute. But I intend, in asserting the inde- 
 pendence of moral obligation on any religious 
 sanction, to refer, in evidence of this position, 
 to the indisputable instances which have ap- 
 peared, of an upright tenor of life, — of the 
 duties belonging to the various relations of 
 life, — correctly performed by those, who have 
 wanted the higher inducements to right con- 
 duct, resulting from the profession of a better 
 creed. Some, perhaps, among you will be 
 able to point to instances to this effect in the 
 course of their own experience. The truth is, 
 pure morals neither necessarily follow in fact 
 a pure faith, nor are exclusively the result of 
 it. All that can be truly affirmed is, that 
 where the good fruits of upright conduct are 
 wanting, there the real adoption of a true faith 
 by the individual must be wanting. The prin- 
 ciples professed by the individual may be in
 
 LECTURE I. 21 
 
 themselves perfectly true ; but they are false, 
 as far as he is concerned : there is no evidence 
 that the truth is in him. But we cannot argue 
 back from the conduct to the principles, 
 according to the hackneyed distich — 
 
 " For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; 
 His can't be wrong whose life is in the right :"'^ 
 
 as we could do, if there were an absolute, 
 inseparable dependence of morality on reli- 
 gion. Right conduct must, in that case, be 
 the constant proof of right religious principles. 
 Were we, however, to argue in this way, we 
 should incur the fallacy of confounding pro- 
 fessions of individuals with their real actuating 
 principles. The mode of faith may be neutral 
 in its influence, may be mischievous, or even 
 accidentally good in its tendency ; still the 
 conduct may not flow from it, but properly 
 from the mere moral principles by which the 
 individual is influenced. And in this sense, 
 probably, many Christians are good men ; vir- 
 tuous on principles of mere morality, and not 
 through christian love and faith. For even the 
 atheist, extreme as his case is, may feel him- 
 self under some obligations of virtue, so far as 
 
 ' Pope's Essay on Man, Ep. iii. 1. 305.
 
 22 
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 he may perceive that virtue is his interest in 
 the present world. 
 
 In similar manner it may be observed that 
 wrong conduct does not necessarily follow 
 from wrong practical principles, — principles, 
 which, if acted upon strictly, without check 
 or impediment from other influences, would 
 be followed by bad consequences. The long 
 life of Hobbes was, I believe, as conscientious 
 as that of the most firm advocate of the 
 reality of the distinctions of right and wrong ; 
 and yet the most indulgent survey of his 
 Ethics must impress us with a conviction 
 of their viciousness. The theory of the 
 ancient philosopher, Eudoxus, that pleasure 
 was the chief good, obtained, as we are in- 
 formed by Aristotle,*^ a credibility from the 
 exemplary virtuousness of his life. But we 
 must guard against the fallacy both ways ; 
 as well against supposing that true theories 
 are always connected with right conduct, as 
 that wrong theory will be always evidenced 
 by wrong conduct. The most eloquent 
 moralists have not always been the best 
 examples ; and, going over the theory of 
 virtue (to use Butler's expression) and acting 
 
 ' Ethic. 1. X. c. 2.
 
 LECTURE I. 23 
 
 ■* 
 
 well, are far from being coincident qualifica- 
 tions. 
 
 This opinion of the dependence of moral 
 theory on religious truth is, in fact, a remnant 
 of the philosophy of the middle ages. Moral 
 Science shared the same fate as Logic, and all 
 other sciences, in that dark period. It was 
 absorbed in the vortex of Theology. The 
 name of Moral Theology, under which its 
 principles were stated, sufficiently marks the 
 nature of the speculation as prosecuted by the 
 philosophers of the Schools. Its origin was 
 traced by them, in common with that of all 
 other truth, to the primary eternal Reasons 
 subsisting in the Divine Intellect, the " Ideas" 
 of the Divine Mind : for thus it was thought 
 that a stable basis was given to the dis- 
 tinctions of right and wrong. Hence was 
 derived evidently the theological spirit with 
 which the moral treatises of Cudworth and 
 Clarke are so deeply imbued ; the ethical 
 theories of these writers being at bottom but 
 modifications of the Platonic hypothesis of 
 ideas, as transmitted through the Schools of 
 the middle ages. 
 
 Nor has the circumstance been without its 
 influence, that some of the early Fathers of
 
 24 LECTURE I. 
 
 •r 
 
 the Church have characterised Christianity in 
 contrast with heathen systems, as a '' philo- 
 sophy of Hfe." Justin Martyr, for instance, 
 descrihes his transition through more than 
 one sect of philosopliy, until at last he found 
 rest in Chrstianity ; and, after stating his 
 reasons for such preference, sums them up 
 with this declaration in favour of the religion : 
 '* This only did I find a philosophy both 
 sure and expedient; thus, and for these 
 reasons, am I a philosopher."^ Thus, in- 
 stead of correcting and enlarging the moral 
 lessons of ancient philosophy, the early Fathers 
 regarded Christianity as an entire substitute 
 for them. They seem to have treated the 
 teaching of Christ as a discipline on a footing 
 of rivalry with that of heathen sages ; and, 
 accordingly, to have rejected the heathen 
 ethics as the profession of a hostile sect. 
 I should characterise their mistake as an 
 underrating of the holy, unearthly mission of 
 Christianity, — an unconscious degradation of 
 its sublime nature as a system of mediation 
 between God and man ; and a subordinate view 
 of it in its instrumental capacity as a supple- 
 ment and enforcement of the moral laws of 
 
 " Dialog, c. Tryph. Jud. p. 225. Ed. 1686.
 
 LECTURE I. 25 
 
 nature. They might have seen that Chris- 
 tianity interferes not with the principles of 
 human conduct, — that its burthen and theme 
 are Salvation, and not the mere art of happy 
 Hving. Origen, however, who, amidst all his 
 eccentricities of speculation, possessed a more 
 truly philosophical, as well as a more truly 
 christian spirit, than perhaps any other of the 
 Fathers, has expressly admitted, in his reply 
 to Celsus, that Christianity contains nothing 
 original on the subject of moral duties. He 
 speaks of the " common notions" implanted 
 in the heart of every man, which Revelation 
 must employ, and which, therefore, cannot 
 properly be any part of the truth strictly 
 revealed by any miraculous dispensation. But 
 it was the arrogant profession of heathen phi- 
 losophy to teach the truth and the way of 
 life.' And this profession made it the ostensi- 
 ble rival of Christianity ; so that Christianity 
 was called upon, as I may say, to displace 
 and supersede it altogether, particularly in the 
 view of those Christians who had been phi- 
 losophers themselves, and renounced their 
 former set of opinions in becoming Christians. 
 Whilst these renounced the dogmas of their 
 
 ' ^iXoaoipia aXrideiai iirayyEXXonipr], Kai yvwaiv twv ovtwv 
 ■KWQCti l^wiiy. Orig. c. Cels. lib. iii, p. 118. Ed. Spenc.
 
 26 LECTURE I. 
 
 sect, they naturally retained their philosophi- 
 zing spirit, only transferring to Christianity the 
 prerogatives of that profession which they had 
 abandoned. Persons who have changed their 
 opinions and mode of life, on deliberate con- 
 viction, and encountered the painful struggle 
 with venerated prejudices, are apt to rush 
 into an exclusive zeal for the new system they 
 have embraced, and rashly to despise even the 
 good part of what they have reasonably re- 
 jected as a whole. It is nothing strange, then, 
 that even the moral philosophy of the heathen 
 schools, though adopted into the christian 
 system of doctrine, should have lost its inde- 
 pendent character, and even appeared to have 
 no independent existence. 
 
 Had the ancient ethics been a simple expo- 
 sition of the laws of our moral nature, 
 instead of being an attempt to deduce human 
 duties from an abstract notion of the Chief 
 Good, this delusion might not have occurred. 
 But the statement of the object of Ethics as 
 the Chief Good, could not but bring the 
 ancient systems into competition with Christi- 
 anity. To admit any other object of human 
 pursuit, as the Chief Good of man, but God 
 himself, seemed a disparagement of the truth 
 and importance of rehgion. Nay, the more
 
 LECTURE I. 27 
 
 pious philosophers of the heathens had them- 
 selves used language intimating that nothing 
 but the Divinity itself could be an adequate 
 final cause, or end, of the whole and every part 
 of the universe. Aristotle himself is not insen- 
 sible to this notion of a latent all-pervading 
 principle as the Chief Good of the universe. 
 It forms, indeed, the great ultimate principle 
 of his physical philosophy, though in his 
 practical ethics he altogether dismisses it 
 from his consideration, as useless for such 
 an inquiry. But the christian philosopher 
 would at once substitute, as his Chief Good, 
 the God revealed in Jesus Christ;" and thus 
 would be led to reject the heathen ethics as 
 profane, and deduce his moral doctrines 
 from the truths revealed in the Scriptures. 
 In a great measure he would be justified in 
 such a proceeding. For many of the heathen 
 conclusions respecting the nature of man, 
 
 '' See this particularly in Butler's Two Sermons on the 
 Love of God. In these he is engaged in showing that we 
 have various affections tending to their proper objects as 
 ends ; that there must then be something which shall be 
 an adequate object of them ; and that this adequate object 
 is only found in the perfect goodness of God. Let the 
 course of argument in these Sermons be .compared with the 
 reasonings on the same point in the first book of Aristotle's 
 Ethics, and we shall find them substantially the same.
 
 28 
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 though true in themselves, were rested on 
 wrong principles. For instance, the doctrine 
 of the Immortality of the Soul, the cardinal 
 point of Plato's ethics, was deduced from 
 abstract notions ; and regarded in necessary 
 connexion with its pre-existence. To receive 
 the doctrine on such grounds was to slight 
 the only proper christian foundation of the 
 truth ; " Christ risen from the dead, and 
 become the first-fruits of them that slept." 
 And though the reasonings of profane writers 
 were afterwards adopted by Christians, in 
 their exposition of the same great truths 
 concerning man's nature which had been 
 taught in the heathen schools; and though 
 the battles of the Faith were, in process of 
 time, fought with weapons drawn from the 
 armouries of Plato and Aristotle, — there was 
 at first a dislike to such methods of explana- 
 tion and defence, and an ambitiousness of 
 displaying that the christian system was inde- 
 pendent of this profane external aid.' 
 
 E'tra kXade, (pr]fx\ £ya>, YWarwva koI Hvdayopav anfuve 
 apcpag, 6i Aairep Ttlypc yifxiv mi 'ipuajxa (piXocrorplag i'^eyi- 
 vovTO ; ovdEv Ef.ioif t(prf, fiiXti WKariavoQ, ovht Iluf^ayopov, 
 ovct aTrXwc ovctvor oKujq Tuiavra m'iu'CovToc' to yap aXrjdeQ 
 ovTbjg t'xEt. — Justin. Martyr. Dial. c. Tryph. Jud. p. 224. 
 Ed. 168G.
 
 LECTURE I. 29 
 
 Another circumstance which has operated 
 against the independent study of Moral Philo- 
 sophy, is the fact, (itself a consequence of the 
 blending of Religion and Ethics in one tenor 
 of instruction,) that christian writers have not 
 only thrown into the shade all mere moral 
 excellence, by placing it in disadvantageous 
 comparison with the principle of Christian 
 Faith, but also by exaggeration of the misery 
 of the present life, have argued the weakness 
 and insufficiency of human philosophy for 
 the guidance of life. We may observe, in 
 this method of proceeding, the relics of that 
 contention for the mastery, to which I have 
 already adverted, between Christianity and 
 Heathen Philosophy ; when each asserted its 
 claim to be the only true Philosophy. In 
 order more strongly to point the contrast of 
 consolation and joy which christian faith 
 brings with it. Christians have delighted in 
 painting Virtue as the inmate of the house of 
 mourning, and struggling in helpless destitution 
 against the assaults of the world. They have 
 been prone to overstate the argument for the 
 future state of retribution held forth by 
 Christianity, They have overcharged, accord- 
 ingly, the burthen of evil observed in the 
 world, with the view of enforcing the conclusion
 
 30 LECTURE I. 
 
 that there must be another better condition 
 of things, in which the present infirmities 
 and sufferings of virtue shall be compensated, 
 and every man shall be rewarded according 
 to his works. They have not been content 
 with the positive fact that virtue is rewarded 
 to a certain extent in the present state, and 
 the real evidence thence resulting to the 
 promises of Scripture ; but they have, for the 
 most part, chosen to overlook this fact, and to 
 dwell on the scenes of evil and suffering which 
 present themselves to a superficial obser- 
 vation. Probably their tone of thought on 
 moral subjects was drawn originally from 
 Stoicism : since that system of philosophy, 
 being eminently ethical in its character, would 
 powerfully recommend itself to christian mo- 
 ralists by the vigour and elevation of its pre- 
 cepts. But so far as Stoicism was received 
 as a moral guide, it would suggest stern and 
 melancholy views of the present condition of 
 things. It loved to portray its wise man 
 indifferent to the course of the world ; to 
 exemplify, in an extreme case, the omnipo- 
 tence of its theory of happiness over the most 
 untoward circumstances of life. These pictures 
 of life would be copied by christian writers. 
 The force triumphant amidst them was now.
 
 LECTURE I. 31 
 
 of course, that of Cliristianity ; but the dark 
 shadows which had been spread over the 
 landscape remained, to exhibit in obscurity 
 and depression the efforts of mere philo- 
 sophy. But, however this may be, the dispa- 
 ragement with which christian moralists have 
 often spoken of the simply moral virtues, has 
 doubtless had an influence in depreciating the 
 importance of Moral Inquiries, so far as these 
 have been popularly considered in their appli- 
 cation to human conduct, and their subser- 
 viency to happiness. For though the question 
 of positive usefulness is irrelevant to the dig- 
 nity of a scientific inquiry, yet, if men are 
 persuaded that a science professedly held forth 
 as the art of life, is incompetent to the purpose 
 for which it is designed, they will naturally 
 turn aside from a pursuit apparently so unpro- 
 ductive. For the good which Moral Philosophy 
 promises, is, under the fairest representation 
 of it, remote and contingent. It demands a 
 series of actions, a continued cultivation of our 
 moral sensibilities. It presupposes no less 
 than Religion, a disposition to believe its pro- 
 mises, and to look patiently for its good. But 
 he that is already assured that its utmost 
 efforts are futile and valueless, is hardened in 
 a manner against the study of its principles.
 
 32 LECTURE I. 
 
 It may be thought, perhaps, that this ten- 
 dency to undervalue its lessons has passed 
 away ; that there is a more general under- 
 standing now, of what is due to Ethics, as 
 well as to Religion on the other hand. This 
 may be the case to some extent. Still the 
 prejudice on the subject has not passed away, 
 so as no longer to require a caution against it 
 from this place. You may trace its existence 
 in the contemptuous manner, in which you 
 will sometimes hear the virtues of purely 
 ethical growth characterised as meagre, life- 
 less moralities ; as if there were no good- 
 ness, or worth, or power, in them intrinsically. 
 I would not deny but that there is a truth 
 involved in such expressions, if we understand 
 them relatively and as negations of Christian 
 Faith. But it is a fallacy to go from this 
 relative sense to the absolute one ; and to 
 suppose that the purely ethical virtues are not 
 in themselves principles of real excellence, 
 and of positive force on the conduct of hfe. 
 
 Hitherto I have noticed the difficulties which 
 meet the general student at the commence- 
 ment of his moral inquiries, arising from the 
 state of his own mind, and in particular from 
 the popular misconception as to the inse-
 
 LECTURE I. 33 
 
 parableness of the theory of Morahty from 
 Revealed Rehgion. To show the proper con- 
 nexion between Moral Philosophy and Reli- 
 gion will form part of my plan during the 
 present Course of Lectures. At present I 
 have confined myself to the task of clearing 
 away erroneous opinions on the subject, so as 
 to prepare the student for entering on his 
 inquiries without prejudice. Let me now 
 further put him on his guard as to the kind 
 of facts and reasonings to which his mind 
 will be directed in moral inquiries, that, being 
 aware beforehand what they are, he may not 
 be repelled by the disappointment of unphi- 
 losophical expectations. But I must defer 
 what I have to say on this part of my subject 
 to my next Lecture. 
 
 D
 
 LECTURE II. 
 
 In my first Lecture, I called your attention 
 to the peculiar difficulties attending the com- 
 mencement of the study of Moral Philosophy, 
 arising from the vagueness with which the 
 nature of this class of sciences was commonly 
 understood, and particularly from the popular 
 confusion of the truths of Morality with those 
 of Divine Revelation. I considered the sub- 
 ject according to the most general and popular 
 view ; not discriminating at all between the 
 various inquiries which fall under the head of 
 Moral Philosophy, but merely taking up that 
 notion of it which first occurs, as I conceive, 
 to most persons, and which identifies the 
 whole of moral science with one branch 
 of it only, that more strictly denominated 
 Ethics. My object being, in the first instance, 
 to obviate prejudices, it appeared to me but 
 consistent, to take up the general notion float- 
 ing on the subject, and discuss the prejudices 
 
 d2
 
 36 LECTURE II. 
 
 arising from that to the independent study of 
 Moral Science. 
 
 At the same time, however, I must not 
 pass on to the further consideration of the 
 pecuharities of tliis branch of philosophy, with- 
 out pointing out the erroneous opinion on 
 the assumption of which I have been arguing. 
 I must put in an objection to the supposition 
 that the whole of Moral Philosophy is com- 
 prised in Ethics. Such a supposition would 
 exclude, for instance, the science of Rhetoric. 
 But Rhetoric certainly is an inquiry belonging 
 to the head of Moral Philosophy, so far as it 
 is conversant with the nature of man ; being 
 employed in the study of whatever affects, or 
 persuades, or convinces, such a being as man 
 is, a being who judges and reasons, not more 
 from the pure impressions of intellect, than 
 from his feelings and sentiments. It would 
 even exclude Politics. For questions of Poli- 
 tics do not concern the internal dispositions 
 of men, except only indirectly. These concern 
 the social relations ; having for their object 
 the discovery of those principles by which men 
 are united in communities, and by which so- 
 ciety may be directed to the greatest good of 
 man. If we regard accordingly the whole of 
 moral philosophy as satisfied in ethical inquiry.
 
 LECTURE II. 37 
 
 we must exclude from it the speculation con- 
 cerning government and laws, and the wealth 
 of nations ; and shall thus cut off from the 
 pursuit of the moral philosopher a large and 
 diversified field of knowledge. 
 
 Further, so restricted an application of 
 Moral Philosophy would leave Natural Theo- 
 logy out of its range. But surely no depart- 
 ment of study can more strictly belong to it 
 than that in which we consider the relations 
 of our feelings and sentiments and actions to 
 a supreme invisible Being, and to a spiritual 
 invisible world. If it be a fact, as undoubtedly 
 it is, that our moral nature is not contented 
 with itself, but is conscious of tendencies to a 
 goodness beyond its own energies, and is thus 
 carried, as it were, to God by an instinctive 
 force, any moral science must be defective 
 which does not take cognizance of this class 
 of phenomena. 
 
 When I have appeared, therefore, to con- 
 sider Moral Philosophy, in what I have before 
 said, as convertible with Ethics, I beg it may 
 be distinctly understood that I speak only in 
 conformity to ordinary prejudices on the sub- 
 ject. What is the order of the inquiries which 
 belong to it, I purpose to state distinctly on 
 a future occasion. At present, let me state
 
 38 LECTURE II. 
 
 my view of the subject, as corresponding with 
 what Aristotle describes under the terms, 
 77 Trepl Til avOpwmva <^i\o(To^ia,^ " the philo- 
 sophy conversant about human things ; " and 
 it is in this sense that I undertake to explain, 
 as far as I may be able, the principles and 
 method of Moral Science. 
 
 In continuing the course of general ob- 
 servations on the character of this class of 
 sciences, I shall now proceed to illustrate it 
 in contrast with the inquiries of Natural Phi- 
 losophy, so as to bring before your view the 
 just grounds on which Moral Inquiries pecu- 
 liarly claim your attention. 
 
 The student, then, should be fully aware, 
 that there are no wonders in this class of 
 sciences to captivate the imagination, and awe 
 and confound the judgment; such as those 
 which Natural Philosophy can place before 
 him. The natural philosopher can appeal to 
 some fact which a severe reason imposes on 
 our belief, whilst the imagination is bewildered 
 by it, — some glaring but irresistible paradox, 
 the irrefragable consequence of ascertained 
 principles ; as when he tells us of the million 
 * Ethic. X. p. 455.
 
 LECTURE II. 39 
 
 vibrations communicated by a ray of light to 
 the nerves of the eye, in a second of time, 
 with the utmost minuteness of numbers for 
 each variation of colour: or when he asto- 
 nishes and amuses the eye by the marvel of 
 some mechanical experiment, and the magical 
 transmutations of chemistry. But the moral 
 philosopher has no means of bringing such 
 striking contrasts before the mind. The pa- 
 radox and its evidence cannot, in his case, be 
 displayed in juxta-position, so as to give mu- 
 tual relief and prominence. He has to work 
 in an invisible and noiseless laboratory. The 
 stone with which he builds is already hewed 
 to his hands: " neither hammer, nor axe, 
 nor any tool of iron," is heard amidst his 
 work. His principles appear only as traces in 
 the water or the sand, effaced as soon as 
 inscribed, whose fugitive forms he must call 
 on memory to paint and perpetuate before 
 the view.^ For the natural philosopher, the 
 
 b AoKEt flOl TOTt llfXUIV >/ ^'^X'' /^'/'^'V ''"'' TrpvfTtoiKEyai. IIP. 
 TTuiQ ; ^D" h jJ^ytlfJ^V '■ti'C al(xQ)](Te(n ^u/xTriVroncra tig tuvtov, 
 KaKt'ira a irepl ravra tori ra Tradi'ifiaTa, (paii'ovTai ^oi (t-)(^ecov 
 <HOV ypa^etv j/juwr iv toIq \pv)(a.l.Q tote \6yovg' .... cnro- 
 hiypv h) Kttt ETtpov ^rj/xtovpyov ij^CJy kv toIq \pvxcug Iv tij^ 
 TOTE xpovw yiyvonEVOv. nP. Tiva ; S£i. i^wypa<pov, vg fxtTa 
 Tov ypa^fiaTi(TT))v, tG)v Xfyo^zo'wv fkoj'oc e%' tt) ^p'^xjj tovtojv 
 ypa^ei. — Plato. Phileb. p. 265. Ed. Bip.
 
 40 LECTURE II. 
 
 niciteriiil things about which he is employed, 
 speak his facts in accents loud and clear. The 
 experiment proclaims its result, so that merely 
 to look on is often to learn. View, for in- 
 stance, the power of steam in action, the vast 
 and complex machinery which it impels, the 
 work which it executes ; and who can ques- 
 tion the realities of a science so exemplified ? 
 But, with the facts of our moral nature, 
 the case is very different. Consider the 
 great fact of our susceptibility of alteration 
 by Habit ; and endeavour to compare that 
 with the effects produced by education and 
 institutions on man. These effects are as in- 
 disputable as the power itself of Habit. But 
 where is the palpable evidence of the combina- 
 tion of force and result in this latter case, as in 
 the former? The evidence is as real as in the 
 former ; but it must be made out by study. 
 The analysis must be gone over, to a certain 
 extent, by every one who would perceive it : 
 he cannot at once grasp the principle and the 
 conclusion, but must tie them together by dint 
 of reasoning. Though, therefore, the Moral 
 philosopher has many real wonders to dis- 
 course of, — though the facts of which he treats 
 show that man, in his internal invisible nature, 
 is no less fearfidly and wonderfully made than
 
 LECTURE II. 41 
 
 are the things of the universe without us; — what 
 I would observe is, that he cannot put them in 
 that specious form which is the alluring pre- 
 rogative of the physical inquirer. He has 
 to do with the thoughtful, the serious, the 
 deeply-attentive; he speaks to the inward ear; 
 he paints to the inward eye. He asks for a 
 patience of contemplation which few are dis- 
 posed to give, amidst the multitude of literary 
 pastimes with which the world seduces even 
 the votaries of science, the pains-taking of an 
 intellect willing to toil for truth's sake, with- 
 out the cheering view of a palpable result at 
 each step. 
 
 Compare him even with the mathematician, 
 whose demonstrations may seem to the general 
 student at the first view far more repulsive than 
 the study of moral theories. But the advan- 
 tage of sustaining attention will appear on the 
 side of the mathematician, when we consider 
 the interest excited by an exact process of 
 demonstrative reasoning in those who have 
 the slightest taste for such pursuits. There is 
 nothing by the way to distract the attention in 
 passing on, no word full of sense and feeling to 
 tempt away the plodding thought; but each 
 step tells, each point of advance once made is 
 secured ; and we are cheered to find ourselves
 
 42 
 
 LECTURE II. 
 
 regularly approaching the termination of our 
 labour. Not so, however, with the moral 
 reasoner. His is a task of combination. The 
 lights of objects in his way are continually in- 
 terfering with the principal light which he is 
 endeavouring to throw on his subject. The 
 student does not perceive that he has made 
 good his ground at successive points, but 
 it is only from a comprehensive survey 
 that he obtains some determinate conclu- 
 sion. " He has to feel his way, and look 
 out on this side, and on that ; to collect and 
 apply his own experience, and often to sus- 
 pend opinion for new light and information." "" 
 He must compare what he has before admitted 
 with what is now laid before him, observe how 
 each position is qualified by its relation to 
 others, and sum up the whole at one wide 
 glance. " The Principia of Newton, or his 
 doctrine of fluxions, may be understood by a 
 boy of eighteen." '^ But such productions as 
 " the Iliad, or the Epistles of Horace, or Lord 
 
 •^ Review of Edgeworth's Essays on Prof. Educat. 
 in the Quart. Rev. vol. vi. p. 181. The whole of this 
 excellent article is well worth reading in reference to 
 this point. 
 
 '' Ibid. — TeoJixtrpii^oi fitv vioL kul fxadrinaTiKoi yivovTui, 
 Km (Torj)ni ru TOiaiiru' ^{WVLfiOQ h' oh Iokei yiveadui. Aristot. 
 Ethic, vi. 8.
 
 LECTURE II. 
 
 43 
 
 Clarendon's History, were never comprehended 
 till variety of observation, and many original 
 efforts of the reader's own mind, had brought 
 him to that point of view, from which he could 
 look at those works in the posture of design 
 and combination, in which they were seen by 
 the authors themselves, and with some part of 
 their reach of thought." The student in ma- 
 thematical learning " has little to do but 
 spread his sails, and the trade-wind bears him 
 along ; but the training and disciplining of the 
 judgment are like the business of navigation 
 on a coast, or in the narrow seas, when the 
 seaman is always on the alert."*' That the 
 mathematician may reach his point, it is 
 enough that he resign himself to the direction 
 of a dispassionate reason. The moral student 
 must himself be animated by the spirit of dis- 
 covery, even when sailing under the expe- 
 rienced pilotage of another. Otherwise he 
 may, indeed, accept the truth as a logical 
 conclusion, but he has it not, as the result 
 of moral evidence : for he has not gone 
 through that balancing of thought, that ad- 
 justment of probabilities, on which a moral 
 decision is formed. In short, he has not 
 
 ^ Review of Edgeworth's Essays on Prof. Educat. in the 
 Quart. Rev. vol. vi. p. 181.
 
 44 LECTURE II. 
 
 made the conclusion his own. He has not 
 sought it ; he has not verified it to himself. 
 
 The dryness, again, of mathematical de- 
 monstration is known beforehand. No one 
 enters on such study, expecting more than 
 the simple refined delight of scientific truth 
 clearly brought home to the mind. No one 
 calculates on a various and rich intellectual 
 feast, such as he who discourses of human life 
 and sentiments is supposed to present. The 
 historian, the poet, and the novelist, have 
 already formed the taste of the generality, and 
 spoiled them, if I may so say, for the theoretic 
 disquisition of the moral philosopher. They 
 expect him to embody his truths in flesh and 
 blood, — not only to delineate the character of 
 man, but exhibit man himself on the scene ; — • 
 not only to give general views of the con- 
 dition of man, but picture that condition in 
 " moving accidents by flood and field." The 
 very taste, therefore, for these studies is 
 vitiated by the seductive lessons of the un- 
 authoritative teachers of moral truth. We 
 are not to wonder, then, that the early moral- 
 ists clothed their wisdom in parables, and 
 fables, and apologues. Nor is it strange 
 that Plato should have felt a jealousy of the 
 poets, and banished them from his Republic,
 
 LECTURE II. 45 
 
 as rivals in the art of reforming a people; and 
 bent all the force of his vivid eloquence to 
 teach philosophy as philosophy, and recom- 
 mend the study of laws, and education, and 
 manners : while, at the same time, he has 
 bowed to the popular taste, by throwing over 
 his own abstractions the charms of dramatic 
 interest, and by introducing exquisite fables, 
 the traditions of ancient ethical wisdom, the 
 mother-tongue, which moral philosophy had 
 learned in infancy, while nursed in the lap of 
 religion. Nor, again, is it matter of surprise 
 that Homer should be constantly appealed to 
 by the ancients, as an ethical authority, " fuller 
 and better" than the oracles of the Schools -/ 
 or that Horace should be familiarly cited 
 as " the moralist" by writers of the middle 
 ages. 
 
 I make these observations, however, with- 
 out admitting, be it observed, that there is 
 any real superiority of interest in the pursuit 
 of other kinds of knowledge over that of 
 moral science. I should rather maintain the 
 contrary; — that when once the mind can be 
 
 ^ Qui, quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid 
 non, 
 Plenius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit. 
 
 HoR. Ep. I. 2. 3.
 
 \6 LECTURE II. 
 
 brought fully to see the beauty and dignity of 
 moral science, there is no interest that can 
 compete with that which it inspires. The 
 disadvantage under which it labours, is only 
 at the outset. It does not appear to possess 
 those charms which physical philosophy holds 
 out to the world at large. The FvcoOt ^eavrov 
 of the Delphic Temple, may be viewed with 
 the transient eye of one that little thinks of 
 the wisdom wrapped up in that standing oracle 
 of the shrine. But let us only commence 
 the work of unfolding its meaning; and we 
 shall then find that it involves mysteries of 
 deeper and more real truth than the responses 
 addressed, from time to time, to a more 
 vulgar curiosity — a truth, indeed, which often 
 gave the air of a real divination to the predic- 
 tions of the Pythian. This feeling has been 
 naturally expressed by Plato, when he intro- 
 duces Socrates, observing, " that the country 
 places and the trees would teach him no- 
 thing, but only the men in the city ; " and 
 not ashamed to show, in the intensity of his 
 ardour for moral truth, his ignorance of the 
 localities immediately beyond the walls of 
 Athens.^ It was in the same spirit that the 
 great counterpart of Socrates in our own 
 
 ^ Phajdrus, p. 287. Ed. Bip.
 
 LECTURE II. 47 
 
 country, Johnson, used to express a partiality 
 for a residence in London.'' 
 
 Xenophon, indeed, following the practical 
 turn of his own mind, describes Socrates as 
 carrying his love of moral observation and 
 study so far as to ask, "Whether, as the 
 learners of human things think they can put 
 into effect the result of their learning, both 
 for themselves and any one else they please, 
 so also the inquirers into divine things (he 
 means the laws of the physical universe) are 
 of opinion that, after having ascertained by 
 what forces each is produced, they shall effect 
 winds and waters and seasons, and whatever 
 else of the like kind they may require ; or, on 
 the other hand, they have no such hope even 
 in view, but merely the satisfaction of curiosity 
 as to the mode of such production." " For 
 his part," continues Xenophon, " he was ever 
 conversing about human things, considering 
 what is pious, what impious, what honourable, 
 what base, what right, what wrong, what 
 
 '' " It will be observed, that when giving me advice as 
 to my travels, Dr. Johnson did not dwell upon cities and 
 palaces, and pictures and shows, and Arcadian scenes. He 
 was of Lord Essex's opinion, who advises his kinsman, 
 Roger, Earl of Rutland, ' rather to go a hundred miles to 
 speak with one man, than five miles to see a fair town.' " 
 — BosweWs Life of Johnson, vol. i. p. 414.
 
 48 LECTURE II. 
 
 sobriety, what madness, wluit courage, what 
 cowardice, what a state, what a statesman, 
 what a government of men, what a character 
 formed for governing men, and other matters 
 in respect of the knowledge of which he 
 esteemed men honourable and good, whilst 
 the ignorance of them merited the appellation 
 of slavishness."' 
 
 Now without agreeing with Socrates in 
 that disparagement of physical science here 
 attributed to him, on the ground of its un- 
 productiveness, (a reason which modern dis- 
 coveries have falsified in fact,) and construing 
 his expressions as relative to the speculative 
 physics of his day, and not as a general objec- 
 tion to all natural philosophy ; — no one will 
 deny that he spoke from a real superiority 
 of interest which he felt in moral studies. 
 And if we do not feel the like interest, it may 
 only be concluded that it is because we have 
 not fully imbibed the Socratic spirit ; not that 
 there is any want of attractiveness in these 
 pursuits, or that the satisfaction of science is 
 not to be attained in them. The current of 
 popular favour is indeed, in these times, to- 
 wards physical studies. These obtain popu- 
 larly the exclusive appellation of science ; and 
 ' Xenoph. Memorab. I. c. i. p. 8. — Schneider.
 
 LECTURE II. 49 
 
 the name of philosopher is commonly received, 
 as denoting one engaged in physical investiga- 
 tions. The vulgar demand for the useful is 
 more obviously answered by such pursuits. ,' 
 But let us not be led astray by a state of .1 / 
 things, which is a reaction from the former 
 too exclusive attention to the internal pheno- 
 mena of man's constitution. We must coun- 
 teract the present tendency of Science to 
 degenerate into mere sensualism ; being im- 
 pressed with the conviction that there are 
 facts to be explored in these invisible regions 
 of nature, as real and as curious as any which 
 the external world exhibits ; and that he who 
 has faithfully observed them, as truly meets the 
 wants of man, as he whose science multiplies 
 the material conveniences and comforts of life. 
 Let us, however, advert to the cases of 
 such men as Themistocles, or Napoleon, who 
 have evinced an extraordinary sagacity in 
 piercing through the complexities of human 
 character and circumstances, and power in 
 subjecting the behaviour of voluntary agents 
 to their will. Or let us reflect on any in- 
 stance, which may have occurred to our 
 notice in private life, of decision of charac- 
 ter. Whatever be the line of conduct taken 
 by the person in Avhom such a quality is 
 
 E
 
 50 LECTURE II. 
 
 found, whether the dh'ection be to good or 
 evil, we may have observed what influence 
 he possesses in the sphere of his action. 
 In all such instances there is a moral majesty 
 which extorts the homage of inferior minds. 
 Men are awed by a power which, instead of 
 yielding to events, and varying with the 
 variableness belonging to moral phenomena, 
 impresses on them its own form, and shapes 
 them to the course which its own inflexibility 
 prescribes. They can understand material 
 objects giving way to material force ; but they 
 are at a loss to account for the impalpable 
 invisible impact by which mind influences 
 mind. Here, then, we see moral power 
 condensed, as it were, and operating at an 
 advantage, in a manner analogous to those 
 exhibitions of physical agency, which experi- 
 ments artificially contrived present. These 
 instances, at least, are sufficient to arrest our 
 attention to moral facts, and engage our 
 curiosity in the search after their principles. 
 The due study, indeed, of history in gene- 
 ral, cannot fail to awaken in the thoughtful 
 mind a desire after some acquaintance with 
 those springs of human power whose action 
 it develops. When we see that there is a 
 knowledge of the human heart, and an energy
 
 LECTURE II. 51 
 
 in the materials of human society, that can 
 work tremendous revolutions of the moral 
 world, surely the importance of that class of 
 sciences which has for its object the laws of 
 these recondite and powerful agencies, must 
 forcibly strike our minds. The student, in- 
 deed, cannot submit nature here to the inter- 
 rogatory of artificial experiment. He cannot 
 bind her in chains, and hold her imprisoned 
 until she will give the desired response : he 
 cannot put her to the torture. But by the 
 light of history, he can bring his own mind 
 to an artificial state for viewing the moral 
 processes of nature, very much as the tele- 
 scope aids the eye of the astronomer, and 
 multiplies his observations. 
 
 After all, there may be in reality more 
 room for experimenting in Moral Philosophy 
 than is commonly supposed. It is thought 
 that we must here confine ourselves, from the 
 very nature of the case, to a passive expe- 
 rience, to observation, the opportunity for 
 which may or may not occur, — that we must 
 wait, in fact, for the moUia tempora fandi of 
 nature, and learn when we may. But is not 
 education in itselt a vast experiment for 
 eliciting moral truth ? Are not the various 
 institutions and customs of society — the 
 
 e2
 
 52 LECTURE II. 
 
 biographies of individuals — the books which 
 record the inspirations of genius or attain- 
 ments of knowledge — so many extant experi- 
 ments, from which he who will only take the 
 trouble, and bring the due power to the task, 
 may learn when he will ? The moral philo- 
 sopher, who is truly athirst for his science, 
 will be experimenting wherever he is. Of his 
 studies it may emphatically be said, " Delectant 
 domi, non impediunt foris, pernoctant nobis- 
 cum, peregrinantur, rusticantur." 
 
 What, in fact, was the irony of Socrates 
 but an ingenious cover to the investigations 
 which he was pursuing, when mixing with 
 men of the w^orld, — the means, not indeed 
 of disguising his own thoughts under an 
 affectation of ignorance, (which would have 
 been unworthy of the philosopher), but of 
 experimenting on the minds of others, and 
 probing their knowledge and their feehngs ? 
 For thus it was that he professed, not to 
 teach, but to deliver the minds of others of 
 the knowledge with which they were preg- 
 nant, illustrating his proceeding as a sort of 
 /xatevTiKT}, an operation on the mind analogous 
 to the well-known profession of his mother. 
 In the real statement of the case, he was 
 himself ever learning and moralizing on man-
 
 LECTURE II. 53 
 
 kind. We have, accordingly, in the Dialogues 
 of his two most characteristic disciples, a col- 
 lection of these varied experiments. Each dis- 
 piple, indeed, has thrown the peculiar colouring 
 of his own genius over the scenes, in which he 
 has introduced the great master of moral 
 science. Both, however, by their observa- 
 tions, have given us, if not real instances, 
 at least parallel cases, of his method of col- 
 lecting moral information. And, to do justice 
 to these invaluable writings, this is the point 
 of view in which they ought to be studied by 
 us : otherwise we shall miss their real in- 
 struction. Of Plato, more particularly, it 
 must be remarked, that if we look for any 
 positive conclusion, or decisive enunciation of 
 theory, from the discussions contained in his 
 Dialogues, we shall seek in vain for such 
 definite results. The truth is, that he is not 
 intending to inculcate particular doctrines, but 
 is rather submitting a variety of inductions, 
 from which he that has an ear for the har- 
 mony of moral truth, may collect a deep and 
 copious treasure of wisdom. *" 
 
 ^ May not many of the conversations of Johnson 
 reported by Boswell be viewed in the same light, that 
 is, not so much declarations of his own opinions, as experi- 
 ments on the minds of others.
 
 54 LECTURE II. 
 
 I will pass on, however, to the more direct 
 advantages which Moral Philosophy possesses; 
 and recommend it to your strenuous cultiva- 
 tion, by pointing out its services in rendering 
 available and fruitful, all our other pursuits 
 and attainments of knowledge. 
 
 Among the leading uses of Moral Philo- 
 sophy, I would state, that it tends to check 
 romantic contemplations of human life,andthus 
 to divert a large stream of human unhappiness. 
 It opens our eyes to see what the powers of 
 man are, what their extent and proper objects ; 
 and prevents the vain attempt to grasp the 
 shadows of an imaginary condition of being 
 with which we have no concern. If a sound 
 physical philosophy has been serviceable in 
 preventing the loss of labour and wealth in 
 digging for treasures in a thankless soil, — 
 how much more worthy of praise and en- 
 couragement must be the knowledge, which 
 restrains the heart from pushing itself off 
 on an unvoyageable sea, and making for 
 lands that are only clouds resting on the 
 horizon of its view ? If we congratulate 
 ourselves that an enlightened chemistry has 
 exploded the futile science of the alchemist, 
 and that we no longer behold the mystic
 
 LECTURE 11. 55 
 
 devotee watching day and night, with painful 
 soHcitude, for the transmutation which shall 
 place in his hands gold unknown to the mine, — 
 surely that philosophy must be hailed with 
 benediction, which no longer suffers the enthu- 
 siast to dream away his life in some impossible 
 theory of happiness, by analyzing for him " the 
 stuff which hfe is made of," the hopes and the 
 fears, the joys and the sorrows, the goods and 
 the evils, of which it really consists. The danger 
 here hes in a smattering of philosophy, in that 
 hypothetical science of human life which the 
 imagination creates, and which the heart of 
 man is prone to indulge. The only effectual 
 remedy against the delusions of a false science, 
 is the raising a fabric of real truth on its ruins. 
 This is what the chemist has done on that of 
 the alchemist, and what the true moral phi- 
 losopher does on the scheming empiricism of 
 the human heart. 
 
 But great as the benefit is to each indivi- 
 dual for the regulation of his own thoughts 
 and proceedings, still more important is the 
 service conferred by Moral Philosophy on the 
 social relations of men. Ignorance of the 
 nature of man, and of his condition in the 
 world, will be found at the bottom of those
 
 56 LECTURE II. 
 
 wild theories of the regeneration of society 
 and revolutions of government, which specu- 
 latists or the seditious have devised. What 
 is it that gives the long views of the states- 
 man, — that enables him to see his way 
 through temporary obstructions, and to pre- 
 dict the success of his measures at a distant 
 period, and on a vast scale, — but the power of 
 philosophizing truly on man, and the world as 
 it is fashioned by man ? A rash and empirical 
 legislation for every matter as it rises to 
 view, as if there were no system of govern- 
 ment, but only a recurrence of emergencies 
 and expedients, of grievances and palliatives, 
 is not the characteristic of him who has drunk 
 deeply of the fountain of moral truth. It 
 marks only him who has formed for himself 
 an ephemeral philosophy, out of the shreds 
 which irregular observation has happened to 
 collect. He may think that he is building 
 on the experience of past ages, and cite the 
 passages of history as verifications of his 
 theories. But unless this experience is well 
 digested, unless these passages are first re- 
 duced to the general laws of which they 
 are instances, his method of government is 
 founded on mere phenomena, and not on 
 the truth of things.
 
 LECTURE II. 57 
 
 History indeed, disjoined from Moral Philo- 
 sophy, is most delusive. " A man may be his- 
 torically wise, but in practice a fool." He may 
 *' attend only to the shell and husk of history'." 
 And nothing, perhaps, has done more mischief 
 to society than that appearance of sober wis- 
 dom, and resemblance to tried pohcy, which 
 an unphilosophical reference to historical facts 
 is able to confer on the most unsubstantial 
 theories. Such was the shallow philosophy 
 by which the French Revolution vindicated 
 its outrages on human nature ; — such, too, 
 was the fearful misappUcation which, in the 
 times of our own Civil War, a sinister fana- 
 ticism made of the older Scriptures; — men 
 profanely justifying their own unhallowed 
 doings, by reference to the extraordinary pro- 
 vidences of God. Nor is this proceeding the 
 practice of other days only. No topic is more 
 common with the censorious, than to refer to 
 the experience of past times, as evidence 
 against what they wish to malign. The 
 examples, for instance, of primitive manners 
 in the infancy of the christian church are 
 pointed at, as the specimen of what the man- 
 ners of an ecclesiastic ought to be in these 
 
 ' Burke's Reflections on the French Revolution.
 
 58 LECTURE II. 
 
 days ; the precedent, as viewed in itself, 
 giving a plausibility to the scandal built on the 
 comparison. Or, again, the various maxims 
 of duty current among different people are 
 brought forward, as proofs that the law of 
 right is variable, and dependent on arbitrary 
 institution. 
 
 But how shall we solve the fallacy of 
 these palpable citations of experience, this 
 officious instancing of the facts of history, 
 but by the spirit of a sound moral philo- 
 sophy ? This will teach us that we must 
 first analyse the facts which we would cite, 
 and draw out the principles involved in them. 
 It will train us to look beyond the mere sur- 
 face of things ; not to expect fac-similes, but 
 counter-parts, and correspondences, and ana- 
 logies, in the course of the world ; and, while 
 we learn from resemblances, to learn also 
 equally from the differences of things ; to 
 read, in short, in the pages of history, not the 
 mere annals of events, but the laws of actions. 
 To a mind not versed in Moral Philosophy, 
 every event recorded in history appears of equal 
 importance : or else, while it is intent only on 
 those actions which make the greatest figure 
 on the stage of the world, as wars and revo- 
 lutions, the earthquakes and meteors of the
 
 LECTURE II. 
 
 59 
 
 moral world, — those pass unnoticed and un- 
 examined, which have less ruffled the tide of 
 affairs, but are often the surest indication 
 of the way in which the tide is setting. 
 Science gives a different standard of the great 
 and the little, from that which the imagina- 
 tion suggests to the reader of history, or the 
 observer of human hfe. It saves at once the 
 needless labour of a vain undigested accumu- 
 lation of facts, and carries the mind to the 
 selection of those, however obscure and com- 
 paratively insignificant, which have a real 
 bearing on the truth of human nature. 
 
 The application, again, of a sound moral 
 philosophy to the facts, whether of history or 
 of observation, will prevent our drawing con- 
 clusions from them, as if they were so 
 many material phenomena; — a proceeding 
 by no means uncommon with those who have 
 theorized on the principles by which social 
 improvement may be effected. One who has 
 duly studied the moral nature of man, will be 
 continually sensible, that there can be no 
 sound theory of human conduct, even where 
 the intellect seems to be exclusively con- 
 cerned, which leaves out the consideration of 
 those powerful influences which lurk in the
 
 ()0 LECTURE II. 
 
 liuman heart. A plan of education, for in- 
 stance, may be devised, which shall be admi- 
 rably adapted for opening and invigorating the 
 intellect, when viewed in itself. But how 
 shall we get it to be acted on ? How shall we 
 ensure the development of the intellect, unless 
 we interest also those feelings, which, in the 
 complex being, man, are inseparably com- 
 bined with the intellectual powers ? since it is 
 not reason that thinks, and judges, and infers, 
 but reasoning man — not the abstract princi- 
 ple of intellect, but intellect as it physically 
 exists, and as it is modified and controlled 
 by our active and sensitive nature. The 
 study of Moral Philosophy will counteract 
 the tendency of the mind to mould society 
 according to the theoretic perfection of ab- 
 stract views. It will correct ideal plans of 
 social improvement, as physical science mo- 
 difies the conclusions of pure mathematics. 
 It will lead us to calculate resistances. We 
 shall be put on our guard against the sup- 
 position, that the regularity and beauty of 
 artificial systems can be maintained against 
 all those forces which are pent up within 
 the human breast, ready to visit any pressure 
 from without, and too subtile to be confined 
 by any chain of man's contrivance. The
 
 LECTURE 11. ()1 
 
 irregularities and inequalities of society are, 
 in fact, the natural manifestation of the 
 various active principles of our nature. The 
 unevenness of the ground is produced by the 
 agency of these internal fires : and though the 
 hand of art may level it, the labour is vainly 
 spent : for the same causes, continuing to act, 
 will again break forth and diversify the sur- 
 face. The restrictions as to property at Sparta 
 could not prevent the accumulation of it in 
 private hands : nor has an aristocratic order 
 ever failed to arise in some form or other out 
 of the most democratic elements. How much 
 vain disturbance, how much severe suffering, 
 might have been saved, had a diffused know- 
 ledge of the principles of human nature 
 established a general conviction, that there 
 were impossibilities in the moral no less than 
 in the physical world ! 
 
 But there is a still further and higher use 
 of a sound Moral Philosophy (which I cannot 
 omit mentioning in this place, though I shall 
 have occasion to touch on the subject more 
 explicitly in my next Lecture) ; and that is, — 
 its subserviency to moderate and direct our 
 views in Religion. Whilst religion purifies, 
 and elevates, and sanctifies the moral feelings.
 
 ()2 LECTURE II. 
 
 it can effect this divine purpose only l)y 
 going hand in hand with those very principles 
 which it would transform to the image of God. 
 For no true religion can contradict the moral 
 nature of man ; and the gospel is eminently 
 the gift of one who *' knew what was in man." 
 Surely, therefore, when we come to interro- 
 gate our nature, we shall not receive any 
 answer at variance with the truth concerning 
 it in the volume of revelation. If religious 
 views accordingly distort the facts of our 
 nature, — if, in any scheme of theology, man is 
 represented as a different being from what he 
 is found by observation, — if the testimony of 
 the sacred text is so interpreted as to disagree 
 with that of our moral experience, — we have 
 a clear sign, that such systems of doctrine are 
 erroneously conceived ; that they are not, in 
 all their lineaments, faithful portraitures of 
 the self-knowing religion which proceeded 
 from Jesus Christ. 
 
 Ignorance of moral truth, or at any rate 
 inattention to its principles, has, indeed, been 
 an abundant source of misbelief in religion. 
 How, for instance, could a doctrine of a total 
 corruption of human nature have been as- 
 serted, if the information, which moral phi- 
 losophy gives us of ourselves, had not been
 
 LECTURE II. 63 
 
 slighted. Were it distinctly seen, (as moral 
 science enables us to see,) that, — as there could 
 be no virtue in man on the theory of a total 
 corruption of human nature, so neither could 
 there be vice, — religionists could hardly suffer 
 their piety so to exaggerate the truth, as to 
 destroy the very existence of right and 
 wrong. For the nature of man, on their 
 hypothesis, is reduced to that of brutes : the 
 evil of his nature becomes then only as the 
 ferociousness of the tiger, or the subtlety of 
 the serpent — a noxious and fearful principle, 
 but not a vice ; because there is no violation 
 of the authority of a better principle, or law 
 of right, within the heart.™ 
 
 Again, had Moral Philosophy been duly 
 consulted, we should not have heard of a 
 
 ■^ "iiore KOI cia tovto tU 6)]pia ovk aKpari], on ovk i'^ti 
 KadoXov VTToXrjtpiv, aWa tuiv caQ' eKaorci (pavraaiav koL 
 fipr]^r]v. Aristot. Ethic, vii. 3. "EXarrot' ce drjpioTrjQ 
 KaKiag' (poj^epwrepoy ci' oil yap cucjiBaprat to ^eXriarop, 
 bXTTzeo kv Tbj uydptjTTo), aW OVK i^et. . . . daLyearipa yap )/ 
 (j)avX6TT)Q del, j/ tov fii) 'i-)(OVTog dp^iiv' 6 ct vovg apj^j) .... 
 jjLvpiOTrXatTia yap av /ca/ca iroiiiaeif.v dvOpwiroQ kokoq drjpiov. 
 Ibid. c. 6. See also Butler in the Preface to his Sermons : 
 — "Brutes, in acting according to their bodily constitution 
 and circumstances, act suitably to their whole nature. . . . 
 Mankind also, in acting thus, would act suitably to their 
 whole nature, if no more were to be said of man's nature 
 than what has been now said," &c. — P. 15.
 
 G4 LECTURE 11. 
 
 system of doctrines iiiuler the christian name, 
 which leaves the heart of man without an 
 altar, where it may lay its burthen of guilt, 
 and pour out its offering of prayers and tears. 
 A mere unfeeling reason may discern the 
 abstract efficacy of repentance to retrieve 
 the sinner ; but he will not argue so, who 
 listens to the pleadings of his feelings, the 
 wise monitors within him, the sentinels 
 stationed at every bye-path, to restrain the 
 aberrations of the intellect. A sound moral 
 philosophy sending us to learn wisdom from 
 the heart, no less than from the head, will 
 direct us in inquiring what is rational, to 
 take our standard of rationality, by what 
 approves itself to our whole nature ; not to one 
 part only — by what consoles us, and elevates 
 and kindles our affections towards God, not 
 by that only which makes us think of Him 
 with precision and consistency. 
 
 Indeed, but for the neglect of the inde- 
 pendent study of Moral Philosophy, the 
 christian world would not have seen elaborate 
 systemsof theology erected, where men should 
 have rather humbly felt the truth, and bowed 
 obedience to it. I remarked to you before, 
 that during the dominion of scholasticism, 
 there existed no moral philosophy, properly
 
 LECTURE II. 65 
 
 SO called ; but a substitute for it under the 
 name of Moral Theology. Taking the form 
 into which all the science of the age was 
 thrown, that of questions, with the arguments 
 on them and conclusions, it was no inquiry 
 into the laws of human nature, but rather a 
 solution of doubts, and cases of conscience, 
 adapted to the needs of the theological dis- 
 putant and the confessor." The lights of a 
 true philosophy were certainly struck out occa- 
 sionally by powerful minds even acting thus at 
 a disadvantage, and scattering their bread on 
 the waters and the waste. Much, too, of sound 
 moral wisdom was brought to bear on their 
 discussions, through the happy influence of 
 Aristotle's ethics, which flourished in the 
 schools. Still there was nothing in the scho- 
 lastic ethics to counteract the importunate 
 pressure on the mind of a speculative theology ; 
 nothing to soften down the hard outline of 
 logical deductions, and to give the feelings 
 their proper elasticity and power. Men were 
 not led to know themselves, or to recognize 
 the yearnings of their moral nature as real 
 elements of truth ; but squandered their 
 whole substance on the demands of an 
 
 " After this model Bishop Taylor entitles his great ethical 
 work Ductor Duhitantium, or, The Rule of Conscience. 
 
 F
 
 / 
 
 6i) LECTURE II. 
 
 insatiable, inexorable dogmatism, reserving 
 nothing for the silent, unthought of, wants 
 of the heart. 
 
 The paramomit importance of Moral Philo- 
 sophy will, however, more distinctly appear, 
 if w^e consider that it is the knowledge to 
 which all other knowledge is ultimately re- 
 ferred, and by which the very form of Truth 
 is circumscribed and limited. Though it is 
 easy to find objections against the position 
 of the ancient philosopher, that " man is 
 the measure of all things;" the theory is 
 undoubtedly true in this sense, that we have 
 no knowledge beyond what is relative to our 
 nature and condition in the world. The light 
 vouchsafed to us is adjusted to our present 
 capacities and wants. To know what God 
 is in his own nature ; what the soul is ; what 
 the principle is by which bodies gravitate 
 towards one another; — this evidently is not 
 the kind of truth which corresponds with such 
 a being as man. It is conceivable that we 
 might know these several truths without being 
 enabled to act our part at all the better for 
 such knowledge, in the condition in which we 
 have been placed. But to know by observation 
 on ourselves and the world around us, that
 
 LECTUItE II. 67 
 
 God is with us ; that we have a principle of 
 enduring vitality in our own nature ; that 
 bodies mutually gravitate ; — these, and such 
 like, are informations as to the manner in 
 which we are to conduct ourselves in that 
 state of things in the midst of which we live 
 and move. The knowledge, indeed, of nature 
 from phenomena, the only knowledge that we 
 are able to obtain, is precisely that which 
 serves for action. It is a language which 
 nature particularly addresses to us, telling us 
 by what forces and influences we are sur- 
 rounded, and consequently how to regulate 
 our own behaviour in regard to them, or to 
 apply them to our use. A knowledge of our- 
 selves, accordingly, of our own nature and 
 condition, is the ultimate philosophy, the last 
 word, into which all science resolves itself and 
 ends. We must study Moral Philosophy as 
 containing in it the inward truths, which are 
 the key to the cypher of nature — the prin- 
 ciples, from which all other truth derives its 
 character and expression. 
 
 In concluding these remarks, I may be 
 allowed to depart from the strict office of the 
 lecturer, and assume that of the advocate. 
 Let me exhort that we should proceed in 
 
 F 2
 
 68 LECTURE II. 
 
 that path wliich our University disciphne of 
 education marks out for us. " Hae tibi erunt 
 artes," I would say to each member of our 
 body. Make that course of high and mas- 
 cuhne hterature which you are pursuing, 
 effectual to the refinement, and strengthen- 
 ing, and elevation of your minds, by com- 
 bining with it the study of a sound philosophy 
 of human nature — the science, of which, by 
 the very direction of your academical reading, 
 you have already some of the noblest docu- 
 ments placed in your hands.
 
 69 
 
 LECTURE III. 
 
 From a general survey of the character and 
 importance of Moral Philosophy, I proceed to 
 the nearer consideration of it in its internal 
 system. In the present Course of Lectures, 
 indeed, I do not mean to examine any of its 
 principles in detail, or to discuss any parti- 
 cular system. When I speak, therefore, of 
 the internal view of its nature, I do not 
 extend this expression beyond the compass 
 which I have originally proposed to myself. 
 My object being simply to introduce you to 
 the study of moral science, I shall accord- 
 ingly still be employed only on general views 
 of its nature. 
 
 I purpose, accordingly, in this and the fol- 
 lowing Lectures, to treat of the fundamental 
 principle on which all moral inquiry proceeds; 
 the method of investigation which it pursues ; 
 and the evidence which it possesses; and so 
 to pass on to the consideration of the several
 
 70 LECTURE III. 
 
 inquiries into which it branches, and the 
 method by which it may most effectually be 
 studied. 
 
 The first thing to be inquired into, when 
 we come to study any science, is, what are 
 the facts about which it is conversant? what 
 is the class of phenomena to which it directs 
 our attention ? If a science is the methodical 
 acquaintance with certain objects in nature, 
 these objects must have in them some prin- 
 ciple of combination, some point of resem- 
 blance, in order to their classification and 
 arrangement. This agreement or resem- 
 blance is the object of the philosophical eye ; 
 and when once it is seized, the subsequent 
 investigation is, to trace the laws of the ob- 
 served correspondence, and to characterize 
 and fix in the terms of theories the transient, 
 indefinite, and perplexed phenomena of ob- 
 servation. The line of observation is marked 
 out in Nature ; and then Science proceeds to 
 erect its landmarks, and to record, for the 
 general information of men, the truths which 
 it has collected and noted. 
 
 For Science, it should be observed, has no 
 higher ambition than to reduce what is com- 
 plex in nature to the most simple expression ;
 
 LECTURE III. 71 
 
 what is fugitive or unstable, to steadiness and 
 uniformity. I should add, relatively to the 
 mind of man : for otherwise, it might be 
 supposed, that Nature herself is all confusion 
 and uncertainty, and that Science brings order 
 out of the chaos, and impresses stability on 
 the restless flowing tide. But such is not the 
 case. Nature herself is regular and simple, 
 and beautiful and good. But man sees not 
 the outlines of her perfection, previously to 
 discipline of himself. His mind's eye is dizzied 
 and confounded, when it attempts to survey 
 the operations of Nature. He feels that there 
 is too much for him to take in at a glance ; 
 that he must have some method by which his 
 view may be directed and assisted — some key 
 put into his hand by which he may unlock 
 the treasures of Nature. This method, this 
 key, is Science. It establishes order and 
 constancy in the mind. It is the chaos of 
 thought which it informs — the multiplicity 
 of perceptions and opinions which it reduces 
 to their simplest and truest expression. Such 
 expressions of thought accordingly have been 
 appropriately denominated Theories ; as so 
 many points of contemplation from which 
 the mind takes in the truth of things — views 
 things, as they are in the constitution of
 
 /^ LECTURE III. 
 
 nature, and not as isolated, irregular, and 
 confused phenomena. 
 
 Science is constructed on the same prin- 
 ciples, and answers precisely the same pur- 
 poses, as are involved in the structure itself 
 of language. The only difference is in the 
 comparative excellence of the two instru- 
 ments. Language is hastily and roughly con- 
 structed out of the first observations which 
 the mind has made on things ; whilst Science 
 has formed its observations by the rules and 
 discipline of method, watching its own pro- 
 cedure, and carefully guarding against error. 
 Both, however, analyse Nature : language 
 recording by words the various phenomena 
 which a superficial analysis has grouped toge- 
 ther ; Science expressing in theories those 
 combinations which its more patient and 
 severe analysis has discovered. Thus when, 
 in ordinary phraseology, we call any object 
 material, or mental, we place it among a cer- 
 tain class of phenomena, considered so far 
 alike as to admit a common name recording 
 this likeness. But when the philosopher has 
 resolved the fall of a stone and the revo- 
 lution of a planet into the law of gravita- 
 tion, he marks, by a theoretic expression, a 
 recondite observation^ which the more exact
 
 LECTURE III. 73 
 
 procedure of his mind has enabled him to make, 
 of latent resemblances in natm*e. The object 
 in view in the unconscious framers of lan- 
 guage, as well as in the philosopher, is to fix 
 and preserve evanescent phenomena in un- 
 changing signs and forms of thought, for 
 future knowledge and use. Only the terms of 
 ordinary language are superficial in the know- 
 ledge which they convey, as subservient to the 
 common purposes of life ; the higher phrase- 
 ology of Science founded on methodical ob- 
 servation, reveals the secrets of nature to the 
 searcher after truth. 
 
 The work of Science, then, may be regarded 
 as an improvement on that first rough method 
 of observation, of which a language at its per- 
 fect state is the result and the evidence. By 
 a continuation of the same process, accord- 
 ingly, by which the fabric of science was first 
 reared, a science becomes more and more a 
 science. As its observations are more exact, 
 as its analysis is more penetrating, so it dis- 
 charges more fully the ofiice which it has 
 undertaken, and results in a more scientific 
 knowledge. 
 
 Thus it i« that every science commences 
 with certain observations, to which, as to one 
 subject, ii directs the whole aim of its inquiry.
 
 74 LECTURE III. 
 
 It assumes, as it were, a rough science of the 
 matter in hand, and proceeds to work on this 
 outHne, drawing out more exact observations 
 from it, and so on continually narrowing the 
 field of inquiry, and concentrating its force on 
 more and more inward points of view. When 
 at length some ultimate facts are reached, 
 facts which seem incapable of further analysis, 
 a science at this point is regarded as complete. 
 Here, therefore, it rests ; until at least the 
 happy genius of some fresh inquirer, or a ray 
 of light cast on the subject by some fortunate 
 accident, opens a glimpse of some more recon- 
 dite truth. 
 
 What are those facts, then, which give 
 occasion to the science of Moral Philosophy ? 
 In a word, we shall readily answer — Human 
 Actions — all those phenomena which the con- 
 duct of man exhibits. The most superficial 
 observation shows us, that the behaviour of 
 human agents is quite distinct in its character 
 from that of material objects in their opera- 
 tion on each other ; and this is enough to 
 constitute a separate science respecting this 
 class of agents. Moral Philosophy, accord- 
 ingly, is the science of Human Actions. It 
 investigates the laws of Human Actions ;
 
 LECTURE III. 75 
 
 carefully collecting all the phenomena by 
 which they are displayed, and reducing them 
 to the order, the harmony, and the constancy 
 of Theory. 
 
 When we come, however, to study Human 
 Actions, and for the direction of all future in- 
 quiries to discriminate their phenomena from 
 those of any other subject, what is the first 
 observation that occurs to us ? It is this, that 
 actions are distinguished from all other objects, 
 in being parts of the conduct of a being endued 
 with capacities of good and evil, and percep- 
 tions of right and wrong, — with a sensitive, 
 and a moral nature ; and that Actions, conse- 
 quently, are the pursuit of that good and 
 right, the avoidance of that evil and wrong, 
 to which man is so sensitively ahve. As the 
 peculiar effects of Man, they are the effects of 
 that peculiar nature which belongs to man. 
 They are, therefore, essentially pursuits of 
 ends, aims at good, efforts towards the attain- 
 ment of some object either immediate or 
 remote. They are the characteristic effects 
 of a being, conscious that his life and hap- 
 piness are put in his own power, and who 
 displays in them, more or less perfectly, 
 according to the state of the individual, his
 
 76 
 
 LECTURE 111. 
 
 endeavours to realize those results. The 
 laws, therefore, of which Moral Philosophy 
 is in quest, are the laws of Human Activity, 
 — the theory of that unceasing spirit of pur- 
 suit which every human action displays, — 
 the systematic view of all those various phe- 
 nomena, by which the instinctive restlessness 
 of our nature is evidenced. 
 
 The great principle, then, on which the 
 whole of moral science proceeds, is, that 
 man is an 'Apxf) ^ — a Principle in himself — an 
 author and originator of effects. This is 
 assumed by the very nature of the inquiry, 
 which is an investigation into the facts exem- 
 plifying this principle of Activity. It is an 
 assumption in this branch of study exactly 
 analogous to that of Natural Philosophy, that 
 nature is in itself a principle of motion. 
 Neither assumption, indeed, excludes the 
 idea of a Supreme Being, by whose creative 
 and sustaining energy the powers of a moral 
 nature, as well as those of the material uni- 
 verse, obtain their proper force. To take, 
 however, this consideration into our estimate, 
 true and most important as it is, would be to 
 sacrifice the independent character of either 
 
 " Aristot. Eth. iii. 5, vi. 2.
 
 LECTURE III, 77 
 
 class of investigations. It would be to mix 
 up natural theology with subordinate sciences ; 
 to overlook proximate causes, the first and 
 immediate concern of human inquiry, in a 
 sudden transition to the great Primary Cause, 
 in whose presence all philosophy terminates, 
 and curiosity expires in adoration. 
 
 To call in question this fundamental as- 
 sumption, is to deny the existence of any 
 proper science of morals. It is to reduce 
 the philosophy of man to a promiscuous 
 level with that knowledge, which we obtain 
 of effects in the world without us. Indeed, 
 it is bringing into question the whole specu- 
 lation concerning cause and effect. For we 
 have no other reason for attributing the phe- 
 nomena of nature to the agency of a cause, — 
 no idea of such a relation as that of cause 
 and effect, — but from the consciousness of a 
 power within ourselves to produce external 
 effects. We know, from what passes within 
 ourselves, that this power exists — this relation 
 of our will to our actions, as a principle of 
 causation. It is an ultimate fact in the con- 
 stitution of our minds, that the notion of a 
 principle of causation is immediately sug- 
 gested on our perceiving what passes within 
 ourselves when we act. And it is by gene-
 
 78 LECTURE III. 
 
 ralizing this fact that we ascribe a cause to 
 external phenomena, so that every change 
 observed in objects without us, is conceived 
 necessarily to result from the agency of 
 some force.^ 
 
 To deny, therefore, the fundamental prin- 
 ciple of man's intrinsic Activity, would be 
 to introduce an universal scepticism. As we 
 could only speak then of phenomena, as con- 
 joined in the way of antecedents and conse- 
 quents, so respecting man in particular, it 
 would be but idle to speak of the motives of 
 his conduct : virtue and vice would not be 
 principles of the heart, but the mere general 
 names of similar modes of behaviour. The 
 whole rule of virtue would rest on the ob- 
 servation, that a certain series of actions is 
 found connected with certain consequences 
 in fact. We should not see why one virtuous 
 action naturally follows another. There would 
 be nothing to shock our reason in the sup- 
 position, that the most vicious act might 
 follow the most virtuous in the conduct of 
 the same person. 
 
 As Moral Philosophy takes its rise on this 
 assumption, so the whole business of it is to 
 
 b See M. Cousin, Hist, de la Philos. du XVI I P. sieclc. 
 19 Le^on.— Paris, 1829.
 
 LECTURE III. 79 
 
 collect and arrange observations on the prin- 
 ciple. Not that any researches, however wide 
 and profound, can ever throw any hght on the 
 principle of Human Activity, as it exists in 
 itself. Its characteristics, and its manifesta- 
 tions, are all that it is permitted us to know 
 respecting it, and all that a just moral philo- 
 sophy will aspire to know. We can know no 
 more of it in itself, than we know of the 
 principle of life, of the nature of the soul, of 
 the intellect, of space, or time, of any other 
 nature, whose simple existence is, notwith- 
 standing its intrinsic mystery, fully evident to 
 our minds. As I have said, its characteristics 
 and its manifestations are what moral philo- 
 sophy leads us to study, what it promises to 
 treat of, and draw forth for our information 
 and improvement. 
 
 Now it is clear that we have a distinct 
 conception of this intrinsic self-activity, inde- 
 pendently of the particular actions by which it 
 is exerted and manifested. Its reality is ante- 
 cedently evident to our consciousness, which 
 acquaints us with its existence, as fully as our 
 outward observation discovers to us the exist- 
 ence of objects without us. We are inwardly 
 sensible, at the moment when we will to do
 
 80 LECTURE IIL 
 
 any thing, that it is in onr power to will either 
 to do, or not to do it ; that, whatever circum- 
 stances have either preceded or followed our 
 determination, it is, in the strictest sense, 
 competent to us to zaill to act in this way 
 or in that way. And here resides the true 
 power, the proper freedom of the Will in 
 man. Circumstances may oblige us to take 
 this course or that, when we come to execute 
 our Will. There we encounter forces not 
 under our own control. For instance, the 
 will to move the palsied arm is no less a real 
 act of volition, no less a plenary exertion of 
 the intrinsic Activity of our nature, because 
 the arm does not obey the Will, than if the 
 motion had followed. For the defective 
 organization is the impediment only to the 
 effect : this cannot act on the primary mover, 
 the Will itself, which still feels and asserts 
 its own freedom, in spite of the obstructions to 
 its positive efficiency. External circumstances 
 are necessary conditions to its devehpment, 
 but cannot alter its intrinsic nature. 
 
 But though nothing is wanting of outward 
 effect, to give us a distinct consciousness of 
 the reality of the active power with which our 
 nature is endued, yet, in order to philosophize 
 concerning it, we must have recourse, as I
 
 LECTURE III. 81 
 
 have said, to the phenomena by which it is 
 manifested. But what are these phenomena 
 but Actions ; Moral Actions, that is ; pheno- 
 mena, which display man as he is a motive 
 principle, an intrinsic agent, originating effects 
 through his own spontaneous energy. 
 
 But why do I say Moral Actions particu- 
 larly ? For it might seem that actions, in 
 the general sense, are evidences of the 
 motive principle of human nature; that any 
 effects whatever, produced by man, — as, for 
 instance, works of art, — are among the phe- 
 nomena to which our observation should be 
 directed. 
 
 I except, then, all but moral actions from 
 the class of phenomena which we are to in- 
 vestigate, with a view to ascertaining the laws 
 of man's active nature, for this reason. In all 
 our other exertions, the intellect bears the 
 principal part, and our active nature the 
 secondary. The works of art are manifesta- 
 tions of the intellectual principle; to which, 
 indeed, the concurrence of the active powers 
 is necessary, as a condition, but not as con- 
 stituting an essential part of the production. 
 But in moral actions, it is just the reverse. 
 The moral action is, properly and solely, a 
 manifestation of man .as an active being. The
 
 82 LECTURE III. 
 
 intellect is here the necessary condition for 
 the development of the active power. For 
 without a power of thought, and discernment, 
 and deliberation, and judgment, it would be 
 clearly impossible to act at all. The power 
 to act would equally exist, but could never be 
 exerted — could never show itself in any intel- 
 ligible manner. 
 
 By moral actions, I designate all such as 
 give indication of passions, dispositions, sen- 
 timents, manners, character. Now, in the 
 phenomena which display these last, the fact 
 presented to our notice is some mode or 
 other in which the activity of our nature 
 develops itself: they are various illustrations 
 of human agency. Though by analysis we 
 detect in them the operation also of in- 
 tellectual principles," — as in the comparison 
 of motives, the dehberation on them, the 
 ultimate decision, — they are only inciden- 
 tally illustrations of these, whilst they give 
 a direct answer to the question ; how man 
 acts. Do we inquire how he knows and 
 reasons, we must resort to other facts than 
 these. 
 
 Neither, again, are the common acts of 
 speaking, walking, and such like, to be 
 consulted, when we would search into
 
 LECTURE III. 83 
 
 man's active powers. These are phenomena 
 belonging to our physical capacities. They 
 show, indeed, power as well as intellect; 
 but they are not proper instances of either. 
 Their proper application is, to illustrate 
 the connexion of soul and body — to give 
 evidence of that wonderful mechanism by 
 which a spiritual nature operates on a 
 material one. 
 
 Without, however, further discussion of the 
 differences which characterize man's moral 
 energies in contrast with other functions of 
 his active power, it is sufficient for our pur- 
 pose to point out, that moral actions alone 
 present a view of human activity in its unim- 
 peded exercise. Hence the name of Actions, 
 in the most popular sense, has been given 
 to these : the popular acceptation of the 
 term marking the class of phenomena to 
 which the attention of the philosopher is pe- 
 culiarly called, when he would investigate the 
 nature of Human Activity. In the passions, 
 the character, the manners, we see that in 
 which the power of man resides — his will to 
 do, or not to do — freely exercised. No co- 
 operation from the physical world is here 
 required — no bodily organization, as in the 
 motion of the arm, is here called into play. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 LECTURE III. 
 
 These phenomena are the simple modifica- 
 tions of the Will. The passions felt, the senti- 
 ments formed, the disposition, the manners, 
 manifest to each person's consciousness that 
 he is truly an apxn in himself; they evidence 
 both where the sphere of his power lies, 
 and how far it extends. In studying these 
 he finds that he has indeed a power given 
 him by the Lord of all power and might, of 
 which he could otherwise have had no con- 
 ception. He perceives that he is placed in 
 his own hands ; that it is his high " preroga- 
 tive to be, in a great degree, a creature of 
 his own making;" that he can modify and 
 transform himself, as a moral being, as he 
 pleases ; that what he may become depends 
 almost solely on what he mat/ mill. 
 
 Nothing, in fact, appears strictly placed 
 in our own power, but our virtue, and our 
 happiness as its consequent, on the one 
 hand — our vice, with its consequent misery, 
 on the other. Virtue and Vice are essentially 
 principles of the heart ; existing only as they 
 are put forth into being by the human agent. 
 They have no dependence on external facts 
 for their production. It is enough that the 
 will is for one or for the other : the virtuous 
 will is virtue, and the vicious will is vice.
 
 LECTURE III. 85 
 
 External facts, indeed, are required to give 
 evidence to others of the moral state of our 
 own hearts : — not so, however, for ourselves. 
 We are conscious of the internal act by 
 which we will either right or wrong ; and 
 that nothing can impede either the one or 
 the other, — the will to do right, or the will 
 to do wrong, — the virtuous or the vicious 
 act accordingly, — but a change of Will. The 
 external moral act, on the contrary, is not 
 always in our power. We may do good or 
 do evil, without any real command over the 
 act. The timid may display an act of courage, 
 or the cou^-ageous an act of timidity, with- 
 out any real inclination towards the actions 
 performed. The mere force of passion, what 
 I may call the organic part of our mental 
 constitution, may overpower the moral agent, 
 may induce him to act otherwise than he 
 would. Accidental circumstances may favour 
 a particular course of conduct or thwart it. 
 Benevolence may want the opportunity to be 
 kind in deed ; and an unamiable heart may 
 overflow with streams of bounty. W^e are not 
 then conscious of any exertion of our own 
 power to do or not to do from the actual 
 results in our conduct. It is always with 
 reference to what we xvould do, or would not
 
 S6 LECTURE III. 
 
 do, that we impute to our own agency the 
 action done, even when it is such as is 
 cognizable only at the tribunal of our own 
 conscience." 
 
 These primary facts regarding the principle 
 of Human Activity indicate to the philosopher 
 the object which he is to pursue in the inves- 
 tigations of moral truth. In these inquiries, 
 more than in any, is exemplified the maxim 
 of the sage ; " that human knowledge and 
 power are coincident." We are engaged in 
 exploring man's proper dominions, — the region 
 within which man holds sway with a supre- 
 macy, delegated indeed from the Sovereign 
 Ruler of the universe, but absolute. The 
 moral philosopher searches out that land in 
 its length and breadth : he travels into every 
 corner of it, collects its statistics, discovers 
 the laws by which its government is admi- 
 nistered. Moral power, like all other power, 
 
 *= See Butler on " The Nature of Virtue."—" 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," &c. — P. 434. Aristotle 
 did not sufficiently attend to the internal action, when he 
 denied the moral virtues to the gods because they could 
 have no occasion for the outward exercise of them. — 
 Ethic. X. c. 8.
 
 LECTURE III. 87 
 
 is only to be established by a principle of 
 obedience, by obeying its own laws : as 
 nature, in general, so the moral world, 
 parendo vincitur. All our studies accordingly 
 are subordinate to this great business — the 
 knowledge of the principles by which man's 
 activity develops itself ; that by conforming 
 to these we may obtain the mastery of our- 
 selves. Thus is Moral Philosophy preemi- 
 nently a science of Human Duty. To find 
 out the laws by which a moral being is 
 bound, is to know where his strength lies ; 
 to obey those laws, is to realize it in fact. 
 All other sciences only indirectly increase 
 man's power : they enlarge the sphere of his 
 operation, multiply his relations to external 
 objects, add new conquests to his natural 
 kingdom. Moral Philosophy strengthens and 
 augments that power in itself. At the same 
 time it enables man to avail himself more 
 fully of the acquisitions made by the other 
 sciences, to apply these acquisitions to the 
 elevation of the mind, the reformation of the 
 heart, and the improvement of social life. 
 
 It is then to internal actions that the eye of 
 the moral philosopher directs its view. Exter- 
 nal facts present to him, in common with the.
 
 88 LECTURE III. 
 
 physical philosopher, a difficulty arising from 
 their complexity, — from their involving cir- 
 cumstances unessential to the production of 
 the effects, and demanding, therefore, an 
 acute and severe analysis, in order to their 
 successful investigation. But he has this diffi- 
 culty over and above the physical philosopher, 
 that the facts which properly concern his 
 inquiries are internal. Actions, as they are 
 outward events, give no distinct indication of 
 the principles of which he is in search. In 
 observing therefore the actions of men as they 
 appear on the face of the world, he must prac- 
 tise a strict caution and reserve. He must 
 reject what he sees and hears around him as 
 any decisive evidence of the recondite truth 
 which is his object. Of him, indeed, it may be 
 said, with truth,^ — 
 
 Ail roi fta^Eiac (ppoPTiCog (XO)Trjpiov, 
 hiKTiv KoXvfxftrjTripoQ, tr ftvSfov fxdkeiv 
 ^etopKoq ofifia, fijjc ayav Otvwywevov.'' 
 
 The laws of the will are what he is seeking 
 after, and these, he must be ever aware, are 
 not to be found but in the sanctuary itself of 
 the human heart, nor even there (more than 
 
 '^ ^schyl. Supp. 420.
 
 LECTURE III. 89 
 
 any other truths), without an exact scrutiny 
 and rejection of irrelevant phenomena. 
 
 When, for instance, some philosophers have 
 concluded, from the manifestation of man's 
 active powers in childhood or in the savage 
 state, that virtue was not the natural in- 
 stinctive law of the human will, might we 
 not say at once that they had philosophized 
 superficially on the subject ; that they had 
 mistaken for phenomena of the Human Will 
 mere external complex facts ; that they had 
 made no allowance for modifications and 
 counteractions arising from circumstances, 
 and called simple events, accidental com- 
 binations of appearances, the laws of nature ? 
 
 That the laws of man's active powers are 
 not to be sought in the promiscuous survey 
 of human actions, was implied in that theory 
 of ancient philosophy, that the Will is in- 
 variably towards good. It is contended by 
 Plato, that, so far from the vicious man being 
 master of his own actions, and doing what- 
 ever he wills, the contrary is the case. The 
 vicious man, says Socrates, does " what 
 seems" good to him, a hoKel, but not what 
 ** he wills," a ^ovXerac." "" His actions do not 
 
 •^ Plato, Gorgias.
 
 90 LECTURE III. 
 
 exhibit liim as a being endued with active 
 power, but only as he is subject to be acted 
 on by circumstances. His behaviour is the 
 type of his feehngs or opinions, not of his 
 will. So far, indeed, Socrates was right in his 
 view. He saw that man did not enjoy the 
 proper power of his nature, when he indulged 
 every wayward fancy, and conformed his con- 
 duct to each appearance of good. Socrates 
 was only wrong when he carried this theory 
 too far, and pronounced that all indulgence 
 of the passions, all vice, is involuntary. 
 Assuredly, vice is not the true-born offspring 
 of man's gifted power of action, but it does 
 not follow therefore that vice is involuntary. 
 The will by which we act is free (as I have 
 before pointed out) even at the moment when 
 it does not put forth its full power, when it 
 gives way to passions which it might control ; 
 when, like the strong man, it submits to be 
 bound and shorn of its strength. The fact 
 of its giving way only evidences its natural 
 weakness, its need of support, and cultivation, 
 and improvement. The case does not prove 
 the absence of active power, but the conco- 
 mitance of other circumstances varying the 
 result. But Plato wished to give the aristeia 
 to philosophy. That which dispels igno-
 
 LECTURE III. 91 
 
 ranee, removes the delusions of false opinions, 
 corrects wrong measures of things, and pre- 
 sents objects as they are to the spirituahzed 
 eye of intellect, must be accordingly the true 
 antidote of vice. Philosophy, making the evil 
 that " seemed " good to the vicious man, no 
 longer to seem so, the will obtains its lawful 
 power, and realizes the good to which it is 
 naturally directed, — which it seeks all along, 
 but, from ignorance, cannot attain. 
 
 But if the Will, the active power of man, is 
 in itself weak and inadequate to its own func- 
 tions, it must be the part of sound philosophy 
 to strengthen that power in itself, not indi- 
 rectly through the intellect, but by immediate 
 address to itself. The laws of its intrinsic 
 operation must be ascertained, and these 
 apphed as a discipline of improvement. The 
 object of Moral Philosophy being " not know- 
 ledge but action," its whole stress must be on 
 what tends to increase the power of action, — 
 to invest this power with the full prerogatives 
 of that authority which the Lord of all power 
 has destined it to receive. 
 
 Such is the high mission of Moral Philoso- 
 phy. Such is the vast aim of all its subordi- 
 nate and instrumental labours.
 
 92 
 
 LECTURE III. 
 
 But in working out this object, does it pre- 
 tend to dispense with the service of Religion ? 
 Does it aspire alone to accomplish the rege- 
 neration of the Human Will, to reinstate man 
 in his natural dominion, to shed on him the 
 lustre of the awful image in which he was 
 originally formed ? — No : The very nature of 
 the object proposed will show that it aims not 
 to realize, by its single-handed efforts, so glo- 
 rious an enterprize. A true moral philosophy 
 will feel the imperfection of the instruments 
 with which it works. The study of the 
 human Will, — a knowledge of the various 
 forms under which the Activity of man 
 develops itself, — will effectually preclude all 
 idle expectation of unattainable results. Its 
 machinery, indeed, will be perfect as far as it 
 reaches : it will infallibly do its work, if it be 
 given free play. It will invigorate the active 
 powers of man : it will facilitate their opera- 
 tion : it will both guide them into the proper 
 course, and exalt them to efforts of which 
 they were before incapable. But it will not 
 overlook the fact, that there is something 
 mysterious and inexplicable by human specu- 
 lation in that principle of activity which it 
 investigates. It will see that it is not in the 
 heart which takes counsel, or in the hand which
 
 LECTURE III. 93 
 
 executes, that the strength of the agent hes ;, 
 that the battle is not for the strong, or the race 
 for the swift ; but that with all, at the very 
 moment when the victory seems to be won, it 
 is given ; and that the pious assertion of one, 
 whose moral strength was perhaps never sur- 
 passed, is literally true — " When I am weak, 
 then am I strong." 
 
 For there is a real enthusiasm of the will, 
 as there is a real enthusiasm of the intellect. 
 There are moments when we apprehend truths, 
 as it were, by an instinctive perception, — when 
 we have a lively irresistible conviction pre- 
 sented to our minds, independently of any 
 reasons for its support, — when our pure reason 
 in fact is, in itself, the evidence to us of the 
 principles whose truth we conceive. This 
 seems to be admitted by Aristotle himself, 
 when he says, that " even in the bad there is 
 some natural good, Kpeirrov rj Kaff avra, supe- 
 rior to what they are in themselves, which 
 aims at its own good;"^ and still more, in 
 another passage (if the work in which it 
 occurs be really his), which speaks of per- 
 ceptions " without reason, and higher than 
 reason ;" and of persons who are wise " by a 
 happy fortune," by a presence of mind and 
 f Ethic. X. c. 2,
 
 94 LECTURE III. 
 
 quickness of perception beyond the calcu- 
 lation of reasoning.*^ The observation applies 
 particularly to the active powers. There are, 
 in this department of our nature, striking 
 cases of an instantaneous perception of the 
 right and wrong in conduct, — when there is 
 not only an abstract knowledge of what ought 
 to be done, but a ready and unaccountable 
 power of doing it, — when the happiness of 
 virtue suddenly fills the heart with ineffable 
 joy, — and the moral strength wonders at the 
 miracles of its own achievement. Here man 
 feels a principle of duty superior to his rules 
 of conduct, and working the same end with 
 those rules, only carrying him, however, more 
 rapidly to it ; as in the inspirations of the 
 intellect, truths of the highest reason are 
 apprehended with an intuitiveness which out- 
 strips the processes of reason.^ There may be 
 
 s Kivtl yap 7rit)Q iravra to Iv i}jxlv dtiov, k.t.X. — Ethic. 
 ad Eudem. VII. c. 14. The work has been attributed to 
 Theophrastus, and to Eudemus of Rhodes. The text of 
 the passage referred to is extremely corrupt : but the 
 general sense of it is sufficiently clear. 
 
 h This, probably, is the solution of the demon of Socrates. 
 The instinctive piety of his mind animated and directed 
 his conduct in a way that he could not account for by dint 
 of reasoning, and therefore explained to himself as an 
 express Divine interference. — See Phcedrus, pp. 311, .312.
 
 LECTURE III. 95 
 
 a false enthusiasm of the heart as of the intel- 
 lect : such are the fancied experiences which 
 result in the fervours and ecstasies of mysti- 
 cism. Still there is a basis of truth on which 
 such perversions have been built. The fact is 
 extremely difficult to be verified, as it appeals 
 solely to each person's consciousness ; it is 
 difficult also to state it in an unobjectionable 
 form. But it cannot, I think, be rejected from 
 among the real phenomena of the mind.' 
 
 Moral Philosophy, accordingly, so far from 
 excluding the operation of Religion on the 
 heart, will especially respect Religion among 
 its means of exalting and improving the power 
 of man. By observing that even in the domi- 
 nion of the will, after the utmost investigation 
 of the laws of action, there remains the evi- 
 dence of a force whose operation cannot be 
 explained by these laws, it will take care to 
 preserve in its system, and cherish, that in- 
 stinct of our nature which sends us for help 
 and strength out of ourselves. It will breathe 
 along with the devout aspirations of faith, and 
 yield itself up to the holy violence of prayer. 
 
 Certainly no true philosophy would omit 
 
 ^ See the observations of M. Guizot, Hist, de la Civiliz. 
 en France, Le^on 5. Paris, 1829. Also, M. Cousin, Hist, 
 de la Philos. du XVIIP. siecle. 4*^ Lecon.
 
 96 LECTURE III. 
 
 the cultivation of those sentiments by whicli 
 the heart of man is impelled towards God and 
 a world beyond the present view. These 
 sentiments are as much a development of 
 man's active powers, as any others; as any 
 that manifest themselves in the phenomena 
 of social life. These, therefore, strictly fall 
 under the operation of those laws of the human 
 will which it is the object of this branch of 
 philosophy to discover. Any philosophy which 
 neglected the consideration of them, must be 
 so far maimed and imperfect. 
 
 But, after all that has been accomplished by 
 the most extensive research, there will still 
 remain to be allowed for, those phenomena in 
 which Human Activity displays a power more 
 than its own, and (to speak strictly) not its 
 own. Here, then, is the proper exclusive 
 ground of Religion. Rehgion sums up all its 
 practical energy in the one quality of Resigna- 
 tion. It takes by the hand those feelings of 
 the heart which look heavenward. Its divine 
 ambition is, to loosen the ties which bind us 
 to the present narrow scene of earthly duties, 
 and to fix our thoughts and desires on the 
 invisible spiritual world. Our Lord very gra- 
 phically and very truly describes its character, 
 when he said, " If a man forsake not father
 
 LECTURE in. 97 
 
 and mother, and wife, and children, and bre- 
 thren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, 
 he cannot be my disciple.'"" As Religion, 
 such is its nature : it is essentially abnegation 
 of self, of present endearments, of the world 
 around us, of our own power. It is, as I 
 have said (using the thought and expression 
 of Bishop Butler'), Resignation, — a surrender 
 of ourselves to interests and influences out 
 of our own dominion and control. It works 
 on the heart by faith, hope, love, patience ; 
 means which, in themselves, divert us from 
 confidence in our own activity, and so far 
 check that activity. That Religion, in itself 
 alone, tends to this extreme, is evidenced in 
 the lives of devotees, who have sought an 
 entire abstractedness from society, and endea- 
 voured to realize its sublime influence in their 
 hearts, by stilling every thought into passive- 
 ness and repose. We are not to blame such 
 persons for being too religious, for pervert- 
 ing and misrepresenting Religion by excess. 
 Their fault is, that they suffer their minds to 
 
 '^ Luke xiv. 26. 
 
 ^ " Resignation to the will of God is the whole of piety," 
 &c. — Butlers Sermon upon the Love of God, p. 244. ed. 
 1820. 
 
 " Religion consists in submission and resignation to the 
 Divine will." — Sermon ttpon the Ignoyance of Man, p. 268. 
 
 H
 
 98 LECTURE in. 
 
 imbibe it exclusivehj ; that they leave no room 
 for their own natm'e to develop itself; con- 
 verting what was given for their comfort and 
 encouragement into a sublime luxury and 
 a holy pastime. The rehgious instincts of 
 the heart were surely never meant to absorb 
 the whole man, according to the designs of Him 
 who implanted also both private and social 
 affections in our nature. The largeness of his 
 provision for human good is kept back by 
 those, who draw lavishly on one fountain of 
 blessing, and seal up the rest. The moralist, 
 therefore, does not say to the rehgionist, 
 *' Give less to God ;" but, " in giving to God, 
 think also of what is due to the actual 
 condition of human life ; consider well the 
 requisitions of that active nature which is the 
 especial mirror of the Divine Will, the deriva- 
 tive energy of the Divine Power ; do all to 
 the glory of God, but do all ; leave no part 
 of the Divine law and order unsatisfied." 
 
 Thus Religion and Morality are as two 
 forces, sustaining the equilibrium of our nature. 
 If either existed without the other, we should 
 be carried away into a devious course. The 
 conviction of a Supreme, all-pervading Being, 
 who is the very Energy by which we act.
 
 LECTURE III. 99 
 
 and the Life by which we Hve, is a thought 
 of overwhelming interest, which steeps in 
 self-forgetfuhiess all the faculties of the soul. 
 The words of Job, " Acquaint thyself with 
 God, and be at peace," declare this tendency 
 of the simple religious spirit. The same is 
 seen in those affectionate expressions of the 
 Psalmist, " As the hart panteth after the 
 water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, 
 
 God : my soul thirsteth for God, for the 
 living God. — Whom have I in heaven but 
 thee ? and there is none upon earth that 
 
 1 desire in comparison of thee : " and in 
 many other like passages of Scripture. All 
 thoughtful persons have probably experienced 
 this feeling at some moment of their lives. 
 In the day of affliction, for example, when 
 the world recedes from our view, and all its 
 enjoyments and interests dwindle into no- 
 thingness, the realities of Religion present 
 themselves with an intensity of which we 
 had before no conception. We would then 
 take the wings of the dove, and flee away, 
 to indulge the musings of the heart in lone- 
 liness and inaction. The gospel has not lost 
 sight of this fact of our nature. While its 
 great and peculiar office is, to render us dead 
 to the world that we may live to Christ ; 
 
 h2
 
 lOU LECTURE III. 
 
 it represses the frenzies of fanatical excite- 
 ment. It throughout subdues and chastens 
 the mysticism to which its invisible realities 
 might carry the susceptible mind, both by ex- 
 press maxims of duty, full of sobriety and 
 prudence, and by its domestic picture of the 
 Redeemer, as one mixing in affable converse 
 with men, and drawing us to him with cords 
 of humanity no less than by the life-blood 
 flowing from his cross. 
 
 We shall find, at the same time, that Reli- 
 gion abstains entirely from the Science of 
 Morality. Its only concern is, that morality 
 should exist in fact — should be exemplified 
 personally in all religious men. It leaves the 
 field of Science open to the cultivation of the 
 moralist, on whose exertions it reckons to 
 explain the grounds of its precepts, their 
 obligation, connexion, and extent. 
 
 On the other hand, Moral Philosophy leans 
 on the aid of religion for accomplishing its 
 mission of human reformation. It piles up 
 the wood for the sacrifice, and slays the 
 victims, and scatters the incense; but it expects 
 the fire to descend from heaven, and kindle 
 the offering into flames. Its system is per- 
 fect and beautiful ; but its working cannot be 
 ensured. The objects which it proposes are
 
 LECTURE III. 101 
 
 noble ; but it reaches not the disease of the 
 soul, and cannot transform us by the renew- 
 ing of the mind to the Divine image. This is 
 readily confessed. Still it stands firmly and 
 securely on its own theories, without the aid 
 which it practically invokes from Religion.'" 
 
 Ecclesiastical history abundantly informs us 
 to what extravagances an exclusive religious 
 principle has carried its votaries ; in some 
 instances even, not only to a contempt of 
 systems of Ethics, but to a flagitious denial of 
 the most common and confessed obligations of 
 Virtue. Such is the tendency of the stern de- 
 votedness of Islamism. In that creed, religious 
 activity does not second, but supersede and 
 annul, the proper activity of human nature. 
 All moral power is extinguished when the 
 blood, shed in the battles of a pretended 
 Faith, can sanctify the licentious life. A sen- 
 timent of the Divine Predestination, uncon- 
 trolled by moral views, degenerates into a 
 mere ap^os Xoyo^, a doctrine of absolute indif- 
 ference. In like manner, a belief of our 
 Justification by faith, separated from natural 
 
 ™ For further observation on the manner in which Reve- 
 lation enlarges our stock of moral truth, I must refer to 
 my sixth Bampton Lecture, " On the Moral Philosophy of 
 the Schools."
 
 102 LECTURE III. 
 
 convictions of duty, rushes into the fearful 
 extreme of antinomianism. When, however, 
 the neglect of moral truth simply results in 
 the amiable enthusiasm of Quietism, it is 
 enough to show that something more is want- 
 ing than mere religious zeal for the right 
 conduct of life. We may extend, indeed, to 
 the feehngs the observation which Bacon has 
 so aptly made concerning the intellect; that 
 they require " not feathers, but rather lead 
 and weights."" Religion gives them " feathers;" 
 from Philosophy they receive " the lead and 
 the weights." Religion would at once bear us 
 aloft to the Divine Presence, and fulfil all the 
 desires of the heart in the immediate fruition 
 of the Chief Good; Philosophy reminds us 
 that we are on earth, that we gravitate to the 
 soil beneath our feet ; and that there is no 
 reaching the sublime eminence to which our 
 desires ultimately tend, without travelling 
 along the beaten road, step by step, girding 
 up the loins, and taking heed to our ways. 
 
 Observe, then, how the two principles com- 
 bined work the good of man. As Christians, 
 we look to God as our beginning and our end. 
 He is our first mover in whatever we do that 
 is good. The beauty, and the honour, and 
 " Nov. Org. I. 104.
 
 LECTURE III. 103 
 
 the happiness of our virtue, are of him creating 
 us in Jesus Christ unto good works, and 
 sanctifying us by the inspiration of his Spirit. 
 In the thoughts, and feelings, and actions, 
 connected with these holy sentiments, we find 
 rest to our souls, and peace, and comfort, and 
 joy, and animation. But this is not all the 
 development of man. There is a spirit of 
 restlessness in our nature. We have springs 
 of action, an elasticity within us, which is 
 constantly pushing itself outward, and urging 
 us to take part in the scenes among which 
 we live. Whilst, therefore, on the one hand, 
 we live as not of the world, whilst we spiri- 
 tualize and immortalize our nature to the 
 utmost, — we must also humanize it ; we 
 must provide for the duties belonging to the 
 heirs of flesh and blood. Nor is this last part 
 to be degraded and slighted, because it is not 
 the higher function. Nor, again, is the part of 
 Religion to be held less necessary and indis- 
 pensable for human life, because it does not 
 bear immediately and palpably on the positive 
 needs of our present material condition in 
 the world. A just comprehensive view will 
 embrace both systems, maintaining their rela- 
 tive importance and mutual dependence.
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 After that we have determined to what 
 class of facts Moral Philosophy directs our 
 attention ; and we have seen that it is the 
 laws of Human Activity we are concerned 
 in investigating; — the next inquiry in order 
 seems to be, by what method these laws are 
 to be investigated ; whether there is any thing 
 peculiar in the subject here before us — any 
 thing that demands a mode of inquiry different 
 from that of science in general. 
 
 I have already laid it down, as the utmost 
 ambition of Science, to reduce the phenomena 
 which it studies to their most simple and 
 general expression, so that the mind may 
 clearly and steadily contemplate the order 
 and constancy of nature ; may see the truth 
 as it is in nature, without delusion or doubt. 
 Under this general description, I include, of 
 course. Moral Philosophy. It cannot, more 
 than any other science, conduct us into the
 
 106 LECTURE IV. 
 
 recesses of truth further than the phenomena 
 on which it is engaged, lead it by the hand. 
 Still, when we consider that it is about our- 
 selves, about our own feelings and actions, that 
 this kind of knowledge professes to enlighten 
 us ; and as we have consequently a double 
 field of observation presented us, — not only the 
 world without us, but our own hearts, — not 
 only our experience of others, but our con- 
 sciousness of ourselves, — it might seem as if, at 
 least, there were an opening here for obtaining 
 information beyond what is attainable in other 
 branches of Science. Though the same me- 
 thod of analysis must be pursued both in 
 Morals and in Physics, as being the only 
 method of discovery, yet the opportunity 
 presented of inquiring the truth of ourselves, 
 and arguing from it to what we observe around 
 us, might reasonably suggest to us, that a prin- 
 ciple of analysis may be apphcable here, which 
 could not be so properly employed in re- 
 searches of a different kind. 
 
 So far, then, as Moral Science comes under 
 the general head of Philosophy, I do not 
 purpose offering to you any observations on 
 the mode of analysis to be pursued in its 
 investigations. To do this would be, in 
 fact, to deduce to you the rules of investi-
 
 LECTURE IV. 107 
 
 gation as they have been originally set forth 
 in the '' Novum Organum" of Bacon, or rather 
 as they have since been drawn out, with 
 more precision, in the school of modern 
 Physics, by disciples worthy of such a master. 
 It is enough for me to give you a general 
 reference to such works."" I should add that 
 the method of investigation derived from the 
 " Novum Organum," applies not more strictly 
 to Physics than it does to Morals, even accord- 
 ing to the intention of its great author in 
 proposing it -^ and that no sound moral phi- 
 losophy can be obtained, except by pursuing, 
 whether consciously or unconsciously, the 
 analysis of which you have there the outlines 
 given you. The rules there prescribed must 
 be followed, whether we know them or not in 
 words, so far as they state the regular proce- 
 dure of the mind in the work of investigation. 
 
 Not to dwell, therefore, on what is common 
 to Moral Philosophy with other branches of 
 science in the mode of analysis, let us consi- 
 der whether there is not something peculiar 
 
 ^ See particularly Herschel's Prelim. Disc, on the Study 
 of Nat. Philos. published in the Cabinet Encyclop. 1832. 
 
 ^ Tarn enim historiam et tabulas inveniendi conficimus 
 de ira, metu, et verecundia, et similibus ; ac etiam de exem- 
 plis rerum civilium, &c. — iVor. Org. I. 127.
 
 108 LECTURE IV. 
 
 to it in regard to its method of investiga- 
 tion. 
 
 I conceive, then, that the analysis employed 
 in Moral Philosophy has a peculiarity in this 
 respect, that it employs the speculation into 
 Final Causes, as its own proper domain. I 
 hasten to explain v^^hat I mean by this asser- 
 tion, and justify my appropriation of this 
 method to our province. 
 
 Ancient Philosophy being more a logical 
 than a scientific investigation of Nature, in- 
 stead of simply seeking to analyse observed 
 facts, sought rather to give a reason to the 
 mind for the existence of things, under what- 
 ever point of view they might be contemplated. 
 Upon this principle was devised the ancient 
 theory of Causation, or, to speak of it more 
 accurately, their theory of Reasons, ainai, 
 which was distributed into these four heads : 
 1. The material; 2. The formal; 3. The effi- 
 cient; 4. The final. For, in accounting for 
 the existence of any thing, we may ask the 
 following questions : — 1st. Out of what it ori- 
 ginated ? 2dly. What constitutes it as it is in 
 itself? 3dly. What produced it ? 4thly. For 
 what end is it ? — The replies to these
 
 LECTURE IV. 109 
 
 questions seem to involve the whole reason 
 of a thing ; its past history, its present state, 
 the transition to that state, its destination. 
 Such was at once the theory of causation, 
 and the method of analysis adopted by the 
 ancients in their philosophical investigations. 
 In truth, however, not employing these prin- 
 ciples so much for analysing, as for reasoning 
 about nature, they applied them only in a 
 general superficial manner; not solicitous to 
 unfold them, and aid their inquiries by the 
 method involved in them. Had they done 
 so, indeed, they might have anticipated the 
 discoveries of Bacon, and not have wandered, 
 as they did, into a mere verbal science of 
 physics. 
 
 But the part of the theory to which I must 
 call your attention more particularly is the 
 statement of the Final Cause — the reason of 
 an object drawn from a view of its end, from 
 its reference to something else ; or, in one 
 word, from its tendency. The expression, 
 Final Cause, is, no doubt, sufficiently familiar 
 to you all. It is one of the technical terms 
 of Philosophy, which we have received and 
 retain among the standing monuments of 
 the age of Scholasticism, and of its long domi- 
 nion over the literature of Europe. And yet.
 
 110 LECTURE IV. 
 
 perhaps, it is seldom understood in the sense 
 which it was originally intended to convey. 
 Indeed, the expression itself involves a con- 
 fusion of ideas : since our ordinary notion of 
 a cause, as an antecedent to an effect, repels 
 the connexion of a cause with the notion 
 of an end. Hence Dugald Stewart has pro- 
 posed substituting the term Ends, or Uses, 
 as a more definite nomenclature of the prin- 
 ciple.^ Taking, however, the term as we find 
 it, let us examine in what sense the prin- 
 ciple, at least, denoted by it appears to have 
 been understood by the ancients. For this 
 purpose, we cannot resort to better authority 
 than that of Aristotle himself. 
 
 If, then, we are to judge from the explana- 
 tions of the principle given by Aristotle, the 
 notion of a Final Cause, as originally con- 
 ceived, did not necessarily imply Design. 
 The theological sense, to which it is now 
 commonly restricted, has been derived from 
 the place assigned to it in the scholastic philo- 
 sophy : though, indeed, the principle had been 
 long before beautifully applied by Socrates 
 and by the Stoics, to estabhsh the truth of a 
 
 ^ Philosophy of the Human Miiifl, ch. iv. sect. 6. 
 p. 49(». vol. ii. ed. 1816.
 
 LCCTUKE IV. Ill 
 
 Divine Providence. Whenever, indeed, we 
 observe the adjustment of means to an end, 
 we seem irresistibly impelled to conclude that 
 the whole is the effect of Design. The pre- 
 sent acceptation, therefore, of the doctrine 
 of Final Causes, is undoubtedly a natural 
 one. Still it is not a necessary construction 
 of the doctrine. With Aristotle, accordingly, 
 it is simply an inquiry into Tendencies, — an 
 investigation of any object or phenomenon, 
 from considering the eveKo, rov, the reason of 
 it in something else which follows it, and to 
 which it naturally leads. 
 
 The instances, indeed, which Aristotle ad- 
 duces as illustrations of Final Causes, are 
 instances precisely of the same kind as those 
 to which Natural Theology usually appeals ; 
 in which there appear to be thoughtful adapta- 
 tions of distinct means to distinct ends, a 
 preparation made for certain effects, a pro- 
 ceeding in method and order. He refers to 
 the instincts of the lower animals as producing 
 effects without search or deliberation. Of 
 these instances he observes, that they " give 
 occasion to the question, whether it is by 
 intelligence, or by what else, that spiders 
 work, and ants, and the like ? " " As we 
 proceed further," he subjoins, " there appears
 
 112 LECTURE IV. 
 
 even in plants the production of what is 
 expedient to the end, as the leaves for shelter 
 to the fruit : " whence he concludes that, " if 
 it is both by nature, and for an end, that the 
 swallow makes its nest, and the spider its web, 
 and plants have their leaves for the fruits, and 
 their roots not upwards, but downwards for 
 nourishment, it is plain that there is such a 
 cause (a final cause) in what is produced and 
 exists by nature." 
 
 If we consider, however, with what purpose 
 he introduces these instances, we shall find 
 that it is not to bring evidence of an Almighty 
 Designer of this admirable constitution of 
 things, but to refute those who resolved the 
 course of nature into fortuitous coincidences. 
 The opinion had been advocated by some 
 early philosophers, that nature had com- 
 menced her operations with vague and capri- 
 cious combinations, which, from their very 
 imperfection, soon fell to ruin ; but that when, 
 after having thus " tried her 'prentice hand," 
 and often failed, at length a happy congeries 
 of accidents was struck out, her work contain- 
 ing in it all that was necessary for its holding 
 together, stood fast : and thus was consti- 
 tuted the existing form of things. In con- 
 troverting this theory, Aristotle contends that
 
 LECTURE IV. 113 
 
 we must admit a regular subordination of 
 means and ends in nature ; since what takes 
 place, constantly or usually, is never assigned 
 to Chance, but only what happens unexpect- 
 edly ; and that, even in unexpected events, 
 there is often a connexion of means and ends, 
 if we could only discern it. We may, for 
 example, as he says, impute to Chance the 
 occurrence of rain under the dog-star, or of 
 heat in winter; but not those events when 
 they happen in season. His theory, therefore, 
 of Final Causes is immediately opposed to a 
 doctrine of Chance, or spontaneous coinci- 
 dence ; and must be regarded as the denial of 
 that, rather than as a positive assertion of 
 Design. He expressly distinguishes, indeed, 
 between Thought and Nature. He ascribes 
 to Nature the same working, in order to ends, 
 which is commonly regarded as the attribute 
 of Thought alone. He insists that there is 
 no reason to suppose deliberation necessary 
 in these workings of Nature ; since it is " as 
 if the art of ship-building were in the timber, 
 or just as if a person should act as his own 
 physician." The work, that is, he would have 
 us suppose, is unthinkingly performed, as an 
 art executes its work by rules previously 
 ascertained, and not by consulting about the 
 
 I
 
 114 LECTURE IV. 
 
 means at the moment of operation.'^ That 
 such is the notion of Final Causes, as under- 
 stood by its most scientific interpreter, may 
 be further seen in the theism in which it 
 resulted. The Divinity of Aristotle's system 
 is the pure Energy of Goodness, at once the 
 first mover, and ultimate end of pursuit, in 
 all things. All the processes of nature, ac- 
 cordingly, are /or the sake of this great object ; 
 all means in their subordination to ends are 
 tendencies to this sovereign good. 
 
 Now, though I would not desire to separate 
 inferences of Design from the speculation into 
 Final Causes, I think it necessary to keep the 
 employment of it as a principle of investigation 
 distinct from these inferences. Looking simply 
 to the fact of adjustments and tendencies 
 existing in nature, — we learn, that it is not 
 enough to consider things merely in them- 
 selves, but that they must be studied as parts 
 of a system, or constitution ; and that our 
 estimate of them must be taken from that to 
 which they are related, and to which they are 
 tending. 
 
 '' Aristot. Natur. Auscult.lll. c. 3— 9. pp. 330— 339. 
 Dii Val. These interesting chapters are well worth a 
 diligent study. See also Analyt. Post. II. c. 10.
 
 LECTURE IV. 115 
 
 Thus, without taking in the notion of a 
 benevolent Designer and Governor of the 
 world, we might reason concerning Virtue in 
 two ways. Either we might view it as it 
 actually appears on the face of things ; where 
 it is often disappointed and obscured ; but where 
 we may still detect its superiority in the com- 
 petition with vice, and its consequent obligation 
 on our conduct. Or we may extend our survey 
 beyond the effects actually realized, and judge 
 of the nature of Virtue from its relation to 
 the system with which it is connected. We 
 should consider, in this case, what it would be, 
 if permitted by the world to reach the point 
 towards which its course is shaped, to put 
 forth all its energies, and fulfil its destination. 
 The obligation of Virtue would then be 
 founded on the ascendency which it ought to 
 obtain. And it is drawn, you may perceive, 
 from a final cause — from that to which Virtue 
 is tending; not from what it actually is at 
 the present moment. In the former mode of 
 arguing, we confine our attention entirely to 
 the present view of it. 
 
 Such is the method followed by Butler, in 
 evidencing the moral Government of God. 
 In his ultimate application, indeed, of the 
 great Truth, he assumes the facts which he 
 
 i2
 
 1 \G LECTURE IV. 
 
 luis advanced as evidences of a moral Designer ; 
 but his reasoning from the facts to the law of 
 virtue is independent of this apphcation. For 
 he argues that, though it may appear, on the 
 whole, that a sanction is given to Virtue in 
 the course of the world, beyond what Vice 
 obtains, and, so fiir, the law of Virtue is ac- 
 tually the law of the world ; yet the truth of 
 the case is not fully set forth in this account 
 of the matter. He shows, accordingly, that 
 allowances must be made for impediments in 
 the actual course of things ; that we must not 
 regard the law of virtue as it is realized in 
 effect, but in its tendency, — in the form in 
 which it would display itself, if it could obtain 
 a full development, and work out what it has 
 begun. To illustrate this, accordingly, he 
 brings before us a Platonic example of a 
 l^erfect commonwealth, in which the law of 
 Virtue is conceived to be the law of the state, 
 and where the dominion of right is established 
 without control or limit. It is evident, he says, 
 that a state so constituted would gradually 
 attract around it the people of one country 
 after another, by respect for its justice, and 
 by its example ; until at length it became an 
 universal empire. *' And though, indeed, our 
 knowledge of human nature," he adds, ** and
 
 LECTURE IV. 117 
 
 the whole history of mankind, show the im- 
 possibiHty, without some miraculous interposi- 
 tion, that a number of men, here on earth, 
 should unite in one society or government, 
 in the fear of God and universal practice of 
 virtue ; and that such a government should 
 continue so united for a succession of ages ; 
 yet, admitting or supposing this, the effect 
 would be as now drawn out."" The instance 
 itself is an assumed one ; there is no necessity* 
 in order to its justness and force, that we 
 should be able to point to its positive exist- 
 ence. It is enough that such a case is easily 
 ' conceivable. For it introduces no theory of 
 the nature of Virtue. It only removes the 
 mists which obstruct our clear discernment 
 of the truth. It only presents an observed 
 fact in a larger field of view ; exempt from 
 circumstances with which it has no proper 
 connexion, and proportioned to the dimen- 
 sions of that larger scheme of Providence to 
 which it ultimately refers. 
 
 Or, again ; the nature of a Final Cause 
 may be illustrated by that portion of Aristo- 
 tle's Ethics, which shows that Virtue con- 
 sists in a moderation or equilibrium of the 
 
 e Butler's Anal. c. 3. p. 95.
 
 118 LECTURE IV. 
 
 affections. The philosopher, it will be ob- 
 served, has not confined his attention to each 
 active principle, as a separate ingredient of 
 our nature ; but has drawn out the virtues to 
 our view, as they are held in check by their 
 coexistence in each individual man, or their 
 tendency as parts of a constitution to the 
 perfection of that constitution. Read over 
 that very interesting portion of his work ;^ and 
 observe how careful he is not to allow you to 
 suppose, that any one principle of your nature 
 may be cultivated, as it stands alone, however 
 good in itself; pointing out to you how each 
 virtue takes its very excellence from its place 
 in a balanced system ; at one moment re- 
 pressed as soon as it appears to be rushing 
 into predominance and exclusiveness ; at 
 another moment encouraged and spirited 
 forward, when it seems not sufficiently to 
 assert itself This is what he means by saying, 
 that in morals there must neither be excess 
 nor defect, but only what ought to be.*^ For 
 this standard of what ought to be, is no 
 particular rule of propriety, but a general 
 
 f Ethic. Nic. from book ii. c. C, omitting first five 
 chapters of book iii. to the end of Book iv. 
 
 ^ Tj> rac [ler tX\eiTr£ii>, rar o' vTrepftuXXtw tov cloyriK. — 
 Ethic. Nic. II. c. 6. Ilpoc tifiac Se, o firjre nXeoya^ti jiliTt 
 'iWditfi TOV Ccoyror.
 
 LECTURE IV. 119 
 
 reference (varying in its application indivi- 
 dually,) of the active principles to their final 
 causes ; that is, as I have said, their mutual 
 adjustment and subordination, as parts of a 
 perfect constitution. With him, indeed, the 
 theory is a description of the soul '* energizing," 
 or exerting itself, so as to fulfil the destination 
 of nature ; nature, as it were, expanding itself, 
 and realizing the tendencies to good with 
 which it is instinctively fraught. But this is 
 the point of connexion of his ethics with the 
 larger system of his physics. It is enough for 
 our purpose here to observe how the doctrine 
 of Final Causes is illustrated, as a method of 
 moral inquiry, in his general outline of the 
 character of Virtue. 
 
 In illustration of the same point, observe 
 further, how Aristotle applies the character of 
 the perfectly good man as his standard of 
 ethical rules. He contemplates man at his 
 best estate ; not as he is distinguished only 
 from the lower animals, but as man excels 
 among men, when the reason masters the 
 passions, and self-denial ceases in the perfect 
 love of virtue. This is precisely to study the 
 principles of morahty in their final cause ; in 
 the consummation, that is, to which they tend 
 by their nature. The argument admits that
 
 120 LECTURE IV. 
 
 the world, as it is, does not exhibit the laws of 
 virtue in full operation. It allows the force 
 of worldly circumstances to depress and ob- 
 scure the character of virtue. The philoso- 
 pher, accordingly, desires us to contemplate 
 virtue in cases favourable to its exhibition, 
 in what he calls " a perfect life ;" where there 
 is an adequate duration of life for the acqui- 
 sition of moral experience, and enough of 
 worldly advantages to give opportunity for 
 virtuous actions. And so, on the other hand, 
 to depict the full deformity of vice, he takes 
 his colouring not from what vice commonly is 
 in fact, but from the extreme form which it as- 
 sumes of the hardened and reprobate heart, if 
 it be permitted to run its full career of iniquity, 
 and reach the point to which it tends. Shall 
 we say that all this is mere theory ; that these 
 views of the philosopher do not characterise 
 virtue and vice, as they really are ? So far from 
 this, a mature consideration of the nature of 
 all moral inquiry will produce in us the con- 
 viction, that there is no other right method of 
 investigating such truths; the real fact concern- 
 ing them being, not what they appear separately 
 taken, and as floating on the surface of the 
 world, but what they ought to be, and would 
 be, if left to work themselves out freely.
 
 LECTURE IV. 121 
 
 The great Stoical principle which inculcates 
 *' following nature," is a similar exemplification 
 of arguing from Final Causes.'' We should 
 greatly pervert this doctrine, as Butler shows,' 
 if we imagined that it sanctions the following 
 each passion indifferently as it arises, or as it 
 exceeds in strength. The truth of it results 
 from a collective view of all the several pas- 
 sions ; in seeing what each has to do in con- 
 junction with the rest, and how all conspire to 
 form a whole; in giving authority to what bears 
 the character of authority, and exacting obe- 
 dience of what is evidently formed to obey. 
 
 Would you study, indeed, the method pur- 
 sued by Aristotle, and the Stoics, in drawing 
 the character of Virtue, in a work in our own 
 language ; I cannot send you to a more faithful 
 description of it than is to be found in Butler's 
 Preface to his Sermons, and his Three Dis- 
 courses on Human Nature. You have there 
 the truth unfolded to you, that Nature is a 
 
 ^ Sed nos cum dicimus, natura constare, administrarique 
 mundum ; non ita dicimus, ut glebam aut fragmentum 
 lapidis, aut aliquid ejusmodi, nulla cohserendi natura ; sed 
 ut arborem, ut animal, in quibus nulla temeritas, sed ordo 
 apparet, et artis quaedam similitudo. — Cicero de Nat.Deor. 
 11. c. 32. 
 
 * Preface to Sermons, and Sermon II. on Human 
 Nature.
 
 122 
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 law to man : and the explanation of this 
 principle, you will find, is nothing more 
 than an application of the method of Final 
 Causes to moral inquiry. The distinction 
 which he states between the senses in which 
 the term Nature is understood, demands 
 your especial notice. " First," he says, ** 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." . . . 
 Secondly, ** 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." 
 Thirdly, he proceeds to show, there is a still 
 higher sense of the term according to which 
 the Apostle describes the Gentiles as doing 
 " by Nature the things contained in the law." 
 It is in the expansion of this last sense of the 
 term that he obtains all his moral views : for , 
 it leads us, as he points out, to take a survey 
 of the " various appetites, passions, affections," 
 combined with *' the principle of reflection or 
 conscience," so as to assign each its proper ^ 
 place and function in the human economy.
 
 LECTURE IV. 123 
 
 Modern philosophers, accordingly, have 
 pressed the doctrine of Final Causes too far 
 when interpreting it exclusively in the theo- 
 logical sense, they have objected to the use 
 of it in physical inquiries. It is injurious 
 only when employed to trace natural opera- 
 tions by a supposition of certain designs or 
 intentions in nature. But to a certain extent 
 it is fairly applicable even in Physics. Evi- 
 dently, indeed, in studying the structure of 
 the human body, we reason from a cause of 
 this kind. The formation, for instance, of any 
 part of the body is judged of, not as it appears 
 when detached from the system to which it 
 belongs, but from its relation to other parts 
 and to the whole. Nor, again, do we look 
 to deformed specimens, but to such as have 
 reached their full growth and perfection, where 
 the end of their structure appears to be an- 
 swered. The combined bearing of the whole 
 is had in view. A standard of perfection is 
 present before the eye. But this is evidently 
 reasoning from a final cause. 
 
 But though the speculation into Final 
 Causes, when thus understood, and cautiously 
 applied, is applicable to physical as well as 
 moral inquiries, and perhaps has not been
 
 124 LECTURE IV. 
 
 duly estimated in its relation to physical truth, 
 owing to the misconstruction of Bacon's remon- 
 strances against the abuse of it ; — in Morals, 
 it is not only useful, but indispensable to the 
 right prosecution of the study .^ And it is on 
 this account that I have called your attention 
 to it in this Lecture, as the method which 
 properly belongs to the moral philosopher, 
 not only as aiding him in the investigation 
 of his phenomena, but as that without which 
 they cannot be successfully investigated at all. 
 For it is of the very essence of moral prin- 
 ciples to be estimated by their relations and 
 tendencies; or, in other words, by their final 
 causes. 
 
 For how is any internal principle of our 
 nature to be inquired into at all, unless we 
 bring it first in connexion with its object? 
 Consider, for instance, the feehng of Resent- 
 ment. How can any thing be known about it 
 without an examination of the object of the 
 feeling ? Suppose we have ascertained that 
 the object of it is, injustice, real or apparent ; 
 
 " Tnm vero ad ulteriora teiidens, ad proximiora recidit, 
 videlicet ad causas finales; quae sunt plane ex natura 
 hominis, potius quam universi. — Bacon. Nov. Org. I. 48. 
 On the effect of Bacon's statements of the doctrine of Final 
 Causes, see the chapter of Duguld Stewart's riiil. of Hum. 
 Mind, already referred to.
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 125 
 
 we have made some step in the inquiry. What 
 is this, however, but a primary fact concerning 
 this feehng, discovered by a consideration of 
 its immediate final cause — the object in order 
 to which it exists ? But the question then 
 arises from this fact, viewed as a part of 
 our nature, whether it has any relation to a 
 further object ; and then, again, whether this 
 relation has any subserviency to the whole 
 good of man, the general end of the whole 
 constitution of our nature. Thus we should 
 commence exploring the nature of Resent- 
 ment, by viewing it in reference to Injustice : 
 resentment against injustice would be ac- 
 counted for by its reference to the preven- 
 tion of injustice : and resentment against 
 injustice connected with the prevention of 
 injustice, would be explained by its reference 
 to the happiness of the individual and of 
 society.^ So it holds of other feelings. 
 " Allowing the inward feehng, shame," says 
 Butler, " a man can as little doubt whether 
 it was given him to prevent his doing shame- 
 ful actions, as he can doubt whether his eyes 
 were given him to guide his steps.™ The 
 examination into the final cause brings out 
 
 ^ See Butler's Sermon on Resentment. 
 ^ Sermon II. on Human Nature.
 
 12G LECTURE IV. 
 
 the active principles, as they are active — as 
 they are energies (to use Aristotle's language) 
 — as they exist, consequently, for the moralist. 
 In consequence of this characteristic of the 
 moral principles. Moral Philosophy has been 
 described as the science of what ought to be, 
 whilst Physical Philosophy is the science of 
 what 25." The distinction has been laid down 
 
 " " The purpose of the physical sciences, throughout all 
 their provinces, is to answer the question, What is? They 
 consist only of facts arranged according to their likeness, 
 and expressed by general names given to every class of 
 similar facts. The purpose of the moral sciences is, to 
 answer the question. What ought to he ? They aim at 
 ascertaining the rules which ought to govern voluntary 
 action, and to which those habitual dispositions of mind 
 which are the source of voluntary actions ought to be 
 adapted." — Sir James Mackintosh's Prelim. Dissert, on 
 Prog, of Ethic. Phil. Encyc. Brit. 7th edit. p. 296. 
 
 " A physical law of nature is a general state of what is 
 uniform or common in the order of things, and is addressed 
 to the powers of perception and sagacity. A moral law of 
 nature is equally general, though an expression not of a 
 fact, but of what is good, and is addressed to the powers of 
 estimation and choice. Respecting the subjects of moral 
 law, whatever may be their actual condition, the law does 
 not state what is, but enjoins what ought to be done or 
 avoided. Physical law is applied to the formation of 
 theory, or explanation of phenomena, and is the foundation 
 of power. Moral law is applied to determine the choice 
 of voluntary agents, and suggest the purpose to which 
 their power is, or ought to be employed." — Ferguson s 
 Princ. of Mor. and Polit. Science, vol. i. p. 159.
 
 LECTURE IV. 127 
 
 witliout sufficient explanation ; but it is a just 
 one if rightly conceived, and not construed 
 so as to mean that moral truth is not equally 
 truth of fact, as physical is. In Physics we 
 have no principles to judge from, indepen- 
 dently of what we learn by observation ; and 
 we have no reason, therefore, to search 
 beyond the positive effects, and to say of 
 any particular, this should have been other- 
 wise. In Morals, on the contrary, we are 
 entitled to ask whether the effect is as it 
 ought to be. This inquiry, which is pre- 
 sumptuous and futile in Physics, is just and 
 philosophical in Morals. For here we are 
 exploring the tendencies of principles exist- 
 ing in the heart, — principles which are express 
 moral iriformations ; not like those of the in- 
 tellect, mere elements of thought and belief, 
 or faculties to be exercised in order to obtain- 
 ing a knowledge of the external world. Whilst 
 the page of history and our own observations 
 supply materials here analogous to those about 
 which physical science is employed, we have 
 also a store of principles within us demanding to 
 be consulted. These are as indisputable facts 
 as those collected from the course of the world : 
 and to pass them over unstudied would be only 
 the evidence of an unphilosophical spirit.
 
 128 
 
 LECTURE TV. 
 
 We must first, indeed, examine any moral 
 effect as we would a physical one. We must 
 analyse it, and reduce it to its scientific ex- 
 pression. This is, as it were, to read it cor- 
 rectly. But still, its moral meaning remains 
 to be elicited ; and this must be decided by 
 viewing it in connexion with our moral nature, 
 and judging whether it properly represents, 
 and is in accordance with our internal per- 
 ceptions. This process is the account of the 
 application of the term, oiigJit, to moral sub- 
 jects." When we ask whether an effect is as 
 it ought to be, we ask whether a moral prin- 
 ciple is applied to its proper object, and in 
 such a manner as fully to accomplish the 
 object of that principle. 
 
 We must be careful, however, not to con- 
 found this inquiry into moral tendencies, 
 which is the right application of the doctrine 
 of Final Causes in Moral Philosophy, with the 
 external effects of an action, or the actual 
 consequences of its performance. This would 
 be to abandon the region of Moral Science, 
 and confine ourselves to the consideration of 
 actions merely as physical events or effects. 
 
 " Cudworth's Immutable Truth.
 
 LECTURE IV. 129 
 
 The caution is not superfluous ; for it is no 
 less an error than this that Paley has com- 
 mitted in his treatise of Moral Philosophy. 
 Instead of analysing actions into their princi- 
 ples and objects, and taking his view of the 
 tendencies of actions from their internal 
 relations, as perfect or imperfect exhibitions 
 of the moral principles, and, accordingly, 
 drawing his rules from the effect which the 
 principles ought to produce by their own 
 nature ; he merely directs our attention to the 
 calculation of the probable consequences of 
 actions in fact ; their observed tendency to 
 produce good or evil in the long run, in the 
 general issue to mankind at large. Whence 
 has naturally resulted (the very method of 
 investigation which Moral Philosophy exacts 
 being totally neglected) a superficial philo- 
 sophy, and a cold intellectual morality. 
 
 In continuing these observations, I shall 
 endeavour to throw further light on the doc- 
 trine of Final Causes, by pointing out more 
 distinctly the office which it discharged in the 
 ancient systems of Philosophy. 
 
 Moral truth appears to have been the great 
 object of research by all thoughtful minds, in 
 
 K
 
 130 
 
 LKCTUUK IV. 
 
 all periods of the world. The demands of 
 action are far more imperative than those of 
 thought. Whatever inquiries, accordingly, 
 men would make into the mysteries of nature, 
 it would at first be principally with a view of 
 ascertaining the conduct of nature, and know- 
 ing what man should do in that condition in 
 which he finds himself placed. The inquiry 
 into Final Causes would naturally, therefore, 
 take precedence of every other, and draw over 
 to itself all other methods of investigation. 
 This will more fully appear if we advert to the 
 rise of Philosophy. 
 
 The rise of Philosophy seems justly to have 
 been attributed by Plato, and after him by 
 Aristotle, to the feeling of admiration. Objects 
 and phenomena strike our attention, by their 
 beauty, or their grandeur, or their strange- 
 ness, and thus awaken inquiry as to their cause, 
 and mode of operation. Adam Smith, taking 
 up and slightly varying this doctrine, further 
 explains it by the theory, that the imagination 
 seeks relief from the shock experienced in 
 sudden transitions ; philosophical principles 
 presenting, as he observes, a kind of bridge 
 between events which, though consecutive, 
 have no apparent connexion, and thus enabling
 
 LECTURE IV. 131 
 
 the mind to pass with ease from one to the 
 other.p 
 
 At any rate it is not sameness, but variety 
 and suddenness of events, which attracts 
 the first inquiries. Things to which the 
 untutored eye is accustomed, do not awaken 
 that attention which is implied in the pursuit 
 of philosophy. The very continuance seems 
 sufficiently to account for the repetition of the 
 phenomena; at least it suggests to the ordi- 
 nary observer no reason to think that the case 
 should be otherwise ; no uneasiness is ex- 
 perienced ; no previous judgment is shocked ; 
 no objection tasks the mind for its solution. 
 Change, on the contrary, at once arrests the 
 thought. It suggests the idea of some power 
 producing it, and soHcits curiosity to ascertain 
 the nature of the interruption. 
 
 In the infancy of the human mind, this 
 inquiry naturally connected itself with emo- 
 tions of awe and fear. While all things 
 around him continue as they are, the simple 
 spectator of the course of nature feels no 
 apprehension for his own safety. He is like 
 those distrusters in the revealed providence 
 of God, who are described in Scripture as 
 scoffing at the promise of the Lord's coming, 
 
 P See the Fragments in the last volume of his works. 
 
 k2
 
 132 LECTURE IV. 
 
 because, ** since the fathers fell asleep, all 
 things continue as they were from the begin- 
 ning of the creation." "^ The exhibition of 
 miracles as the signs of God's dealings is 
 founded on this principle of human nature. 
 Such pre-eminently was the mission of the 
 Deluge. It roused the world from a profane 
 security in the order of nature ; lifting up the 
 supine thought to the power which so sud- 
 denly opened the windows of heaven, pouring 
 down wrath and destruction on all flesh. 
 
 The awakened fears of the human mind in 
 the first impulses of surprise, attribute the 
 phenomena which thus attract its notice to 
 personal agency, such as its own. The first idea 
 of causation that occurs to the simple man, 
 is that involved in the power of his own mind ; 
 for he knows and feels that he can produce 
 alterations by his own intrinsic energy. Every 
 instance in which he moves a limb or gives 
 utterance to a thought, impresses on him this 
 idea. By analogy, therefore, when he sees 
 the like effects produced in the course of 
 nature, — when any alteration takes place there, 
 — he assigns it to a power like his own. Hence 
 it is that the language of all early science is 
 drawn from the notion of moral influences. 
 
 'J 2 Peter iii. 4.
 
 LECTUKi; IV. 133 
 
 The first principles of the ancient Physics, we 
 may observe, were moral propositions ; as, 
 " that nature does nothing in vain or imper- 
 fect" — " that nature abhors a vacuum" — " that 
 contraries reject contraries," and the like. What 
 in the rudest form gives a basis to the popular 
 mythologies, becomes, when assumed into 
 philosophy, a theory of final causes, of moral 
 motives and agencies, animating and impelling 
 the course of nature. In the same way, too, 
 all early philosophy is essentially theological. 
 The power of causation in the original con- 
 ception of it is human in its kind, but, as 
 applied to account for effects beyond the 
 power of man, it is regarded as superhuman 
 in degree, and takes the form of a speculation 
 on the primary causes of the good and the 
 evil done in the universe. For as the observed 
 changes in nature were productive of good or 
 evil effects, so would the first inquirers attri- 
 bute them to good or evil divine agents ; and 
 the whole of philosophy, at this stage of its 
 history, is an attempt to solve the designs of 
 nature as they are conceived to be for evil or 
 for good. 
 
 In conformity with this fact, we may go a 
 step beyond the theory of the rise of philo- 
 sophy, which attributes it to emotions of admi-
 
 134 LECTURE IV. 
 
 ration or surprise, and say, rather, that it is the 
 rtatural offspring of the human heart anxiously 
 seeking after that good for which it instinctively 
 craves. Irregularity and change perplex with 
 vague apprehensions of evil ; and the heart 
 returns within itself from looking abroad into 
 the world, to ask, — "who will show us any 
 good?" who will reveal to us, amidst the black- 
 ness of clouds and dark waters, the rainbow of 
 comfort and gladdening promise ? Philosophy 
 thus springs up as the natural ally of Religion, 
 and is associated with Religion in its pro- 
 gress. Without it, an undisciplined religion 
 runs into superstition, — the counterpart in the 
 human mind of the manifold phenomena of 
 the external world, and of the humours and 
 caprices of the vacillating will of man ; like 
 the clouds of a stormy sky assuming each 
 chimerical shape which the shifting breath of 
 the wind may give them. With Philosophy, 
 on the other hand. Religion is invested with the 
 regularity and permanence of an unchanging 
 law : the dominion of good is visibly established 
 and proved : evil appears in its true light, 
 only as a nonentity or an accident, the mere 
 result of untoward circumstances obstruct- 
 ing the good really designed throughout the 
 universe.
 
 LECT UUK IV. 135 
 
 Or the case may be otherwise stated thus : — 
 There appears to be a three-fold effort on 
 the part of the mind to explain the phenomena 
 which strike its attention. It wishes to know 
 what is the immediate physical power which 
 produces the result — out of what antecedent 
 it has arisen — with what other event it is con- 
 joined in fact ; then, proceeding beyond this, 
 to detect a necessary connexion between the 
 phenomenon and its cause, the dependence of 
 one on the other, so that from the evidence 
 of the one we may conclude the other. So 
 far the intellect is satisfied. But this is not 
 all that we require. We have other prin- 
 ciples which task us for an answer. In the 
 third place, then, we seek to interpret what 
 we have observed, by the laws of human 
 activity — to read in our hearts the moral 
 principle from which the event has originated, 
 to know what end or design is manifested 
 in it. Now the last inquiry is what most 
 immediately interests us, and without which, 
 probably, the two former would never have 
 demanded a solution. By the two former 
 inquiries we bring the phenomenon home to 
 our intellect ; — we translate it as it were into 
 some principle of our own minds, and are 
 enabled to contemplate it with the steadiness
 
 13() LECTURE IV. 
 
 and certainty of knowledge. By the latter 
 we bring it home to our heart, and remove 
 the disquietude which perplexes us, so long 
 as we know not whether an event be for good 
 or for evil, — whether it be addressed to our 
 love or to our fears. 
 
 Philosophy, accordingly, naturally com- 
 menced with an explanation of the good and 
 evil in nature, as with what most interested 
 such a being as man. Thus, too, it naturally 
 branched off into two heads ; — into a religious 
 philosophy on the one hand, showing how all 
 things that exist are good, and the operation 
 of a benevolent principle ; — that half-religious 
 system, on the other hand, which teaches an 
 evil principle coordinate with the good, and 
 explains present appearances as the result 
 of a struggle between antagonist forces. 
 For the first rough observations made in 
 taking a moral survey of the world, would 
 naturally throw its phenomena into two great 
 classes of good and evil. If both these classes 
 were taken in their complex form without 
 analysis, there would result, of course. Two 
 Supreme Principles— the good and the evil. 
 But an analytical process would show to some 
 more gifted intellect, and more open heart, 
 that the good prevailed, and might be traced
 
 LECTURE IV. 137 
 
 even in what had once been too hastily ascribed 
 to a principle of evil. And hence would result 
 a system of perfect optimism, which should 
 carry throughout to the interpretation of na- 
 ture the theory, that whatever is is best. 
 
 Moral Philosophy, then, may properly be 
 regarded as the first scientific conception of 
 the human intellect — a crude and vague moral 
 philosophy indeed, but still essentially such in 
 principle. As philosophy became more a sci- 
 ence in itself, speculators began to neglect the 
 moral views in which it had originated. Thus 
 we find Socrates complaining, in the Phsedo, 
 of the method of Anaxagoras, who, after 
 giving the specious promise of explaining all 
 things on the principle of Intellect, had de- 
 viated into disquisitions concerning the mate- 
 rial elements of bodies. Instead of showing, 
 says Socrates, how all things were as well 
 as they possibly could be, or how each thing 
 was constituted as it was because it was best 
 so, he had only discoursed of the materials of 
 which they were composed : which is much 
 the same, he adds, as if any one were to allege 
 that the reason of his sitting in the prison at 
 Athens was, that his bones and nerves were 
 constructed in a particular manner ; instead of
 
 138 
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 stating the truth, that he thought it better to 
 remain than to go to Megara or Boeotia/ 
 
 Whether, however, it was in consequence 
 of the efforts of Socrates, or from the original 
 bias given towards the moral view of Nature, 
 moral principles continued to give the tone to 
 the philosophy of the Greek schools. Plato's 
 works breathe the spirit of a religious morality 
 throughout. In him, indeed, the religious 
 principle, the theory of the Best, is dominant. 
 It is the key to his whole philosophy. All 
 nature is with him only an instrument of sug- 
 gestion, a symbolical language, an introduc- 
 tion to the transcendental science of the real 
 principles of love, and order, and beauty, 
 which, originating in the Almighty mind, are 
 diffused throughout the universe, though hid- 
 den from the eye of sensual observation. Not 
 only does his system tend to establish the 
 doctrine that " whatever is is best," — but he 
 assumes throughout, as a criterion of truth, 
 the converse of this proposition, the hypothesis 
 that " whatever is best, is." Aristotle, in like 
 manner, in drawing out his theories, constantly 
 refers to the tendencies of nature towards its 
 own perfection, and takes his view, not from 
 
 ' Phsedo, p. 221—225, ed. Bip.
 
 LECTURE IV. 139 
 
 what is in fact, but from what ought to be, 
 from what each object would be if it attained 
 its full stature of being.' And thus, whilst his 
 philosophy, as contrasted with the beautiful 
 theism of Plato, is atheistical, — does not 
 elevate the heart to the love of a supremely- 
 benevolent designer, the author of all that 
 goodness which he worked upon in making out 
 his scheme of truth, — it illustrates in every part 
 the operation of a divine principle : all nature 
 being, according to him, the various mani- 
 festation of Good, either realized in fact, or 
 tending towards effect. See further the con- 
 summation of this mode of philosophizing in 
 the system of Stoicism — its resistance and 
 counteraction in the antagonist system of 
 Epicurism. Stoicism was a practical philo- 
 sophy, which had for its basis this doctrine of 
 Optimism, this theory of the ultimate ten- 
 dency of all things towards a good end — this 
 mode of interpreting nature, not by what 
 appears to observation, but by what may be 
 conceived as its state of perfection. Hence 
 was derived that stern resignation which it 
 
 * To C£ (IeXtiov ati viro\afx\:)avofitv kv rrj (pvcrEi vnapj^eiy, 
 tav rj ^vvarov. — Nat. Ausc. VIII. c. 10, p. 421. 
 
 El 3' koTiv o'vTU) ^eXtlov, f; ciii Tvyriv evccu^oyeiy, avXoyoi' 
 £j^£ti' o'vTbjQ' tinep TCI Kara (pvffLV, wr o'lnv rt naXXirrra i\(.iy, 
 m'iTU) TriipvKEv. — Elhic. Nic. I. c 9.
 
 140 LECTURE IV, 
 
 inculcated. The truly wise man of the Stoical 
 school was one whose conduct was regulated 
 by this conviction of a beneficial tendency in 
 every various circumstance of the world. 
 Epicurism, on the contrary, was an attempt 
 to give the ascendency to the physical spirit 
 of inquiry over the moral and theological. 
 Philosophers had certainly carried the doc- 
 trine of final causes too far. By making it 
 not a subordinate and auxihary element of 
 physical inquiry, but an essential, and, indeed, 
 principal one, they had been led into hypo- 
 theses and fanciful constructions of systems 
 correspondent to their own assumptions, and 
 unsupported by experience. It was but a 
 natural reaction, therefore, from this excess, 
 to give greater prominence to the theories of 
 the physical philosophers, Democritus and 
 Leucippus ; and in the zeal of opposition to 
 reject all conclusions respecting the agency of 
 nature. Epicurism, consequently, lost the argu- 
 ment for a divine providence. By excluding the 
 speculation concerning final causes, it denied 
 the proper evidences of design, and left the 
 world independent of Deity. Acquiescence, 
 satisfaction, present enjoyment, were the moral 
 effects which it aimed to accomplish : for 
 these feelings clearly correspond with that
 
 LECTURE IV. 141 
 
 view of nature which regards the present forms 
 of objects as the whole account of their exist- 
 ence, nor takes in the consideration, whether 
 they may not be destined for nobler ends and 
 higher modes of being. 
 
 It may be seen from these references what 
 an important part was held in the ancient 
 philosophy by the speculation into Final 
 Causes ; and, consequently, to what extent 
 the spirit of Moral Philosophy entered into 
 and characterised the ancient systems. 
 
 The observation of this fact may further 
 explain, in a great measure, why there should 
 have been no independent moral philosophy 
 in the schools of Greece ; and also why ethi- 
 cal disquisition should have assumed the par- 
 ticular form in which we find it, so far as it 
 was recognized as a peculiar study, — that of 
 an inquiry into the Chief Good.* 
 
 * Aristotle must be excepted from this general obser- 
 vation. But his works were long lost to the world soon 
 after his death ; and could not, therefore, produce that 
 change which might have been expected from them, in the 
 general mode of philosophizing.
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 It is of leading importance, in pursuing the 
 study of Moral Science, to be fully aware of 
 the fundamental difference in the evidence 
 belonging to the facts about which it is con- 
 versant, and that of physical facts. Uniformity 
 is the characteristic of physical facts. Change, 
 unconformity, uncertainty, characterise those 
 of the moral world. In the former, we are 
 engaged in speculating on the cause of that 
 invariableness which we observe in them : 
 the question is, — what are the general princi- 
 ples to which this constant order, so unerring, 
 so sure, may be referred, — what gives that 
 wonderful sameness to multiform fugitive 
 phenomena ? In the latter, we are inquiring 
 whence it is that the same principles of human 
 nature exhibit such wild diversiUj of results ; — 
 effects which we know to proceed from fixed
 
 144 LECTURE V. 
 
 principles in the human constitution, but 
 which, from their irregularity, might seem 
 rather the sport and caprice of fortune ; our 
 endeavour being, as it were, to throw a chain 
 over the rapids of human life, and give fixed- 
 ness to the wayward rolling stream. 
 
 To illustrate this difference by example. 
 If an experiment in natural science be once 
 accurately performed, and the result ascer- 
 tained, there is no need to repeat it, so 
 far as the conclusion is concerned. If the 
 experimenter is confident that no error 
 has been committed in any circumstance 
 necessary for the attainment of the result, 
 he is perfectly satisfied of the truth of his 
 conclusion. If he repeats the experiment, 
 it is only to correct any error that may have 
 been made in these respects ; to estimate 
 the effect of any imperfection in the instru- 
 ments employed, or in the process itself, 
 or in his reasoning. It is not to try whe- 
 ther, all circumstances being the same, a 
 different conclusion will be obtained respect- 
 ing the processes of nature. He never doubts 
 that the same data of nature, will, in the same 
 circumstances, give exactly the same results. 
 One good experiment is decisive with him as 
 to the question in hand.
 
 LECTURE V. 145 
 
 But it is not so vvitli the moral philosopher. 
 He must have a very large induction of facts, 
 and contemplate the principle which he would 
 establish, in a great variety of lights, in 
 order to establish his conclusion satisfactorily. 
 Though he has most carefully inferred the 
 connexion of certain actions with a certain 
 character ; however sure he may be of the 
 facts from which he reasons, and of the cor- 
 rectness of his reasonings from them ; he 
 cannot reckon with full confidence on the 
 recurrence of such connexion in any future 
 instance. He always feels some apprehension 
 of disappointment on a repetition of the trial. 
 It is only when he contemplates mankind in 
 the large masses of society, that he pronounces 
 with any thing of that confidence with which 
 the physical inquirer affirms his conclusions. 
 The conduct and character of bodies of men, 
 as of castes, and professions, and parties, exhibit 
 broader and more distinct lights and shadows. 
 The spirit of human liberty seems then deprived 
 of its own shifting volubility, and imprisoned in 
 the alien form of positive material facts. There 
 is a strong analogy at least between such mo- 
 ral facts, and the more variable ones of the 
 material world ; such as the phenomena of the 
 clouds, of wind, of meteors ; the occurrence 
 
 L
 
 146 LECTURE V. 
 
 of frost during any particular period, compared 
 with the regular rising and setting of the sun ; 
 or material phenomena in general, compared 
 with the medical treatment of the human 
 frame, or with the effects produced by the fine 
 arts. Accordingly those philosophers, who 
 have sought to establish moral truth with an 
 irrefragable evidence, have drawn their con- 
 clusions from principles of political science ; 
 from the view of man in social masses, where, 
 a larger range being allowed, there is greater 
 opportunity for a recurrence of the same 
 facts, and greater uniformity of operation. 
 Or else, they have merged moral truth into 
 metaphysics ; and, quitting the variable scene 
 of human conduct, sought, like Pythagoras 
 and Plato, a resting place to their theory in 
 the pure abstractions of the intellect. Or 
 again, as another solution of their perplexity, 
 they have resorted to the supposition of the 
 '' Great Year," whose revolution should re- 
 store uniformity to the moral no less than to 
 the natural world, by bringing back the train 
 of the same events. 
 
 Alter erit turn Tiphys, et altera quae vehat Argo 
 
 Delectos heroas : erunt etiam altera bella, 
 
 Atque iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achilles. 
 
 What, then, is the reason of this difference
 
 LECTURE V. 147 
 
 between the conclusions respectively formed 
 by these two classes of philosophers ? Evi- 
 dently, in one case, there is a fundamental 
 conviction of the uniformity of the facts of 
 nature ; in the other case, there is as strong a 
 conviction of the contingency and variableness 
 of moral facts. I speak of uniformity as dis- 
 tinct from immutable necessity, and of con- 
 tingency and variableness, as distinct from 
 random force and capricious uncertainty, 
 which would preclude all scientific knowledge. 
 For neither does the physical inquirer suppose 
 that the facts which he examines must be as 
 they are ; he is only sure that they will be so 
 always. Nor does the moral philosopher sup- 
 pose that there is no limit to the variation of 
 moral facts ; but only that the range is wide, 
 and the limit of them very difficult to be cir- 
 cumscribed with exactness. 
 
 The ancients, indeed, for the most part, 
 (perhaps all, with the exception of Aristotle, 
 who is himself not quite free from the preju- 
 dice,) contrasted physical and moral truth by 
 broad characteristics of this kind, referring 
 the former to the class of necessary immutable 
 truths, the latter to the class of truths contin- 
 gent, or only holding for the most part ; 
 making an essential difference where there is 
 
 L 2
 
 148 LECTURE V. 
 
 none in kind, but, in reality, only a difference 
 of degree. And thus some despaired of attain- 
 ing to any proper science of practical things. 
 But to speak rightly, both moral and physical 
 truths equally belong as to their nature to the 
 class of contingencies. We have no reason 
 to conclude, that a physical fact must be as it 
 is, any more than a moral one. Either may 
 be conceived different from what it is without 
 involving any absurdity ; and consequently the 
 assertion of necessity cannot properly be made 
 respecting either one or the other. But yet 
 this difference in degree is quite sufficient to 
 impress that entire difference of character, 
 which we remark in the speculations of the 
 two classes of philosophers. It is a sufficient 
 reason why the single experiment should be 
 decisive in physics, and why, on the contrary, 
 even a collection of instances still leaves us in 
 doubt as to the result in morals. 
 
 In one sense, indeed, moral facts might 
 seem to be under a necessity, rather than 
 those of physics. For when they are contem- 
 plated as the work of mind, they are invested 
 with that character of steadiness and perseve- 
 rance, which we attribute to the agency of 
 design in contrast with such effects as in our 
 ignorance we attribute to fortune. We argue
 
 LECTURE V. 149 
 
 design, as I remarked in the last Lecture, 
 wherever we observe regular adaptation of 
 means to ends, mutual relation of parts, con- 
 stant accomplishment of results. And we argue 
 in this way by the very constitution of our 
 minds, — the notion of design being suggested 
 to us by every such observation. Conversely, 
 then, where we know there is design, we 
 reckon on an uniformity of result. But this 
 notion of uniformity is evidently drawn from 
 a contrast with the desultory course of events, 
 of which we know not the cause. It is to be 
 understood therefore as opposed to caprice or 
 humour, and not to the course of external 
 nature. 
 
 Again, the unchangeableness of moral truth, 
 of which (whatever may be the speculative 
 questions concerning it) we have an instinctive 
 conviction, gives us an assurance of a corre- 
 sponding character in moral facts. We may 
 very easily conceive the laws of external 
 nature entirely changed. '' The fire may have 
 power in the water, forgetting his own virtue ; 
 and the water may forget his own quenching 
 nature." But we cannot conceive an altera- 
 tion of the laws of morality, so that what is 
 virtuous now may become vicious to-morrow 
 or a thousand years hence. There is no
 
 150 LECTURE V. 
 
 miracle in this region, no deviation from 
 established law, but Sin. Looking to this 
 point of view, we see the facts of the moral 
 world as only varied expressions of one inva- 
 riable law. Hence the just and forcible 
 observation of Butler, that nothing is so truly 
 formidable to the wicked as the Divine Good- 
 ness. *' Malice," he says, " may be appeased 
 or satiated ; humour may change ; but good- 
 ness is a fixed, steady, immovable principle of 
 action.'"* Mere power, again, may or may not 
 be exerted, but goodness cannot but exert 
 itself; it must necessarily, by its very nature, do 
 right. The law by which it operates must take 
 effect with blessing to the good, whilst the 
 bad must inevitably feel how truly awful it is. 
 When, indeed, we thus trace moral laws 
 up to their divine original, as the everlasting 
 principles by which the Judge of all the earth 
 has ruled the course of events, they assume a 
 fixedness of character, and, consequently, a 
 scientific grandeur, far surpassing the utmost 
 stability which we attribute to physical laws. 
 For the utmost stability that we attribute to 
 physical laws is that of permanence, or long 
 continuance : the moral laws must be con- 
 ceived as eternal. But, further, (without 
 
 * Pref. to Sermons, p. 21.
 
 LECTURE V. 151 
 
 taking into consideration the miracles of 
 revealed religion) we have reason even to 
 think that physical laws have actually varied 
 at a remote period. At the creation, as Butler 
 remarks,^ a different law was in operation 
 from that which upholds the established course 
 of nature. In the antediluvian age, the life of 
 man was protracted to such a length beyond 
 what man now attains, that we cannot but 
 suppose that some causes were then in action 
 which have now ceased. Probably, too, this 
 difference in the human system was answered 
 by corresponding variations in external nature. 
 At any rate, when we consider those great 
 alterations which the physical constitution of 
 man has undergone, there is enough to make 
 us hesitate in applying our conclusions from 
 the present state of the material world, to a 
 period beyond the record of observations." 
 
 ^ Anal. Part II. chap. 2. On the Supposed Presumption 
 against Miracles. 
 
 '^ " The succession and increase of the human race are of 
 those phenomena which we shall not be justified in subject- 
 ing to the calculations of any fixed immutable laws, for the 
 ordinary state of things, in all seasons of the world. God 
 has kept the system of nature in this great instance in his 
 own hands ; witness the disparate longevity of man in diffe- 
 rent periods since the creation. And if the term of human 
 life have varied from seven hundred to seventy years, what 
 a multitude of other phenomena connected with the succes-
 
 152 LECTURE V. 
 
 Under tliis aspect, therefore, the iiivariahle- 
 iiess of })hysical truth yields to that of moral. 
 There must be a real permanence in the latter 
 intrinsic to it, derived from the moral un- 
 changeableness of the Divine Being. It is 
 only relatively to us, that there is more of 
 change in moral truth : it is only the difficulty 
 y^e feel in reaching some point of rest that 
 gives the variableness and uncertainty to this 
 class of sciences. And this difference must 
 be constantly borne in mind in whatever we 
 may admit as to the variableness of moral 
 facts. It must be remembered that we do 
 not speak so of them in themselves, but as 
 they are cognizable by our understanding. 
 We express only the depth and breadth of the 
 views by which such truths are to be seized, 
 the difficulty in seizing them, and the Caution 
 and delicacy required in their investigation. 
 
 This uncertainty attending our moral 
 
 sion and increase of the species, may have partaken of a 
 
 similar variation It is a precarious hypothesis to 
 
 assume, without limit, a perpetual uniform action, retro- 
 spectively, for the general system of the world. Since man, 
 in his physical constitution, has undergone such a change, 
 what may not have happened to other parts of the Natural 
 System?" — Davison's Disc, on Prophecy, p. 144, note. 
 Ed. 1824.
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 153 
 
 speculations is strikingly contrasted with the 
 positiveness of our physical conclusions, in the 
 very existence of systems of morality and laws 
 of government. Why are precepts laid down, 
 why are laws expressly enacted, but on 
 account of the uncertainty belonging to ac- 
 tions in which human nature is the agent? 
 We find no occasion for drawing out systems 
 of the course of nature with a view to our 
 ordinary conduct in regard to it, or to regulate 
 its operation so that we may know what to 
 expect from it, or what to do. We feel 
 sure that all things will continue as they 
 are ; that the sun will rise and set as before ; 
 that summer and winter will come in suc- 
 cession ; that bodies will fall to the earth. 
 But we do not feel sure that the conduct 
 observed in one man will recur in the same 
 individual, much less in mankind at large. 
 What will happen in given contingencies is 
 certain in physics, however remote the fact 
 itself may be from our reach. We doubt not 
 that the same agents will work the same 
 effects, at whatever time we may discern 
 them in operation. All that is uncertain 
 here is our own knowledge of them. But in 
 morals we are as sure, on the other hand, that 
 what will happen in given contingencies is
 
 154 LECTURE V. 
 
 itself the uncertainty ; that if our knowledge 
 of what is HOW, were ever so clear and certain, 
 it would not necessarily avail for a future 
 instance, because the effects themselves are 
 infinitely variable. 
 
 The negative induction, indeed, is often as 
 immediate as in physics. We may be often 
 sure, from a single instance, of the non- 
 existence of a particular principle. A dis- 
 honest act, for example, is a certain evidence 
 to us of the absence of perfectly honest prin- 
 ciple ; agreeably to which we say that it is 
 impossible for an honest man to do a disho- 
 nest act. But it is not so with our positive 
 inferences. Many instances of an honest 
 action must come before us, to enable us to 
 say that an honest principle exists in the agent. 
 For we know that outward acts of virtue may 
 be performed accidentally, or with reference 
 to wrong ends ; and we require a number of 
 consecutive instances to establish our con- 
 clusion. So also, on the other hand, unless 
 the instance before us be some gross fault, 
 which carries its condemnation on its front, 
 we withhold the extreme blame due to 
 vice from single appearances of vicious con- 
 duct, and wait for their repetition to decide 
 the positive criminality of the character in
 
 LECTURE V. 155 
 
 question. The right principle may exist, 
 may be superior to common temptations, 
 but, in given cases, may have been over- 
 powered by the force of circumstances, which 
 it required a more than ordinary virtue to 
 withstand/ 
 
 To meet this uncertainty, accordingly, in 
 moral facts, rules of duty and laws are devised. 
 There would be no need of these, any more 
 than of rules respecting the every-day facts of 
 nature, if all were uniform and constant here, 
 as there. But the principles of man's moral 
 nature, we feel, are uncertain in their opera- 
 tion. Hence moralists and legislators, hav- 
 ing discovered principles subservient to the 
 good of the individual and of society, have 
 drawn these out into rules for the direc- 
 tion of conduct ; and have thus secured a 
 much greater uniformity than could possibly 
 have taken place without such systems. At 
 any rate, they have approximated to that con- 
 stancy which marks the course of external 
 nature ; the reason of man being here, in the 
 proper concerns and dominion of man, the 
 instrument, by which Divine Wisdom produces 
 
 d See Butler's Dissertation on the Nature of Virtue. 
 " It may be observed further, concerning our perception of 
 good and ill desert," &c. p. 436.
 
 156 LECTURE V. 
 
 the like results to those, which unthinking 
 nature produces by dint of its fixed consti- 
 tution. After all, indeed, precepts and laws 
 are but approximations to the constancy of 
 nature. For the disorder and irregularity 
 remain in spite of these corrective forces, 
 evincing the variableness of the moral world in 
 still stronger contrast with the simple unaided 
 regularity of the physical. Still they are 
 evidently part of the scheme of Divine Go- 
 vernment, by which provision is made against 
 the excess of the anomalies of the moral 
 world. 
 
 Hence the first efforts of moral science con- 
 sisted of rules delivered in a didactic or im- 
 perative form ; as the Proverbs of Solomon, 
 the apothegms of the Seven Wise Men, and 
 the sententious maxims which have obtained 
 a proverbial sanction and currency. The wis- 
 dom of man has sought to counteract by its 
 authority in such instances as these, the irre- 
 gular course of Passion, and to limit, at least, 
 the range of moral variation. And perhaps 
 we may trace to the like feeling, the pri- 
 mary importance given by the laws of social 
 intercourse to the principle of veracity. It 
 is commonly felt that there is no possibility 
 of associating with a man, on whom at least
 
 LECTURE V. 157 
 
 this law does not operate, so as to impart 
 some principle of stability to his conduct. 
 Thus, among the Persians, according to He- 
 rodotus, the duty of veracity comprised the 
 whole of their moral education.*" In like 
 manner, to secure a certain uniformity in 
 their actions, persons bind themselves by vows. 
 So again, in the Oriental form of society, the 
 institution of castes, and the perpetuity of the 
 same institutions, have been the means which 
 despotism has laid hold of, for confining the 
 waywardness of the human will, and reducing 
 within limits a power, which, if left to its own 
 action, seems to defy all calculation of its pro- 
 cedure. Solon, on the other hand, was so 
 perplexed by the varied views resulting from 
 an extensive observation of mankind, as to 
 abandon all certainty in moral judgments. 
 His theory of happiness, (as you will remem- 
 ber from the beautiful description of it given 
 by Herodotus,) passed over the whole career 
 of the living man, and took its stand at the 
 tomb ; proceeding on the conviction that 
 there only could the result be unerringly pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 It is from looking too much to this appa- 
 rent irregularity of moral facts, on the one 
 
 * ' AXriQiCtaQai. Herodot. Clio. c. 136.
 
 158 
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 hand, and the counteraction of it afforded by 
 positive precepts and institutions on the other, 
 that some philosophers have fallen into the 
 error of asserting that all morality is by law, 
 by positive institution, and not by nature. 
 They have taken up the auxihary system, and 
 made it the prime mover; not considering 
 that the truth and necessity of these secondary 
 moral laws result from the higher laws, to 
 which they relate. They have speculated like 
 those early astronomers who solved the celestial 
 phenomena by their spheres and epicycles, and 
 overlooked the more truly actuating influence, 
 the simple original force of gravity, by which 
 these complex movements, if real, must have 
 been explained. 
 
 It will further illustrate the nature of the 
 irregularity observed in moral facts, if we 
 consider that the physical world is one in 
 itself; one system of laws guides its manifold 
 operations ; whilst the moral world is com- 
 posed of innumerable distinct systems. Each 
 individual man is in himself an entire constitu- 
 tion, having his own powers of thought and 
 action independent of those of every other 
 man. So, too, each society of men is a 
 distinct system in itself, in which all the
 
 LECTURE V. 15.9 
 
 various motives of conduct are exerted under 
 some modification, independently of every 
 other society, Each department, indeed, of 
 external nature, each portion of matter, is 
 distinct, but not in the same manner in 
 which human beings are. Each particle, for 
 instance, of a heap of sand exemplifies the 
 laws of matter as completely in itself alone, as 
 the whole collective heap. Still, in the com- 
 parison with one another, they are as if they 
 were identical ; we have no reason to think 
 that they differ otherwise than numerically 
 from one another. But it is not so with the 
 individuals of human nature. As we are con- 
 scious of a power of action in ourselves, sub- 
 ject to our own will; so we must conclude 
 analogously of every other participator of the 
 same nature. As we conclude that there 
 must be general resemblances among all men, 
 laws which hold good with respect to the 
 whole species ; so we must also conclude, that 
 the free-will and power of which we are con- 
 scious in ourselves, must infinitely diversify, in 
 different men, the operation of the same gene- 
 ral principles. 
 
 We do not suppose, at the same time, that 
 this independent power of causation can 
 exceed the limits of those general laws which
 
 160 LECTURE V. 
 
 comprehend the wliole race of liuman beings. 
 However, either in our own persons, or in the 
 case of others, we may observe the laws of 
 right violated, we still feel that their obliga- 
 tion is absolute ; that they are imperatively 
 binding on man, even at the moment when 
 the force of passion stimulates the will to 
 transgress them. Their supremacy and 
 their cogency still stand forth to the view 
 of our reason, and we must disown our very 
 nature, to say that they are not, in the 
 strictest sense, its positive laws of conduct. 
 It is on the strength of this natural convic- 
 tion of a fundamental sameness of princi- 
 ples, amidst the endless variety of individual 
 cases, that the historian enunciates his ex- 
 pectation of the recurrence of correspond- 
 ing behaviour in successive generations, " so 
 long as human nature continues the same." 
 Even when we descend from the high ground 
 of the laws of Duty, we shall find in the 
 region of human passions, amidst all the 
 contrarieties of appearances and wildness of 
 the prospect, an horizon, on whose circle the 
 eye of philosophy may calmly rest. Only, 
 as I have remarked before, it is extremely 
 difficult to reach this boundary, in comparison 
 with the effort generally required on the
 
 LECTURE V. 161 
 
 part of the physical inquirer. It needs a 
 much larger and more rigorous survey of in- 
 stances. We have to guard against assigning, 
 as general principles, the peculiarities of indi- 
 viduals, and making a mere record of moral 
 events pass for laws of our moral nature. And 
 a greater caution is exacted than in physics; 
 because in each instance we encounter a dis- 
 turbing force, for whose aberrations we must 
 make allowance. Thus Thucydides, in point- 
 ing out the instruction to be derived from the 
 sedition at Corcyra for future similar occa- 
 sions, omits not to add, that the operation of 
 the principles will be varied according to the 
 peculiar contingencies of the case.*^ 
 
 Further, I may remark another strong 
 contrast between physical and moral experi- 
 ences. The former are incapable of mutual 
 action in such a way that the occurrence of 
 a fact may modify its reappearance on another 
 occasion. But moral facts have by their 
 nature a mutual action. Thus, in describing 
 the circumstances of the sedition to which 
 
 f riyvontva ^£v, Kal ael effOfteva, Iwg av rj avTtf <j)variQ 
 dvQpwTTWv 7], fudWoi' ^e (cat //cu^a/rEjOa, kuI to7q eiSecri 
 ci-qWaynevaf ljq ay eKaarai al yu£rajl3oXat rwv t,vrTV)^twy 
 ififfTwi'Tai. — Tfiucyd. Ill, c. 82. 
 
 M
 
 162 LECTURE V. 
 
 I have just referred, the historian observes, 
 that subsequent cases were aggravated, -Kva-ret 
 7(ov TTpoyevo^evtov, by the very knowledge of 
 what had passed on previous occasions. An 
 illustration of this may be drawn from the 
 observation which so readily suggests itself 
 to our minds on reading accounts of crimes 
 in the newspapers. We anticipate the mis- 
 chievous effects of such narratives on the ill- 
 disposed, in furnishing them with examples of 
 modes and kinds of crime, which the vicious 
 thought has only been waiting to learn. I have 
 heard, indeed, of instances where the guilt 
 so displayed has been actually imitated, and 
 has produced its unhappy counterpart in some 
 flagrant delinquency. But the general force 
 of Example is sufficient evidence to this point. 
 It shows that the effects of moral agency 
 are not unconnected instances of general 
 laws, but are subject to influences from their 
 antecedents of the same kind ; so that, what 
 will happen in a given contingency depends 
 often, not simply on the principles themselves 
 in operation, but also on what has happened 
 before in a like contingency. And this holds 
 to such a degree, that the effect will be 
 qualified, or, perhaps counteracted, by the 
 lessons derived to the agents from that par-
 
 LECTURE V. 163 
 
 ticular experience. The nation that has large 
 historical recollections, or the man who is 
 conversant with the world of human society, 
 will, in their respective spheres of conduct, 
 exhibit a course of actions very different from 
 those of a nation without literature, or a 
 man without knowledge of the world. 
 
 An influence of this kind, derived from 
 Example, it should be observed, is different 
 in its action from that which different portions 
 of matter exert on each other. For while 
 these last act on one another; as, for in- 
 stance, the moon and the earth on each 
 other, whilst both gravitate towards the sun ; 
 — this action is but the influence of that 
 common law by which all are governed, whe- 
 ther separately or collectively. It is not an 
 action peculiarly resulting from the individual, 
 over and above the operation of the general 
 law. But, in moral agency, it is so : it is the 
 peculiar operation of the individual instance^ — 
 its influence, that is, in reproducing itself in 
 the conduct of the independent agent, man ; 
 on whom it operates as a principle of action 
 in itself, by the very force of the Example 
 which it exhibits.^ 
 
 g This fact supplies Paley with the great defence of his 
 system of morality. An act of assassination, according to his 
 
 M 2
 
 164 LECTURE V. 
 
 But here we are encountered by an opinion 
 of Locke, that moral truths are capable of 
 exact demonstration. This clearly applies 
 only to ethical doctrines, and not to moral 
 principles in the wide sense, as contrasted with 
 physical. Still, as the statement is ostensibly 
 adverse to what has been already said on the 
 nature of moral evidence, it seems to demand 
 our notice in the course of introductory obser- 
 vations such as the present. 
 
 The ground on which he holds this opinion 
 is, that the complex ideas of the several vir- 
 tues, or modes of action, are formed by our 
 own minds, and not drawn from " substances " 
 or real existences. 
 
 " Upon this ground," he says, " I am bold 
 to think that morality is capable of demon- 
 stration, as well as mathematics : since the 
 precise real essence of the things words stand 
 for may be perfectly known ; and so the 
 congruity and incongruity of the things them- 
 selves be certainly discovered ; in which con- 
 sists perfect knowledge."^ 
 
 This opinion of Locke is an offshoot of 
 
 theory, is wrong ; because, {{generally imitated, the general 
 consequence of it would be bad. — Mor. and Pol. Phil. 
 B. II. c. 7, 8. 
 
 h Essay on Hum. Und. B. III. ell. s. 16. p. 50.
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 165 
 
 his theory of the origin of ideas. Experience 
 is assumed to be, not simply the condition of 
 the development of the moral principles in 
 the heart of man, hut the foundation of them, 
 that which originates them, or makes them 
 what they are. His whole theory of mo- 
 rality rests on our knowledge of the good 
 or evil consequences of actions, and not on 
 the tendency of the feelings to their own per- 
 fection in action. Instead of looking to the 
 final cause of each feehng, and inquiring 
 whether it obtains its full stature and propor- 
 tion under such or such a modification, he 
 neglects altogether this prior and more inti- 
 mate question. Taking actions in the concrete, 
 he tests their moral nature by their tendency 
 to produce the pleasure or pain annexed to 
 them by some external law. So far, indeed, 
 does he overlook the internal moral nature 
 of actions, that he considers it adverse to 
 the very idea of a moral law, to suppose 
 good and evil " the natural product and 
 consequence of the action itself." ** For 
 that," he says, " being a natural convenience 
 or inconvenience, would operate of itself with- 
 out a law." May it not be said, rather, that 
 such a dispensation would be the perfection 
 of law ? the reward and the punishment being
 
 166 LECTURE V. 
 
 involved in the moral act, and following thus 
 immediately, and inevitably, and in the most 
 exact proportion. 
 
 '' Good and evil," he observes, " are nothing 
 but pleasure or pain, or that which produces 
 pleasure or pain to us. Moral good and evil, 
 then, is only the conformity or disagreement 
 of our voluntary actions to some law, whereby 
 good or evil is drawn on us by the will and 
 power of the law- maker; which good and 
 evil, pleasure or pain, attending our ob- 
 servance or breach of the law, by the decree 
 of the law-maker, is that we call reward or 
 punishment." ' 
 
 According to Locke, then, moral ideas do 
 not rest on any evidence of fact : they are 
 merely abstractions formed by the mind, from 
 observation of the effects of actions, or of those 
 qualities in them which are pleasurable or 
 painful in ultimate effect to the agent. The 
 only reality belonging to the subject, according 
 to him, is the natural good or evil attendant 
 on actions. 
 
 The whole science of Ethics is thus no 
 longer an interpretation of " Know Thyself;" 
 but only a systematic view of the method 
 
 ' Essay on Hum. Und. J>. II. c. 28. s. 5.
 
 LECTURE V. 167 
 
 of rewarding and punishing observed in the 
 world. Justice, Fortitude, Temperance, and 
 the other virtues, are as purely notional, as 
 the straight lines and circles and triangles of 
 mathematical science ; and the various rules 
 of conduct are the necessary consequences 
 deduced from the definitions of the virtues. 
 Morahty, under this point of view, is only 
 a method of calculation on human actions ; j ^ 
 a science on a footing with arithmetic or 
 geometry, rather than with physics ; an in- 
 strument for facilitating the process of the 
 mind in discerning and estimating the plea- 
 sures and pains of life ; a set of rules, to save 
 the labour of constant reference to the fun- 
 damental consideration of the good and evil 
 tendencies of actions. 
 
 It is remarkable that this description of the 
 nature of Moral Science, the offspring of the 
 empiricism of modern philosophy, should have 
 been originally derived from the idealism of 
 the ancient schools. The Pythagoreans na- 
 turally transferred the thoughts and phraseo- 
 logy of that mathematical science to which 
 they were devoted, to morality as well as other 
 sciences, and thus drew their theory of justice 
 from the doctrine of ratios. Wlioever has 
 read attentively the fifth book of Aristotle's 
 
 /
 
 168 LECTURE V. 
 
 Ethics, will have noticed the mathematical 
 tone of thought which pervades it. Thus also 
 Plato speaks of the need of a science of Men- 
 suration, MeTprjTiKr], to enable the mind to 
 ascertain the real magnitude of pleasures and 
 pains, which deceive the mind, as he represents 
 the case, in like manner, as objects of sight, 
 according to their nearness or remoteness, 
 appear greater or less to the eye than they 
 are in reality. "^ These early philosophers, in- 
 deed, did not lower moral truth to the standard 
 of mere assumptions ; for they conceived, 
 that in founding it on abstract ideas, they 
 attributed to it a stability which no observed 
 facts could confer on it. Their object was to 
 erect it on an immutable basis, by exempting 
 it altogether from the transient phenomena of 
 our sensible experience. Still, if morality be 
 founded on abstract ideas, it becomes the 
 business of philosophy to define these ideas, 
 and to proceed from them synthetically as the 
 primary truths of the science, to the deduction 
 of the particular principles of conduct. But 
 
 ^ Et oiiy iv TOVTio rjyTiv »/v to ev irparTtiv, eV rio rci fiip 
 fieyaXa }ii]K1] koi Trparreir /.at Xcifilyuveiy, ru ce GfxiKpa tcai 
 <})evy£iy kui jifi Trparreiy, tic ay iifxly o-wrjjp/a ifayrf tov j3iov ; 
 dpa >/ fierpTfTiKfi T£-)(^yri, r) »/ tov <pcuyofxiyov cvyajxic ; k.t.\> — 
 Plato, Protagor. p. 182.
 
 LECTURE V. 169 
 
 what is this but to constitute ethics into a 
 demonstrative science, analogous to pure ma- 
 thematics ? It was consistent with this view 
 that Plato should regard it as a method of 
 Mensuration, an instrument of the mind such 
 as arithmetic, rather than a knowledge of the 
 human heart. 
 
 By an opposite course of proceeding, 
 Hobbes, and after him Locke, and then 
 Paley, fell into the same train of thought, 
 whilst they confined their attention solely to 
 the phenomena of reward and punishment, 
 the external facts by which the presence or 
 absence of virtue is indicated. Abandoning all 
 science of Actions in themselves, they were 
 carried out of the proper orbit of moral truth, 
 to seek a system of rules in the abstractions of 
 the human mind ; and hence perversely repre- 
 sented the procedure of the moral judgment 
 as the mere intellectual calculation of conse- 
 quences. 
 
 Let it be admitted that there is, to a certain 
 extent, a science of morality of this kind. 
 For instance, that when we have classed 
 actions under the heads of the several virtues, 
 we may commence with defining what we 
 denominate just, or temperate, &c., and from 
 such definitions draw out as consequences the
 
 170 LECTURE V. 
 
 particular actions of justice or temperance : 
 or that we may assume a general principle of 
 right, and deduce from it a series of conse- 
 quences which shall be so many distinct rules 
 of virtue. Yet what does all this reasoning, 
 demonstratively accurate as it may be, amount 
 to ? In jurisprudence such a system may be 
 a real science : because here terms are to be 
 defined ; formularies are to be interpreted ; the 
 real meaning of a law or principle is to be 
 ascertained ; consistency with the given law 
 or principle is all that is required, and nothing 
 more. For this purpose there must be defi- 
 nition of rights and wrongs ; of what murder 
 is ; what homicide ; and so on : and accord- 
 ingly particular rules are deduced for the 
 interpretation of contingent cases. But in 
 Ethics much more is required. Here we want 
 to know, not what follows logically, but what 
 will follow, in fact, amidst the contingencies of 
 human life : we must have, not only a consis- 
 tent rule, but one that promises success. 
 Our system may be perfect as a calculus, but 
 quite inefficient as a guide to conduct. In 
 truth, the whole application of this demon- 
 strative morality presupposes the real business 
 of morality to be proceeding independently of 
 it ; as the calculations of the mathematician
 
 LECTURE V. 171 
 
 in their practical use presuppose the order of 
 the universe and the laws of nature. 
 
 The boldest attempt, however, which has 
 been made to impart the evidence of demon- 
 stration to moral truth is that of the Stoic 
 philosophy. This system at once transferred 
 the cogency of Logic to the contingent matter 
 of human hfe, and insisted on the practical 
 truth of its subtile deductions from given prin- 
 ciples, with all the rigour and positiveness 
 which belong to demonstrative reasoning. If 
 a doctrine were true, it was maintained by the 
 Stoics, whatever was consistent with it must 
 also be true : a specious principle in sound ; 
 though most fallacious if applied to the actual 
 course of the world. For consequences may 
 be perfectly reasonable ; yet, as following each 
 from some one abstract view, they must be 
 limited and qualified, when applied to real 
 things, by the coexistence of other principles 
 both known and unknown, operating at the 
 same moment. But these influences were 
 entirely disregarded by the Stoics in the 
 dogmatism with which they pronounced on 
 the truths of human life. Hence the vio- 
 lent paradoxes with which their system 
 abounded. They gave, indeed, an air of 
 majesty to their philosophy by this proud
 
 172 LECTURE V. 
 
 contempt with which it looked down from its 
 towers and battlements on the com'se of the 
 world below. Their unimpassioned reason, 
 secure within its fortification, laughed to 
 scorn the fury and assaults of the host of 
 besiegers encamped around it. It was only, 
 however, the spurious confidence of an in- 
 exorable obstinacy, which such a system 
 inspired, — the tenaciousness of the logical dis- 
 putant, and not the resoluteness of the moral 
 observer, of one possessing his soul in quiet- 
 ness and patience. Consistency of principle, 
 and coherence of system, gave the appearance 
 of truth. For men are disposed to admire 
 even a faulty character, in which they contem- 
 plate some master principle, steadily working 
 its way, and continuing unmoved, amidst the 
 disturbance and contrariousness of its career. 
 
 Take, for instance, the Stoical paradox, that 
 all crimes are equal. It is obvious that this 
 conclusion is contradicted by the tenour of 
 our moral experience. Neither in our own 
 hearts, nor in the course of the world, do we 
 find its verification. And yet, as a conclusion 
 from the principles of Stoicism, it is undoubt- 
 edly true. If virtue is an ultimate point of 
 attainment, a standard of perfect wisdom to 
 be reached by stilling the affections into
 
 LECTURE V. 173 
 
 apathy, then vice is the mere faihng from 
 this standard ; it has no intrinsic criminahty ; 
 and there is no question of degrees of vicious- 
 ness. But the Stoic, instead of abandoning 
 or modifying principles which led to such a 
 paradoxical conclusion, clung to his demon- 
 strative morality, and asserted his conclusion 
 v^^ith a refractory defiance of the opposing 
 facts. He might have seen, that even if such 
 a conclusion were speculatively true, it was 
 not necessarily in fact ; had he taken into his 
 view, at the same time, the notions of merit 
 and demerit which accompany the exercise of 
 our moral judgments. For on one ground it 
 certainly is true that all crimes are equal : for, 
 he that commits any one, equally violates the 
 authority which forbids all wrong. x\nd thus it 
 is said ; that he who is guilty of the breach of 
 one commandment is " guilty of all." But then 
 other considerations come in to qualify the 
 verdict against transgression in each case. We 
 con!pare the offence with the capacities of the 
 agent, with the strength of the temptation 
 which has solicited him, with his power of 
 resistance. We examine the degrees of deme- 
 rit, and thence are brought to discriminate 
 shades of offence. The same observations may 
 be made respecting duties. All duties are equal.
 
 174 LECTURE V. 
 
 as deduced from the authority which pre- 
 scribes them ; but they vary infinitely, as 
 estimated in relation to the agent, with refe- 
 rence to the merit of their performance.' 
 
 So necessary is it to abandon the rigour 
 of logical speculation in questions relating to 
 human life, and to be fully aware beforehand 
 of the nature of that evidence which alone 
 moral truths can admit. We must constantly 
 remember that all we are concerned to do in 
 appreciating moral truth, is to examine whe- 
 ther the fact really is, or really ought to be so ; 
 and that we shall most certainly fail in attain- 
 ing the objects of this class of sciences, and 
 end our inquiries in mere hypothesis, if we 
 seek to deduce the truth from abstract prin- 
 ciples, and demand that demonstrativeness, 
 which can only belong to sciences founded 
 on definitions."" You may be assured that 
 in the event much less difficulty will be in- 
 curred by receiving paradoxical facts in their 
 simple unconformity, than by entangling your- 
 selves in paradoxical deductions. The former 
 amaze the intellect, but still leave it free to 
 
 ' See M. Cousin, Fragmens Philosophiques, p. 146. 
 
 Paris, 1»33. 
 
 "^ 'Ap-)(^tl yap TO OTf Kal el tovto (paivoiro apKOvvTwq, ovSiv 
 
 7rp()tTi£i]<Tti Tov cwrt. — //ristot. Elliic. Nic. I. 4.
 
 LECTURE V. 175 
 
 act ; the latter twine a subtile web around it, 
 and choke every movement. 
 
 What, then, on the whole, shall we say is 
 the nature of that Evidence which moral facts 
 possess ? In a word, we may answer that it 
 is the evidence of Analogy. To the principles 
 themselves, the feelings of the heart, on which 
 all moral reasonings are ultimately built, there 
 is, in the strictest sense, the evidence of a 
 direct experience ; taking that word in its 
 widest sense, as applying to the facts both of 
 our internal consciousness and external obser- 
 vation. If a person is unconscious of any 
 such principles, if he confesses to no emo- 
 tions of right and wrong, he is the axpviosf 
 dvrip of Hesiod. There is no bringing any 
 evidence of moral truth to bear on such a 
 mind. This primary evidence is as necessary 
 for the application of moral argument, as a 
 perception of visual objects is for judging 
 of the truths of optical science. I shall 
 treat more fully, however, on this point in a 
 subsequent Lecture. On the assumption, 
 then, of the existence of the internal evidence 
 in the heart of every moral inquirer, the 
 evidence with which moral conclusions are 
 brought home to such a mind, is, as I have
 
 17G LECTURE V. 
 
 said, that of Analogy. Let us, then, distinctly 
 see in what Analogy differs from Experience. 
 
 We are apt to employ both these terms in 
 a loose popular sense ; Experience, as syno- 
 nymous with observation, or knowledge of 
 events ; Analogy, as only another name for 
 similarity. It is important for the right study 
 of all philosophy, and in particular for this 
 branch of it, the facts of which are so fugitive, 
 and so removed from the grasp of the super- 
 ficial observer, to know precisely what mental 
 processes are described by these terms. Expe- 
 rience, then, it should be observed, is not the 
 mere collection of observations ; it is the me- 
 thodical reduction of them to their principles. 
 First, the senses, or our internal conscious- 
 ness, notice and record the observations ; 
 then, by the aid of memory, these observa- 
 tions are collected together; and at last comes 
 the power of reason to tie them into one, 
 and convert them by a spiritualizing process 
 into a principle of mind." It is in this last 
 
 " 'E/c fJtv oi)v al(7^r]<7£U)Q yivETCti jxptjiir}, uxrirep Xeyofjev' 
 IK ^E ixvr]fi}]Q TToXXcLKiQ Tov avTOv yirofiivrfc ifnrtipia. at ya|0 
 iroWai fjvij^ai rw api-jjuw ifiTreipia fxia kariv tK ^e tfnreipiaQ, 
 i) Ik -KavTOQ rjpefxrjauvTOc tou kuBoXov kv rij ^^X^' ~^^ kyuQ 
 irapu. TCI TToWa, b ar iv I'nraaiv tv ivrj tKeivoig rb avTV, riy^^yyjc 
 ap^i^ Kui iTnnTi]fir}<:' ear jxey irepi yivtaiv, Ti\riiQ' lav Be Trepi 
 TO or, tTci(TTi]fiiic. — Arislot. Anal. Post. II. c. iilt.
 
 LECTURE V. 177 
 
 stage that they properly constitute what, in 
 the exact philosophical sense, we denominate 
 Experience. Now Analogy supposes all this, 
 but it goes a step further : and it is in that 
 step that its weakness of evidence, as compared 
 with Experience, is to be found. Experience 
 is mere analysis. Analogy involves also a 
 synthesis. Taking up a general principle, as 
 given by Experience, Analogy represents this 
 principle under some modification, and not in 
 the simple form in which it was originally 
 obtained. It is apphed to cases in which some 
 difference of circumstances is supposed ; as, 
 for instance, in arguing from the formation of 
 particular parts of one class of animals to the 
 correspondences in another, the different na- 
 ture, habits, circumstances, of the one class, 
 are considered, and allowed for, in extending 
 the given observation. Whenever any fact 
 is drawn from actual observation upon it, 
 and another is reasoned to from the first, 
 the truth of the last is said properly to 
 rest on the evidence of Analogy. If this ana- 
 logy be afterwards verified by observation 
 on the last case, then the analogy as it was 
 merely before, is now converted into expe- 
 rience. The line, in fact, which separates a 
 very close analogy from experience, becomes 
 
 N
 
 178 LECTURE V. 
 
 undistinguishable at last, and either term 
 seems equally appropriate to the evidence in 
 such a case ; though, in logical accuracy, every 
 fact not resting on actual observation of itself 
 is a case of Analogy. Now in all reasonings 
 concerning human life, we are obliged to 
 depend on Analogy, if it were only from that 
 uncertainty, and almost suspension of judg- 
 ment, with which we must hold our conclu- 
 sions. We can seldom obtain that number of 
 instances which is requisite here to establish 
 an inference indisputably. The conduct of 
 persons or of parties may have been attended 
 by certain antecedents and certain results in 
 the examples before us ; still the state of the 
 case may be owing, not so much to that con- 
 duct, as to other causes, which are shut out 
 of our view, when our attention is fixed on 
 the particular examples adduced for the pur- 
 pose of the inference. We must thus be 
 strictly on our guard against transferring to 
 other cases, any thing merely contingent and 
 peculiar to the instances on which our rea- 
 soning is founded. And this is what analogical 
 reasoning requires and enables us to do. If 
 rightly pursued, it is employed, at once, both 
 in generalizing and discriminating; in the acute 
 perception at once of points of agreement and
 
 LECTURE V. 179 
 
 points of difference. The acme of the phi- 
 losophical power is displayed in the perfect 
 cooperation of these two opposite proceedings. 
 We must study to combine in such a way as 
 not to merge real differences ; and so to dis- 
 tinguish as not to divert the eye from the 
 real correspondence. 
 
 Such, then, is the spirit with which you 
 must enter on the investigation of moral facts. 
 You must not expect a perfect evidence ; you 
 must be prepared to allow for the anomalies 
 which will occur to your observation, and 
 resist that propensity to which philosophy itself 
 is too prone to give way, of expecting to find, 
 at the first view, exact harmonies in things 
 which nature seems to delight to conceal, and 
 to have reserved in her own power, to exercise 
 the ingenuity, and discipline the patience of 
 the mind. 
 
 n2
 
 LECTURE VI. 
 
 In my first Lecture, I spoke of the confusion 
 of thought with which the nature of Moral 
 Philosophy was commonly apprehended, — of 
 there being little agreement among men as 
 to the subjects comprised under the general 
 name of Moral Philosophy. It will be the 
 purpose of the present Lecture, to state, and 
 reduce into order, the several inquiries which 
 properly belong to this head of science. 
 
 Having laid down the fundamental principle 
 on which the whole investigation of the moral 
 philosopher proceeds, — namely, that man is, 
 in himself, an 'A^xt), or Principle of Activity ; 
 and that moral actions accordingly are the 
 phenomena to which our study is to be di- 
 rected in this department of knowledge ; the 
 way is already prepared for the matter in hand. 
 I have only to introduce a discrimination among 
 the facts to which, on the whole, I have called
 
 182 LECTURE VI. 
 
 your attention ; and work out my outline, by 
 pointing out the subordinate principles on 
 which each separate inquiry constitutes a 
 peculiar science. 
 
 I shall endeavour to bring before your view 
 the several heads of moral science, in the order 
 in which they seem naturally suggested to our 
 minds. 
 
 The first inquiry, then, in that order, is, 
 what the facts themselves are as they exist on 
 the face of the moral world : without looking 
 beyond the actual moral phenomena, our bu- 
 siness is to collect these faithfully, and to state 
 accurately the general principles in which they 
 may be summed up and expressed. 
 
 Secondly, having rightly surveyed and stated 
 these facts, we ascend to the examination of 
 the principles themselves already ascertained 
 as real moral facts, and collect further ob- 
 servations on them under this higher point of 
 view. 
 
 In the first head of inquiry, we take moral 
 facts into our contemplation, not as they are 
 moral in the proper exclusive sense, but as 
 they are natural — as parts of the history of 
 humanity — records of the world as it is man's
 
 LECTURE VI. 183 
 
 world — illustrations of the power of man in 
 moulding to his will that scene of things in 
 which he lives and acts. The phenomena 
 examined are undoubtedly moral phenomena ; 
 but they are not taken strictly under a moral 
 aspect. 
 
 In the second head of inquiry, the facts are 
 not only moral, but they are morally con- 
 templated. We examine them in themselves, 
 and explore their true moral nature and 
 character. 
 
 I should hope that the difference between 
 these two heads of inquiry is perfectly in- 
 telligible and clear. I have all along been 
 endeavouring to elucidate the difference 
 between physical and moral facts. Perhaps, 
 therefore, I may have given to some the idea, 
 that the two classes of facts are entirely 
 distinct, and that we cannot, in any sense, 
 speak of moral truth as identical with phy- 
 sical. I \Vould take this opportunity, if this 
 be the case, of obviating such an impression. 
 So far as the constitution and condition of 
 man are part of the great system of Nature, 
 moral truths certainly form part of the history 
 and philosophy of Nature. But besides this 
 general correspondence with the truths of
 
 184 LECTURE VI. 
 
 physics, they have also that pecuharity in 
 them according to which we designate them 
 moral; that is, when regarded as produc- 
 tions of the independent agent, man. Evi- 
 dently, then, we may either consider these 
 peculiar phenomena as parts of the general 
 history of nature ; or we may study them in 
 themselves. In both cases, we are engaged 
 in moral inquiries : in both, moral truth is 
 the result. Only, in the first, we confine our- 
 selves to natural classification of the observed 
 facts. In the other case, we reduce moral facts 
 to their ultimate moral principles. 
 
 It has happened, unfortunately, that moral 
 philosophers have commenced with this latter 
 inquiry, and have thus inverted the natural 
 order of proceeding. Setting out with the 
 conviction that it was moral truth of which 
 they were in quest, they have made their 
 whole investigation turn on the moral point 
 of view, and have pursued the natural classi- 
 fication of moral facts only in subordination 
 to this leading idea of their system. Hence, 
 perhaps, the common opinion, which identifies 
 Moral Philosophy with Ethical and Religious 
 Truth. Thus, we find even so wise a philo- 
 sopher as Dugald Stewart, who embraces the 
 whole science of the Human Mind under the
 
 LECTURE VI. 185 
 
 head of Moral Philosophy, stating it as " the 
 object of Moral Philosophy to ascertain the 
 general rules of a wise and virtuous conduct 
 in life." He states, indeed, what is true as 
 to the ultimate object of Moral Science. 
 But, to commence our inquiries with such an 
 object immediately before us, is to enter pre- 
 maturely on the study of ultimate principles. 
 Our first concern is duly to investigate what 
 the moral principles are, and to digest these 
 into order. After that we have discovered 
 what these laws are in themselves, throughout 
 the whole range of Humanity, we* shall then 
 adequately enter on the investigation of the 
 rules of conduct — the leges legum — the prin- 
 ciples which preside over, and control, and 
 limit, the apparent disorder and wildness and 
 multiplicity of moral facts. 
 
 The error of commencing with inquiry 
 into the moral principles in themselves, is 
 like that of the ancients, in commencing their 
 Natural Philosophy with Metaphysics; and 
 may be illustrated by the latter, as a parallel 
 case. Employing their thoughts in investi- 
 gating the ultimate principles of the human 
 mind, the ancients felt themselves in posses- 
 sion of a key to the interpretation of nature, 
 without the trouble of analysing observed
 
 186 LECTURE VI. 
 
 phenomena, and rested, accordingly, in an 
 hypothetical knowledge of nature. The same 
 is the impression given to the moral inquirer, 
 by fixing his attention, in the first instance, 
 on the end of his studies, the knowledge of 
 the rules of conduct. He is led to think that 
 moral philosophy is an a priori knowledge, 
 that its ultimate truths are the primary ele- 
 ments by which he is to give a meaning to 
 all the moral facts which he observes. By 
 such a restriction of the business of moral 
 science, he may, indeed, become a moralist ; 
 but he comparatively sinks the character of 
 the philosopher. He may discourse eloquently 
 of the duties of man, as his own nature, in- 
 stinctive with a wisdom which he has not 
 regularly sought, may suggest to him the 
 truth. But he has no proper command of 
 the various powers, which a preliminary study 
 of the human heart in all its outgoings un- 
 folds. He has not explored what pleases 
 or pains, what amuses or annoys, what ap- 
 peases or ruffles, what attracts or alienates, 
 what inspires with hope or dejects with fear, 
 such a being as man is : and his moral system, 
 therefore, may be perfect, as a collection of 
 precepts, and practical observations, but it 
 has no deep foundation, so far, at least, as
 
 LECTURE VI. 187 
 
 he knows, in the natural principles of moral 
 truth. 
 
 To commence, then, at the commencement, 
 I observe, that the first business of the Moral 
 Philosopher is, to inquire into human nature as 
 it is actually found. He has to investigate the 
 principles according to which men act — the mo- 
 tives which influence them in fact, — the objects 
 at which they commonly aim, — the passions, 
 desires, characters, manners, tastes, which ap- 
 pear in the world around him, and in his own 
 constitution. Further, as in all moral actions, 
 the intellectual principles are implicated with 
 the feelings, he must extend his inquiry to the 
 phenomena of the mental powers, and know 
 both what they are in themselves, and how 
 they are combined in action with the feelings. 
 
 Consider, then, how large and rich a field 
 of knowledge is here open to the student of 
 Moral Philosophy. The studies to which he 
 is called are the root out of which grows all 
 sound and true history, all persuasiveness of 
 eloquence, and, in short, the charm of what- 
 ever convinces the judgment or captivates the 
 fancy. All, indeed, that is thought or done 
 by man in the world, his researches in science, 
 his inventions in art, his industry, his wit, his
 
 188 LECTURE vr. 
 
 tastes, his reasonings, — in whatever way he 
 has stamped an image of himself on the world, 
 — all comes under the survey of the moral 
 philosopher : all is convertible into ahment of 
 speculation for him. 
 
 According to this estimate, we should 
 justly include within the pale of Moral Phi- 
 losophy many sciences, which, at the first 
 glance, might not seem to belong to it, — 
 such as Rhetoric, Poetry, Logic. I do not 
 mean to say that no one could be considered 
 as a moral philosopher, unless he combined, 
 within the sphere of his own knowledge, these 
 particular sciences. I speak only of the la- 
 bourers in each department required to fulfil 
 the whole mission of Moral Philosophy ; each 
 of whom, by bringing in his contribution from 
 his own particular region of exertion, both 
 augments the amount of moral science, and 
 furnishes materials out of which the moralist, 
 properly so called — he that studies the prin- 
 ciples of morality purely as they are moral, 
 may correct, and establish, and enlarge his con- 
 clusions. The more, of course, that any indi- 
 vidual knows of the various moral sciences, the 
 more fully instructed will he be in that wisdom 
 which he has undertaken to search out ; the 
 more power will he acquire for investigating
 
 LECTURE VI. 189 
 
 the rules of conduct. For the tie which binds 
 together these several acquisitions is even 
 stronger than that which unites the physical 
 sciences : since these all bear together on one 
 restricted subject, Man, with a direct reference : 
 whereas the physical sciences are related in 
 their results, but differ greatly in the subjects 
 on which they are respectively engaged. But 
 what I am now intent on showing is, that 
 the various sciences to which I have referred 
 may be legitimately classed among the moral 
 sciences — on this principle ; that, in order to 
 investigate duly the moral principles as such, 
 the whole nature of man, considered as a prin- 
 ciple of Activity, must be explored beforehand. 
 
 Proceeding on this principle, I should place 
 the science of Humanity ; what, for want of 
 an exact name, is commonly termed, from 
 its partial exemplification, the Philosophy of 
 History, as the first and most indispensable 
 knowledge to the moral student, — the History 
 of Man, that is, whether collected from ob- 
 servation or from books, reduced to the prin- 
 ciples of human conduct, which it illustrates : 
 and when I say history, I mean the history, 
 not only of events and actions, but of opinions, 
 of philosophy, of literature, of civilization
 
 190 
 
 LECTURE VI. 
 
 in general. I characterise this as a separate 
 science, distinct from Ethics, because its busi- 
 ness is, simply to observe what principles of 
 conduct exist, and not the rules of conduct, 
 which are the province of Ethics. It is clear 
 that there are these two modes of observing 
 human life^ Either we may contemplate how 
 man acts, noticing what principles appear in 
 his behaviour ; how they are connected toge- 
 ther; how they are modified by circumstances. 
 Or we may study these principles, with a view 
 to influence the conduct of men. It is this 
 last study only which is ethical : the former is 
 simply philosophical observation on human life. 
 Under the former head, for instance, would 
 be placed the whole theory of the Passions. 
 Take, for example, the exact and beautiful 
 delineations of them given by Aristotle in his 
 treatise of Rhetoric. He might, we are apt 
 to suppose, have inserted these discussions in 
 his Ethics. But he has not done so : and 
 observe the reason why he has included them 
 in the Rhetoric rather than in the Ethics. In 
 the Ethics, he is elaborating rules of conduct : 
 he is looking, accordingly, not to the passions 
 as they are physically exemplified, but to that 
 state of them in which they conspire to the 
 ends of nature ; where they cease consequently
 
 LECTURE VI. 191 
 
 to be mere physical emotions, and are moulded 
 into moral principles. Under such a point of 
 view, the passions, as passions, as facts in the 
 general history of man's nature, are rejected 
 from the census of the moralist. They are the 
 mere phenomena of our sensibility; and are 
 no indications, therefore, of the truth of our 
 moral nature in themselves, but only as they 
 are displayed in actions, or are modified by 
 some exertion of human activity. In the 
 rigour of his method, therefore, fixing his 
 eye exclusively on the " work" of man, and 
 seizing the principles of conduct at the point 
 where they are found ** executing that work 
 well;"* Aristotle avoids digressing from the 
 truths proper to his science to a class of facts 
 which, however curious and interesting in 
 themselves, are neutral and barren in this 
 respect. But in his Rhetoric, in which he 
 is not concerned with the truth and the 
 right of conduct, but with the mere pheno- 
 mena of human behaviour, he consistently 
 
 ^ Taya O/ yivoiT av tovtu, £t \?;00E«r; to kpyop Toii av- 
 dpwTToV uxTTTEp yap avXr}TTJ, Kal ay aXfiaronoiM, kiu irapri 
 Tt^viTT}, Koi 6\(i)g iov kariv tpyov tl kuI irpd^iQ, ev ru ipyu) 
 loKel TO ayaOov elrai t:ai to tv' eiirep evTi ti ipyov avTov, — 
 Ethic. Nic. I. 7. 
 
 PrjTtoi' ovi', OTL Tvaaa apen), oi) av fj apeTi), avTO te tv 
 e'Xov dTToreXEl, Kai tpyor avTov ev aTrohit)o)(Ttv. — Ibid. II. 6.
 
 192 LECTURE VI. 
 
 takes up the inquiry into the passions, and 
 treats it with the accuracy and fulness of in- 
 ductive science. I do not, however, by any 
 means, find fault with modern ethical writers, 
 for having introduced discussions of the pas- 
 sions into their treatises. Only, the more 
 rigorous method of Aristotle may show the 
 difference which I have pointed out, between 
 the general Philosophy of Human Nature, and 
 the restricted science of Ethics. 
 
 Observe, further, for example, the different 
 manner in which the feelings of Compassion 
 and Resentment are treated by Butler and by 
 Aristotle. In Aristotle, you find the actual forms 
 of these passions sketched out ; their objects, 
 or occasions, the persons apt to feel them, as 
 well as those towards whom they are felt, 
 distinctly characterised. His design is to give 
 a general description of them ; to state the 
 laws of their operation in the ordinary circum- 
 stances of human life. He omits, accordingly, 
 all consideration of their tendencies ; whether 
 they are duly exerted or not, perfectly or 
 imperfectly displayed, forms no part of his 
 inquiry. But in Butler, whilst these passions 
 are depicted in operation, the discussion takes 
 quite a different form. Their final causes or 
 tendencies are chiefly placed before our view.
 
 LECTURE Vr. 19 
 
 Q 
 
 We contemplate them, according to his mode 
 of treating them, as parts of the whole human 
 constitution ; as they accomplish the good of 
 the individual man and of society. Compas- 
 sion is exhibited as it tends to the relief of 
 misery ; Resentment, as it tends to the pre- 
 vention of injury and injustice. We read in 
 the pages of Aristotle what these passions 
 are; how they work as instincts: in Butler, 
 what they ought to he ; and how they may 
 influence the conduct as moral principles. 
 The former is the preliminary study : it is, 
 as I before remarked, to read correctly the 
 moral facts on which we have to speculate. 
 But, in order to moralize on them, we must 
 proceed to the second inquiry : otherwise 
 we rest simply in a knowledge of the na- 
 ture of the passions — a knowledge highly 
 interesting and important in itself, but to the 
 moralist or ethical student, only subordinate 
 and introductory to his higher philosophy. 
 
 Observe, further, in illustration of the same 
 point, in Aristotle himself, the difference of 
 his manner in treating of the Virtues, when 
 he sets them forth in his Ethics as laws of 
 right conduct, and when he is simply charac- 
 terising them in his Pthetoric as principles 
 by which men are commonly actuated. In his 
 
 o
 
 194 LECTURE VI. 
 
 ethical delineations of them, he is constantly 
 referring them to their final cause ; he consi- 
 ders under what modification they are as they 
 ought to be ; in what form they combine with 
 one another, and together tend to the per- 
 fection of human nature. In the Rhetoric, 
 they appear as the world ordinarily views 
 them ; as the means of procuring the ad- 
 vantages of life, without reference to their 
 intrinsic worth. In the former. Magnani- 
 mity is the highest Virtue ; because it is all 
 the virtues heightened and adorned by their 
 combination in the noblest nature. In the 
 latter. Justice, Courage, Liberality, bear pre- 
 eminence ; because these are obviously the 
 most useful to the world. 
 
 From what I have observed in regard to 
 the general Philosophy of Human Nature, it 
 may be seen why I include Rhetoric and 
 Poetics among the Moral Sciences. Both 
 these sciences have their foundation in the 
 active nature of man. Wherever they succeed 
 in their effect, — rhetoric in persuading, and 
 the poetic art in delighting, — there is assuredly 
 in the artist, though often unconsciously ex- 
 ercised, a knowledge of those chords of the 
 human heart which he touches : and it is the
 
 LECTURE VI. 195 
 
 part of the philosopher to detect the mode by 
 which the successful effect has been produced, 
 and reduce his observations on it to system. 
 Disjoined, indeed, from a study of human na- 
 ture, these arts become mere literary elegancies, 
 the amusements of the refined, but frivolous 
 and morbid taste ; such as they are found in 
 the decline of the Roman Empire, when all 
 free and masculine philosophy was gone. No 
 one who has duly studied the Rhetoric of 
 Aristotle, or Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric, 
 can hesitate to rank a science, so conceived 
 and interpreted, among the most important ve- 
 hicles of moral information. Aristotle, indeed, 
 does not profess, in his treatise of Rhetoric, 
 to be searching out truth. Carrying on the 
 same tone of thought with which Plato at- 
 tacks the sophistical rhetoric of his day, he 
 treats the whole art as a condescension to 
 human infirmity, rather than a knowledge of 
 truths ; as addressed to opinion, and not a 
 scientific method.'' He was aware that, in 
 point of logical and ethical truth, Pvhetoric 
 was defective ; being neither an exact disci- 
 pline of argument, nor indeed a theoretic 
 knowledge of any particular subject; and 
 
 '' "0\?jc oi/OT/c TTpvg cut,ctp 7//C TTpayf.tciTEiar Tiic rrfpi t))v 
 fjrjTdfiiKiir. — Ariniot. Rhet. III. c. 1. 
 
 o2
 
 196 
 
 LECTURE VI. 
 
 he accordingly speaks of Rhetoric in terms 
 which seem to disparage its dignity.*' But 
 when we examine his treatise with our own 
 notion of science, we can easily see that his 
 objections to placing it on that footing, are 
 not more valid against it, than against any 
 other system not built on definitions. We can 
 perceive that the knowledge of human nature 
 which it contains is just and true, and fully 
 entitles, therefore, such an inquiry to the rank 
 of a Moral Science. 
 
 Had the Poetics of Aristotle descended to 
 us entire, we should probably have had as 
 full an illustration of the moral character of 
 the science of Poetry, as we have of that of 
 the orator in his Rhetoric. As the work re- 
 mains, however, it sufficiently declares the phi- 
 losophical nature of the principles on which 
 the poetic imitation is founded. This is ex- 
 pressly referred to in his acute observation ; that 
 
 ° "Ert ^' ocrov kvH')^ETaL Trepl ahrCjf ^wpiaai Kara Tijv 
 u\i]i5(.iav, oh cil Kara Tuy Trapoyra Kuipov i^r]Tely, cut to 
 ^i]TE Ti]c pijTopiKijc elyai Tt^inic, «\X' IfXippoyeaTipaQ Kal 
 ^aXXoy aXrfdiyric .... oVw c iiv tlq i) rrjy Sia\eKTtKr]y, ij 
 TavTr]v, fit] t^aduTTEp ay cvvufjiti^, aXX' ETriaTrjfiaQ, TTEipuraL 
 KaTUfTKEvu^Eir, XrjffErai riiv (jtvcriv aiiTuJv ufpayiirar, ti7) uetu- 
 finivEiy ETrirTKEvfii^ioy Eic ETnaTtifjac VTTOi^EifJiiyioy riyuiy Ttpay- 
 fjiciTwy, dWci fj)) fxorov Xoywr. — Aristot. Rhet. I. c. 4.
 
 LECTURE VI. VJl 
 
 " Poetry is more philosophical and excellent 
 than History."*' For the poet, he adds in expla- 
 nation, describes not simply events that *' have 
 happened, but such as might have happened;" 
 that is, not mere singular phenomena, but 
 such as fall under some general principle of 
 human conduct. If, indeed, the object of the 
 poet be to please by imitation, it is evident 
 that this effect will not be accomplished, 
 unless he represents general facts. He may 
 please certain individuals, and accidentally, 
 by imitating what has happened to those 
 individuals to feel or observe. But he will 
 not please mankind at large, unless he 
 brings before them what men have gene- 
 rally felt and observed in the course of 
 the world. The character of his imitation, 
 therefore, implies a power of generalizing — 
 
 '^ 'AWct rovTit) ciatpipei, t(o tov fxey ra yevofieva Xeyeiy, 
 Tov ^£ o'la ttj' yiroiTO. Cw (cat (piXoervf^jrepov Kai mrovOaw- 
 Ttpov TToiijaiQ laropiar toTiv' >/ ^iv yap Ttolrjcnc juaXXov ra 
 KcidoXov, »/ o' laropiu ra Kadi" '(.kugtov Xiyu. — Poetic. 9. 
 
 Twj' yap ytvo}iiv(t)v tvia ovctv kujXvei roiavra eiyat o'la 
 av tiKOQ yeviadai cat tiuvara yeri(7dai, K"a6' 6 lt:sirog avrioy 
 troirjTijQ tariv. — Ibid. 
 
 TipoaipiiaQat re cei uCvi'ara eiKOTci fidXXov y Cvrara ani- 
 Oava. — Ibid. c. 24. 
 
 Plato expresses the same thing as a precept of the ancient 
 rhetoricians : — Ow^£ yap av -a irpayBivra luv Xiyuv iviote, 
 lav fiij UKUTUiQ i) TTSTrpay^iya. — Fhcedr. p. 376.
 
 198 LECTUIIE VI. 
 
 of seeing the point of resemblance among 
 different events, and reproducing it in his 
 descriptions. There is more of this effort of 
 the mind required on the part of the Historian, 
 than perhaps appeared in that period of his- 
 torical literature, when Aristotle made the 
 remark to which 1 have alluded. But without 
 deciding on the justness of this comparison, 
 it is clear that the poet must be in the strictest 
 sense a moralist ; and that Homer was not 
 more describing Ulysses than himself, in 
 saying, 
 
 rioXXwj' o' ayOpwKW)/ i^ev aarrea, kuI v6ov 'iyvoj. 
 
 The remark may be extended to all the 
 Fine Arts. Or, to state it generally, there is a 
 science of Criticism, a genuine branch of Moral 
 Philosophy, common to them all, and to which 
 they all owe their excellence. Thus would 
 treatises of the Sublime and Beautiful come 
 into our province, and such discussions as the 
 celebrated Discourses on Paintinf]^ of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. 
 
 'o 
 
 Whether Logic should properly be consi- 
 dered among the sciences which belong to 
 Moral Philosophy may admit of a doubt, when 
 we look to the purely intellectual character
 
 LECTURE VI. 199 
 
 of the science : whether we understand by the 
 term, the logic of the schools, the science of 
 reasoning by the signs of language, or extend 
 it to the larger more pregnant method, the 
 Analysis of modern scientific investigation. I 
 include, however, these studies, purely intel- 
 lectual as they are, within the pale of Moral 
 Philosophy, in the same manner in which I 
 include the study of the principles of the Fine 
 Arts. As they are pursued in themselves, and 
 in order to their perfection as distinct systems, 
 they lead you away from the proper track of 
 the moral philosopher. By such studies you 
 become rhetoricians, or critics, or logicians, or 
 painters, as the case may be, not moral philo- 
 sophers in the general sense of the term. The 
 more exactly that any one of these is cultivated 
 on its own account, the more will the student 
 erect it into a science distinct from his general 
 pursuit. It is in their principles and in their 
 relations, that they concern the moral philo- 
 sopher. His is the mother science from which 
 they all originate, and to which they owe a 
 filial tribute of nurture and support. 
 
 To point out the connexion of the principles 
 of the higher Logic, the method of Induction, 
 with the science of Actions, I must call your 
 cittention to the process of deliberation which
 
 200 LECTURE VI. 
 
 takes place previously to every action. When 
 any action is to be done, the mind of the 
 agent proceeds in the examination of it step 
 by step ; rejecting this expedient, approving 
 that ; " searching out and analysing, as it 
 were, a diagram" (such is the illustration 
 given by Aristotle)'' ; until at length it traces 
 up the means of performance to itself; and 
 this point being reached, the action imme- 
 diately commences where the process of in- 
 quiry ends. Now the scientific method of 
 investigation taught in the Organum of Bacon, 
 is nothing more than an expansion and sys- 
 tematic arrangement of the principles exem- 
 plified in this process, so far as they admit of 
 being generally stated. 
 
 Again, every action admits of being analysed 
 into — 1. The End chosen. 2. The Means 
 pursued. 3. The Act itself performed. Of 
 these constituents the first two correspond 
 with the premises of a syllogism, the last with 
 the conclusion. Hence an action has been 
 considered by Aristotle under the form of a 
 practical syllogism.^ The moral principle on 
 
 " Ethic. Nic. III. c. 3. 
 
 ' See Ethic. Nic. VII. c. 3. De Anima III. c. 11. 
 See also a statement of this in Bishop Taylor's Duetor 
 Dubit. I. c. 1, Works, 8vo. vol. xi. p. 383.
 
 LECTURE VI. 201 
 
 which we act in each instance, is here what 
 logicians call the major premiss. It may, or 
 may not, be conceived in the mind of the 
 agent, in the form of a proposition. It may 
 be simply the moral condition of his feelings 
 on the occasion ; — the mere wish to do justly, 
 the love of the right, the honom-able, the 
 prudent ; or the contrary, if the character be 
 vicious. This is what we unconsciously refer 
 to, when we speak of a man's moral principles. 
 The purity and elevation, the extent and 
 strength, of it, depend on, and are tests of, 
 the degree of moral cultivation which the 
 individual has attained. Then follows, in 
 combination with this principle, a judgment 
 at the moment of action, of the particular 
 mode of behaviour by which this principle is 
 to be put into effect. Here lies the exercise 
 of what we call discretion. This judgment 
 represents the minor jyremiss of the practical 
 syllogism : and immediately consequent on it 
 is the conclusion, the act itself. All this takes 
 place coinstantaneously ; and the process 
 escapes the notice of the agent by its rapidity. 
 Still it is a real process. And that there 
 are these several elements in it, may be per- 
 ceived from those instances in which we find 
 one of them more prominent than the others.
 
 202 LECTURE VI. 
 
 and giving its tone to the action. Some, for 
 example, we find of right moral character; 
 having, that is, sound and good principles, 
 but wanting the ready discernment to apply 
 them in action. Whilst others again display 
 a practical dexterity of judgment, a kind 
 of moral tact, being able at the moment 
 to discern the right mode of acting, avro- 
 (Txe^i'a^eiv TO Seovra, as Thucydides happily 
 expresses it, but have no large, or pure, or 
 stable principle.^' Both cases thus, the former 
 through defect of practical judgment, the 
 latter through defect of right principles, fail 
 in attaining sound moral conclusions, and in 
 realizing that result which the Greek language 
 beautifully characterized by the term evirpa^'ia, 
 success and good conduct going hand - in- 
 hand.'' There are others a$>'ain who evince a 
 readiness in action, without either stability of 
 principle or sharpness of judgment; like hasty 
 reasoners drawing conclusions at random, 
 acting sometimes on this principle, sometimes 
 on that, sometimes prudently, sometimes im- 
 prudently ; always in the field of action, yet 
 
 g This is the quality which Aristotle denotes by Seivorrfc,. 
 See Ethic. Nic. VI. c. ult. 
 
 ^ The whole of the 6th and 7th Books of Aristotle's 
 Ethics should be studied in illustration of this.
 
 LECTUllE VI. 203 
 
 never advancing in moral culture or moral 
 ability. 
 
 For the full development, therefore, of 
 the theory of Action, the process of the 
 reasoning conscience ought to be studied, no 
 less than the feelings or purely emotive part 
 of our nature. We ought to be able to un- 
 twist those threads by which the intellectual 
 and moral principles are curiously twined toge- 
 ther in all our moral sentiments and conduct, 
 and to acquire a skill in detecting both the 
 right reason and the sophistry of the heart. 
 
 To the student, indeed, of Ancient Philoso- 
 phy, a knowledge of the Logic of the Schools 
 is peculiarly important. It is indispensable, I 
 should say, to an understanding of the views 
 and arguments of the Greek philosophers. 
 Take the Ethics alone of Aristotle ; and how 
 many things must occur to you there quite un- 
 intelligible, until, by some acquaintance at least 
 with the nomenclature of the ancient Dialectics, 
 you can account for their introduction into 
 such a treatise.' In truth, to direct you to 
 
 * The 6tli Chapter of the 1st Book of the Ethics, in 
 which Plato's Ideal theory is discussed with reference to 
 the question of the Chief Good, in itself requires a very 
 considerable knowledge of the ancient Dialectics, in order 
 to be rightly understood.
 
 204 
 
 LECTURE VI. 
 
 the study of Ancient Philosophy, is to require 
 you to l)ecome acquainted with the ancient 
 Dialectics. The two studies run up into each 
 other. To pursue either properly, you must 
 digress (if it is to digress) into the other. I 
 may add also, scarcely can a knowledge be 
 obtained of many questions which have been 
 derived to modern science from the ancient 
 schools, without an initiation into their Logic. 
 I am certainly not out of order, therefore, at 
 least in this Lecture -room, in assigning a 
 place to Logic, among the affiliated sciences 
 of jMoral Philosophy. 
 
 I shall not require many words to assert 
 the claims of Politics on the student of Moral 
 Science, — Politics, as including the sciences 
 of Laws, and Government, and Wealth. No 
 one will hesitate for a moment to attribute 
 a moral character to the truths of Politics. 
 However far we may pursue these, we do 
 not appear to overstep the limits of Moral 
 Philosophy : for they begin and end with 
 information concerning the actions of men. 
 What is required more, in regard to this 
 branch of science, is to apprehend clearly 
 the characteristic of political principles in 
 contrast with ethical. By the ancients the
 
 LECTURE VI. 205 
 
 two classes of principles were confounded : 
 for they laid down the same Chief Good as 
 the one object at once of political and ethical 
 science."^ Their theory of a perfect polity is 
 that system of government in which Virtue is 
 the law of the State, or where the good man 
 is identical with the good citizen. The result 
 which their theory contemplated must be ad- 
 mitted to be true, if we refer it to the Divine 
 Government ; but however noble in the con- 
 ception, is altogether hypothetical, if we would 
 seek to effect it by mere human institutions. 
 Only in the miraculous fact of the Jewish 
 Theocracy has the world witnessed an example 
 of such a result ; and to accomplish the like 
 in another instance would require the like ex- 
 ertion of Omniscience, and a like extraordinary 
 Providence. 
 
 Let it be observed then how the phenomena 
 of Political Science differ from those of Ethics. 
 In the political actions of men, we find them 
 rewarding and punishing in a different manner 
 from that which is seen in their ethical judg- 
 ments. For instance, the greatest political 
 offences are those to which there is the 
 greatest temptation. But in the ethical point 
 
 ^ See Aristotle's Ethics, I. c. 2. V. c. 2. Polit. III. c. 4.
 
 20G LECTUUE VI. 
 
 of view, it is just the reverse : crimes to 
 which the temptation is the greatest, obtain 
 the most indulgent consideration.^ Advantages 
 obtained with the least sacrifice, are most 
 estimated by the politician ; whereas the 
 greater the sacrifice, the greater the merito- 
 riousness of a conquest, in the eye of the 
 moralist. Prescriptive rights, though origi- 
 nating in wrong and violence, are main- 
 tained by political law ; whilst the moral law 
 admits no right within its domain which has 
 ever had any contact with wrong. In general, 
 indeed, it will be found that political pheno- 
 mena are instances of the working of man's 
 Activity, not as it is in itself, but under the 
 constraint of particular circumstances, and 
 for a particular restricted object. In these, 
 human activity is seen operating, not for its 
 own perfection, not to accomplish the virtue 
 and happiness of our nature, but for the 
 security and improvement of the social union. 
 Expediency to this end is the great principle of 
 
 1 In reference to the law of Pittacus, imposing double 
 penalties on crimes committed under the influence of 
 drunkenness, Aristotle observes: — ^la yap to Tr}^uovQ vjipl- 
 'Ctiv fiMvovTUQ i) vri(})OVTac, ov irfwrTtir trvyyvojfxrjv uTrij3\e\ptj', 
 on cu fieOvovfJiv 't-)(^tiv fiuWoy, aWh Trpor tu (jvfi<l)ip(iv. — 
 Polit. II. c. 10.
 
 LECTURE VI. 207 
 
 political facts. In ethical inquiry, the strength 
 of the internal principle in the agent is what 
 we are concerned to discover and enforce. 
 But in the political view, individual acts are 
 the objects of attention ; no respect being 
 had to the principle of the agent, further 
 than as it occasions positive acts of benefit or 
 injury to society. 
 
 It is in the sound and large observation of 
 this expediency that political science properly 
 consists. For, though regards for the welfare 
 of society do not originally bring men toge- 
 ther, but the effect is due to the philanthropic 
 instincts of our nature ; yet when societies 
 are once formed, reason devises the means 
 by which their advantages may be secured and 
 extended, and their evils averted or diminished. 
 To accomplish this purpose accordingly, ob- 
 servations are collected on institutions, and 
 governments, and laws ; and these are drawn 
 into principles for the preservation of the so- 
 cial order. Thus the constitution of a perfect 
 society becomes in itself an end of political 
 inquiry ; or where the attainment of such an 
 end is impracticable, and the attempt to effect 
 it would be injurious, the next point is, to 
 ascertain those principles by which an exist- 
 ing constitution may be best maintained and
 
 208 LECTURE VI. 
 
 improved. The former was the ambitious 
 pursuit of the ancient philosophers and legis- 
 lators ; the latter is the more temperate and 
 just profession of modern political science. 
 
 These remarks may suffice to show the 
 characteristic of Political Science, as it is a 
 distinct branch of Moral Philosophy ; and 
 furnish you with a hint (which is all that I 
 can attempt here) for entering on your in- 
 quiries under this head with a more steady 
 aim. 
 
 From this very rapid and imperfect sketch 
 of the principal departments of knowledge, 
 which send in their respective tribute to the 
 treasury of Moral Science ; and which, as I 
 have shown, may all thus far be regarded as 
 belonging to our studies ; — I come now to the 
 more intimate recesses of Moral Philosophy — 
 to the point, where taking up the truths as 
 already gathered from our various researches, 
 we proceed to consider them in themselves, 
 and explore, as I may say, the moralitij of 
 moral truth. 
 
 To this point of inquiry the description of 
 Moral Philosophy, as the science of what 
 ought to he, appropriately refers. Even where
 
 LECTURE VI. 209 
 
 moral facts are concerned, the study of nature 
 is exhausted, wlien we have fully discovered 
 what really is. We have no means of solving 
 the question, whether the laws of Divine 
 Government might have been better, or whe- 
 ther they have been established in the best 
 possible way in which they could be. We 
 must acquiesce here, as in the material con- 
 stitution of things, in what we Jind ; and 
 such acquiescence is our highest moral wis- 
 dom, as in regard to the material universe, it 
 is our highest natural philosophy. It argues 
 only ignorance and folly, to scan the course 
 and constitution of the world by the measures 
 of an imaginary optimism ; and the attempt 
 cannot but end in disappointment and ab- 
 surdity. As Butler well observes, after Origen, 
 who has expressed the same thought," it is 
 probable that the plan which such theorists 
 would fix upon, would not, after all, be found 
 " the very best, even according to their own 
 
 m 
 
 Kat TOVTO ce doicel fioi onoiov tlrai rw \6yo) Twy am- 
 ciaTa(T(ToyT(i)v tt] Trporoia, Kai diaypa<^m'TU)V tuvroic trepa irapa 
 TO. ovra, KoX \ey()VT(i)v, on (jiX-ior i)y tl o'vtwc, dxtv o KorrpLOQ, 
 o)Q SieypaxpuijeV ottov fiev yap Cvi'ara SiaypcKpovaw, eXey- 
 ■)(0}'Tai ytipova TroioiivreQ, to oaov icf tavTolg Kal rfj Siaypacpq 
 uvriLv, Tov Koujxov' owov Ik EoKOvcri id) ytipova dval^wypaxpelv 
 TU)v bvru)y, airodeikyvvrai to. rrj cpvaei dcvrara (iovKojievoL' 
 i)Q tKuripioQ auTovc KaraytXatTTOVQ eivai. — Orig. c. Cels. II. 
 p. 102. ed. 4to. 
 
 P
 
 210 LECTURE VI. 
 
 notions of Best:" so adventurous and futile is 
 such a speculation, not only in regard to " the 
 laws of Nature respecting inanimate matter," 
 but also as applied to " the conduct of Nature 
 with respect to intelligent creatures." " But in 
 the search after pure moral truth, no inquiry- 
 is more appropriate ; as I have already endea- 
 voured to show in a former Lecture. It is 
 here indeed the life and soul of the whole 
 investigation. The science of Morality is, hj 
 its very nature, a science of the Best. All our 
 observations on human life indicate the ope- 
 ration of various principles of man's nature 
 exerted under every capricious form, but all 
 aiming, directly or indirectly, at some supposed 
 good. This is the great moral fact in which 
 they all agree. These aims are found often 
 foolish, and perverse, and blind, and frustrate. 
 Still there is good in the view of the agent. Is 
 it possible then to reach that good, to grasp it 
 in the terms of a theory, to delineate and ex- 
 press the Best, and so to reduce into order the 
 chaos of facts which the moral world presents?" 
 
 n Butler's Analogy, Introduction. 
 
 ° The 1st chapter of Aristotle's Ethics states this fact. 
 In the 2d and following chapters of the 1st book, he states 
 and discusses the object of ethical theory as a search after 
 " the Best." The rest of the work fills up his sketch qjT 
 that object.
 
 LECTURE VI. 211 
 
 Such, then, is the object proposed to the 
 Moral Philosopher on his own proper ground. 
 Under this point of view, his studies fall into 
 two great classes: — 1st. The Theory of the 
 Moral Sentiments. 2dly. The Theory of Na- 
 tural Religion. 
 
 I. The Theory of the Moral Sentiments 
 results from the consideration of man himself 
 as the Subject of moral action ; as the internal 
 theatre on whose stage the drama of life is acted. 
 
 II. The Theory of Natural Religion results 
 from considering the Object, or end, to which 
 the moral nature of man has reference, — being 
 a speculation into the ultimate tendency or 
 destination of the moral sentiments, — into the 
 " final causes" themselves, in which our pre- 
 sent capacities of virtue and happiness receive 
 their consummation and perfection. 
 
 In the systems of the ancients, these two 
 inquiries were blended in that great question 
 of their philosophy. What is the Chief Good ? 
 There, unfortunately for their search after 
 truth, — unfortunately, on account of the in- 
 fluence which the speculation has had on 
 Christian theology, — Metaphysics usurped 
 the place of Natural Religion — indeed were 
 recognized by them under the express name of 
 
 p2
 
 212 LECTURE VI. 
 
 Theology. Yet it seems they had an indistinct 
 perception of the true connexion of Religion 
 with Moral Truth, when they wearied them- 
 selves so importunately to find out the ** Chief 
 Good" as a basis of their moral theories. 
 Their thoughts, however, being wholly trained 
 in the a priori method of speculation, they 
 erroneously endeavoured to seize, at the very 
 outset, the ultimate object of the moral senti- 
 ments ; and to define the nature of Goodness 
 itself, in order to deduce from it, as the one 
 universal principle, the particular rules of good 
 conduct. P Thus they confounded the subjective 
 part of morality with the objective. They sa- 
 crificed the independence of the Theory of the 
 Moral Sentiments, while they deviated into 
 paths which led to Religion ; and yet did not 
 pursue those paths to the point in which they 
 converged and terminated.'* 
 
 P Even according to Aristotle, the attainment of happi- 
 ness is the attainment of a divine principle : — 'Hfui' ^e 
 cfjXof £K TLJy elprjUEViov, on iariv 7/ tvcaiyiovia twv rifitwy koi 
 reXeiiDy. "Eoikc ^' ovtwq fX^iv, mi Ciiiro elrai ap^jiv' TavrrfQ 
 yap yfipLv ra Xonra Travreg 7ruj/ra irpiiTTOfitv' rfjv apxr]v ce 
 Kai TO airiov twv ayaftwi',Tifu<')y ti kat BeToi' ridefiey. — Ethic. 
 Nic. I. c. 12. But the same more expressly appears from 
 the concluding chapters of his Metaphysics. 
 
 1 This confusion seems the foundation of Bacon's remark, 
 that " moral philosophy was to the pagans in the stead of 
 theology." — Nov. Org. I. 79. Metaphysics were their
 
 LECTURE VI. 213 
 
 It is most important, then, that you should 
 clearly distinguish the two heads of speculation, 
 on the ground on which I have stated them 
 as distinct : the Theory of the Moral Senti- 
 ments, as an inquiry into man's moral nature 
 regarded as the Subject of those sentiments : the 
 Theory of Natural Religion, as an inquiry into 
 the whole ultimate Object of that moral nature. 
 But this requires to be further explained. 
 
 That the two inquiries are really distinct, 
 may appear thus. When we analyse our 
 moral sentiments, we find two principles con- 
 tained in them : — I. A Motive, an internal 
 spring, as we may call it, the origin of the 
 sentiment — that without which it could not 
 so much as come into existence. II. An 
 End, or Object, towards which the exertion 
 of the sentiment is made — something that 
 awakens and calls it into action — without 
 which, again, however perfect the internal 
 machinery may be, the moral sentiment could 
 not exist as a sentiment, would only be passive, 
 and never exert the force of an active principle. 
 
 proper theology ; but moral philosophy engaged their minds 
 in discussions and controversies similar to, and in some 
 points the same as, those which Theology has now engrossed 
 to itself. It also supplied the material for their division 
 into sects.
 
 214 LECTURE VI. 
 
 They differ, as the spring and wheels of a 
 watch differ from the pointing of the hour ; 
 being mutually related in like manner. You 
 will find these two principles accurately dis- 
 tinguished throughout Aristotle's Ethics, and 
 expressly, w^iere he says ; '' the principle of 
 action is choice ; the motive, that is, but not 
 the end ; but of choice the principle is appetite 
 (activity) and reason for the sake of some 
 end:'"^ reason, he means, not in the general 
 sense of the term, but practical reason ; reason 
 employed about some particular object. 
 
 Both principles, the Motive and the End, 
 are equally necessary constituents of every 
 action, of every moral sentiment. They are 
 no other than the two principles before noticed 
 in the ancient theory of Causation, — the Motive 
 Cause and the Final Cause, — applied to the 
 subject of Human Actions. 
 
 Now though it is impossible to divorce, in 
 fact, the idea of the one from that of the 
 other, yet the two principles are distinctly 
 apprehended, and admit, therefore, of being 
 made the matter of separate scientific con- 
 sideration. What though if even in the 
 
 '' npa$£W£ fitv ovf o.p-)(7i, TrpoaiptaiQ, oQev // KivrffnQ, dW 
 ov)^ oh ivtKa' TrpoaipEtreojQ ce, ope^if; kuI Xoyoc o ereKu tivoq. 
 Ethic. Nic. VI. c. 2.
 
 LECTURE VI. 215 
 
 scientific consideration of each, we are obliged 
 to take also the other into our view ; still this 
 would not destroy the subjective character of 
 the one inquiry, or the objective one of the 
 other. It will be admitted that we cannot 
 study the motive principles, without com- 
 prising in our view the objects of the moral 
 sentiments; or, on the other hand, these 
 objects, without passing the various sentiments 
 in themselves under review. Still our atten- 
 tion in each case is fixed on the class of 
 phenomena proper to our immediate inquiry ; 
 and we extend our view to the other class, in 
 order to obtain information about those which 
 we are examining. Thus, suppose that I 
 were inquiring into the particular nature of 
 the moral sentiment of Courage, my direct 
 purpose would be to ascertain the motive 
 principles of our nature which go to the 
 formation of this moral sentiment — whether a 
 feeling of honour or resentment, or fear, and 
 so forth, be constituents in it, and what modi- 
 fication of each or all of them it may be. 
 But I could not pursue such an inquiry 
 without looking to the objects of Courage ; 
 selecting the occasions which call it forth and 
 display it in perfection, and rejecting from my 
 estimate those which do not really belong to it.
 
 216 LECTUllK VI. 
 
 For only in such circumstances shall I see 
 the sentiment fully developed, and its genuine 
 form exhibited. At the same time, I have 
 no further concern with this tendency of 
 the motive principles, this reaching forth of 
 the hand of our moral feelings to grasp their 
 own objects, than as it illustrates each senti- 
 ment in itself; by presenting it to me as it is 
 active and energetic, and thus enabling me to 
 characterize it according to its proper nature. 
 So, on the other hand, were I to consider the 
 objective character of our Moral Sentiments, 
 I should be employed in collecting all the 
 phenomena in which the great fact of a 
 tendency in our moral nature to objects out 
 of itself, is instanced. To collect a full evi- 
 dence on this point, I should of course take a 
 survey, as far as possible, of all the active 
 principles. Still I should only interrogate 
 them with a view to this particular point. I 
 should only seek to extort from them a 
 confession, that they are not content with 
 themselves, but that pursuit, and tendency, 
 and aiming, and reaching beyond them- 
 selves, are the very life which they live, the 
 very soul which breathes into them all their 
 activity. 
 
 But the first head of inquiry, as I have
 
 LECTURE VI. 217 
 
 said, terminates in purely ethical truth, the 
 latter in religion. 
 
 In the first, accordingly, we ascertain the 
 laws of action, tlie principles which ought to 
 predominate in conduct, and the moral me- 
 chanism of our nature, by which those laws 
 are established. 
 
 For let it not escape your notice, that in 
 this the peculiar department of the moralist, 
 the subjective head of investigation, there are 
 two subordinate inquiries pursuing each its 
 own track, as Adam Smith and others have 
 shown. — I. The first is an inquiry into the 
 Nature of Virtue, into the laws themselves in 
 which right conduct consists. II. The second 
 is the inquiry into the Criterion of Virtue; 
 or the Principle of Approbation, as it is 
 sometimes expressed ; what it is that distin- 
 guishes right from wrong, that gives Virtue 
 the sanction of a law ; whether a moral 
 faculty, reason, sympathy, taste, a conformity 
 to truth, a sense of honour, a conviction of 
 interest, and the hke. 
 
 These inquiries are no less distinct, as ethical 
 writers have observed, than the examination 
 into the power of vision in the eye is distinct 
 from the theory of light, or the qualities of 
 any chemical ingredient are from the sense of
 
 218 LECTURE VI. 
 
 taste by which they are discriminated.* In 
 pursuing your studies, therefore, this distinction 
 should ever be borne in mind. Undoubtedly, 
 observations made under one head will il- 
 lustrate the truths which you are seeking 
 under the other. The theory of Virtue will 
 take a very different colour, according as we 
 adopt or reject, for instance, the doctrine of 
 a moral faculty. Nor is it practicable, in- 
 deed, to pursue the study of one head with- 
 out involving some theory on the other. In 
 Aristotle, for instance, in whose Ethics we 
 have no discussion of the principle of moral 
 approbation, and in all the ancient systems 
 which make the koXov the right, we have the 
 praise and blame of the world assumed as 
 the criterion of right and wrong. To form 
 the character to that exact propriety, that 
 due indulgence of every affection in which 
 he fixes the nature of Virtue, Aristotle would 
 have his disciple train himself to the most 
 delicate sensibility to the praise and blame 
 of mankind. For that equilibrium of the 
 affections which constitutes the virtuous cha- 
 racter, is a thing which it is impossible to 
 
 '^ Sir J. Mackintosh, on the Prog, of Ethic. Phil. Prelim. 
 Dissert. Encyc. Britan. 7th edit. p. 298.
 
 LECTURE VI. 219 
 
 state in words, or comprise in any definition/ 
 It varies infinitely for every individual person. 
 The only limitation of it is the moral per- 
 ception, which each man must acquire and 
 improve by discipline ; and that discipline, 
 according to Aristotle, is found in a heart 
 gradually becoming more and more alive to 
 the voice of general approbation."" Thus the 
 
 *• AeT c avTOvg ael tovq Trparrovrac to. irpoQ tov Kaipuv 
 (tkotteIv. — Ethic. Nic. II. c. 2. 'O ct fi£)(pi- rivog Koi. IttI 
 7r6ffov ^j/eKTOQ, ov pq.ciov rw Xoyw cKpopicrai' ovte yap dXKo 
 ovcey Twy alaQriTwv' ra. hk roiavra kv toIq (ca0' tKaara, Kai tv 
 rrj alad{]fT£L ?/ Kplcrig. — Ibid. c. ult. See also Book VI. c. 7. 
 
 " This observation results, in its full force, only from a 
 comprehensive and exact survey of his whole ethical system. 
 Observe, however, particularly how, in his sketches of the 
 several virtues, he constantly refers you to praise (not the 
 praise of any particular class of men, but of mankind at 
 large), as the standard and limit of them. It appears 
 expressly, in the following passages, — Tcjy tt,£(t)v ce rag 
 eTrairETUQ aperac XiyofjLEV. — Ethic. JVic. I. c. ult. Kara 
 fjLEi' TO. TTi'idr] ovT ETTaivovfiEda, OVTE \p£'y6fi£da' ov yap Eirai- 
 vEtrai 6 (pol3ov[j.EVOg, ovce 6 opyiCo^Evoc, dW 6 ttwq' Kara 
 Se. rag apETug Kai rag Kadag ETrait'ovjAEda i) \p£y6fx£da. — 
 Ibid. II. c 5. 'H ^£ apETJ/ TTEpl Tradi] ical 7rpai,Eig iaTtr, iy 
 o'lg »/ fXEV VTTEpjjoXii afxaprayErai, Kal >/ £'XX£i;//ic -ipiyErai, to ^e 
 fxiaov ETraivEtrat Kal KaTopQouTaC ravTa ^' d'ju^w Tfjg apET^g. 
 Ibid. c. G. "On jiev ovv eotiv »; apETrj ii rjdiKri fiEGOTrjg, . . , 
 Kal OTL TOiavTrf tori tid to (TTO-^affTiKri tov fiifrov slvai tov ev 
 To'ic nddECTL Kal Tulg Ti-pd^tcriy . . . Aio Kal ipyoy ecttI (XirovSalov 
 Elyai ... TO CE w, Kal oaov, Kal ore, Kal ov 'ivEKa, Kal a»c, ovk 
 etl irayTOc, ovCe p^liov' oittp eotI to ev, Kal mravioy, Kal 
 ETTULytToy, Kal KaXoy. — Ibid. c. 9. "O yap Trdffi ^okeI tovto
 
 220 LECTURE VI. 
 
 praise and blame of the world constitute his 
 criterion of Virtue and Vice : though he has no 
 where examined into the question itself as to 
 what is truly the Criterion of Virtue. Nor, in- 
 deed, have any of the ancients. For this branch 
 of inquiry peculiarly belongs to the modern 
 school of Ethics ; having grown out of the 
 great question concerning the Origin of Ideas, 
 which has so much exercised the ingenuity of 
 modern speculation. But in order to obtain 
 this mutual reflection of light from each de- 
 partment of investigation, it is absolutely neces- 
 sary that you should never lose sight of the 
 real difference, to which I have here adverted, 
 between the two inquiries. 
 
 It remains then only for me to point out 
 how what I have called the Objective head of 
 Moral Philosophy, in contrast with the other, 
 the Subjective, leads us to the conclusions of 
 Natural Religion. 
 
 The consideration, then, of the tendency 
 of the Moral Sentiments carries the mind 
 forward to a belief of the existence of some 
 ultimate objects of attainment, which may 
 
 dyai (l)aiJiEy. — Ibid. X. c. 2. Act cf/ to })Qoq irpovTrap-^en' 
 
 TTOJQ OlKEWl' Tfjc ClptTrjC, aTfpyOV TO KaXot', KUl CV(T\tpiUl'UV TO 
 
 ala)(p6y. — Ibid. c. 9.
 
 LECTURE VI. 221 
 
 realize that entire satisfaction after which we 
 aspire, but which is evidently not to be reached 
 by the utmost present fulfilment of the Moral 
 Sentiments. Human life, when thus studied, 
 stands conspicuously forth to our view as a 
 pursuit, and not as an end. It does not come 
 up to that standard which the Moral Senti- 
 ments instinctively and irresistibly frame to 
 themselves. How is this fact, then, to be 
 met, in all the manifold phenomena from 
 which it results ; how is it to be solved in 
 any one instance ; — but by the notion of a 
 God, as our supreme and final Good, by 
 whom all our instincts of good shall be per- 
 fected; and by the notion also of a better 
 world, in which all our moral yearnings shall 
 be satisfied ? To illustrate this whole head of 
 Moral Philosophy, I cannot do better than 
 refer you to the admirable " Analogy" of 
 Bishop Butler. That work is throughout an 
 exemplification of this mode of philosophizing. 
 It takes up our moral principles where the 
 world leaves them, and conceives them ex- 
 panded to their perfection and glory in the 
 more immediate presence of the great Moral 
 Governor of the world. Let the work be read 
 with this view, as a divine philosophy of the 
 Moral Sentiments ; and you will derive from it
 
 222 LECTURE VI. 
 
 a conviction at once of the substantial reality 
 of this branch of Moral Philosophy, and of 
 the religious knowledge to which it conducts 
 the inquirer. 
 
 To explain this application of the work 
 by an example. That we are to live hereafter 
 in a purer state of being, in which our capaci- 
 ties of virtue and happiness shall be perfected, 
 where danger shall cease in security, and per- 
 fect love shall cast out fear, — what is this, but 
 to consider in themselves the final causes of 
 those various Moral Sentiments by which the 
 heart of man is actuated ? The occasions 
 which call forth our sentiments here, the 
 present objects on which they are exercised, 
 may no longer exist ; but the good to which 
 those temporary objects or occasions evidently 
 minister, is something beyond those objects or 
 occasions themselves, something that is not 
 destroyed by destroying them."" We must, 
 therefore, conceive that good still to exist. 
 
 ^ Aristotle overlooked this difference between the good 
 effected by the exertion of a moral sentiment, and the imme- 
 diate object, or occasion, of the sentiment; (though he was 
 perfectly aware of it, as he shows by his account of Pleasure 
 as an end distinct from the object from which it results, 
 Ethics, X. c. 4,) when he excluded the ethical virtues from 
 his heaven. See the passage in his Ethics, Upa^eis ce tto/uc 
 uirovtinai ^£w>' avroTc ; k.t.X. B. X. c. 8.
 
 LECTURE VI. 223 
 
 And we may consider it accordingly in itself. 
 We may place it before our view as the final 
 cause of those sentiments which lead to it, 
 and examine our nature by the light reflected 
 from it. When seen by this light, our nature 
 assumes a nobler stature. We behold it as 
 the workmanship of an invisible artificer, de- 
 signing it for more than a temporary purpose ; 
 and we are irresistibly carried to believe our- 
 selves immortal beings, sons of God, destined 
 to rejoice for ever with our Father in heaven. 
 All that this argument requires is, that the 
 fact of these tendencies in our nature should 
 be clearly established. The conclusion result- 
 ing from them as to a state of glorified ex- 
 istence hereafter with God, possesses as much 
 evidence as any fact can, which is future, and 
 of which there is no direct experience. It is 
 drawn however strictly, it should be observed, 
 from a consideration of tendencies, or Jiiial 
 causes. AVe take into our view our present 
 capacities of happiness, in order that we may 
 see to what they tend. But they do not in 
 themselves lead us to the conclusion. Look- 
 ing, however, to their tendencies — to the ends 
 to which they point, — we are carried out of the 
 present ephemeral scene into the proper ground
 
 224 
 
 LECTURE VI. 
 
 of Religion, the sacred region in which Good 
 prevails with undisputed ascendency, and is 
 all in all. 
 
 Particularly, however, to illustrate the fun- 
 damental principle of this head of inquiry, I 
 must refer you to Butler's two sermons on 
 the Love of God ; which more directly exhibit 
 the view that I have here set before you of 
 Natural Religion, as the offshoot and transcen- 
 dental science of Moral Philosophy. He there 
 points out how not only the particular affection 
 of Love, but the affections in general of our 
 nature, as reverence, joy, fear, love of honour, 
 when referred to their ultimate objects, to 
 ends in which they rest, obtain their adequate 
 completion in the goodness, and wisdom, and 
 power of God. 
 
 I conclude with the following passages, 
 from Butler, which present the nature of such 
 an inquiry in a short compass. 
 
 " All the common enjoyments of life are 
 from the faculties he hath endued us with, 
 and the objects he hath made suitable to them. 
 He may himself be to us infinitely more than 
 all these : he mav be to us all that we want. 
 As our understanding can contemplate itself, 
 and our affections be exercised upon them-
 
 LECTURE VI. 225 
 
 selves by reflection, so may each be employed, 
 in the same manner, upon any other mind : 
 and since the supreme Mind, the Author and 
 Cause of all things, is the highest possible 
 object to himself, he may be an adequate 
 supply to all the faculties of our souls ; a 
 subject to our understanding, and an object 
 to our affections." 
 
 " When we speak of things so much above 
 our comprehension as the employment and 
 happiness of a future state, doubtless it behoves 
 us to speak with all modesty and distrust of 
 ourselves. But the Scripture represents the 
 happiness of that state under the notions of 
 * seeing God,' ' seeing him as he is,' ' knowing 
 as we are known,' and ' seeing face to face.' 
 These words are not general or undetermined, 
 but express a particular determinate happiness. 
 And I will be bold to say, that nothing can 
 account for, or come up to, these expressions, 
 but only this, that God himself will be an 
 object to our faculties, that he himself will 
 be our happiness, as distinguished from the 
 enjoyments of the present state, which seem to 
 arise, not immediately from him, but from the 
 objects he has adapted to give us delight.''^ 
 
 >' Butler, Serm. XIV. pp. 252, 2o8. 
 Q
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 I COME now to treat of the method in which 
 Moral Philosophy should be studied. Having 
 already pointed out the principles on which 
 the science proceeds, and the various inquiries 
 included under the general title of Moral 
 Philosophy, I am naturally led to discuss the 
 mode in which the study should be pursued. 
 
 This part of my subject divides itself into 
 two general heads: — 1st. The spirit, or pos- 
 ture of mind, with which we should enter on 
 the investigation. 2dly. The intellectual pro- 
 cess by which we shall most effectually reach 
 the truth of which we are in quest. I shall 
 consider each of these in order. 
 
 I. First, then, as to the spirit with which we 
 should enter on such investigation ; — I may 
 appeal to the words of Aristotle, when he says, 
 that he who is young in years, or is the slave 
 of his passions, cannot be a proper hearer of 
 
 q2
 
 228 
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 moral truth ; the young, he means, because 
 such an one being deficient in experience, is 
 not master of those principles collected from 
 the knowledge of man on which the whole 
 fabric of moral truth is built ; the slave of 
 passion, because his judgment is perverted, and 
 his inward eye obscured against the percep- 
 tion of what professes to search the heart and 
 regulate the conduct. Candour, patience, do- 
 cility, openness to conviction, modest attention 
 to the wisdom of the experienced,^ a willingness 
 to adopt conclusions practically, are accordingly 
 indispensable requisites to him who would 
 enter on this study profitably. Preconception 
 whether of opinion or of passion, must equally 
 be discarded. He that comes to the study 
 with his prejudices fast rooted, is, in fact, 
 already the philosopher of an adverse school. 
 He has chosen his sect before he has asked 
 which is true or which is false ; and he puts 
 himself, therefore, out of the condition of a 
 learner. He is prepared not to examine, but 
 to combat ; not to accept what is true, but to 
 defend what he already believes, or at least 
 
 ^ Au Tipoai-^^ELV Tw kfXTr(.ip(i)v Ka\ TrpEffflvripcov y (pporifiojv 
 Toig avairoCeiKTOiQ ^aatai koX hoiaiq, ov")(_ tjttov twi' cnroSei- 
 ^£wv' cict yap to t'x^iv ek tJjq efiTTEiplac vfifia, opwtri rdq 
 apxag. — Aristot. Ethic. Nic. VI. c. 11.
 
 LECTuiiE vir. 229 
 
 acts upon as true. This seems so obvious, 
 as scarcely to require any further remark. 
 It is yet, however, with all its reasonable- 
 ness, the most difficult thing to carry into 
 practice. It is no slight effort on the part 
 even of those who most cherish a favourable 
 disposition for moral inquiry ; and how much 
 more for those who rush on the study with 
 undisciplined ardour, with no due sense of 
 the responsibility of the task they have 
 undertaken? What exhortation to a more 
 temperate mode of proceeding can avail with 
 such persons ? They require, indeed, self- 
 chastisement more than argument. For those, 
 however, who are ready to follow the truth 
 wherever it may call them, who are disposed 
 to philosophize in the genuine temper of the 
 moral philosopher, it may be useful to dwell 
 further on this subject, and consider more 
 closely the relation which the character of 
 the student has to the truth sought in moral 
 inquiry. 
 
 It would be arguing in a circle, to say that 
 only the virtuous are qualified to form a 
 judgment on questions in which the laws of 
 virtue are concerned. For who are the vir- 
 tuous, except those whom the laws of virtue 
 define to be such ? So that to presuppose a
 
 230 LECTURE VII. 
 
 character of virtue in an individual, is to pre- 
 suppose in him a knowledge of those laws by 
 which it is prescribed. It supposes, at least, 
 that the character of the inquirer must corre- 
 spond with what we may call virtuous ; and 
 our description of virtue may be erroneous. 
 The question, therefore, stated in this form is 
 objectionable. It may be stated, then, more 
 generally, in a form to which no such objection 
 applies : thus ; our conclusions in moral sub- 
 jects vary according to the state of our minds, 
 according to the modification of character 
 derived from feelings, and habits, and circum- 
 stances in the world. 
 
 In illustration of this point, it may be ob- 
 served, that not only settled states of mind, 
 but even accidental humour, excitement, or 
 depression of the spirits, momentary passions, 
 have their influence on our moral decisions. 
 The mind, in such cases, gives only a half- 
 hearing to the terms of a proposition, and 
 draws its conclusion from the sense which 
 passion supplies at the moment. Every one 
 probably has felt this in his own case ; has 
 found that the same thing appears to him in 
 very different lights at different times, ac- 
 cording to the caprice of his feelings. The 
 waverings of thought, as we deliberate on
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 231 
 
 any subject, are instances to the same effect. 
 In such dehberations, we find ourselves with 
 the same alternatives before our minds, at one 
 time taking one conclusion, at another time 
 another, as the alternatives of judgment meet 
 with some counterpart in our feelings, and 
 accordingly preponderate. 
 
 But to consider more direct cases, in which 
 we come to the consideration of some specu- 
 lative truth in moral subjects ; in which, the 
 conclusion being speculative abstract truth, it 
 might seem that every intellect would perceive 
 it in the same light. Here, however, we may 
 also recognize the power of the moral charac- 
 ter to intrude and disturb the judgment. Let 
 us suppose the case of an argument relating 
 to some controverted point of History, logi- 
 cally deduced and perspicuously stated; and 
 let us suppose also this argument to be exa- 
 mined by two intellects of equal power. The 
 logical force of the argument, consequently, 
 will appear equally to both ; if both are equally 
 attentive to it, equally willing to accept the 
 conclusion. Not otherwise, however. And 
 where shall we find two minds, though of 
 equal power, of the same temperament, exactly 
 adjusted to each other ? They may have been 
 trained in the same school, disciphned by the
 
 232 
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 same exercise; yet, in going through this 
 process of education, each mind has used its 
 own hberty of thought, has dwelt on those 
 associations of ideas which it Hked, has fol- 
 lowed out those trains of thouc^ht which most 
 engaged it, has most frequently recurred to 
 tiiose principles and conclusions which ac- 
 corded with its tastes. Hence no two minds, 
 however equal in natural endowments, can 
 ever come to the consideration of any subject, 
 in which there is room for judgment, in the 
 same attitude of thought. It is this fact, in- 
 deed, upon which the whole science of Rhetoric 
 is founded : rhetorical science being the study 
 and comprehensive view of those various in- 
 fluences which arguments have, according to 
 the frame and temperament of the mind ; a 
 knowledge of the general principles according 
 to which men admit conclusions on moral 
 subjects, independently of the direct logical 
 force of the arguments employed in them. 
 Thus, though the historical fact be, in itself, a 
 matter of indifference to each of the two minds 
 before which it is presented, the probability is, 
 that, either different views will be taken of it 
 in the result ; or that, if there is a coincidence 
 of result, the elements of the proof, the actual 
 grounds of credibility, will be different in the
 
 LECTURE vir. 233 
 
 two cases. The associations which the discus- 
 sion awakens, the thoughts which it suggests, 
 will be the determining principles in each case. 
 The same thing will be found generally in 
 regard to the study of any book : no two 
 minds, perhaps, receive precisely the same 
 impressions from it. 
 
 But let us further take a case in which some 
 truth of morality itself is involved. Whatever 
 theory of Virtue we may adopt, it is plain that 
 the conclusions of two reasoners on the subject 
 will differ, as their respective habits of feeling 
 and acting differ in point of virtue and vice. 
 I mean, that he who is the disciple of vice can 
 never really judge of virtue with the eye of 
 the virtuous man, nor the virtuous man con- 
 template vice as the vicious man does. The 
 two qualities are mutually repugnant, and 
 cannot coexist. This all must admit ; however 
 some may call virtue vice, and vice virtue. 
 He that approves, therefore, what is vicious, 
 will never approve what is virtuous, however 
 cogently it may be enforced on him by argu- 
 ment, or recommended by the charms of a 
 persuasive eloquence ; and vice versa. Any 
 argument employed in teaching morality, 
 must involve matter of feeling. Virtue and 
 vice are founded on our sensibilities to right
 
 231 LECTURE VII. 
 
 and wrong; on the pleasure and pain which 
 one kind of actions or another may pro- 
 duce in us. If a man had no feeling for 
 one kind of action more than for another, 
 there would be no room for moral address 
 to such a person. He would indeed be the 
 dxRv^os avrjp of the poet ; an instance of one 
 *' maimed with respect to virtue," as Aristotle 
 describes it. Now every argument enforcing 
 on us a duty, appeals ultimately to the feeling 
 of each individual in regard to virtue. It does 
 not, of course, presuppose that he is already 
 fully alive to the whole force of the conclusion; 
 for, if that were the case, no moral argument 
 could avail to instruct: it could only confirm, 
 and encourage, and revive existing convictions. 
 But it does imply a disposition towards the 
 truth so taught. Let us suppose an endeavour 
 to enforce the duty of universal benevolence 
 on an individual ; as in the instance of our 
 Lord's conversation with the young man, when 
 he added, " Go and sell that thou hast, and 
 give to the poor." The person so addressed 
 " went away sorrowful," we are told, '^ for he 
 had great possessions." Was it that the pre- 
 cept was unreasonable — that it w^as not a sound 
 conclusion, that he who had much should give 
 to him who had nothing? It was that the
 
 LECTURE VII. 235 
 
 deceitfulness of riches had bhnded his eyes, 
 had attracted his affections to themselves, and 
 deadened in his heart the philanthropic in- 
 stinct. Otherwise, hard as the precept was to 
 execute to the letter, he would not have turned 
 away at once from the admonition, but would 
 have stayed, at least, to ask an explanation, — 
 to seek some further guidance for a weak but 
 willing heart. From the analysis, indeed, to 
 w^hich I have already referred of an action into 
 the practical reasoning of which it consists, 
 it appears, that a mere intellectual power may 
 enable a man to see the means of conduct in 
 order to an end, but not to discern the right. 
 The intellectual power is neutral ; it may 
 equally direct to wrong and to right ; that it 
 may carry us to right, there must be a prin- 
 ciple of right in the heart. It is this which 
 transforms a mere knowledge of the world — ■ 
 mere worldly prudence — into a virtuous judg- 
 ment. Our capacity of moral improvement 
 proceeds on this element of moral feeling. We 
 go on enlarging our principle, as we repeat, 
 and strengthen, and extend our moral judg- 
 ments in each particular case of right conduct, 
 until at length we attain to a more perfect 
 wisdom in the regulation of our lives. Or, on 
 the other hand, by neglecting to cultivate our
 
 236 LECTURE VII. 
 
 moral judgment — by looking more to the 
 means of acting than to the principle on which 
 we act — we diminish the scope of our moral 
 feelings, and gradually almost extinguish them. 
 In the latter case, we cease to discern between 
 good and evil; as in the former we improve 
 our moral discernment. Agreeably to this, 
 Butler observes, in regard to Religion, that 
 the question is not, whether the evidence of it 
 is sufficient to convince the understanding; 
 but whether it is sufficient to cultivate and 
 discipline that temper of mind which it pre- 
 supposes.'' As a moral subject, it demands to 
 be appreciated by a moral power. A full and 
 firm acceptance of it is the reXevTolov eTnyev- 
 vrjiMa — the consummation of that moral good 
 on which it has worked throughout in the 
 character, and without which it would not 
 have been received at all. 
 
 Agreeably to this, is the manner in which 
 all moral education is imparted. We give the 
 child, whilst yet he is an infant in discretion, 
 a very narrow principle by which he is to rule 
 his conduct. We do not lay before him general 
 principles of right, which would presuppose 
 more moral and intellectual power for their 
 application than are attainable at that early 
 
 '' Analogy, P. II. c. ult.
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 237 
 
 age. We give him positive commands to do 
 this, to forbear that ; a rule of right so narrow 
 and simple, that, if there be only the will to 
 obey, he cannot go wrong. Still that will to 
 obey is presupposed even in the case of the 
 infant ; and without such an element in his 
 nature, we could do nothing with him. As 
 he grows older, and we find that he is docile 
 to these first moral leadings, we give him 
 principles of greater and greater latitude, 
 which imply an increase of that moral power 
 with which he commenced. We lay before 
 him, first, the precepts of the particular 
 virtues ; we call upon him to be temperate, 
 and brave, and just, and prudent; which it 
 would be vain to do, before, as yet, he has 
 learned the excellence of obedience, and made 
 his general sense of right more distinct, by 
 specific application of it in his conduct. 
 These generalities would otherwise only be- 
 wilder him. He might have an indistinct 
 apprehension of the right, but would be quite 
 at a loss to apply it. At last, when his cha- 
 racter is formed, as we express it ; when we 
 find that he both knows and applies the 
 precepts of the particular virtues with readi- 
 ness and constancy ; we feel that we can trust 
 him with the widest principle ; that it is
 
 238 LECTURE vir. 
 
 enough to tell him to do his duty ; and in 
 this ultimate state, we as fully expect a suc- 
 cessful result, because we know that the prin- 
 ciples to which the general rule appeals have 
 already been worked into the heart.'' 
 
 II. In considering the intellectual process 
 by which moral truth is to be sought, it must 
 be premised on this head, that actual observa- 
 tion of human life, including the study of the 
 heart, is the indispensable preliminary to this 
 class of sciences, no less than to those of the 
 physical student. Every man must, to some 
 extent, train his own mind more especially 
 for studies of this kind. No lessons here are 
 equal to those which each individual collects 
 from his own observations. They come home 
 to his mind, at once, with their truth and their 
 evidence. 
 
 But the question is how to obtain these 
 lessons : by what tract of study may we pro- 
 mise ourselves most success in the pursuit of 
 moral truth ? I have partly anticipated my 
 answer to this question, in what I remarked 
 in my last Lecture, as to the several branches 
 of inquiry included under Moral Philosophy. 
 
 •= This particular illustration was suggested to me in 
 conversation by a friend.
 
 LECTURE VII. 239 
 
 By distinguishing })etween the studies belong- 
 ing to Moral Philosophy, as they refer to the 
 natural foundation of moral principles, or as 
 they are conversant about naoral principles in 
 themselves, I have indicated the course with 
 which we should commence. No one must 
 account himself a moral philosopher, without 
 some acquaintance with those kindred sciences 
 which I there particularly referred to, as 
 Politics, Rhetoric, Poetics, Logic ; and more 
 especially without some elements of that phi- 
 losophy which consists in a knowledge of man, 
 of the passions by which human nature is 
 swayed, and the phenomena in general of 
 human behaviour : such a study, I mean, 
 pursued independently of all moral systems 
 and theories of conduct. 
 
 I have already touched generally on the 
 method of investigation which Moral Philo- 
 sophy demands, in common with all science, 
 and more particularly of the use of the doctrine 
 of Final Causes in moral inquiries. 
 
 There are, however, two methods of inquiry 
 spoken of by moral philosophers, which I must 
 not pass without a more distinct consideration. 
 ** There are two ways," says Butler, " in which
 
 240 LECTURE VII. 
 
 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 constitu- 
 tion ; 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 exceed- 
 ingly 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 rela- 
 tions and circumstances in hfe.'"' 
 
 You will recognize the same division in 
 Aristotle's Ethics, where he speaks of the 
 method from principles, and to principles, airo 
 Twv apx^v, and eTTi ras ap^as, and decides on 
 the latter as adequate to the purpose of ethical 
 
 '^ Pref. p. vi.
 
 LECTURE VII. 241 
 
 inquiry, and the method which he designed to 
 follow in his own Treatise. 
 
 It is the difference, in short, which modern 
 writers commonly mark by the terms analysis 
 and synthesis. In the former, we take the 
 facts of human nature as we find them, and 
 resolve them into the principles and laws of 
 our nature ; in the other, we assume certain 
 general truths as the elements of our reason- 
 ing, and deduce the particular rules of conduct 
 from these. We have apposite illustrations of 
 these different methods in the works of Clarke 
 and of Butler : Clarke, in his Demonstration 
 of the Being and Attributes of God, and his 
 Discourse on Natural and Revealed Religion, 
 proceeding on the assumption of primary 
 truths existing in the mind, relations of 
 things discoverable to us by the intellect ; and 
 from these drawing out in connected series 
 the laws of religion and morality : Butler, on 
 the contrary, commencing with observation of 
 the facts of the moral world, as they appear 
 on the face of nature, and analysing these 
 into the moral laws involved in them. No 
 moral truth is assumed as such by Butler, and 
 there is no necessity of inference, accordingly, 
 attending his conclusions. His premises are 
 physical truth : it is his conclusions only 
 
 R
 
 242 LECTURE VII. 
 
 that are properly moral. And hence it is, that 
 Butler speaks of his own method as more open 
 to cavil : it has not that cogent force of de- 
 monstration which conclusions, systematically 
 deduced from admitted moral principles, carry 
 with them. The inference may be denied, 
 while the premises are admitted in his reason- 
 ings, without absurdity ; which cannot be the 
 case, where the principles are admitted as 
 moral truths, and the conclusion necessarily 
 follows from them. At the same time, he 
 characterizes his method, as " in a peculiar 
 manner adapted to satisfy a fair mind." It 
 appeals, that is, more to the feelings of can- 
 dour, and simplicity, and honesty, than the 
 other mode of inquiry, which is strictly an 
 address to the intellect. And those accord- 
 ingly, whose minds are open to conviction, 
 will receive this peculiar evidence resulting 
 from observation ; while those who are pre- 
 pared to cavil may easily object to it, as in- 
 conclusive and unsatisfactory to their reason. 
 
 From what I have already said in other 
 Lectures, as well as in this, there can be no 
 room to doubt which of these methods is the 
 best to be pursued by the moral philosopher. 
 The former method, — that which proceeds 
 from the abstract relations of things, — may be
 
 LECTURE VII. 243 
 
 useful for giving a systematic combination to 
 tlie results of our inquiries, and may follow in 
 order therefore, as a mode of classing and 
 arranging truths ascertained ; but is invalid in 
 itself. Indeed, all the truth which, as a moral 
 system, it possesses, must result from a pre- 
 vious process of analysis ; otherwise the prin- 
 ciples which it assumes, as the basis of its 
 argument, would be mere hypotheses. As a 
 demonstration, it would carry its intrinsic va- 
 lidity in it, though the relations of human life 
 were only shadows, and man, a phantom : like 
 the demonstrations of Euchd, which, as has 
 been observed, would hold perfectly true, 
 though there were no such thing as a triangle 
 or circle in actual existence. 
 
 To Analysis, then, I call your attention, 
 as the business to which you are applying 
 yourselves in the study of Moral Philosophy. 
 You must decompose the facts presented to 
 your notice, reject what is irrelevant to your 
 purpose, seize the moral point of view, and 
 endeavour to comprize that for yourselves in 
 terms which shall exactly circumscribe it. 
 Study the Ethics of Aristotle ; and you will 
 observe him constantly employed in this ana- 
 lytical process. Examine, for instance, the 
 mode in which he draws out his theory of 
 
 r2
 
 244 
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 happiness, and you will find it to consist in 
 analysing ; in rejecting, and excluding, what 
 is foreign to the fact of which he is in search ; 
 and only terminating his inquiry when he has 
 completed this process. 
 
 Supposing, then, you are in the proper 
 path of inquiry — that your minds are in the 
 right condition for receiving Moral Evidence, 
 and that you have commenced by the me- 
 thod of analysis ; I proceed to point out the 
 importance of erudition to the moral philoso- 
 pher, — of an acquaintance with the history of 
 ethical philosophy, and with the connexion 
 and origin of the theories belonging to your 
 subject. 
 
 I. It is indispensably necessary, then, in 
 the study of Moral Theories, that you should 
 consider to what systems they have succeeded, 
 and to what they are opposed. This consi- 
 deration is commonly omitted in practice ; and 
 yet there is none more essential for the right 
 understanding of moral as well as religious 
 doctrines. We are apt to regard the statements 
 of both these classes of truths, as they nakedly 
 come before us in the form of detached 
 doctrines; whereas, when we come to be
 
 LECTURE Vll. 
 
 245 
 
 acquainted with their history, we find that 
 they are not insulated, but dependent and 
 relative assertions, arising out of a previous 
 condition of discussion on the subject, and 
 deriving their whole mode of expression from 
 that circumstance. Thus, in theology, a know- 
 ledge of ecclesiastical history shows the sincere 
 student of it, that the formal enunciations of 
 doctrines are polemical statements, shaped by 
 their controversial opposition to other opi- 
 nions; — that their antithetical sense accord- 
 ingly, and not their direct apparent one, is the 
 sense in which they are to be read. The 
 opinions of Arius and of Athanasius, for in- 
 stance, are to be understood with reference 
 to the speculations then afloat on the sacred 
 subject of them ; those of Augustine, in like 
 manner, on the question of Divine Agency, in 
 reference to positions maintained by disputants 
 of the times. The same principle holds equally 
 in Moral Philosophy ; and the want of atten- 
 tion to it has led to much misconception ot 
 moral theories, as well as of theological doc- 
 trines. An acquaintance, in fact, with the 
 history of philosophy, is as indispensable for 
 obtaining a right notion of any particular 
 moral theory, as ecclesiastical history is to the 
 student of theology. Take, for instance, the
 
 246 LECTURE VII, 
 
 theory of Benevolence — that which resolves 
 the whole nature of Virtue into a principle of 
 Benevolence, or makes right synonymous with 
 benevolent. It is clear that this theory did not 
 rise up spontaneously ; was not, I mean, with- 
 out its antecedent in some former system. 
 Had there not been a theory of selfishness, a 
 system which made self-love the universal 
 principle of conduct, identifying right with the 
 exj)edient, we should not have had, as I con- 
 ceive, the principle of Benevolence insisted on 
 in the way in which some moralists have spe- 
 culated concerning it. The opinion evidently 
 was a reaction from the opposite. In the dis- 
 like of the selfish theory, philosophers were 
 tempted to carry their refutation of it to the 
 utmost, and maintain the negative of it in the 
 strongest terms of antithesis. But there was 
 no other so forcible mode of denying the theory, 
 as by positively affirming and defending its 
 contrary — that no virtuous action whatever is 
 selfish ; or, in other words, that the only prin- 
 ciple of right conduct is Benevolence. Rightly 
 to understand, therefore, the theory as ori- 
 ginally taken up, we must look to its antece- 
 dent, to which it was opposed ; and interpret it 
 rather as a denial that man is governed entirely 
 by selfish interest, than as a positive assertion
 
 LECTURE VII. 247 
 
 that benevolence is the exclusive principle of 
 conduct. Yet in sound it is so — and soon, so 
 far is the mind the dupe of its ov/n assumptions, 
 the theory comes to be maintained in the posi- 
 tive sense, if not by the leaders in the con- 
 troversy, at any rate by the disciples of their 
 school. The very action, indeed, of contro- 
 versy has this effect. When a tenet is opposed, 
 its advocates, like the man in the fable wres- 
 tling with the wind, fold their mantle still 
 more closely around them ; when, if the sun- 
 shine of popular approbation had struck warmly 
 on them, they would have worn it carelessly, 
 or cast it away. Their wits are sharpened for 
 the conflict by the collision, and their opinion 
 is regarded as a work on which labour and cost 
 have been expended, and which demands, 
 therefore, some further exertion on their part 
 for its completion. Thus they are led on, by 
 the seductions of controversy, to defend points 
 not originally contemplated by them, to give 
 a harder, stronger outline to their theory, and 
 imperceptibly to sacrifice even the truth, while 
 they labour to give a bold relief to some 
 principal object. We must not take, there- 
 fore, all that the advocates of an opinion have 
 said concerning it, as evidence of what was 
 originally intended by the opinion. It has
 
 248 LECTURE VII. 
 
 grown in its course ; and accordingly, to con- 
 sider it rightly, we must revert to the opinions 
 out of which it grew ; we must trace it back 
 to the controversies which gave occasion to 
 it, and so lay hold of it in its original form of 
 opposition. 
 
 There is, in fact, in the debatable region of 
 Moral Science, a cycle of opinions, not indeed 
 invariably succeeding one another in the same 
 order, but so that the same opinions occasionally 
 reappear as the sequence of others. The selfish 
 theory itself arose out of an attempt to carry 
 the doctrine of disinterestedness too far. If 
 some insisted that no action could be virtuous, 
 as it proceeded from an interested motive; 
 some again, startled by the paradox, would 
 turn their attention to the more accurate 
 analysis of the principle of self-love ; and they 
 would notice those many instances of human 
 life in which, men, so far from erring on the 
 side of self-love, even show a culpable want of 
 it, as in acts of evident imprudence. From 
 such instances, it would appear that self-love 
 was a principle which the moralist could not 
 dispense with ; and thus, from a contemplation 
 of it in its real importance, and stimulated by 
 the excitement of controversy, philosophers 
 would be found to rest exclusively in the
 
 LECTURE VII. 249 
 
 principle of tlic expedient as the sole basis of 
 right. 
 
 A French philosopher, indeed, of great me- 
 taphysical acumen, M. Cousin, has reduced all 
 systems of philosophy under the four heads of 
 Sensualism, Idealism, Scepticism, and Mysti- 
 cism ; and has endeavoured to evince that 
 these systems, or, at least, the last two, follow 
 in a constant order of succession.^ The inge- 
 nious author, however, it must be admitted, 
 has here carried his Platonic prepossessions 
 too far, and strained his theory to greater 
 exactness than the facts will warrant. But 
 whether this be so or not, the facts on which 
 his theory is founded, at any rate, amount to 
 a proof of the point on which I am now in- 
 sisting ; — that no moral theory stands alone, 
 but has an essential relation to some antece- 
 dent. Either it is the continuation of a pre- 
 vious system under an extreme form im- 
 pressed on it by the force of controversy, or 
 it is a reaction from another in an opposite 
 direction. 
 
 Let me illustrate this, however, further to 
 you; and from those authors to whom your aca- 
 demical studies particularly call your attention. 
 
 e Histoire de la Phil, dii XVIIP Sieclc. 4^ Le^on, 
 p. 165, ike.
 
 250 LECTURE VII. 
 
 How imperfectly will the teaching of So- 
 crates be understood by those who consider 
 simply the enunciations of moral truth attri- 
 buted to him, and who examine his doctrines 
 merely in themselves. Certainly there will be 
 no just appreciation of his spirit of philosophy 
 by such a method. Look, on the other hand, to 
 the system which preceded him. Observe how 
 all philosophy was become a mere technical 
 system, a matter of erudition and professional 
 art, a mysterious initiation into the secrets of 
 nature, or a sophistical discipline of political 
 power. Studying all the circumstances of the 
 age of philosophy in which he appeared, we 
 begin to take a new view of his system of 
 teaching. We find that his wisdom consists 
 not in the maxims which he promulgated, in 
 the greater accuracy, or comprehensiveness, or 
 purity of the precepts which he delivered, but 
 in the homeliness with which he sought to 
 invest philosophy, the social conversational 
 character in which he introduced it into the 
 houses and streets of Athens. It is remark- 
 able that, succeeding to a literary period, he 
 left no monument of his science in writings. 
 For his case was not like that of Pythagoras 
 in this respect. In the age of Pythagoras, 
 philosophy had not put off its religious garb.
 
 LECTURE VII. 251 
 
 and consistently maintained the silence and 
 reserve, and undefined form, of an unwritten, 
 traditional, authoritative wisdom. The avTos- 
 e(f)a of the Pythagorean school was in its 
 place there, as the reason and apology of 
 the whole system. Had it descended to 
 written expositions at first, it would have 
 thrown off the mask under which it was 
 acting its part on the scene of the world. 
 But with Socrates the case was quite different. 
 A literary philosophy was then established. 
 And we are accordingly to take up his un- 
 written lessons, as an innovation on the pre- 
 vailing method, and a counteraction of that 
 method, and a return to the Pythagorean 
 system of oral instruction, without its mys- 
 tery and reserve. He found that philosophy 
 was become inactive and powerless, had lost 
 that real control over men which it had 
 once possessed, — that, in being converted 
 into a literary pursuit, it had soared to heights 
 of speculation, inaccessible to the many, and 
 irrelevant to all influence on the world. He 
 therefore set himself to bring it down from its 
 didactic form, to that of famihar intercourse ; 
 and so to regain for it the influence which it 
 obtained under the Pythagoreans. Hence the 
 charge of atheism against him. He wished to
 
 252 LECTURE VII. 
 
 give philosophy that ascendency in human hte, 
 which paganism had usurped, and possessed 
 exchisively, when philosophy, disjoined from 
 the popular superstitions, erected itself into a 
 literary discipline. He attracted the jealousy 
 of superstition, because he substituted another 
 practical method, which, though it inculcated 
 obedience to established religions, virtually dis- 
 pensed with all.^ You may observe, through- 
 out the dialogues of his two great expositors, 
 how entirely he is engaged in restoring this 
 practical influence to philosophy, not only 
 from his teaching by conversation, but from 
 the characters and persons among whom he 
 is usually introduced. They are, generally, 
 young men, — persons on whose minds he 
 could expect to exercise some influence. And 
 thus the burthen of the accusation against 
 him was, that he was " corrupting the young 
 men." Thus, too, when any of the interlocu- 
 tors is represented as essaying a lengthened 
 argument, or dissertation on any subject, 
 Plato makes Socrates interrupt him, complain 
 
 f Speaking of the popular fables, he says, Ou cvvafiui 
 TTW Kara to i^tXfiKov ypa/i/xa yvw^'ot k^iavTov' jEkoiov it) fxoi 
 (buiverai, tovto in ayvoovi'TCi, ret aWuTpia (tkottiIv' oDev crj 
 ■)(a.ipeiv iaauQ Tuvra, TrEiOufJLei'Oc Se rai vofXi'Cojiipu) irtpl auTwv, 
 o vvv oil eXtyov, (tkottm ov ravru, aXXu tf.uwroi', k. t, X. — 
 Phcp.dr. p. 285.
 
 LECTURE VII. 253 
 
 of his forgetfulness and dulness of apprehen- 
 sion, and call back the disputant to the man- 
 ner of conversation by question and reply, 
 and to all the little matters of ordinary 
 experience and use, which didactic science 
 disdained to notice/ In the dialosrue of the 
 Phaedrus (composed by Plato when he was 
 young, and more the disciple imbued with 
 his master's wisdom, than himself the master 
 of a new school), we have the peculiar spirit of 
 the teaching of Socrates depicted in a striking 
 passage, in which written instruction is com- 
 pared with oral.'' He observes that the former 
 is inadequate, except for the purpose of sug- 
 gestion to the author,' that words written are 
 like pictures, which " stand as if they were 
 alive, but if you ask them any thing, keep a 
 very dignified silence." Thus, he says, written 
 discourses are unable to explain or vindicate 
 themselves when attacked, being tossed be- 
 fore every one indiscriminately, whether fit 
 
 s 'E/^e ye eXadev vtto rfjc efiiiQ ov^erelag, Phcedr. p. 295. — 
 'Eyw rvy^avit) ETriKiifTfUiJv tXq toy avdpMTroQ, Protag. p. 136, 
 et alib. — N») tovq Beovc, are^roJQ ye aei (TKvriaQ te kuI KvatpiaQ 
 Koi fxayeipovQ Xeyiov Kai larpovg ovEey Travri, wg irepl rouTtoy 
 f]H~iv ovra Tov \6yov. — Gorgias, p. 96. 
 
 ^ Phaeclr. p. 379, et sqq. 
 
 ' This was probably the principle of the acroamatic or 
 esoteric writings of the ancient philosophers.
 
 254 LErxuRF. VII. 
 
 or unlit to receive them. " Mucli better," he 
 adds, " are the pains bestowed, when one em- 
 ploying tlie dialectical art (or viva voce discus- 
 sion) on an apt soul, plants and sows in it 
 with science words that are able to succour 
 both themselves and their planter, and not 
 unfruitful, but bearing seed," &c. It would 
 appear, accordingly, that it was no system of 
 philosophy that Socrates taught ; it was no 
 theory of morals, which he set up in opposition 
 to the physics of his day. So far from being 
 opposed to physical studies, as is commonly 
 represented, he expressly recommends, in the 
 Dialogue of Plato, to which I have just re- 
 ferred, an acquaintance with natural philoso- 
 phy as necessary to the orator ; referring to 
 the instance of Pericles, whose eloquence he 
 attributes to the large physical knowledge 
 which that great man had obtained from 
 Anaxagoras.'' But what he laboured to ac- 
 comphsh was, to make philosophy an effective 
 instrument of moral power — a discipline of 
 life, and not a mere science. And the tech- 
 nical professional philosophy which preceded 
 him, is the solution of such an endeavour. It 
 
 ^ MerfwpoXoyme EfiwXrjadEic, fcal tirl (pveny vov re Koi 
 avoiac a(j)iK(')fi£vor, K.T.X. — Plato, Phccdrus, p. 370. Also 
 Cicero de Oral. III. c. 34, and Orator, c. 4.
 
 LECTURE VII. 255 
 
 is the extreme from which his method is the 
 reaction ; to which, therefore, we must refer, 
 in order to have any just understanding of the 
 philosophy of Socrates.' 
 
 What I have instanced in Socrates, might be 
 shown at much length of Plato and Aristotle. 
 Neither of these great leaders of the Schools 
 can be properly understood, w^ithout a study 
 of their antecedents. How little, indeed, is 
 a dialogue of Plato appreciated at the first 
 reading ? There is enough on the surface to 
 astonish and dehght us ; but still we rise from 
 the perusal with an impression of something 
 mysterious remaining to be further explored ; 
 and that, not from any obscurity of the 
 style, but from indistinct, unsatisfied percep- 
 tions of the deep and picturesque genius of the 
 author, requiring a more refined imaginative 
 power in ourselves for its right understanding. 
 But we find a great light thrown on his whole 
 philosophy, when w'e refer it to its precursors; 
 
 1 Observe, in further illustration of this, the caution 
 which he gives the young Hippocrates, about the persons 
 from whom he would seek instruction : telling him that 
 knowledge is not like a commodity which one may carry 
 away in vessels, and afterwards use, if wholesome ; but 
 what must be retained in the mind, either for harm or 
 good, after once it has been received. — Protag. p. 94.
 
 256 LECTURE VIT. 
 
 and consider what their influence would be 
 on a mind of such high temper, so rich in 
 eloquence and poetry, as that of Plato. It 
 is sufficiently striking that he should have 
 written entirely in the form of dialogue. We 
 are to seek the reason of this, then, in the 
 conversational method of Socrates. Still it 
 is in writing, not in mere conversation, that 
 he delivers his thoughts. Philosophy, in his 
 hands, resumes its literary character, but it 
 still mixes with men in daily intercourse. It 
 now instructs, like the drama, the oratory, 
 and the sculpture of Greece, by addressing 
 itself to the cultivated taste, the lofty imagina- 
 tion, and enterprising genius of the age ; while 
 its gifted teacher seems to be only sketching 
 to the life the homely irony of his master. 
 Plato follows Socrates, and yet he departs 
 from him, and counteracts him."" Socrates 
 supplanted the influence of Rehgion by that 
 
 "1 Cicero, speaking of the systematic perfection given to 
 philosophy, first, more indiscriminately by Plato, and then 
 with exactness by Xenocrates and Aristotle, says : — " Ita 
 facta est, quod minime Socrates probabat, ars qujedam phi- 
 losophise, et rerum ordo, et descriptio disciplinaj." — Jcad. 
 Qucest. I. c. 4. 
 
 So of the Stoics :— " Et breviter sane, minimeque obscure 
 exposita est, inquam, a te, Varro, et veteris Academine ratio, 
 et Stoicorum. Verum esse antem arbitror, ut Antiocho,
 
 LECTURE VII. 257 
 
 of Philosophy ; Plato revived the influence 
 of Religion, and infused it into the philosophy 
 itself of Socrates. Hence the enthusiasm which 
 he has breathed into his most abstract discus- 
 sions ; hence the brilliant cloud of mystery, 
 which lightly hangs over his doctrines. 
 
 Again, you may contemplate in Aristotle 
 the antasjonist of the Platonic enthusiasm. 
 His severe didactic method is a reaction from 
 the artist-philosophy of Plato, He confesses 
 his admiration of the vastness and exquisite- 
 ness of thought displayed in the Socratic con- 
 versations ; " but he felt the need of a more 
 sober, less imaginative method, to satisfy the 
 requisitions of his own analytical mind. That 
 he possessed also himself an exquisite taste, 
 and could have recommended his compo- 
 sitions by the charm of a more eloquent 
 style, we may judge, not only from his scien- 
 tific discussions of the principles of taste, but 
 from the terse elegance of his sentences, 
 when he occasionally relaxes from the rigour 
 prescribed by his method," But he found 
 
 nostro familiari, placebat, correctionem veteris Academice 
 potius, quam aliquam novam disciplinam putandam." — 
 Acad. Qucest. 1. c. 12. 
 
 " Polit. II. c. 4. 
 
 ° Both Cicero and Qnintilian (/««/. Or at. X. c. 1,) have 
 spoken of the eloquence of Aristotle. 
 
 S
 
 258 LECTURE VII. 
 
 that philosophy had been carried by Phito 
 into an imaginary region, and its principles 
 pushed, in the subtilty of speculation, into 
 evanescent entities,^ — the " ideas," as they were 
 called, of the intellectual world, independent 
 of the facts of experience. At once, therefore, 
 he abandoned that seductive method of discus- 
 sion which had ministered to the enthusiasm 
 of Plato, and directed the acute powers of his 
 unimpassioned reason against the specious 
 doctrine of Ideas. In the zeal of his oppo- 
 sition, accordingly, he deviated into the op- 
 posite extreme, and made his philosophy too 
 exclusively logical, and too empirical in its 
 basis. It left nothing beyond the reach of 
 argumentative deduction ; but carried into 
 every department of knowledge the positive- 
 ness and precision of logical definition and 
 classification. 
 
 But these are only some leading particulars 
 of contrast between the systems of Plato and 
 Aristotle. I might carry observations of this 
 kind much further, so as more fully to illustrate 
 to you the matter in hand, that no philosophy 
 can be justly estimated without reference to 
 other systems with which it is connected. But 
 these instances may suffice for my purpose. 
 They may put you on your guard against a
 
 LECTURE VII. 259 
 
 precipitate criticism of any theories presented 
 to your notice, and invite you to a diligent and 
 exact study of the history of philosophy, in 
 order to a just decision on the nature and 
 merits of each system. 
 
 II. There is another rule in connexion with 
 that just mentioned : and that is, to avoid the 
 excessive pursuit of consistency in the investi- 
 gation of moral theories. Consistency has the 
 air of truth, but it is not always the truth. For 
 though, in the result, every thing is harmo- 
 nious with the truth, yet the inquirer himself 
 may not be able to detect the real harmony ; 
 and he must not reject what appears otherwise 
 to be true, because he cannot reconcile it with 
 some admitted principle. The fault of not 
 attending to this rule in Theology is shown 
 in those extreme views of Predestination and 
 Freewill, which mutually exclude one another. 
 Deduce the logical consequence of either ex- 
 treme separately taken ; and if you are to be 
 ruled by mere consistency, you must deny the 
 other. Those, however, who are more intent 
 on the facts as they are in nature and in Scrip- 
 ture, than on the unity of system, will see that 
 they cannot reject either doctrine, without shut- 
 ting their eyes to evidence, and will despise the 
 
 s2
 
 2G0 LECTURE VII. 
 
 imputation of inconsistency, whilst they reso- 
 lutely hold to the truth in both. It occurs to 
 us more frequently to notice this in questions 
 of Theology, in which, conflicting truths, from 
 the nature of the subject, are brought more 
 strongly into contrast. But the same thing 
 occurs also in moral questions. Take, for in- 
 stance, the ancient theory which made Pleasure 
 the chief good. Are we to say, with Cicero, 
 that we must not consider what the advocate 
 of it may urge against the licentiousness of 
 his theory, but only what is consistent for 
 him to say, quid ei consentaneum sit dicere. 
 In that case, we should condemn the theory, 
 as Cicero does, most unphilosophically, as 
 well as unjustly. That mode of reasoning is, 
 at any rate, not the proper refutation. If a 
 doctrine is unsound, the facts from which it is 
 drawn must be examined for the detection of 
 the error. If the theory appears to be a just 
 conclusion from these, we must retain it, though 
 it may involve us in speculative difficulties. 
 
 At the same time, should an explicit con- 
 tradiction of known truth result, in the way 
 of consequence, from any supposed theory, 
 reason would demand that we should hold 
 that theory in the light of a mere hypothesis, 
 and seek for its proper refutation, which surely
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 261 
 
 must exist in the facts on which it professes 
 to be founded. But we must not be too ready 
 to suppose that every inconsistency is such a 
 contradiction. Nothing marks a hasty super- 
 ficial judgment, more than a readiness to con- 
 strue statements, which it cannot reconcile, 
 into absolute contradictions. It requires some 
 reach of thought, some philosophical power, 
 to see, or anticipate, the existence of har- 
 mony amidst apparent inconsistencies ; and 
 the hasty critic accordingly dismisses the diffi- 
 culty summarily, by asserting an impossibility 
 in the case; which at least sets his own mind at 
 rest on the subject. But this mode of pro- 
 ceeding, whilst it exhibits us unfair judges of 
 the opinions of others, is peculiarly injurious 
 to us in our own investigations of truth. It 
 is a sort of /miKpoXoyia in philosophy ; it diverts 
 our attention to the calculation of minute 
 expenditure, when the enterprise of discovery 
 on which we have embarked demands the 
 magnificence of a large liberality. We may, 
 indeed, avoid the censure of narrow observers ; 
 but we shall want that noble confidence in 
 the truth, which can alone be successful in the 
 search after it, by engaging us in the work at 
 all hazards. I speak not of personal conse- 
 quences, arising from the disagreement of our
 
 262 LECTURE VII. 
 
 opinions with prevailing prejudices, and the 
 obloquy and dislike which we may incur from 
 such opposition ; though this, of course, is 
 among the trials which lie in the path of the 
 searcher after moral truth. But it is the re- 
 fractoriness of our own intellect to which I 
 here allude — the difficulty of admitting what 
 seems at variance with our former convictions, 
 and the trial resulting from that to every one 
 in the prosecution of moral inquiries. 
 
 III. Another no less important rule in the 
 pursuit of Moral Philosophy must not be 
 omitted. You must be especially on your 
 guard against the metaphorical language, in 
 which the truths of science are variously con- 
 veyed in different systems. You must endea- 
 vour to take up the nomenclature of each 
 science with the utmost impartiality; not con- 
 struing mere analogies, the technical expres- 
 sions of particular systems, as part of the 
 substantive truth of the things which you are 
 studying. It is surprising to what extent this 
 caution has been neglected among philoso- 
 phers. Indeed the study of the influence 
 which the technical language of science has 
 exercised on it, will form a very considerable 
 part of your business, in acquainting your-
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 263 
 
 selves with the History of Philosophy. Con- 
 sider, for example, the influence which the 
 introduction of the term End, reXos, has had 
 in moral speculation. It is this which has 
 given occasion to such discussions as those 
 contained in the De Finibiis of Cicero, — to 
 comparison of the several " ends" pursued in 
 life, — and a decision, founded on that compa- 
 rison, of the most final end, as the Chief Good 
 of man.P In reality, there is no foundation 
 for these discussions ; the real point to be 
 determined by the moralist, in such an inquiry, 
 being. What is the general law of those facts 
 which evidence the Activity of Man ? The 
 rest of the discussion raised on the point takes 
 its character from the nomenclature. 
 
 Examples might be multiplied on this point. 
 But no more striking instance is presented, 
 
 than bv the influence which the term Idea 
 
 *' ^ — 
 
 P Aristotle feels the influence of this nomenclature, but 
 it does not infect his ethical system. To ^' apia-ov riXeior 
 ri (paii'eraL' Star ti jxiv tariv ev ri ^ovov riXeioy, tovt ay 
 tir] -6 ^rjTov^eroy' el ce irXeiw, to reXEwra-oy Tovrioy. — 
 Ethic. Nic. I. 7. 
 
 Even Butler sometimes throAvs his observations into the 
 same form. Thus arguing the absurdity of supposing a 
 series of means without an end, he says : — " This is the 
 same absurdity with respect to life, as an infinite series of 
 effects without a cause, is in speculation." — Sermon XIII. 
 p. 231. 
 
 i
 
 J 
 
 26 i LECTURE VII. 
 
 has had in modern philosophy. It is curious 
 to trace the history of this term through the 
 schools of Alexandria and the philosophy of 
 the middle ages, to the revival of science. 
 Under the cover of this metaphysical expres- 
 sion, the refined Materiahsm of the Platonic 
 philosophy insinuated itself into modern sys- 
 tems. It is thus that Locke is enabled to speak 
 of the notions of the mind as simple and com- 
 pounded ; and, closely following the worst 
 part of that Scholastic Logic which he re- 
 jected, to describe acts of judgment as the 
 result of a comparison of ideas.'^ Had he 
 simply used the term Idea, and guarded 
 against the metaphor contained in it, he would 
 have had no foundation for these assertions. 
 To inquire into the nature of ideas, is an 
 arbitrary speculation on what has no existence 
 but in the nomenclature of Science. The 
 admirable perspicuity and sincere manly rea- 
 son with which Locke inculcated his theory of 
 Ideas, perpetuated this delusion in the minds 
 
 1 See M. Cousin, Hist, de la Philos. du XVIIP Siecle, 
 21% 22% et 23« Lef. Paris. 1829. Much of the metaphy- 
 sical discussion contained in M. Cousin's second volume will 
 be repulsive to the English reader, in the present distaste 
 among us for such kind of study ; but it will amply repay 
 the trouble of those who desire to take a just view of the 
 philosophy of Locke.
 
 LECTURE vir. 265 
 
 of succeeding philosophers ; by whom it was 
 carried to extremes which its author never 
 contemplated. It gave occasion to the idealism 
 of Berkeley, the scepticism of Hume, and the \J 
 
 materiahsm of Priestley, — so many vast exem- 
 plifications of the evil of mixing up the tech- 
 nical analogies of a science with its real truths. 
 
 I have now; I hope, said enough, m the way 
 of introduction to the studies to which it is my 
 duty to solicit your especial attention. I have 
 not kept back from your view the arduousness 
 of the studies themselves ; but in pointing out 
 the difficulties, I have also brought before you 
 their commanding interest and importance. I 
 have endeavoured also to facilitate your access 
 to them, by discussing the leading principle 
 on which all moral inquiry proceeds, — the 
 method of investigation which it pursues, — the 
 nature of the evidence on which it rests, — 
 the different inquiries into which it branches, 
 — and last of all, in this present Lecture, the 
 mode in which the study should be pursued. 
 From the limits I proposed to myself, as wish- 
 ing to comprise this introductory matter in the 
 shortest compass, I have been obliged to touch 
 on several points with rapidity. But as ques- 
 tions relative to them must occur, in more
 
 266 LECTURE VII. 
 
 discussions liereafter on particular theories 
 and periods of Moral Philosophy, I have 
 thought it unnecessary to be more explicit on 
 them on the present occasion. I have judged 
 it also the more necessary to premise such 
 observations, as I have submitted to you in 
 the present Course of Lectures ; because, so 
 far as I am aware, there is no work to which 
 I could refer you, as a general introduction to 
 the study of Moral Philosophy. There are 
 extant some excellent introductions, in the 
 form of historical dissertations on the subject. 
 In particular, I may refer you to the Disser- 
 tations of Dugald Stewart and Sir James 
 Mackintosh, prefixed to the Encyclopedia Bri- 
 tannica, and which have obtained a merited 
 celebrity. Still these do not supply any distinct 
 information as to the characteristics of moral 
 inquiry, do not address themselves to the task 
 of putting the mind of the student in the 
 proper posture for entering on this peculiar 
 study. This want, then, I have endeavoured 
 to supply by the present Course. 
 
 Before I conclude, however, you will per- 
 haps expect that I should more expressly 
 recommend to you a particular line of reading,
 
 LECTURE VII. 267 
 
 in furtherance of the same object. If, then, 1 
 am to advise according to the tenor of my 
 former observations, my first recommendation 
 would be to the accurate study of those great 
 authors which the University places in your 
 hands, as Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides, 
 Horace ; not to mention others, on the same 
 splendid list of writers, no less deserving of 
 your notice. Speaking to Oxford men, I 
 should feel myself untrue to the spirit of the 
 place, as well as to my own predilections, 
 were I not to call your attention, in the first 
 instance, to these, your commissioned instruc- 
 tors, as I may term them. Yet I would not 
 be understood to do so in disparagement of 
 modern authors ; but simply as suggesting to 
 you that line of reading with which I think it 
 best to begin. It is your main business here 
 to master these authors ; and I would lay hold, 
 therefore, of that study in which you are al- 
 ready engaged, and urge you to apply it to its 
 most important result, the laying the founda- 
 tion of an enlarged moral observation and 
 moral wisdom. It is one thing to read Thu- 
 cydides merely for a knowledge of the events 
 of Greek History, and another thing to learn 
 from his narrative the motives of human con- 
 duct, the influence of the characters of men
 
 268 LECTURE VII. 
 
 on the circumstances of the world, and, reci- 
 procally, of those circumstances on the cha- 
 racters of men. You may read the sedition 
 of Corcyra, or the conduct of the Sicilian 
 expedition, with the interest merely of the 
 reader of a romance, or the curiosity of the 
 antiquarian, or the taste of the philologist 
 and the critic. But what a charm may 
 be thrown over the study, when you read 
 in these masterly sketches the history of 
 man as a moral being, when you trace in 
 them the developments of that moral nature 
 which you feel in yourselves, and sympathize 
 with its varied manifestations in the events 
 brought before your eye ? So, in Homer — 
 rich as the intellectual feast is which, in the 
 profusion of his poetic inspiration, he spreads 
 before you, — the most exquisite delight, I am 
 persuaded, which results from the reading of 
 him, is from that profound knowledge of the 
 human heart which he reveals in every line, 
 and which imparts to his writings so exquisite 
 a pathos, beyond, perhaps, every other human 
 composition. Let Homer be read with an eye 
 directed to this point of view ; learn to look 
 at human nature as he beheld it, by medi- 
 tating on his thoughts ; and you may be sure 
 you are in that track which will lead, if pursued.
 
 LECTURE VII. 269 
 
 to the " serene temples" of Moral Science. 
 You will not, however, terminate your studies 
 in those authors alone. He who has read 
 Herodotus, and Thucydides, and Tacitus, will 
 also proceed to his own Raleigh and Clarendon ; 
 and the admirer of Homer will not be unversed 
 in Shakespeare, and Milton, and Dryden, and 
 Pope. In philosophy, more especially, he 
 would imbibe but little of the spirit of Plato, 
 and Aristotle, and Cicero, who felt no curiosity 
 to explore the thoughts of Bacon and of Locke. 
 You will come, however, better prepared for 
 the moral lessons of our own writers, by having 
 first deeply imbued yourselves wdth the wisdom 
 of the ancients. 
 
 In furtherance of the same system, I should 
 recommend the study of the ancient moral 
 philosophers, as the first thing to be accom- 
 plished in your course. In Xenophon, and 
 Plato, and Aristotle, and Cicero, you have the 
 most perfect model of philosophical discussion 
 under every various form ; and no study of 
 modern ethics can at all compete, in point of 
 discipline to the mind (and discipline of the 
 mind is your great business now), with that 
 which is employed on these masters of the 
 science. But here I would not recommend 
 the exclusive study of the classical works, even
 
 270 LECTURE VII, 
 
 at the first. Where the tone of thought on 
 moral subjects must, from the very difference 
 of institutions and customs, be so very different 
 from our own, and it is an arduous matter 
 even to work ourselves into a perception of 
 the force of terms denoting moral ideas ; — it 
 is highly useful to unite with the reading of 
 the ancients, authors in our own language. 
 Besides, for the purpose of bringing the mind 
 into the proper train of thought for entering 
 on such inquiries methodically, it is necessary 
 that we should have some general notions of 
 the subject on which we are entering, of the 
 kind of questions which it involves, and the 
 information which it will impart to us. The 
 Theory of Moral Sentiments of Adam Smith, 
 Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy, Du- 
 gald Stewart's Philosophy of the Active Powers, 
 though, as separately viewed, imperfect works, 
 may all be usefully read with this view ; — not 
 for the particular theories contained in them, 
 but for the general insight which they will 
 give into the nature of the subject. But the 
 works which are most of all deserving of the 
 attention of the moral student, and which will 
 most assist him in understanding the Ethics 
 of Aristotle, are the Analogy and Sermons of 
 Bishop Butler. The Preface to the Sermons
 
 LECTURE VII. 271 
 
 is a very exact and clear statement of the 
 method of inquhy pursued by the moral 
 philosopher. If you proceed from that to 
 the first three Sermons on Human Nature, 
 you will have in hand a summary of the 
 elements of the Science. 
 
 And here you should observe that there 
 are two classes of writings, both of which are 
 strictly denominated Ethical, but which convey 
 a very different information on the subject. 
 There are the simply practical treatises, such 
 as the Offices of Cicero, and the chief part of 
 Paley's work of Moral Philosophy. In these 
 you have the rules of duty systematically de- 
 duced and arranged, without much, if any, 
 discussion of the grounds on which they rest. 
 Paley, indeed, commences with laying down a 
 theory of Obligation ; but it is not so much 
 for the purpose of establishing a theory, as for 
 the preliminary statement of a broad principle, 
 from which the leading private and social 
 duties of man may be consistently deduced. 
 Cicero, in his Offices, takes up the Stoical 
 principle — '' Follow nature as your guide," — 
 and adopting also the ancient and commonly- 
 received division of Virtue into the four heads, 
 or cardinal virtues, as they were termed by
 
 272 LECTURE VII. ^ 
 
 the Schoolmen, contents himself chiefly with 
 drawing ont the rnles of a *' reasonable" con- 
 duct in the various circumstances of hfe. There 
 is, again, another class of ethical works which 
 is almost entirely speculative. Cicero's De 
 Finibiis, for example, is a discussion of the 
 question of the Chief Good, by examining the 
 doctrines of the principal sects. Adam Smith's 
 treatise, to which T have just referred, is di- 
 rected to the establishment of a particular 
 origin of the moral sentiments, though, in 
 establishing that theory, he draws out, by the 
 light of it, the leading principles of duty. 
 Treatises of Casuistry,' such as are employed 
 in discussing questions of conduct, with a view 
 to the decision of doubts and perplexities in 
 action, almost form an intermediate class, 
 being neither exclusively practical, nor exclu- 
 sively speculative. I should rather, however, 
 place them, as intended for guides to the 
 doubting conscience, under the head of Prac- 
 tical Ethics. 
 
 It may be necessary, perhaps, further to 
 remark, that this classification of ethical 
 works is not coincident with the distinction 
 mentioned on a former occasion, of the 
 
 ' Much of the third book of Cicero's Offices may be 
 placed under this head.
 
 LECTURE VII. 273 
 
 question concerning tlie Nature of Virtue 
 and the question into the Criterion of Virtue.' 
 Both these questions belong properly to the 
 speculative head of Ethics ; though the former 
 involves in it much practical matter. The 
 Ethics of Aristotle, for example, are an inquiry 
 into the Nature of Virtue ; but while they 
 enter into abstract discussion, they expressly 
 aim at influencing the conduct of men, by con- 
 veying practical instruction. But the practical 
 treatises to which I refer, in contradistinction 
 to the speculative, are such as, assuming the 
 distinction of Virtue and Vice, present a 
 system of morality, and explain and enforce 
 the application of the rules of right. Such 
 works, accordingly, leave the real business of 
 the moral philosopher undone. They have 
 their scientific use, as drawing the scattered 
 rules of conduct into general principles, and 
 introducing order and method into our moral 
 views. But they must not be regarded as a 
 final information on moral subjects, any more 
 than, as scholars, you would regard the rules 
 
 ^ It will be observed, that I have differed from the usual 
 mode in stating these questions. Sir James Mackintosh 
 calls the first, the " Criterion of Morality," and the second 
 the " Theory of Moral Sentiments." — Dissert, p. 297. 
 
 T
 
 274 LECTURE VII. 
 
 of your grammars as a knowledge of the genius 
 of the Greek or Latin language. 
 
 I have only to repeat my exhortation to 
 you, to apply yourselves with diligence to 
 the cultivation of Moral Science on its own 
 independent grounds. I must strongly re- 
 commend it to you, not only as the index to 
 all your other other studies, but as the best 
 guide to those Divine contemplations to which 
 Christianity invites you. When our Lord 
 prescribed a method for knowing the Divine 
 truth of his doctrine, he did not send the 
 disciple to the scribes and doctors of the law ; 
 he appealed to the practical teachings of each 
 man's own heart.* These, according to him, 
 are the true authorities to which we must 
 defer in our doubts ; the living interpreters, 
 which, if faithfully consulted, under Divine 
 grace, cannot mislead the disciple ; and that, 
 because they are of his own Divine appoint- 
 ment, for the express purpose of directing 
 us to practical truth. Refinements of spe- 
 culation may, as experience has shown, 
 obtain in their favour the authoritative sanc- 
 tion of those who sit in Moses' seat, and be 
 
 * John V. 11. 17 ; Luke vii. 35 ; xi. 34 ; xii. 57.
 
 LECTURE VII. 275 
 
 inscribed with the title of oracles of God ; but 
 they cannot stand the touchstone of the 
 moral feelings. Whatever is of mere human 
 invention, when tried by this test, will fly off 
 as the baser material, while the authentic 
 well-tempered metal will tell, by its fixedness, 
 of the mine from which it comes. But then 
 the feelings must be impartially and faithfully 
 consulted. They must be brought under the 
 survey of a large and enlightened Moral Phi- 
 losophy. All the facts relating to them must 
 be accurately explored and weighed. And 
 though, perhaps, the practical judgments of 
 common men are seldom mistaken," and the 
 advice of the son of Sirach, " In every good 
 work trust thy own heart," is so far just : yet 
 this by no means supersedes the necessity of 
 an exact study of our moral nature. On or- 
 dinary occasions of private conduct, common 
 sense may prove a fair guide ; but on parti- 
 cular questions, connected with conduct or 
 belief, brought before you for special decision, 
 — questions on which passion, and preju- 
 dice, and erudition have been enlisted, — your 
 common sense may mislead you, and you 
 
 " " Mirabilc est, cum plurimum in faciendo intersit inter 
 doctum et rudem, quam non multum difFerat in judicando." 
 — Cicero, De Oral. III. c. 51.
 
 276 LECTURE VII. 
 
 demand a more distinct information and dis- 
 cipline. The dictates of om' moral nature are 
 not, in fact, really listened to then ; and com- 
 mon sense is not suffered to have free course. 
 For such occasions, then, it is of the utmost 
 importance to have traced beforehand the map 
 of the human heart, by the light of moral 
 philosophy and its subordinate studies. Above 
 all, in questions of Theology, if you would be 
 fair judges of what is true or false, what is 
 scriptural or unscriptural, you need the in- 
 formation of such studies. There cannot be 
 a greater mistake here, than to suppose that, 
 by reading works of theology exclusively, you 
 can arrive at a sound knowledge of theological 
 questions. These are necessary to tell you 
 what has been said, what has been argued 
 concerning each point; but they do not in- 
 form the judging power of the mind. By such 
 knowledge alone the mind may be formed to 
 run in a groove, or revolve in a circle : it is 
 not trained to masculine and free exertion. 
 By a course of classical literature, on the con- 
 trary, accompanied throughout by the disci- 
 pline of Moral Science, you are invigorated for 
 every trial of judgment which may be brought 
 to bear on you. Without, indeed, some know- 
 ledge of the heart and of the conduct of man,
 
 LECTURE VII. 277 
 
 it is impossible, I should say, rightly to appre- 
 ciate the information which the history of 
 religious controversy imparts. It is necessary 
 to enable you to read, in their true sense, 
 the opinions of the various disputants, and to 
 thread your way through the labyrinth of 
 entangled polemics. And not only is a sound 
 ethical knowledge required ; but it is further 
 most necessary, in order to see your way 
 clearly in travelling over this difficult ground, 
 that you should be acquainted with those 
 questions which have attended the progress of 
 Moral Philosophy. For the contagion of these 
 has not unfrequently reached the field of 
 Christian disputation ; and the Christian con- 
 troversy must be interpreted by the light of its 
 heathen prototype. The want of such know- 
 ledge may be perceived in the very inadequate 
 information given, for the most part, by works 
 of ecclesiastical history ; which, as they have 
 been generally written, are more like indices 
 or tables of contents, than living chapters in 
 the history of man. 
 
 THE END.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY R.CLAY, BREAD-STREET-HILL.
 
 By the same Atithor. 
 
 AN ESSAY on the PHILOSOPHICAL EVIDENCE 
 of CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 Svo. 9s. 6(1. 
 
 The BAMPTON LECTURE for 1832; 
 
 Being a Course of Lectures on the Scholastic Pliilosophy considered 
 in its Relation to Christian Theology. 
 
 Svo. 13.9. 
 
 PAROCHIAL SERMONS. 
 
 12mo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS on RELIGIOUS DISSENT; 
 
 With particular Reference to the yse of Religious Tests in the 
 University. 2d Edition, with Postscript to the same. 
 
 Svo. 2s.
 
 BOOKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 B. FELLOWES, LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 LECTURES ON MODERN HISTORY, Delivered in 
 Lent Term, 1842. By Thomas Arnold, D.D. Regius Professor of Modern 
 History in the University of Oxford. Second Edition. 8vo. 8s. 6d. 
 
 HISTORY OF ROME. By Thomas Arnold, D.D. 
 
 Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford ; and Mem- 
 ber of the Archaeological Society of Rome. 
 
 Vol. I. — Early History' to the Burning of Rome by the Gauls. Second 
 Edition. 8vo. l6s. 
 
 Vol. n. — From the Gaulish Invasion to the end of the First Punic War. 
 8vo. 18s. 
 
 Vol. HI. — From the conclusion of the First to the end of the Second Punic 
 War. 8vo. 
 
 NEW GENERAL BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY, 
 
 Projected and partly Arranged by the late Rev. Hugh James Rose, B.D. 
 Vols. 1 to 4. Price 18s. each. 
 
 The "New General Biographical Dictionary" is also published in 
 Parts, price 4s. 6d. each. 
 
 A TREATISE on the MANUFACTURES and MACHI- 
 NERY of GREAT BRITAIN. Bv Peter Barlow, Esq. F.R.S. &c. To 
 which is prefixed, an INTRODUCTORY VIEW of the PRINCIPLES of 
 MANUFACTURES. By Charles Babbage, Esq. F.R.S. &c. 4to, with 
 Eighty-seven Plates by Lowry. 3/. 6s. 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL CHARTS, Illustrative of Ancient 
 History and Geography ; being a Series of Six Charts of the World as it 
 progressively became known to the Ancients ; in which are shown the extent 
 of the great Empires at successive periods. By John Drew, folio. ll.]ls.6d. 
 
 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA METROPOLITANA. Parts I. 
 
 to LV. Price ll. Is. each.
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 LECTURES, INTRODUCTORY TO THE STUDY OF 
 
 MORAL PHILOSOPHY, Delivered in the University of Oxford. By R. D. 
 Hampden, D.D. Regius Professor of Divinity, and late Professor of Moral 
 Philosophy. 8vo. Ss. 
 
 A GEOGRAPHICAL SURVEY OF AFRICA, its Pro- 
 
 ductions. States, Population, &c., with a Map on an entirely new Construc- 
 tion. To which is pretixed, a Letter to Lord John Russell, on the Slave Trade, 
 and the Improvement of Africa. By James M'Queen, Esq. 8vo. 18s. 
 
 GENERAL STATISTICS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. 
 
 Bv James M'Queen, Esq. Svo. Ss. 
 
 STATEMENT of THE PROVISION for THE POOR, 
 
 and of the CONDITION of the LABOURING CLASSES, in a considerable 
 portion of America and Europe. By Nassau W. Senior, Esq. Svo. 7s. 
 
 WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA. With original 
 
 Instructions for Preserving Birds for Cabinets of Natural History. By 
 Charles Waterton, Esq. Fourth Edition. 12mo. 6s. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF LOGIC. By Richard Whately, D.D. 
 
 Archbishop of Dublin. Seventh Edition. Svo. 12s. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. By Richard Whately, 
 
 D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Sixth Edition, Revised. Svo. 12s. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON SECONDARY PUNISHMENTS. By 
 
 Richard Whately, D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Svo. 7s. 
 
 REMARKS ON TRANSPORTATION, and on a Recent 
 Defence of the System. By Richard Whately, D.D. Archbishop of Dub- 
 lin. Svo. 6s. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURES ON POLITICAL ECO- 
 NOMY. By Richard Whately, D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Second 
 Edition. Svo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 REMARKS ON SOME OF THE CHARACTERS OF 
 
 SHAKESPERE. By Thomas Whately, Esq. Edited by Richard Whate- 
 ly, D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Third Edition. 12mo. 4s. 
 
 REVERSES; or, MEMOIRS OF THE FAIRFAX 
 
 FAMILY. By the Author of " Conver.-ations on the Life of Christ," and the 
 " First Preaching of the Gospel by the Apostles." 12mo. 4s. 6d.
 
 B. FELLOWES, LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF INTERNATIONAL LAW, with a 
 
 Sketch of the History of the Science. By Henry Whkaton, LL.D. Minister 
 from the United States to the Court of Berlin. Two Vols. 8vo. ll. Is. 
 
 Ci)rolo0]). 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIFE: its COURSE, HINDRANCES, and 
 
 HELPS ; SERMONS preached mostly in the Chapel of Rugby School. By 
 Thomas Arnold, D.D. Second Edition. 8vo. I2s. 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIFE: its Hopes, Fears, and Close. SER- 
 MONS preached mostly in the Chapel of Rugby School. By Thomas 
 Arnold, D.D. 8vo. 125. 
 
 SERMONS, with an ESSAY on the RIGHT INTER- 
 PRETATION and UNDERSTANDING of the SCRIPTURES. By 
 Thomas Arnold, D.D. Vol. II. Second Edition. 8vo. 12s. 
 
 SERMONS. By Thomas Arnold, D.D. Vol. III. 
 
 8vo. 12s. 
 
 SERMONS PREACHED in the CHAPEL of RUGBY 
 
 SCHOOL, with an Address before Confirmation. By Thomas Arnold, D.D. 
 Second Edition. 12mo. 5s. 6d. 
 
 TWO SERMONS ON THE INTERPRETATION OF 
 
 PROPHECY. By Thomas Arnold, D.D. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 SERMONS AND FRAGMENTS, attributed to Isaac 
 Barrow, D.D. Collected and edited from the MSS.- in the University and 
 Trinity College Libraries, Cambridge. By the Rev. J. P. Lee, M.A. 8vo. 7s. 
 
 THE SYNAGOGUE AND THE CHURCH ; being an 
 
 attempt to show, that the Government, Ministers, and Services of the Church 
 were derived from those of the Synagogue. Condensed from the original 
 Latin Work of Vitringa. By Joshua L. Bernard, A.M. 8vo. 7s 6d. 
 
 SERMONS PREACHED IN THE PARISH CHURCH 
 
 OF ST. BOTOLPH, BISHOPSGATE. By C. J. Blomfield, D.D. Rector, 
 now Bishop of London. Second Edition. 8vo. i2s.
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 LECTURES ON THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES 
 
 AND ON THE GOSPEL OF ST. JOHN. By C. J. Blomfield, D.D. 
 Bishop of London. Third Edition. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 A MANUAL of FAMILY PRAYERS. By C. J. Blom- 
 field, D.D. Bishop of London. A New Edition, 8vo. Large Type. 4s. Qd, 
 
 *»* Another Edition may be had, neatly printed in 18rao, price 2s. bound. 
 
 A MANUAL OF PRIVATE DEVOTION. By C. J. 
 
 Blomfield, D.D. Bishop of London. ISmo. Is. 3d. 
 
 THE CHURCH-YARD STILE; being Twelve Sermons, 
 adapted to the Mechanical and Agricultural Population. By E. W. Clarke, 
 Rector of Great Yeldham, Essex. 8vo. 7s. 
 
 THE SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY considered in its 
 
 Relation to Christian Theology, in a Course of Lectures, delivered in the year 
 1832, at the Bampton Lecture. By R. D. Hampden, D.D. Regius Professor 
 of Divinity in the University of Oxford. Second Edition. 8vo. 14s. 
 
 PAROCHIAL SERMONS, illustrative of the Importance 
 of the Revelation of God in Jesus Christ. By R. D. Hampden, D.D. Se- 
 cond Edition. 8vo. IDs. 6d. 
 
 AN INQUIRY into the CONNECTED USES of the 
 PRINCIPAL MEANS of ATTAINING CHRISTIAN TRUTH ; in Eight 
 Sermons preached at the Bampton Lecture for the Year 1840. By Edward 
 Hawkins, D.D. Provost of Oriel College. Second Edition. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 DISCOURSES on some of the PRINCIPAL OBJECTS 
 
 and USES of the HISTORICAL SCRIPTURES of the OLD TESTAMENT. 
 By Edward Hawkins, D.D. Provost of Oriel College. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 AN INQUIRY into the PROOFS, the NATURE, and the 
 EXTENT of INSPIRATION, and into the AUTHORITY of SCRIPTURE. 
 By Samuel Hinds, D.D. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 THE THREE TEMPLES OF THE ONE TRUE GOD 
 
 CONTRASTED. By Samuel Hinds, D.D. 8vo. 5s. 6d. 
 
 THE CATECHIST'S MANUAL AND FAMILY LEC- 
 
 TURER ; being an Arrangement and Explanation of St. Mark's Gospel, for 
 purposes of Missionary and Domestic Instruction. By Samuel Hinds, D.D. 
 8vo. 10s. 6d.
 
 B. FELLOWES, LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 SONNETS, AND OTHER POEMS, chiefly on Sacred 
 Subjects. By Samuel Hinds, D.D. Foolscap 8vo. 4s. 6rf. 
 
 SERMONS PREACHED at the TEMPLE CHURCH, 
 
 and before the UNIVERSITY of CAMBRIDGE. By the Rev. Theyre 
 T. Smith, M.A. Assistant Preacher at the Temple, 8vo. 12s. 
 
 HULSEAN LECTURES FOR THE YEAR 1839:— 
 
 MANS RESPONSIBILITY m REFERENCE to his RELIGIOUS BE- 
 LIEF. By the Rev. Theyre T. Smith, M.A. 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 HULSEAN LECTURES FOR THE YEAR 1840:— 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION in connexion with the PRINCIPLES of 
 MORALITY. By the Rev. Theyre T. Smith, M.A. 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 SERMONS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. By Richard 
 
 Whately, D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 ESSAYS (First Series) ON SOME OF THE PECU- 
 LIARITIES of the CHRISTIAN RELIGION. . By Richard Whately, 
 D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Fourth Edition. 8vo. 10s. 
 
 ESSAYS (Second Series) ON SOME OF THE DIF- 
 FICULTIES in the WRITINGS of ST. PAUL, &c. By Richard Whate- 
 ly', D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Fourth Edition. 8vo. 10s. 
 
 ESSAYS (Third Series) on the ERRORS of ROMANISM 
 
 having their ORIGIN in HUMAN NATURE. By Richard Whately, 
 D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Second Edition. 8vo, 10s. 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST DELINEATED IN 
 
 TWO ESSAYS ON OUR LORD'S OWN ACCOUNT OF HIS PERSON, 
 and of the Nature of his Kingdom, and on the Constitution, Powers, and 
 Ministry of a Christian Church, as appointed by Himself. By Richard 
 Whately", D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Third Edition. 8vo. 8s. 
 
 ESSAYS on SOME of the DANGERS to CHRISTIAN 
 
 FAITH which may arise from the Teaching or the Conduct of its Professors. 
 By Richard Whately, D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Svo. 10s. 
 
 THE USE AND ABUSE OF PARTY- FEELING IN 
 
 MATTERS OF RELIGION, considered in Eight Sermons preached in the 
 year 1822, at the Bampton Lecture. By Richard Whately, D.D. Arch- 
 bishop of Dublin. Third Edition. Svo. 12s.
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 CHARGES, and other TRACTS. By Richard Whately, 
 
 D.D. Archbishop of Dublin. Svo. 12s. 
 
 A VIEW of the SCRIPTURE REVELATIONS CON- 
 CERNING a FUTURE STATE, laid before his Parishioners, by a Country 
 Pastor. Fifth Edition. 12mo. 5s. 6d. 
 
 LETTERS ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 By the Rev. James Wills. Svo. 7s. 
 
 Classical 2:a^oi1i£. anti ^BooliS! of Ctiiication. 
 
 ^SCHYLI AGAMEMNON. Ad fidem Manuscriptorum 
 emendavit Notas, et Glossarium adjecit, C. J. Blomfield, S.T.P. Editio 
 Quinta. Svo. 12^'. 
 
 yESCHYLI CHOEPHORCE, a BLOMFIELD. Editio 
 
 Tertia. Svo. 8s. 
 
 ^SCHYLI PERS^, a BLOMFIELD. Editio Quinta. 
 
 Svo. Ss. 
 
 yESCHYLI PROMETHEUS VINCTUS, a BLOM- 
 
 FIELD. Editio Septima. Svo. 8s. 
 
 ^SCHYLI SEPTEM CONTRA THEBAS, a BLOM- 
 FIELD. Editio Quinta, Svo. 8s. 
 
 EURIPIDIS ALCESTIS. Ad fidem Manuscriptorum ac 
 veterura editionum emendavit, et Annotationibus instruxit, J. H. Monk, S.T.P. 
 Editio Quinta. Svo. 6s. 
 
 EURIPIDIS HIPPOLYTUS CORONIFER, a J. H. 
 
 MONK, S.T.P. Editio Quinta, recensita et emendata. Svo. 7s. 
 
 THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES; from the Text of 
 DixDORF, with English Notes. By II. P. Cookesley, B.A. For the Use of 
 Schools. Svo. 7s. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE CHORIC POETRY of the 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC WRITERS. Translated into English Verse by J. 
 Anstice, B.A. Post Svo. 8s. 6d.
 
 B. FELLOWES, LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 THE EGYPT OF HERODOTUS ; being the Second and 
 
 part of the Third Books of his History. With Notes and Prehmiiiary Disser- 
 tations. Bv John Kenrick, M.A. 8vo. I2s. 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO GREEK PROSE COMPO- 
 SITION. By the Rev. Johx Kenrick, M.A. 
 
 Part I. — Declension, Conjugation, and Syntax of Prepositions. Third Edi- 
 tion. 12mo. 46'. 6d. 
 
 Part II. — Syntax. Second Edition. 12mo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 A KEY TO DITTO. Parts I. and II. 4s. 6d. each. 
 
 A GRAMMAR OF THE LATIN LANGUAGE. By 
 
 C. G. ZuMPT. Translated from the German, with Additions, by the Rev. J. 
 Kenrick, M.A. Fifth Edition. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 EXERCISES ON LATIN SYNTAX, adapted to Zumpt's 
 
 Grammar. By the Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A. Fourth Edition. 8vo. 5s. 
 A KEY TO DITTO. Fourth Edition. 8vo. 5s. 
 
 AN ABRIDGEMENT OF ZUMPT'S LATIN GRAM- 
 MAR. For Schools. By the Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A. Third Edition. 
 12mo. 3s. 
 
 ACCIDENCE OF THE LATIN LANGUAGE. For 
 
 Beginners. By the Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A. 12mo. Is. 6c?. 
 
 THE FIRST SIX BOOKS OF MILTON'S PARADISE 
 
 LOST. With Notes. By J. R. xMajor, D.D. Head Master of King's Col- 
 lege School. 12mo. 5s. 
 
 INITIA HOMERICA ; the First and Second Books of the 
 Iliad of Homer, with parallel passages from Virgil, and a Greek and English 
 Lexicon. By J. R. Major, D.D. 12mo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 INITIA GRiECA; containing Extracts from the Greek 
 Testament, .^Esop's Fables, Xenophon's Anabasis, &c. With Notes and a 
 Lexicon. Bv J. R. Major, D.D. ISmo. 4s. 
 
 THE LATIN READER OF PROFESSOR JACOBS. 
 
 With Notes and References to the Grammars of King's College and Eton 
 Schools. By J. R. Major, D.D. 12mo. 3s. 
 
 EXTRACTS from the FASTI of OVID, with Enghsh 
 Notes. By J. R. Major, D.D. 12mo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 A LATIN GRAMMAR. By J. R. Major, D.D. Fifth 
 
 Edition. 12rao. 2s. 6d.
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY B. FELLOWES, LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 QUESTIONS ADAPTED to MAJOR'S LATIN GRAM- 
 MAR. By W. Hayes. 12mo. Is. 6c?. 
 
 SENSE FOR LATIN VERSES. By H. J. Drury. 
 
 Second Edition. r2mo. Is, 6(1, 
 
 ECLOG.E LUCRETIAN.E; or SELECT PASSAGES 
 
 from the " DE RERUM NATURA" of Lucretius. With notes by R. Gib- 
 son, B.A. 12mo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 A TREATISE ON PLANE AND SPHERICAL TRI- 
 GONOMETRY. By the Rev. T. G. Hall, M.A. Professor of Mathematics, 
 King's College, London. Third Edition, altered and enlarged. 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES and PRACTICE of ARITHMETIC. 
 
 By John Hind, M.A. 12mo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION to the ELEMENTS of ALGE- 
 BRA. By John Hind, M.A. 12mo. 5s. 
 
 THE ELEMENTS OF ALGEBRA. By John Hind, 
 
 M.A. Fifth Edition. 8vo. 12s. 6f/. 
 
 THE ELEMENTS of PLANE and SPHERICAL TRI- 
 GONOMETRY. By John Hind, M.A. 12mo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF ARITHMETIC, with numerous Exam- 
 ples. By the Rev. R. Mosley, M.A. of Trinity College, Cambridge. 12mo. 3s. 
 
 WOOD'S ALGEBRA, Eleventh Edition, with Notes, Ad- 
 ditional Propositions, and Examples. By Thomas Lund, B.D. Fellow and 
 Algebra Lecturer of St. John's College, Cambridge. 8vo. 12s. 6d. 
 
 WOOD'S M ECH ANICS, New Edition, Revised, Re-arranged 
 and Enlarged. By J. C. Snowball, M.A. Fellow of St. John's College, 
 Cambridge. Svo. 8s. 6d. 
 
 A GRAMMAR OF MODERN GEOGRAPHY, for the 
 
 Use of King's College School. By A. Arrowsmith. 12mo. 6s. 
 
 AN ATLAS OF MODERN GEOGRAPHY, for the Use 
 
 of King's College School. By A. Arrowsmith. 7s. 
 
 A GRAMMAR OF ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY, for the 
 
 Use of King's College School. By A. Arrowsmith. 12mo. 6s. 
 
 AN ATLAS OF ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY, for the Use 
 
 of King's College School. By A. Arrowsmith. 7s. 
 
 Printed by Richard and John E. Taylor, Red I>ion Court, Fleet Street. 
 
 ^
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 A 
 
 INTERLIBF5ARY LOANS 
 
 DUE TWO 
 
 DEC 
 
 WEEKS F 
 
 FEB 04 198/ 
 
 10 1^. 
 
 ROM DATE OF RECEIPT 
 
 Form L9-Series 4939 
 
 li 
 
 ■■I
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 nil! Ill II iiiiii!iiii!iiiiii|!iiiii ifiir" 
 
 III ll ml llillli 
 
 AA 000 508 341 5 
 
 ^ 3 1158 01144 4964 
 
 PLEA5=; DO NOT REMOVE 
 THIS BOOK CARD 
 
 
 23 
 
 University Research Library 
 
 £ >^' 
 
 in 
 
 _j 
 
 _ J