,^>^ %}J!]V3J0 ^\\\n,N!V[F% "r 1.>o -j^ ^ 1 If- 'a<*^ P-o i THE PHILOSOPHY OF HUMAN NATURE, CONTAINING A COMPLETE THEORY OF TO WHICH IS ADDED, AN ESSAY ORIGIN OF EVIL. IB^ 3iobn Duncan. EDINBURGH: Printed by Oliver Sf Boyd; For William Blackwood, and Oliver & Boyd, Edinburgh ; Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, & Brown, and T. Underwood, London ; J. Cumming, Dublin ; A. Duncan, and W. TuKNBULL, Glasgow ; A. Brown & Co. Aberdeen; and John Beattie, Stonehaven. 1815. 4i \00(o FKEFACE, J^'^^ In explanation of the following Treatise, it may be said, that moral science may be divided into two parts : 1^^, The theory of Evidence ; 9,dly, The theory of Moralitij^ or of human interests. The former of these jsubjects has already been sufficiently dis- cussed ; and the present Treatise is an at- tempt to give a new view of the latter. Chap. I, as the title expresses, is mere- ly introductory ; and contains general ob- servations on Philosophy, or a theory of reasoning. The Reader must not be dis- couraged by the abstruseness of this Chap- ter, as he will find the Work less abstruse . as he proceeds. Chapter TT, nftcr an at- tempt to prove the difference between mind and matter, contains an enumeration of the most distinguishing phenomena of the former. This Chapter, which was a neces- sary foundation to the system, the Author ' flatters himself, will be found valuable from its completeness, and, he trusts, not devoid IV IPREFACE. of novelty. The Chapter on Self-love forms the only complete theory on that subject with which the Author is acquainted ; and, as far as he can discover, contains no por- tion of that abstruseness which is so little congenial to the taste of the Headers of the present day. The Chapter on Variety is the keystone of the system, and will be found to explain all human interests. The arrangement, adopted with regard to the subordinate parts of the Work, may appear singular; but it was necessary for the purpose of putting every thing in its proper place, and shewing how secondary principles are connected with primary. The Author has only farther to observe, that if he did not conceive the present Work to contain a system, in no small de- gree, both new and interesting, he shovild not have truuhled the World with a Meta- physical Treatise. Stonehaven, \ ^Oth March, 1815. j THE CONTENTS, PART I. CHAP. I. lNTRODUeTION,*^v********^^v*v%**%**%**%v*v9 II. The Mind. Sect. I. Not a general quality of Matter,34! II. Nor a relation of material qua- lities, ^^ 42 III. Of the difficulty of conceiving the nature of the union be- tween the Mind and Body, arising from the extreme dif- ference of their qualities,^v,57 IV. Of the sympathy between the Mind and the Body,^v*v,v^74 III. Self-love. Sect. I. ThemotiveofallhumanactionSjSS II. Of Morality, ^*,,.ww^**v-^-v^94? III. Of those causes which diversify Self-love, 129 Sect. 1. Prudence, ^ 130 2. Taste, 138 IV. Of Sympathy,,.^**^v*v.v,*v,v 157 IV. The Senses. Sect. 1. Feeling, 170 II. Tasting, ^ 174 III. Seeing, ^*vv*^,^v^*^^^^^l 77 IV. Hearing, 181 V. Smelling, ^ 189 VI. The sense of Beauty, ^v%,l 91 VII. Beauty, 1 91 V. The Passions. Sect. I. hoye,^^^^^^^^^^^^^^.200 II. Haired, v*.,v,^v,vv* 202 1 f -yC)/ I vi THE CONTENTS. CHAP. V. The Passions continued. III. Joy, , . 204 IV. Grief, 205 V. Anger, 20S VI. Fear, 210 VII. Pity, 213 VIII. Envy, 217 IX. Vanity, 220 X. Modesty, ,..223 XI. Adniiration,^^^v^,, , 225 XII. Hope, . 227 XIII. Disappointment, *,^,*^*228 XIV. Despair, 229 XV. Laughter, 230 XVI. Secondary Passions,*,%A*.,'..233 PART II. CHAP. Vi. Variety. Sect. I. The Source of all Pleasure, ,^x23f II. But of Pain when carried to excess, x,,..,.x,,.,^. ,. 247 Sect 1. Happiness, ^^,x,,.250 2. Sensibility, ^ 2a2 3. Ijravery, ,.., 278 III. Oblivion necessary to re-create Novelty, 301 4. Originality, 301 IV. Of Hope, or the degrees of pro- bability necessary to consti- tute Enjoyment, ^^>^.. 31? 5. Sublimity, 321 APPEXDIX. The Origin of Evil,.^.,^...^.,.^......... .....,.,...... J PAET I, OF HUMAN NATURE; CONTAINIHTG A COMPLETE THEORY OF HUMAN INTERESTS; TO WHICH 19 ADBXD, AN ESSAY ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. CHAP. I. Introduction, Those general causes which actuate nature, denominated principles, whether moral or physical, operate with undeviating uniform- ity. However much the force of one may be diminished or diverted by the opposition of another, each preserves its original nature unchanged until it be entirely destroyed. The ptirpose of philosophy is to analyze and simplify nature ; to reduce the huge mass and endless diversity of the particular events and objects which it contains to a few principles, to which all may be refer A 10 red ; and to recognise and detect the same principle under every form, and in every variety of combination. Hence every thing will become distinct ; demonstration, dis- crimination, and argument, will be simple and easy ; and knowledge will acquire per- fection. Principles are few ; but particulars and cases infinite. A perfect knowledge, there- fore, of the few principles which move the machinery of nature is far preferable to the most enlarged experience of the long- est life. By it, we learn the precise force and value of each event ; and have the certainty of demonstration instead of that doubtful knowledge of futurity which can be derived from experience alone. When the parts of any piece of machinery are thrown together in confusion, the eye cannot com- prehend it, nor the mind form an idea of its purpose. But when every wheel is put in its proper place, the use of each is imme- diately perceived. From an inspection of their combined movements, we acquire a conception of their mutual dej)endance as far superior to that which could be derived 11- from individual inspection, or the result produced, as demonstration is preferable to conjecture. ix*/- ^i > ^*V^^=- " ^ - i ,>^The modern method of philosophising M to prefer the examination of facts to the constructing of systems. But, as the im- portance of the knowledge of facts depends upon drawing the proper inference, a per- fect knowledge of them, if they are not systematized, is of no value. The universal approbation of experiment can, therefore, surely mean no more than that we should begin the construction of system with the examination of fact, and that its perfec- tion will ultimately depend upon the ac- curacy of our knowledge of particulars. It is absurd to make a distinction between theoretical and experimental philosophy. To draw general inferences from experience is to conclude from experiment ; and to form theories from experiment, is to rea- son from experience. There is no diffe- rence between the principle or manner of reasoning in one case and in the other, but merely a difference of means or experience. Difference of correctness of data will no 12 doubt have a corresponding effect on ac- curacy of conclusion. But as much de- pends upon the correctness of the mind as upon that of its information. More erro- neous conclusions have not, perhaps, been drawn in theoretical than in experimental philosophy. We have seen numberless ex- periments absurdly made, and numberless conclusions absurdly drawn, from them. They deceive themselves, therefore, who trust to experiment alone for that which should be the joint produce of reasoning and experience. No species of philosophy, it is to be thought,- will ever be invented which will supersede the necessity of mental exertion, of reasoning and comparison. In every employment of the mind, the just- ness of its conclusions will chiefly depend on the expansion of its view, and the accuracy of its discrimination,* To ren- * This is proved by the circumstance of some persons hav- ing attained a just conclusion by hypothesis ; while others have drawn erroneous inferences from experiment. In all reasoning, natural sagacity is of the first importance. There are indeed, a multitude of facts established by experiment or experience, the proper arrangement of which we are daily em- ployed to discover. IS der philosophy perfect, theory must be conjoined with experiment. He who studies only particulars adds little to the facility of his reasoning ; but he who understands a general principle can solve many particu- lars by it Kature is a compound of principles or general causes, which, from mutual connec- tion and intercourse, are mixed and thrown together in every mode of variety. Prin- ciples resemble lines dtawn from different points, intersecting each other in every possible direction. Each angle of inter- section forms a particular ; and particulars form different connections, and relations with regard to each other. As each angle becomes, to a spectator placed at it, a point of view, it is easy to pass from one to another, to form arbitrary lines, and to perceive a partial connection between opposite prin- ciples, by that relation which is formed by their intetcourse alone. Each principle is crossed, separated, and divided, by another. If the parts, therefore, of one principle in- tervene between those of another, its con- nection seems, to persons who see but a A3 u part, to be dissolved, and the whole to be one confusion of jarring particulars. It is seldom that the same principle can be combined twice with another in the same manner, or that two cases can be found en- tirely parallel. To those, therefore, whose views are contracted, one principle, when found joined with a different, is entirely new, each fact seems distinct from another, and nature appears an infinite variety. Such persons must acquire a large stock of ex- perience before they can be qualified to de- cide upon any subject ; and after that is attained, their reasoning must still be but very imperfect. The wheels of nature, in order to accom- plish and complete its movements, are op- posed to each other. Although the whole system of things moves in perfect harmony, each particular contradicts and acts against another. Qualities are, therefore, as dif- ferent as varieties of relation are frequent. If two persons happen to be placed at a distance from each other, with an object intervening, that object stands in different respects, and bears on contrary points of 15 the compass, towards each. It is the same with regard to good and evil. The same event which destroys one person may en- rich another, and that wind which is a mo- derate and useful breeze on one coast may be a destructive storm on the opposite. A skilful rhetorician, at whatever point of view he open, can easily pass from one angle of intercourse, or partial connection, of different principles to another. With the hand of a juggler, he can change the state of objects, and reverse the nature of interests. His purpose is not to convince, but to deceive, and to obtain the same end from the influence of passion as from the conviction of reason. He endeavours to raise an interest in his hearers, to make men animate particulars, spectators become combatants, judges parties, and to induce the mind to change the neutrality of rea- son for tlie heat of passion. It is in the power of a rhetorician to place the imagi- nation of those who can conceive onlv one particular in whatever situation he pleases. But those who can view the whole relation of the parts of any princijjle, or set of ob- A4 16 jects, are beyond the reach of his art, with- out the prejudice of situation, free from passion, and engaged in no contest on either side ; but are left fully to perceive, and calmly to decide, their difference. He who can conceive but a portion of any subject must have very confused ideas concerning it. To be able to form a just opinion of the nature and value of individual objects, we must have a view of the whole extent of theirconnections. The purpose of declamation is to inflame the passions, and influence the instincts of the body ; and those who submit to its im- pression are unconsciously determined to the end for which it is used. Passion depends upon every difference of temper, every casual circumstance, and every varie- ty of combination in nature. He, therefore, who is determined by passion is right only by accident. All the power of declamation arises from imperfect similitude and unnatviral associ- ation ; for there is nothing so high that it cannot be degraded, nor any thing so low that it cannot be exalted by the insidious- .17 ness of false analogy.* By such means, any character can be stripped of its good qua- lities, or ornamented with others which do not belong to it; or the consequences of any action may be represented as the most dangerous and destructive, or as the most useful and beneficial, whether it be essen- tially so or not. Wlien those who do not know the pre- cise effect of any cause, and who are un- able to trace that cause distinctly from all others, find it united with a different, they take such connection for a continuation of the principle with which they commenc- ed. Weak minds are so dazzled by every incidental intercourse which one principle forms with another, that they can make no distinction between them. Hence, in at- tempting to generalize, they, at length, draw every idea, by the power of assimila- tion, into the same focus, and, from one * False analogy is when things, which agree in one respect or quality, are united in another in which they do not agree. But as that which is good becomes bad by excess, and that which is bad good by moderation, exaggeration, the heightening or depressing of qualities, or in short giving wrong names to things, is the chief instrument of declaiiiation. 18 cause, account for every plienomenon in nature. But not a less frequent source of false reasoning is, to consider the variations of the same principle as contradictions. It is very natural for a person who has no idea of principles to take generosity for want of self-love ; for, without an extensive view, no one can believe that two contrary actions could proceed from the same mo- tive. But all errors of judgment arise merely from want of comprehension. The ideas of a small mind are easily disordered, and put into confusion. Among those who can view but a limited portion of things, it is nowise uncommon to mistake the principle of decision, and determine according to some quality which has only an incidental connection with the distinc- tion to be made. The greater number of parts into which any tiling is divided, each of these parts must be the less. But if a weak or ignorant person were asked whether one fourth or one sixth is the greater, it might reasonably be expected that, because six is greater than four, the answer would be one sixth. 19 Without an enlarged sphere of reflec- tion, it is impossible to conceive distinct ideas. Ignorant persons and remiss think- ers join heterogeneous and distinguish re- lated qualities, merely as they find them accidentally associated or casually separat- ed. Hence nothing contributes so much to the facility of our reasoning, and to its conviction upon others, as the arrangement of things in the order of their natural de- pendance. It is difficult, indeed, to analyze any cause, or to separate one principle from o- thers, and to produce it pure and umnixed. The mind may be led away by slight con- nections, and often its conclusions may de- viate so far from the principle with which it commenced as to have no resemblance to it. But if certainty of deduction and readiness of decision are to be attained, it can only be by extensive classification. A mind which traverses merely the sur- face of things, meets, at every step, with ob- jects seemingly different. To it all nature appears a confused mass. . While such must compare event with event, and watch the 20 continual change of facts, to obtain an im- perfect knowledge of the nature of things ; that which penetrates farther see^ all the machinery of nature, and perceives the wheels which produce every motion. He who knows that all virtue is utility, can dis^ tinguish between virtuous and vicious ac- tions at a glance; he who knows that all evidence is derived from experience, as no set of facts can be so equally balanced that one side will not preponderate, finds no he- sitation in determining his belief; and he who knows that all actions proceed from self-love, is at no loss to account for every variety of human conduct. But he who is acquainted with these principles only in the more immediate form of facts, has his knowledge and reasoning interrupted by the most confined barrier, and must be con- tented to wait, with patience, until the mysteries of futurity unfold themselves, without being able to form even a conjec- ture Concerning them. Shall we, therefore, continually talk of virtue and vice, truth and falsehood, taste and insensibility, with- out knowing what they are ? or are these 21 the Deities of our reasoning powers, the in- comprehensibility of which must obUge us to remain in contented ignorance of them ? are they principles so original as to be in- capable of definition or analysis ? or is our knowledge so complete that it cannot be extended ? How despicable is that indolence of mind which induces us to make others reason for us, which renders it necessary to support our opinions by the authority of a great name without thinking for ourselves, or producing arguments of our own; which compels us to subject our judgments to the dictates of men rather than the deci- sions of reason, and to the laws of custom rather than to the principles of nature ! Such conduct resembles that of children who accomplish the calculations of arith- metic without understandings the rules by which they are performed. Abstract knowledge uniformly operates as an addition to certainty, and never op- poses common ideas. Every mind must be, to some degree, extended ; and no other limits can be fixed to our reasoning powers 2 than the extent of our knowledge. The advocates for common sense are neces- sitated to fix the boundaries of the mate-- rials of reasoning some where. Eut what must be the rule of their conclusions, if it be not reason ? and what the conclusion of reason, if it be not the extent of our know- ledge ? Keason, in this, as well as in every other case, is our only guide, and can chuse no other data for its operations than those within the extent of our comprehension. It is absurd to make a distinction be- tween the philosopher and the man. Every person thinks in some degree ; and a philosopher is only a thinker on a more extensive scale than other men. Common sense is a part of the most abstracted phi* losophy. Every true system is but an ar- rangement of connected facts ; and no ab- stract philosophy which is just, although indeed it may sometimes have the appear- ance of being contrary to what is called common sense, will, in reality, be more than an addition to it. But a person would be incapable of pushing his discoveries farther than the lowest of mankind, if he did not m leave common sense, and rise above com- mon ideas. By making those opinion Sj which antiquity or custom has established among men, the rules of thinking, when once an error is committed, it may be per- petuated from one generation to another, and mankind may, in this manner, continue in deception to the latest ages. It is im- possible that Sir Isaac Newton could have excelled other men, or made those discov- eries which have raised his name to so great a height of fame, had he made common sense and common opinion the principles of his reasoning, and had he not soared a- bove the world and the prejudices of man- kind.* But as he was a natural philoso- pher no sect was alarmed for the conse- quences of his philosophy, and all concur- red in applauding the discoveries which he made. Great allowance ought to be given to ab- stract theories. Distant causes must una- voidably be very different from common * Nothing is mor e contrary to common sense than the motion and convexity of the Earth, or that men are capable of standing with their feet opposite to ours. 24 events, and the ideas formed on them con- trary to familiar opinions. As first impres- sions cannot extend far, they can form proof only with regard to each other. But gene- ral principles and familiar ideas undoubt- edly have a relative dependance ; and when the connection is traced, it produces mutu- al elucidation. Every additional acquisition of knowledge tends to confirm that which we already know, as the more points light is reflected from, the more its force is increased. While, therefore, abstract ideas are consistent with common, they undoubtedly add to the strength of each other.* The farther our view is extended, the better we become acquainted with the sit- uation! of objects within its compass; the more extensive our knowledge is, the more convincing must be our reasoning, and the more satisfactory our conclusions. A per- son who sees but a part, can have only a partial idea ; and as facts arising from the * As all abstract ideas are, in other words, only enlarget? views, those who argue against them praise ignorance, t All reasoning regards only situation or relation. ^5 same principle are often contradictory, two antagonists, who do not reason upon prin- ciples, may wage the war of disputation to eternity, without the one gaining any per- ceivable superiority over the other. But the greatest error to which the ad- vocates for common sense are liable is, that, where they do not perceive the cause of any event, they imagine that it has happen- ed without one. Nothing is, therefore, more frequent than to hear causeless events contended for, by those who live without enquiry, and rest in contented ignorance. From the same source of error, may be traced many superstitions; judicial astro- logy, fabulous predictions, omens, and ail those fancies which haunt the imagination of the ignorant. Every principle extends over all nature, and, by mutual commixture, every one, in a manner, partakes of another. Now, as there must be some degree of similarity where there is connection, the same danger of running principles into each other may arise from their too great extension, as that which is occasioned by arbitrarily uniting B 26 them when found in casual association. Theory has two laws K^onj unction and sepa- ration. All false reasoning arises from un- iting heterogeneous, or separating homoge- neous, things. In the construction of the- ory, as great attention ought to be paid to distinguish the parts of different principles, as to unite the different parts of the same principle. The effects of the most distant causes, when far extended, may have some degree of similarity. Hence,, to account for the phoenomena of one principle by an- other to which it has only a remote simili- tude is a common error among theorists. It should therefore always form a pre- sumption against the truth of any hypo- thesis, when slight causes are represented as producing great effects. Nothing, in- deed, discovers a greater deficiency of men- tal energy than the conduct of those who imagine that philosophy consists in refine- ment, and who are not contented with any hypothesis of their own forming unless the causes from which they deduce their con- clusions be too slender to support them. The principle of electricity pervades every 27 body ; and an electrician may ascribe to it every effect which is produced in nature. Heat is diffused through all things ; and a person devoted to that subject may assert that heat is the primum mobile of Nature. All nature is in motion ; and an atheist may imagine motion a sufficient Deity. All nature is, at one time or another, in a state of organization ; and all things may, there- fore, be said to be produced by organization. Matter is known to us only by its qualities : all nature assumes certain appearances and faces ; and a physiognomist may, therefore, conclude that physiognomy is the first prin- ciple in nature. That all these principles exist is certain ; but why should one be greater than an^- other ? or why should it be allowed to as- sume superiority, and hold others in sub- jection ? The vanity of man is also a prin- ciple from which may be accounted for his giving the preference to whatever belongs to himself, his raising himself above other men, and his own hypothesis above all na- ture. One cause can produce only one effect, B2 28 however much varied that effect may be by its different connections, relations, and va- rieties of intercourse with those of other principles. We ought not, therefore, to al- low our parental fondness for our own pro- ductions and discoveries to betray us into the attempt of accounting, from one prin- ciple, for all the variety of events and ap- pearances in nature. Sometimes effects may run parallel without having any con- nection, or may be perfectly similar when proceeding from different causes.* Hence, in all reasoning, it is as necessary to sepa- rate, as to unite, things. It is as necessary, in the tracing of a principle, to preserve distinction as to generalize at all ; for if this caution be neglected, the mind easily be- gins, but does not perceive where to stop, till, at last, it confounds principles, and turns every thing into a disorder much more difficult to be overcome, and which is a greater obstacle to the discovery of truth, than that which arises from particu- * Cold, sometimes, produces the effect of heat. By freezing, it expands hquids. Water also, sometimes, produces the effect of fire. By uni6n with lime, it occasions combustion. m larizing, or the method of reasoning by single facts. AVlien quahties are far extencU ed, the connection between them is too slight to be regarded, or the distinction too small to be perceived. As, therefore, gen-- erahzing has a natural tendency to annihU late distinction, there is a point at which we must stop to prevent the utter destruc- tion of every principle and all fact. But to account for one effect from one cause, is entirely different from accounting for all effects from one cause. Although ideas too general may be sometimes adopt-* ed, general ideas are not, on that account, to be rejected. An idea cannot, in reality, be too general, nor any system too exten^ sive, if it be just ; and it is only when, by one unnatural union of things, a false simi^ larity between them is continued, that mis- takes in systematical reasoning arise. It is certain that causes and events are connected, that natm-e is linked together in the same chain, and thatjan impulse which affects one part will extend its influ- ence over all. By viewing the whole, we are able to estimate the value of a part ; B.'5 so and "by estimating each part, we obtain an idea of the whole. By proceeding from one remark to another, we ultimately reach a truth which we could never attain from one single remark or idea. Common events furnish no great strength of argument with regard to their original cause. There must be the same dissimil- arity between the first and the second as there is distance. Custom is often consid- ered a sufficient criterion of good and evil ; but custom can be a rule only in familiar cases, where it is not necessary that reason should decide. The most general opinion forms the principle of common sense ; but common sense can be allowed to impose no law upon that which is uncommon. The sentiment of ridicule arises from generality or fashion, and the common sense of one country often forms a subject of entertain- ment to an individual of another ; for the same reason that a coxcomb laughs at a philosopher ^because they are different from each other. But where all are the same, or where each is but the copy of an- other, common opinion is but as a single 31 opinion. Hence truth is seldom determin- ed by majority. -" The accuracy of the judgment luiiformly depends upon the expanse of the mind; but the bulk of mankind, on whom the la- bour of managing the business of the world falls, have not leisure for speculative cor- rectness. As the affairs of life require act- ivity and dispatch, the greater part of man- kind must be governed by habit and imita- tion. But general ideas are not, therefore, to be despised. There can be no doubt, that, although they are not seen, yet they are felt by the mass of mankind, that they reach all the transactions of life, and give industry its proper application. Whatever improves our rational f;aculties, or enlarges the expansion of our minds, in- creases our importance in the scale of ex- istence, and tends to render every part of our conduct more correct, and better ad- apted to the end of our being. Knowledge can never be possessed without being ujse- ful. In nature there is a universal inter- course. \Vliat we acquire upon one subject, we, in soipe measure, acquire upon another", B4 8je Any high degree of science, or intimate acquaintance with principles, is not, per- haps, absolutely necessary to common pur- poses; but certainly, as we extend our views, we simplify our conduct. Before the discovery of the magnet, sailors found their way in the ocean with difficulty and danger, but since that event the art of navi- gation has acquired certainty as well as safety. What the compass is to the sailor, principles are to all men. Without a know- ledge of general causes, our ideas of things must always be confused, and our pursuits unstable and indeterminate. As, again, all causes are linked together in the same chain, it is to be expected that the mind of an acute man, by incessantly fixing itself on one set of objects, will trace any phoenomenon, if within nature, to its source. Beyond nature, or the limits of our know- ledge and experience, we cannot go. Those, therefore, who lay down imaginary data to themselves, and attempt to account for the formation of the world, or to render con- ceivable the boundaries of space, are the abstruse reasoners who are properly the ob- 8S jects of contempt. By such wild under- takings, they forfeit every claim to the protection of reason, and ought to be given up to the tribunal of common sense, and punished with every tortv'-^ of ridicule. CHAR 11. The Mind, Neither the intellectual faculties of man, nor his means of knowledge are infinite. It, therefore, leads only to scepticism to inquire for infinite proof of any thing. In the common affairs of life, we must be sa- tisfied with knowing the nature of things by their consequences. Even when we inquire into any thing in a more abstract- ed manner, we are under the necessity of judging of essence by qualities. Every de- finition, it is said, requires a definition. However deep we penetrate, or however far we push our researches, we ultimately arrive at something, of the nature of which we must remain in ignorance, and find a barrier to our knowledge which we cannot go beyond. There has not, perhaps, been a question which has given rise to a greater variety of those doctrines which different degrees of strength of intellect, different means of knowledge, modes of education, and views of 35 things, generally produce, than the subject of the materiality or immateriality of the mind, nor has any philosophical discussion exhibited more revolutions of opinion. Hence, however, is not to be inferred the impossibility of attaining a distinct con- clusion upon this point, but only that de- ficiency of comprehension and acuteness will always produce corresponding difficul- ty, discussion, and error, upon a matter so remote from human investigation. After those great men who have bestow- their attention upon the subject, it would perhaps be presumption in any one to at- tempt to produce any thing new upon it, or to exhibit it in a clearer light than that in which it has already appeared. Their labours seem to prove the vanity of endea- vouring to settle any controversy in which men of all descriptions are engaged, and who bring with them to the discussion so great a variety of knowledge, and so many different degrees of ability. There has been a theory of probability written, and yet we find that even probability itself has^ suffered a variety of attacks. 36 Although mankind, in all ages and in all circumstances, have been struck with the difference between mind and matter, yet there has been an inconsistency in their ideas on the subject, perhaps because a slight knowledge of mechanical philosophy composes the whole education of the greater part of mankind, and because most men are incapable of even CQjiceiving an idea of anything different from physical operations. It ought not, therefore, to appear wonder- ful, that, while they acknowledge the dif- ference between mind and matter in general terms, they have, when they come to par- ticulars, or endeavour to account for intel- lectual operations, recourse to mechanical principles. Neither is it to be doubted, that, although one system of materiality were overthrown, another would soon spring up in its stead. In the present case, we may take the existence of matter for granted without adopting the notions of Berkley. But as all our ideas are furnished by external ob- jects, it is certain that we are much more affected by the qualities of matter than by those of mind. It is equally certain that there are many things in matter which men allow to impose upon their imagina- tions, and which they may take for the mind, as it is easier to vmite than to sepa- rate. The various opinions, however, of those who have endeavoured to explain the operations of the mind on material princi- ples exhibit only desperate attempts to assimilate them to physical phenomena* In the extravagance of conjecture, some have called the mind a principle, a power^ or the sum of powers, without any distinct idea attached to these terms ; others have called it a vibration of the nerves, harmony, or all in all. It is, in fact, astonishing that no person has said that it is an attraction, or what is more in vogue in the present day, the electrical fluid ; for as long as men look for it among material objects, they must be deceived by fancy. There is, however, one position which it is thought no sect will oppose, or deny the truth of, that is the existence of such a thing as mind. The proof of the existence of our own minds is almost mfinite ; at least m k i^ so in comparison with that of the exist- ence of matter ; for the latter depends up- on the former, and if the one is taken away the other must fall of course. Our own existence is a truth beyond which we can- not go. As we cannot easily perceive the arguments by which it could be opposed, for their strength must depend upon its admission, it has little chance of suffering from controversy. Archimedes found it necessary to have some place to rest upon before he could raise the world, and, in all reasoning, something must be taken for granted, as a basis. As the existence of the mind is the foundation of evidence, it must be assumed in every case where rea- soning is employed. The nature of mind only can afford room for difference of opinion where mind becomes the subject of speculation. That the mind is either a substance or a quality is here taken for granted, and to ascertain which of the two is the purpose of the present inquiry. Whether the mind be merely a quality of matter, or a distinct substance, is certainly the most important 39 of all questions regarding it ; but one which apparently admits of a satisfactory solution. The beUef of the immateriality of the mind is, indeed, inseparable from the belief of its existence ; for while we prove its existence we prove its immateriality. If we prove that the mind was ever in existence, we, at the same time, prove that it must con- tinue always to exist ; and if we prove that it does not exist in matter at one titne, we also prove that it never existed in it. The only evidence of the existence of matter, and the only knowledge of it which we have, are derived from its qualities. Now, as we cannot conceive how it can, without annihilation, be deprived of any of these, or what it would be without exten- tion or form, we are necessitated always to conceive the existence of its qualities while we conceive that of its essence. Hence, the unavoidable conclusion is, that, if mind ' be a quality of matter, the former must be universally attached to the latter, and that matter can never exist or be found with- out possessing the quality of thought. For, no stronger analogy can be conceived than 40 that which is formed between two qualities of the same body, nor any stronger con- clusion drawn than, that if matter cannot be deprived of one quality it cannot be de- prived of another. If these premises are granted, the conclusion must be that, if matter be ever found without thought, thought can be no quality of it. Matter is held to be infinitely divisible ; but nc^philosopher believes that it can be annihilated, or that the smallest particle of it has not all the qualities of the great- est. If mind, therefore, were a quality of matter, or if all matter possessed the qua- lity of thought, mind would undoubtedly hold the same rank as the other qualities of matter, be attached to matter at all times, and in all circumstances, and follow every particle of it in every variety of decom- position which it undergoes, in such a man- ner as to be capable of being discerned by our senses, or by its usual indications, pursuit of pleasure and aversion to pain. To conceive the existence of matter with- out its common qualities, such as extension and form, is impossible, but we can easily 41 conceive it to exist without mind ; and, there- fore, the latter can have no necessary con- nection with the former. That every Com- mon quahty of matter is inseparable from the essence, and accompanies it in every va- riety of decomposition, we have the evi- dence of both sense and reason; but that the mind is universally attached to matter, we have no evidence whatever. It is, perhaps, sufficient proof against the existence of any thing that there is none for it. But if there be any positive evidence on this subject, it is obviously on the other side. For, to contend that matter may, at the same time, possess contrary qualities, pas- siveness and self-motion, is to assert an absurdity as great as can well be conceived. Granting, however, that matter may, occa- sionally, possess mind, the phenomena of the latter are so contrary to those of the for- mer, that, whenever matter appears in this manner, it must be considered as having di- vested itself of its usual properties and assu- med others entirely different, which neces- sarily includes a change of essence. But to use arguments against those who believe that C .42 the mind is a universal quality of matter, or that rocks and stones think, " is, per- haps, to imitate the conduct of those ad- venturers who rode round the world in search of hydras, griffins, and other mon- sters.'* The fancy must, therefore, be em- ployed on something more plausible before it be adopted by the understanding. That, however, which is shocking to the weak- est understanding in one shape, becomes capable of deception in another. Those who do not believe mind to be a universal quality of matter, yet believe that it may be produced by a combination and relation of qualities the most contrary to its nature. SECTION II. It is difficult, however, to conceive how any thing could be formed out of nothing ; or, if thought does not exist in matter in every state, how a substance so different from matter could be produced by any mo- dification of matter. All the qualities which are found in matter in any state of combi- nation, are to be found in any single object of it. Matter, in a perfect state of orga- 43 nization, makes no nearer approach to mind than in its rudest form. The growth, foli- age, and appearance of vegetables, and the construction and operation of the senses,* exhibit no quality of the mind, and no- thing which has any resemblance to it.* All the phenomena of organization are but the usual qualities of matter, such as form, solidity, and extension ; the operation of the senses amounts to nothing without the mind; and something must be added to the body before it can contain the power of thinking. As the operations of matter are univer- sally the same, whether in immense bodies or minute particles, whether in the inter- nal senses or the mechanical powers, it is * The reason why we say vegetables possess life is, that they strictly resemble the vegetable part of animals, their bodies. Because life produces motion, we say, figuratively, that every thing which possesses motion has life. Thus we say beer is alive when it is in a state of fermentation. The phenomena of many plants have, indeed, a resemblance to voluntary motion ; but at the same time, every motion which they exhibit is evidently compulsory ; as they are incapable of deviating from a fixed mode, and teem to hare no interest in any thing which concerns them. c ^ 44 impossible to conceive how the action of one material body upon another, could create consciousness, or render either ca- pable of sensation ! How a certain relation or combination of solidity, or extension, could form thought, reason, and memory, or, in short, produce a new substance, which, unlike other material substances or quali- ties, is not an object of the senses, although the proof of the existence of such a sub- stance is greater than that of the existence of the objects of sense. The proof of the existence of the mind is the proof of sen- sation, and is as strong as pain is exquisite. Motion can, in reality, add nothing to matter. All that the action of one mate- rial body or particle upon another is ca- pable of producing, merely amounts to giv- ing it a change of place or form ; altering its density, by compression or expansion ; or reversing the angles of its surface, so as to vary the operation of the rays of light on the sense of seeing. All the skill of an apothecary, in compounding drugs, can produce only a mixture of the same ingi'e- dients ; all the art of painting amounts on- 45 ly to mixing the same colours and shading them through each other, without produc- ing any thing diiferent from colour. All the changes which can be made on matter amount to no more than modifications of those universal qualities which appear in the largest bodies and minutest particles, and which are attached to it in every variety of combination. Such qualities only are to be found in it, and these can never pro- duce a new substance, and bear no relation to reason, thought, or consciousness. After analyzing the body, therefore, it will be found that something must be added to produce the conceptions of the mind. For, if we try the experiment, and examine the the parts of it individually, we shall per- ceive that thought, as a general quality of matter, is intrinsically inherent in none of them, and that they collectively* can never produce more than motion, that motion is nothing intrinsical, or more than an idea arising from the relation of the common * They can produce nothing collectively which they have not individually. Matter has, in reality, none but general qualities. C3 46 qualities of matter, but that the mind is something intrinsical, or at least, if that be doubted, nothing else can be believed. To confound the mind with the organi- zation of the body, is to take relation for substance, and proceeds from a partial con- sideration of the operations of matter. We are, indeed, so much accustomed to the de- composition of the parts, to the change of form and relations of matter, in the various objects in which it appears to our senses, that, according to familiar notions, we must believe in the capability of the annihilation and re-creation of its qualities. But al- though the objects of matter change, the qualities do not. No organized body ex- hibits any new property of matter, or more than a certain direction and combination of its universal qualities. The qualities of matter are continually acting against each other, decomposing bodies, separating their parts, and changing their modification. But this is all that the operation of matter ever amounts to. The hardest granite is, in time, decompounded by the attacks of sur- rpunding objects ; and by a chain of im- 47 N pulses, or flux of attractions, (which, when they have once received a certain direction from the hand of the original framer of natm*e, continue, as rivers flow in a perpe- tual stream from their source), it becomes an organized body. But does it make any approach towards thought in the one state more than in the other ? or is the whole operation of organization, by which the ap- pearance of things is changed to the senses, more than " hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce striving for mastery ?"* At least it is clear that those different ma- terial phenomena, which affect us so vari- ously, are not to be considered in the same light as the mind. We are certain that the mind is a real substance, and also that every variety of material phenomena con- sists only in different relations of the same * The principle of vegetation, though evidently mechanical, and relating solely to change of form, is a mystery which in- quiry has not yet been able to unravel. The rudiments of every plant are certainly contained in the seed, and unfolded by means of heat, moisture, and the appropriation of the finer particles of matter. But how the seed is formed in the mo- ther-plant, or continued from one plant to another, has hith- erto defied investigation. C4 48 few qualities. Those numerous organized bodies, which appear so dissimilar are, in fact, only different in the ideas of the mind. Every change of material substances, whe- ther destruction of old or production of new^ is but a change of the relation of the few u- niversal qualities which matter possesses, the principle by which such change is effected, whatever was the origin of the impulse, is but another name for motion, and motion* is a mere abstract idea like that of time. Motion is merely a change of place. It has no reference to feeling or thinking but merely to space. Its effect is an altera- tion of the arrangement of material bodies or particles ; and the term principle signifies only the mode by which that alteration is accomplished. When, therefore, we speak of the principle of organization, nothing more is meant than a uniform chain of causes, or train of impulses operating a certain succession of events, or general facts, on the common mass of matter. * When the mind is designated as the principle of vitality, it is indentified with motion, or reduced merely to a peculiar mode of impulse actuating matter. 49 Every variety of organization arises merely from the peculiar manner in which those qualities which are found universally at- tached to matter are actuated. It is, there- fore, impossible, by any change of the re- lation of the qualities which matter already possesses, to add a new quality to it, or that any thing essentially, or more than ideally, new can be compounded from it. To build a house, or a ship, is only a more mecha- nical or imperfect species of organization than that which is performed by the natu- ral bent of the qualities of matter, and with- out the impulse continued. But although such fabrics may seem to the eye, or ap- pear, from superficial observation, to be things new, created by the composition of matter, it must become evident, on an ex- amination by the understanding, that they contain nothing intrinsically or internally more than they did before receiving such form and connection, and that the qualities of the matter of which they are composed, are the same, with respect to each other, and to the qualities of other material bodies, as if they had never been parts of them. 50 Every change which it is in our power to make on matter is only to modify its qua- lities. When we imagine that we have created any thing new, we have, in reality, only diversified these qualities, or formed new combinations of them. We can, in short, never do more than change one form or one colour, &c. for another. It seems impossible, by any mixture of matter, to produce what is not in it, or, by any arrange- ment of its qualities, to create another en- tirely different. To assert, therefore, that any real substance, or even quality, could be formed from another, or that the mind is a composition, or production arising from the agitation of matter, is an absurdity not less apparent than to say that a part is equal to the whole. It is inconceivable how matter can either acquire or lose a quality ; or how it can ever appear without, or assume any differ- ent from those generally attached to it. The qualities of matter, in reality, never suffer any change even when they appear most to do so. All those peculiarities which natural philosophers and chymists remark 51 belong to matter, all those vegetables, mi- nerals, and metals, salts, acids, and alkalis, which affect us so variously, will appear, on the shghtest examination, to be only mo- difications of its few primary, or universal quaUties. All these, together with the ef- fects which they produce upon each other, are evidently referable to the common qualities of matter, and are merely certain relations of form, extension, &c.* But it is clear that the mind is not a relation of these qualities, because, it is a real something-]' existing in addition to the common qua- lities of matter. However much, there- fore, men may vary their systems of matter with regard to the mind, there will always * As the action of all material bodies upon each ot'.er, arises (setting aside their magnitude, or the quantum of matter) from their form, so must the operation of minute ones. Hence, all the different qualities which chymistry exhibits can be re- duced to difference of form. May it not, therefore, happen that chymists, by giving matter a new form, often create those qualities which they pretend to discover ? And is not the old idea of the alchymists, that any thing may be formed out of any thing, at least plausible ? Chymistry, will, it may be prophesied, be a science of perpetual discovery. t Lucretius is, in fact, reduced to this necessity. 5^ be great difficulty in demonstrating a qua- lity to arise from a combination of others which have no affinity to it. After ex- plaining all the operations of the corporeal structure, the circulation of the blood, the irritability of the muscles, and the vibra- tion of the nerves, it is evident that every effect produced is merely mechanical, that it does not approach the phenomena of the mind, and that with regard to sensa- tion and ideas, there still remains a defi- ciency. If it be asserted that all those animal motions which we call voluntary are produced by the same physical laws as the operations of other mechanical combina- tions, by the reaction of external objects, it is evident that this, in effect, excludes the phenomena of the mind instead of account- ing for them, has a tendency to deny their existence, and to produce merely a piece of mechanism without sensation or ideas. The mind will always have a repugnance to mechanical principles. All the operations of the body may, perhaps, be apparently demonstrated to arise from physical laws. But, in that case, the mind cannot be ad- 53 mitted; for when its existence is granted it must appear with principles very differ- ent from mechanical, and which can never be united with them. It is easy, indeed, to confound the mind with the mechanical motion of matter, but difficult to render them consistent. Men may talk of wheels, puUies, and levers, and form beautiful sys- tems of fibres and vibrations ; but where is life? where is sensation or thought, with all its long train of modifications which form the mind ? All the mechanical motions are referable to the general qualities of matter ; and there are few phenomena in nature, excepting those of the mind, which have not been satisfactorily explained by their means. But, from the difficulty of uniting motion which exists only by impulse, with that mo- tion which arises from pleasure and pain and other intellectual interests, even natu- ral philosophers mvist feel a reluctance in referring the operations of the mind to the common laws of mechanism, and must be compelled to admit that the mind is an ad- dition to matter, or at least a quality of mat- M ter different from others. Nothing can, indeed, be more evident than that the com- mon laws of mechanism could never pro- duce the mind, for it is a maxim which ex- perience has long established in philosophy that every effect must have a. relation to its cause. On this principle, it is apparent that mechanical combinations and operations can produce only mechanical effects. The operation of every combination of the com- mon qualities of matter depends upon mo- tion ; and whatever term motion receives, whether undulation, elasticity, impulse, or pressure, its effect, in the most complex in- ternal operations of matter, must uniform- ly be the collision of material particles. Now to say that the mind is collision, were to deny its existence, and affirm that it is nothing; because collision^ is only a remark which the mind draws from its * This is a specimen of combination ; but of combinations there are some simple, consisting of the union of only two ob- jects, as of two metals ; others complex, consisting of the u- nion of many, as a piece of machinery. Greatness, or magni- tude, again, may be given as a specimen of relation. Now an object is great or small only relatively, as the same object wliicli is great compared to one^ is small compared to another 55 observation of the operation of material qualities. On the other hand to say that it is not collision but merely the result of it, would be to assert the previous exist- ence of the quality of thought in matter.* For it is evident, that, if the intellect does The quality of greatness or smallness is, therefore, nothing in either object, but merely a comparison between them existing in the mind. A principle, again, may be instanced in a spe- cies of vegetables. A portion of matter having originally re- ceived the form of a particular vegetable, the species is continu- ed through nature, from the internal movdd of the parent, by the original impulse received, in the same niannef as a ball fired from a cannon would continue to move for ever, were no- thing to interrupt its course. A species is, in fact, nothing more than a succession of similar events, flowing from an origi- nal impube ; and equally entitled to the term principle, is, not only tlie formation of metals and minerals, but even fevers, and other infectious poisons, these last being merely impulses communicated from the blood of one person to that of another. Modifications, again, are nothing more than the degrees, or less or more, of objects, or principles. The whole, combination^, relations, principles, and modifications, are, in short, nothing in addition to the single quality of matter, extension, and are merely remarks made by the mind on the manner in which matter is divided and actuated. * Supposing mind to be merely the impression of one body upon another, without the matter, the body on which the im- pression is made must inherit the power of thinking ; for an image or impulse impressed on the sensorium is, in no respect, dilTcrent from an impression made by a seal on wax. Hence, 56 not arise from any relation of the ordinary qualities of matter, matter can possess it only as a distinct property, and that all me- chanical systems of the mind can be ren- dered consistent in no other manner than by ascribing the power of thought univer- sally to matter; an opinion, again, which would form a contradiction to the most ex- tensive and uniform experience, and which no materialist ever yet ventured to main- tain. The mind cannot be formed by a relation of the common qualities of matter, because the mind is something and such is nothing ; nor can it be a simple, because it is not a universal quality of matter. The mind, in short, must be different from mat- ter, or it must be nothing. The construction and operation of the senses, and the sensations and ideas of the mind, bear no similarity or relation. The first are easily explained on common me- chanical principles; but the latter have never received even the smallest degree of it is clear, even on mechanical principles, that the variation of relation is not the mind, but only an accident which affects the (luality of mind existing in matter. 67 illustration from mechanical philosophy, which is something wonderful, considering the progress which we have made in it, and the facility with which we solve every other phenomenon in nature by it. Intellectual and physical qualities form two distinct sciences ; and mechanical philosophy must stop when it comes to the mind.* SECTION III. That difference, however, between the nature of mind and matter, which appears from their being governed by distinct prin- ciples, seems to form an inconsistency with their intimate connection. Th^ more proof we acquire of difference between them, the more difficulty we have in conceiving the nature of their union. The manner of the connection between the mind and body is, indeed, a mystery which all attempts to * The mind is capable of containing ideas of every quality of matter, and all their relations ; and when we consider that its various principles, and extensive knowledge, form a science equal to that of matter, we are compelled to admit that they must have some foundation, some substance relative to their own nature to rest upon, at least as much as the qualities of matter have. D 58 explain have hitherto proved abortive. VV^e can easily trace the operations of mind and matter separately, but when we attempt to identify them we immediately fail. The mind can neither be brought down to mat- ter, nor can matter be sublimated to mind. Every attempt to assimilate the former to the latter has been equally unsuccessful. Whether the nerves have been represented as operating upon the mind by vibration, by the afflation of pipes, or the circulation of subtile fluids, the effect has been equally mechanical, and remote from an intellec- tual nature. But such difficulty in explain- ing the manner of their connection still tends to strengthen the distinction between them. For, if their principles of operation had been similar, those of the one would have explained those of the other.* But that the mind affects the body in a manner Again, to identify the operations of the mind with the motion of the nerves would be to create an inconsistency be- tween such motions and all other physical laws, or to grant that every change of state which the rudest and least organ- ized part of matter undergoes is accompanied by an idea ; that if a stone move, a spring bend, a fluid be agitated, or a rod vibrate, it thinks. dp different from that in which the body af- fects the mind, is as evident as the con- nection between them. The mind is affect- ed by mechanical principles ; and re-acts by those of pleasure and pain. In this extraordinary circmnstance, which has hitherto been, and wiU always be, the stmnbling block of philosophy, and a bound- ary to the extent of human comprehension, consist the difficulties of both materialists and immaterialists. For, such is the re- pugnance of mind and matter, and such the difficulty of conceiving the imion of things so different, that the only question on this subject which has hitherto divided the Empire of Philosophy, is which shall swallow up and destroy the other. To in- clude the principles of the one in those of the other is the only expedient which men have yet devised to obviate such an uncon- querable difficulty. Sometimes this prob- lem is solved by the denial of the existence of mind, and at other times by the denial of that of matter. In the dispute, however, immaterialists have, by evidence and know- ledge originating with the mind, an appar- D2 m ent advantage ; for if a person be certain of any thing, it is that his own mind is something. While, therefore, the philoso- phy of Berkley has unanswerably proved matter to be a quality of mind, the mech- anical philosophy of the mind is chiefly svipported by deductions from remote and dubious circumstances, and the most pre- cipitate of conjectural reasoning. There appears no matter in thought or in will, yet thought and will have an affect on matter, and the mind no sooner purpos- es any thing than the members of the body obey it. How what is immaterial can have an effect on, or connection with matter, how matter affects the mind with sensa- tions, or obeys its determinations, seems to be an inexplicable circumstance, and one of those difficulties in which the success of research is hopeless ! The thinker and the thing thought of, the actor and the thing acted on, seem, from the very terms, to require to be dif- ferent substances. If, therefore, we sup- pose a connection between them, we must also imagine the manner of it to be incom- 61 prehensible. That substance, capable of thinking, judging, and determining, and which possesses qualities so different from those of matter, which we call immaterial, in order to be capable of communication and intercourse with the various objects of nature, must necessarily be provided with a material and organic apparatus. But be- cause the connection cannot be traced, is it a sufficient reason to confound mind with matter, or to identify the thing acting with the thing suffering ? That the mind can- not find ideas in itself to employ itself on ; that it cannot be stimulated without mat- ter, or some other external object, is cer- tain ; nor can matter be put in motion with^ out the mind. This, however, in no man- ner affects the existence of either of these substances but merely the intercourse be- tween them. To dissolve the connection between mind and matter, would only be to strip the for- mer of the senses, and deprive it of the means of exercise. To imagine that the mind could be hurt by being separated from matter, is to confound the means of D3 62 exercise with the substance of the mind it- self; and we may as well suppose that mat^ ter would be injured by such a separation. As it is inconceivable that what is could be destroyed, as well as that any thing could be formed out of nothing, we must con- clude that the mind, after being separated from matter, still exists independently of physical support, although it cannot think of matter independently of matter and the senses. But the variety of the application of its powers leaves little room to doubt, that, if it had the means of communication with any different species of matter, it would reason on its principles with the same' facility as on those of the matter which we now perceive. When the mind is separated from the body, it undoubtedly disappears in such a manner as to leave no trace of its existence. But it is to be remarked, that, without the knowledge of the existence of our own in- tellects, the existence of the intellect of another person can be proved only by the intervention of matter, and that when the body ceases to indicate the presence of the 63 mind, nothing more is evinced than tliat the imperfect state of the former has ren- dered it incapable of influencing, or of be- ing influenced by the latter. It is always, indeed, to be recollected that the mind is never seen or felt, never becomes an object of sense. It can only be present to its own contemplations, and even by these imperfectly comprehended ; for how difficult must it be for any sub- stance to perceive itself by its own quali- ties ! It is only by matter, in reality, that the being of the mind is proved ; for were it not for the impression derived from phy- sical properties, it is difficult to conceive how we could arrive at the idea of our own existence.* While we are engaged in feel- ing and perceiving external things, we find it difficult to turn our eyes inwardly upon ourselves. The mind is totally unlike those objects by which its sensations are excited, * ^^'e have no ideas of the mind but those which are furnish- ed by external objects, and no other knowledge of the exist- ence of matter than by its impression on the mind ; so that the qualities of matter are the evidence of the existence of the mind, and the ideas of the mind the evidence of the existence of matter. D4 64 and always eludes the grasp of its own comprehension. If matter be a word used to signify what is, the mind may, indeed, be called matter ; but at the same time it will be found a species of matter different from that which is the object of our senses. It is a substance between which and that which appears to exist externally we find it impossible to discover any analogy. Ma- terialists furnish us with no greater know- ledge of the essence of matter than that derived from its qualities. The same in- dulgence may, therefore, be lawfully claim- ed by, and naturally granted to, those who contend for the immateriality of the mind. If they can shew that the qualities of mind and those of matter are entirely different, it is not easy to conceive what higher proof of a difference between their substance ma- terialists have a right to require. As se- cond qualities are so must be first, and as mind and matter differ in operation so they must differ in substance. The qualities of Motion, attraction, repulsion, &c. are evidently only se- condary qualities of matter, or merely relations of its primary qualities. 65 tnatter are form, extension, bulk, gravitj, solidity, colour, &c. those of the mind con- sciousness, thought, reason, memory, self-' love, deliberation, will, pleasure, pain, love, hatred, &c. To apply either the qualities of mind to matter, or the qualities of mat- ter to mind, would be a shocking contra- diction to that difference between them which is evident from comparison. The great error which men fall into on this subject is to take the mind for a qua- lity of matter (or even some unknown and incomprehensible I do not know what to call it a principle which is not a quality of matter*) instead of a substance different from matter which has a variety of qualities of its own. It is evident that whatever has more than one quality is not merely a quality itself but that it is a body.f Mat- ter has no greater variety of qualities than mind. As, therefore, the qualities of mat- ter have no resemblance to those of mind, nor the qualities of mind to those of mat- Matter has in reality none but general qualities, t By body is here meant substance, or a collection of qua- lities. 66 ter, they are evidently two substances en- tirely different, and entitled to the same degree of respect. The qualities of matter have a distinct and evident dependence upon each other, and those of mind are, in the same manner, mutually connected. Can extension, form, or solidity, be divided ? or can consciousness, reason, memory, plea- sure, and pain, be separated? But have consciousness, reason, memory, pleasure, and pain, any dependence on bulk, form, and extension ? more than bulk, form, and ex- tension, have on consciousness, reason, me- mory, pleasure, and pain ? Granting, there- fore, that the mind is no more than a pecu- liar species of matter, it appears to be so dif- ferent from other material bodies as to be only capable of being attached to, or mix- ed with, them. One body cannot be chan- ged into another, although the difference be much less than between mind and mat- ter. Some material substances possess such repugnance, that, although the parts of each may be mixed with those of the other, the one can never be changed into the o- ther by any alteration of modification ; the 67 particles of each body always remaining un- changed. Fire,* or at least heat, and water maybe mingled; but, even when compound- ed, fire always remains fire, and water water. If these elements preserve such distinction, and are so little capable of vmiting and changing their nature, how much less must the mind, which is so different from all material substances, not only in modifica- tion but in essence, be of assimilating with any material substance whatever. If mind, therefore, exist universally in matter, it must be in the same manner as fire ex- ists in other bodies, by the particles of the one body being mixed with those of the other, without any other connection, and always preserving the same intrinsical na- ture and internal distinction. We can easily conceive the manner of the operation of one of the common qua- lities of. matter upon another, and clearly perceive its effect ; but, by no stretch of imagination, can we conceive how any rela^ tion of the common qualities of matter could produce either sensation or thought. V^Tien this fluid appears to the eyp, it is called ^aw**, but wh^n it acts iinsecii., in separating bwdje?. it i<< called fi^nl 68 Hence, the only conclusion is that they are either qualities which matter possesses at all times, or which exist in a substance very different from matter. Experience is uniform in proving that matter does not universally possess the quality of thought, and in demonstrating that thought belongs to a distinct substance. That this sub- stance is not less real than matter we have equal evidence. When we pursue our researches into matter abstractly, and leave its qualities, we find nothing more substantial to rest on than when we do so with regard to mind. The essence of matter is either so subtile, or so far beyond the reach of our senses, that it escapes the grasp of con- ception equally with that of the mind. Perhaps, the only difference between our knowledge of matter and of mind, is that we know the outward or secondary qua- lities of the former, and the inward or primary of the latter. The reason, there- fore, which induces us to imagine the mind less substantial than matter appears to be that we have a more abstract knowledge 69 of the component essence of the mind, by it being in ourselves, than of that of matter. All qualities seem to be nothing in them- selves, but only the marks or effects of something ; and it is to be feared man has neither the capacity nor the means of con- ceiving essences. But if it be contended that, as we can never arrive at the idea of substance, we ought, in strict reason, not to believe in its existence, this will reduce mind and matter equally to the condition of non- existence. If, again, we admit the existence of qualities, it will then appear that mind is an assemblage of qualities different from that which forms matter. The qualities of matter are so similar that they evidently belong to one and the same substance, and not to different facul- ties, as a certain species of materialists or advocates for the principle of organization or vitality contend ; but yet they are so different as to evince variety. How similar are consciousness and reason, pleasure and pain ! and how naturally do pleasure and pain become qualities of, and arise from, the same body ! How readily does will 70 couple with reflection ! How nearly con- nected is memory with judgment ! But how absurd would it be to join any of these with bulk, gravity, or any of the other qua- lities of matter ! and how ridiculous would it be to prescribe a form to the mind, or its sensations ! to think it or them round or square! But if we push things to the extreme of simplicity both mind and mat- ter may be said to possess, each, only a single quality. Thus all the qualities of mind may be reduced to modifications of sensation ; those of matter, to modifications of extension. The variety made out of each of these two, is, in reality, no more than different names for the same thing, or at most but different descriptions of it in dif- ferent circumstances. We find it impos- sible, however, to conceive sensation to be a modification of extension, or, in short, to identify the former with the latter ; al- though it is not equally clear that exten- sion is not a modification of sensation, or a mere idea. After all, as we are but igno- rant beings, we cannot pronounce positively that the mind is not derived from matter ; 71 but this much is certain, that, if it is, we cannot conceive how.* ? ; j ^a -' i The respect which we pay to otheri' a- rises entirely from the degree in which they possess the capability of influencing our happiness, or of affecting us with pleasure and pain. Every interesting quality of others, whether physical or moral, must act as a compelling cause. We are as much governed by wisdom as by violence, and, on the other hand, vigour of body is as much respected, in the degi'ee to which it extends, as energy of mind. IJut of power, there are many kinds. Thus wealth is power. The rich claim a respect as neces- sarily flowing from their opulence ; and, through the whole gradations of society, rank is settled with the most scrupulous punctuality. What also strength is in a G4 niaiii LbeiaiUy is in a woman. Women ev en convert their weakness into a source of power ; and often presume vipon that esta- Wished impunity which arises from the ge- nerosity of the other sex to be insolent and domineering. All means are, in short, re- sorted to for the purpose of coercion, and of subjecting the will of others to our own. In morals, as in physics, there is a mu- tual attack and resistance. Every privi- lege is established by force, and those who have no power have no rights. It may be asked, what right has a man to take away the life of a brute ? Merely that the latter can make no resistance. If man did not fear retaliation, he would ])ay no more re- gard to the life of his neighbour than to the life of a beast. The horror, therefore, which we have at murder is nothing more than a horror at ovu* own destruction.* Every man seems to have a right to do that to another which he can do. The idea is, indeed, generally acted upon. Thus, a strong- man beats down the arguments of a wise * Whence also arises the perfect indiflTcrence of a butcher to Uie feelings of his victim, if it be not from the idea of his own perfect security ? 113 man by violence ; a wise man thinks himself entitled to ridicule a weak one ; the rich domineer over the poor ; and the unfortun- ate are often obliged to pocket contempt. No doubt this is but one view of the sub- ject^^v Magnanimity and forbearance is an- other path which leads to the same object of self-gratification. We are, also, often, independently of the value which we put upon the esteem of others, sufficiently en- amoured of our own quiet not to disturb that of our neighbour. Or we may recol- lect that those who are stronger than our- selves may follow our example, and inflict upon us those evils which we inflict upon others. But where any bad consequence would result from any action, we may be said not to possess the power of doing it. For violence, there is no other remedy (^.t<\-^ than violence. Wlien one man forsakes a ^^ o^ peaceable conduct, another must do the same. Passion is in morals, what motion is in physics. But passion is kept in check by passion. Men, by the warfare of self-inter- est, ascertain their mutual strength, and a- dopt certain modes of conduct towards each lU other for common convenience. Hence a- rise justice, and those general rules called laws; which are merely a species of pru- dence, by which we anticipate and super- sede contention. Laws are nothing more than the measure of the power of individuals. This power is continually varying; and consequently there are different laws for different times, and different societies. In most cases, a dis- tinction is made between the higher and the lower ranks. In some countries, the latter are slaves ; in others, the former have only peculiar privileges. But it is seldom that the law applies in the same manner to both ; and when it does, it is still more seldom that it is impartially executed. Nothing is better understood, at least in practice, than that there is one law for the rich and another for the poor. Laws are always the result of contention, and exist only where they can be enforced. Among nations, although books have been written on the subject, we perceive no o- tlier law or right, but the law of force, and the right of the strong to oppress the weak. Whatever is gained by on<^ over another, 1151 is- faiiiy gained. Conquest is the title, " cannon the argument of kings."f. i? Among individuals, the same principle of aggression is generally adopted; and where successful, uniformly sanctioned by the approbation of mankind. The violence of the strong, and the pretensions of the impudent and artful, become so many rights when acquiesced in ; and how often do we see successful villany command applause, and impunity in the greatest crimes respect ! It may even be established as a maxim, that nothing is disgraceful which is not punish- able, and that every thing is honourable which is irresistible. The means are gen- erally overlooked in the end ; and power and wealth, being things estimable in them- selves, seldom lose their influence by re- flection on the mode in which they have been obtained. Men are governed by two motives ; and love is no less powerful than fear. Yet while persuasion acts unseen, the force of compulsion is always obvious and striking. Heroes and conquerors, and the general destroyers of mankind, never fail to meet 116 with admiration, while benefactors are treat- ed with neglect. So likewise, in common life, it is, by no means, rare for men to be more respected for their vices than for their virtues. Innocence is, indeed, sometimes taken for an indication of weakness, and to be injured is often a sufficient cause for contempt. The value of men, therefore, reverts always to their power ; and securi- ty and consideration are to be found only associated with courage and strength. Men, without doubt, have an interest in the practice of benevolence ; but it exists only in the absence of direct interest. Could, indeed, their own good be obtained without the injury of another, they would always prefer a benevolent conduct. But this is impossible. Political society is, therefore, nearly " a state of war ;" and men, like many other animals, are, in a great measure, reduced to the necessity of prey- ing upon their own kind. As the labour of one individual is of little more value than that of another, the chief means of advancement is for one person to appro- priate the labom- of another ; which is 117 accomplished by affixing a high degree of value to his own. This, however, is not always left to the ingenuity of individuals ; but is often more effectually regulated by laws. Notwithstanding the praise of that liberty which consists in an equality of rights, so frequent in poems and rhetorical declamations, little of it has appeared in the world. The smallness of the niunber of the higher ranks of society, their supe- rior intelligence, and instinct to combina- tion, on the one hand ; with the greatness of the number, the ignorance, and differ- ence of opinion of the lower ranks, on the other, have, in all countries and ages, ren- dered the latter an easy prey to the former. In most cases, the lower ranks have become a kind of property, their labour has been appropriated to objects with which they had no concern, and they themselves have been led out to slaughter to gratify the whims and caprices of their masters, while they have been taught to believe it was for their own honour and glory. Thus it hap- pens that the higher ranks, while they sub- jugate the lower, destroy industry, bring all 118 to a level, and produce their own degrada- tion along with that of society.* Self-love, through all circumstances, pvir- sues a direct course. But its impetus is greater or less according to the nature of the resisting medium. A difference is to be remarked between the morality of na- tions and that of individuals. One cannot among the latter, as frequently happens among the former, defy the combination of the whole. The violence and injustice of individuals are either of an indirect, en- croaching and legal nature, or confined to those circumstances which general rules can never reach. The internal aggressions of society may be divided into three species ; -^ The poverty of the lower ranks, arising from their mul- tiplying too fast, and by that means reducing the value of their labour, is not here spoken of, but the inequality of laws, such as prevails on the Continent of Europe, or the improper execution of them, such as takes place in Britain, by which .the labour of the people is transformed into pensions to re- ward men for betraying their rights. The evil, in this case, is not so much the loss of the money, as the service perform- ed. To obtain a few pounds, a person will vote away mil- lions, and even conspire to reduce unborn generations to a state of slavery. Compared with such a crime, murder is but as one to a million. But it is not thought shameful, because it is common, and cannot be punished. 119 fitst, those of the higher ranks generally against the lower ; secondly, the injuries arising from circumstances which enable one person to take the advantage of ano- ther, in which may be ranked i :i i)^ " The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's cohtiiitiely. The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes ;" and lastly, open roguery. When, indeed, men abandon character, and set the world at defiance, they must be considered as playing a desperate game, in which the risk of failure can be compensated only by the greatness of the gain which success would confer. But, as the regulations of society are so contrived that the severity of pun- ishment shall far exceed the advantages of guilt, the chances are, in all crimes, against offenders.* Even in the mOst minute im- moralities, as the comfort of one man de- * It has often been enquired why we respect a conqueror and despise a successful robber. In the first place, ,the latter only imitates or attempts what the former carries through, being never able completely to set the, world at defiance. Again, the difference between them seems to be the difference between great and small. We admire a lion, but despise a cat ; although both are of the feline species. J20 pends very much upon the good will of an- other, a person generally dimmishes his own enjoyment in the same degree in which he lessens that of his neighbour. As praise is reward, so the very disapprobation of mankind acts as a sort of punisliment, and serves to keep unruly passions in check. So important is the good opinion of our fellow creatures, that it may be considered the chief object for which every wise man contends ; for what is all vice, but to prefer money, power, or other limited enjoyment, to reputation ? But while some have founded all moral- ity upon a principle of disinterested bene- volence ; others have explained self-love so as to reduce friendship and honour to mere hypocrisy and imposture, and exclude vir- tue altogether. These are, however, ex- tremes. There is undoubtedly * disposi- tion whicli has for its object the good of others, without any direct aim at self-ad- vantage ; while there are false pretences which have nothing else in view. But in neither, are all human motives comprehend- ed. Virtue has for its object not solely self-good, nor solely that of society ; but that of both. Virtue is a mode of obtain- ing advantage through the medium of that of mankind ; a relation between our good and that of others ; a species of conduct for adding their exertions to our own in the pursuit of pleasure.* Virtue is that rule of conduct by which we suffer a small degree of pain^ and obtain a great quantum of pleasure ; vice by which we acquire an inconsiderable immediate good, and lose a superior future advantage. Both proceed from one motive, and are but different modes of obtaining the same end. But as the former is much better suited to its object than the latter ; it may, with lit- tle licence of language, be said that what- ever is contrary to virtue is inconsistent with self-love. The moral world is, in short, actuated and governed, with so great simplicity and excellence by this principle, that we cannot too much admire its wis^ Lord Chesterfield wrote a system of narrow virtue, or selfishness. But nothing more is necessary to show its folly, or that the world were not imposed upon by the noble Lord himself, than the letter of Dr Johnson's giving up his friend- ship. H 1Q2 dom. By it, activity, honesty, and indus- try, are associated with pleasure, good, and happiness ; and, in the common concerns of Hfe, employment and prosperity are sy- nonymous terms. Hence self-love, rightly understood, is the motive of every virtue, and never be- comes vitious but when it becomes impru- dent. It is the privilege and wisdom of every person to enjoy himself as fully as he can ; but if he exceed the limits of his power, his enjoyment must be lessened to that degree which the hatred and opposi- tion of the injured can effect. If he seize an immediate benefit without regard to con- sequences, he must suffer the diminution of advantage in proportion as his conduct has been premature ; or if he encroach up- on that which belongs to his neighbom*, he will be punished with the loss of that to which he is justly entitled. When, there- fore, his actions become imprudent, he will immediately be informed by the conduct of others. Self-love, when it does not exceed those bounds which a knowledge of our owi) 12S worth, common practice, and general good, liaye established, is the basis of all virtue ; ^nd is commended mstead of beijig detest- ed by mankind. For, while we pursue our own interest with prudence, we also pur? sue that of society. But when it exceeds those limits, it becomes vitious. Self-love becomes criminal arid hateful when it ex- ceeds what is common, what we are enti-^ tied to, or when it prompts us to seize up- on the rights of others. It is, in fact, ne- ver amiable but when it induces us to ren- der the good of others subservient to oui; own. To assist a person in distress, to ob- tain his friendship, is a virtuous action ; but to seize violently upon his property a viti- ous one. Universality excludes singularity ; a con-r stant habit of acting according to this prin- ciple precludes novelty. Although it is the spring which puts all human nature in mo-r tion, and a rule by which every action of mankind is easily explained,* only when * Fielding seems to discover an uncommon degree of saga- city and penetration in his novels. Yet the whole mystery consists in tracing the single principle of self-love. H52 it predominates in an extraordinary degree can it be perceived. The first causes of na- ture do not appear to the bulk of mankind to extend farther than the sphere of their immediate action. The law of attraction cannot be conceived, in the general, by those who compose the crowd pf mankind ; but they can form an idea of up and down, weight, rising and falling. Vulgar ideas are not taken from principles but from par- ticulars ; and, as various particulars arise from the same principle, one principle is, by them, divided into a thousand. The lower orders of mankind know the differ- ence between objects, but no more. Their ideas of generosity and selfishness do not extend to system, but are bounded by the prominencies formed by individual inter- ests and actions, the excesses of which on- ly, in respect to each other, and in compa- rison with common practice are marked with their approbation or disapprobation. The most active part of mankind are not at pains to enquire into the original causes of things ; but what is by all admitted and practised they consider right. 125 Abstract principles are unwieldy, and un- fit for common use. To facilitate inter- course with each other, as we use coin to represent commodities, we divide self-love into a number of slighter ideas, which al- ways bear an allusion to the objects or ac- tions from which they arise. Instead of saying, metaphysically, that a person is the cause of good or evil to us, we say, in com- mon language, that he is honest or dis- honest, benevolent or malicious, grateful or ungrateful. To distinguish the various operations of the principle of self-love, it is sufficient to distinguish the objects of them. Passions take their names from the circumstances from which they arise ; and there are some particular interests among mankind which never vary. The strongest affection which does not refer to our own persons, is that which is felt by a parent towards a child, because a child may be said, more than any thing else, to be a part of the parent, a second-self, as in the former the latter per- petuates his present interests. This affec- tion does not require to be reciprocal, and H3 U6 cannot, like love, be destroyed, though it may be diminished, by discord ; for whether the child love the parent or not, the object of the parent is still in his power and still the same. It is even to be doubted, whe- ther it be what is properly called aifection which attaches a parent to his offspring, for it has often been remarked, that he is more attentive to their interest than to their happiness. As a child can have no future care or anxiety for his parents, that degree of affection which he has for them, or in- terest which he takes in their welfare, must depend upon their immediate utility to him, or at most can amount only to gratitude for past kindness. The passion of love, or of the sexes, though less forcible than affection towards children, is one of the strongest ab- stract passions, or which do not arise im- mediatelygfrom the senses. It is sometimes called the noblest, because the most agree- able, not surely because the most disinter- iested ; for it is no more than a contract of minds, which violation on either side will render abortive. There are few who can love without being loved; and if any do. 127 they think the possession of the object of their desires can yield a pleasure which will overbalance hate. Friendship, benevolence, and generosity, are less degrees of the pas- sion of affection. But friendship, without the prospect of an equivalent, is contrary to all the principles of the mind. The most universal benevolence is but an extension of self-love. Benefits are bestowed only where we expect a retvirn of one kind or another. They never appear where the object of them is expected to be ungrate- ful, or where the pleasure arising from his gratitude would be less than the inconve- niency of bestowing the gift. Gratitude, or a return of favour, again, arises from the desire of obtaining the further benefit of the good will of the person from whom the gift came. For, it is to be expected that a person, who has been once generous, may, when he meets with a due return, be still more generous, in expectation of raising a higher gratitude. Even among the nearest relations, self-love is as strong as natural affection. The only difference is, that the friendship or connection is closer. An ex- H4 act return of benefits is always expected; and no more is given than received. Some- times, indeed, through all the hypocrisy of decent lamentation it is not difficult to per- ceive that a person is not displeased with the misfortunes of a relation or friend which contribute to his advantage. The prospect of succession, it is said, diminishes grief. Nature has so determined that it cannot be otherwise. But so general and intricate is the operation of this law of the animal creation, that to pursue the various appearances which it assumes through life is impossible. Anger or hatred is one half of the passions, and proceeds so directly from self-love, that any illustration, to shew the connexion be- tween them, is unnecessary. Vanity arises from a combination of self-love and false judgment. Modesty is a passion, which, of all, hiis the greatest appearance of being dis- interested, because it discovers a diffidence of ourselves, and a higher opinion of others. Its operations, however, are involuntary, and contrary to our inclinations ; and it is an agreeable quality to others, because it f?at- ters their self-love, and never interrupts the 1^ pleasure arising from a contrary disposition in them. The nearest affection to disin- terestedness, or the most extended feehng of self-love, is that which is purely specula- tive. But to say that any passion is disin- terested, is to say that there can be an effect without a cause. Sympathy with distress arises merely from the consciousness of be- ing liable to it. All our passions may be strong or weak, or of greater or less utihty to others ; but no passion can be disinter- ested, for passion depends upon interest. SECTION III. Besides the peculiarities of self-love a- rising from the general peculiarities of things, and the stronger differences with which the universal laws or necessities of nature have marked this principle, every animal has a natural instinct which distin- guishes its species, and every person a pecu- liar constitutional character, which, though they do not essentially affect self-love, at least variegate its appearance. The pru- dence, or manner of pursuing pleasure of one differs from that of another, according to the strength of their judgments or the nature of their imaginations. All men, in- deed, agree in pursuing good and preferring that which is best ; but they differ very much in opinion with regard to what is good and best. Different things have different degrees of value to different persons. The happiness of one may be to gain good will by good nature ; and another may feel more enjoyment in the majesty of churlish- ness. {Prudence^.) * Section 1. Prudence. With regard to Prudence, we fail more in ex- ecution than in design. Every person knows tliat form of conduct which is most prudent ; but few are able to act according to their own ideas of rec- titude. In most cases, determination is easy, but practice difficult. It is difficult for an irresolute man to be firm ; a timid man to be brave ; a man given to indulgence to be temperate; or for a proud man to be submissive. But it is easy for him to see the necessity of these virtues. In short, as the gratification of every passion is pleasing ac- cording to its force, no man* can sacrifice present enjoyment to future prospect so fai', or put such restraint upon his inclinations, as that some part 181 That difference of thinking, of ability, and dissimilitude of passions which are of his natural disposition will not appear. All men, therefore, in a great measure, \Year that character which they originally receive from nature. .Hence, Prudence of conduct must depend upon firmness more than upon judgment ;* and firm- ness depends chiefly upon tlie strength or weak' ness of the passions. "^Where passion is not concerned, the judgment will, no doubt, act, in chusing between right and wrong, good and evil, according to its force. But in what case of liuman affairs is passion not con- cerned ? in what case is the understanding unbi- assed by circumstances ? When are our means of judging such as to peranit an unprejudiced decision, and the free exercise of reason ? and how seldom do wise determinations produce prudent actions ? The operation of the judgment is, without doubt, very much circumscribed by the nature of our feel- ings. The power which it has of foreseeing, and correcting, the inconsistency of our affections, and the change of circumstances, when exercised with such a degree of finnness as few possess, operates within a very narrow circle. Perhaps, every effort * Judgment and prudence are thus far to be distinguished ; Judgment is a decision, Prudence an act ; but we often act Avrong while we know that wc arc doing so. found among men, constitute variety of character, distinguish them from each other, of reflection is merely to make the mi)st of events, and to chuse the best of those things which fortune presents to us. It will, indeed, be found, on examination, that the principle of necessity is of very extensive ap- plication ; and that our virtues, as well as our vices, are ^vithin its comprehension. In every form of conduct, there is more of necessity than choice. The motives of prudence and indiscretion, virtue and vice, are, in most cases, nearly the same. In all these, we chiefly follow our inclinations, and character is, generally, fixed by constitution. Most men are temperate because they hate excess, and most are given to excess only because they are unable to practise temperance ; most men are good humoured because they cannot be bad, and bad because they cannot be good. It is even, sometimes, from difference of constitution, which * induces peculiar habits of mind, that some men are more covetous and dishonest than others. It is well known that the value of things arises less from their own nature than from the state of om- feelings, that they appear quite different to different persons, and even to the same person, at different times. An object which pleases in health has no attractions in sickness, and that which we Ids and diversify their pursuits. Tlie same passions do not reign in every person with pursue with eager enthusiasm at one time is in- different or disgusting at another. Our passions are entirely the produce of oiu* senses, or of circumstances. No man can com- mand them at will, or make any object appear either beautifiil or disagreeable by the authority of reason. Hence, the value of things is alto- gether accidental, and independent of our deter- minations. But, as pleasure is the sole object of the mind, the understanding must confinn the representations of the passions ; for what is plea- sure if it be not the gratification of the passions ! If any man relinquish an agreeable, to pursue a disagreeable, object, he prefers the bad to the good, and acts contrary to his conviction. The object of prudence is, indeed, by sacrificing a small degree of good, to obtain a greater. But, in every case, reason has to decide on the evidence of passion. The understanding may, in fact, be said to be the sport of the passions. How often do men of judgment, from the instability of their passions, and the variation of their affections, act inconsist ently ! and how often is our conduct rendered im- prudent by false appearances ! The judgment can, however, hardly, in any c^se, be said to be pvpjU' m the same force, and sometimes one passion extinguishes another. An ambitious man diced by the passions, without calling all good and evil prejudice. As the passions are the sole evi- dence of good and evil, every effort of the under- standing, with regard to prudence, is only to prefer the gratification of one passion to that of another, or to obey the infliuence of that passion which pror duces the greatest degree of pleasure. The un- derstanding is, therefore, compelled to humour the passions ; and it often happens that our judg- ment is just, while our actions are wrong. The passions are continually deceiving the understand- ing, and leading us into imprudent actions, by be- stowing a false lustre on objects, which is suffici- ent to betray us into misfortune, but not to confer happiness. It is seldom that all the efforts of judg- ment are able to distinguish the appearance of good from the reality, or that gratification which will end in calamity from that which will continue to produce pleasure. In short, such a variety of hues do the ebbs and flows of our passions impart to things, that we can never be said to see thpm aright. Passion is, however, the origin qfvirtuCf as well as of vice. As all oiu- exertions arise from our passions, the object is not to extinguish passion, but to regulate it, so as to procm'e that useful me- dium called virtue. If oiu* passions are strong. 135 prefers glory to comfort ; a lover despises all other interests for the object of his af- we have much pleasure in their gratification, but are in equal danger of suffering from violence of conduct. If they are weak, we have every chance to escape pain, but then we have no pleasure. Thus, good and evil always compensate each other, and a state of mediocrity is the nearest approach to perfection we can make. It may, however, be inquired what is passion ? and what is reason? Passion is our present feelings ; reason is founded on the recollection of feehng.* Hence, we are induced to bear some feehngs from the recollection of others, and to resist the present from the di*ead of the future. But it frequently happens that our present sensations are sufficient to overbalance the prospect of future, or so strong as to render us regardless of consequences. It is, therefore, often difficult for one man to judge of the conduct of another, or to estimate motives with which he is unacquainted. We see the af- fairs of our neighbours in quite a different light from that in which we view oiu* own. In the one case, we imagine interest can be commanded or dismissed at pleasure ; in the other, we feel that it is independent of ourselves. * What is called comparing ideas is, in fict, nothing move than a transition from one original or recollected sensation to another. Reason is the impression left by this transition. fection alone ; an enraged man values re- venge more than personal safety ; a miser Even that superiority of mind which serv^es to Retrace a wide experience, and compare many cir- cumstances, does not always enable us to distin- guish temporary from lasting advantage, nor does the understanding always act as the corrector of the passions. Prudence of conduct consists in ac- commodating ourselves to the motion of things, and depends as much upon mediocrity of under- standing as on moderation of passion. What is commonly called strength of mind,* as applicable to morality, is, in reality, often weakness of intel- lect. For, in proportion as the mind is extended, it furnishes objects of temptation, and solicitation to gratification. When magnitude of comprehen- sion and strength of passion are united in the same person, the one inflames the other. ^len of talents are, perhaps, more liable to im- prudence than those who possess only inferior powers. The weaker and smaller the mind is, no doubt, the less capable is it of abstaining from in- dulgence, or of perfonning those duties which we owe to ourselves and others, and which are some- thnes contrary to our passions and inclinations, But the passions of small minds, though irresisti- ble, are small and few. * Viz, The absence of passion or feeling. It is this which chiefly gives self-comraand. 1S7 disregards the opinion of the world, and every comfort of life, for the sake of accu- Men of genius are subject to more variety and violence of action from the superior exertion of their thought, are hurried on to more extraordi- nary pursuits from the extent of their prospects, and are liable to more impetuosity from the dis- tinctness of their determinations than those whose capacity is less. Whether a great mind be melancholy or san- guine, it is equally hable to be impelled to incon- sistency with the common progress of things, and to become the dupe of its own exuberances. If sanguine, it leaves its present situation for one which it cannot reach ; or if melancholy, by wan- dering into futurity, creates to itself groundless fears, and renders itself unfortunate by premature piiidence. Persons of little thought are calm and cool from want of ideas, and are incapable of violent miscon- duct, because destitute of temptations to influence it. But a vigorous mind must always be employ- ed upon something. As its exertions do not keep pace and agree with the nature of things, it over- shoots itself Hence, those who, it may be said, do not think at all, whose judgment is confined to a very narrow circle, who take the fashion of the day for the principles of their conduct, who are I 158 mulating riches; a vain person foregoes every pecuniary advantage for tiie love of magnificence and splendour ; and some sa- crifice every other enjoyment to the more immediate gratification of the senses. But self-love is the general parent of all pas- sions, however little its offspring may re- semble each other. ( Taste. '^ J governed by habit, who give themselves up to the guidance of chance, and pass through hfe without any extraordinary exertion or anxiety certainly act most fortunately, if not most prudently, and have the best chance of happiness. * Section 2, Taste. Taste is a term which has been much abused and misapplied by the enthusiasm of its votaries. By some, it would be deemed as sacrilegious a crime to call taste a species of judgment, as it would be by another set of enthusiasts, to call faitli a species of reason. There is no subject on which men are so dogmatical as on that of taste ; because on no other subject does the evidence appear so satisfactory, and at the same time so mysterious. Every person is certain with regard to his own inehnations. Now wliat can seem a stronger proof of the perfection of any thing than our taste for it ? 139 . The dispositions of men may vary, but self-love does not; though their pursuits Those unaccountable impulses which we feel to- wards some objects, and that undefinable disgust or dislike which arises from others, appear suffi- cient evidence of perfection or imperfection to our- selves. Hence, vanity inclines each to persuade himself that whatever is inconsistent with those sensations which are peculiar to him, is wrong. The advocates for the mysteriousness of taste have, indeed, one remarkable instance in their favour, that is, that the tastes of two persons may be con- trary and yet both be just. But all opinions are undoubtedly founded upon facts and circumstan- ces ; every thing can be reduced to a science ; and where there is a difference between things, there must be a discrimination, and an appeal to reason. Reason is, in this, as well as in every other case, our guide. To it only can we have recourse for an explanation of the mysterious operations and pe- cuHarities of taste. But to submit the evidence of his feelings to the examination of reason is what a person always reluctantly does. Whatever we admire, we are unwilling to analyze. Taste, as well as genius and faith, men, in the yeal of their adoration, have agreed to think incomprehensible. But when the authority and jurisdiction of reason are denied, there is an end to all distinction. As 12 140 may differ, pleasure is always their object. The actions of mankind are, indeed, often long, therefore, as men dispute concerning what they do not define, each may, with equal justice, lay claim to the preference in correctness of taste, if each deteraiine from his own feehngs. The only difficulty which this subject exhibits is the vague and indeterminate meaning of the word taste, and the idea that taste is independent of judgment and a separate facidty of the mind. This fancy is carried so far that some even imagine that a fool may excel a wise man on this subject, and that a person may possess a just judgment without a coiTect taste. But if this opinion be brought to the test of reason, it will appear that a person prefers one thing to another only because he believes it to be better. It is, therefore, evi- dent that taste is merely the result of judgment, or tliat peculiarity of relish for things which arises from the nature of opinion. The term taste is, indeed, appropriated to that degree of judgment which appears in distinguish- ing beauty ; and men of superior understandings are often deficient in discrimuiating those nice shades which separate tlie graces. But it is evi- dent that superficial distinctions escape the man of great powers, merely because they are too small for his mind to take hold of, and tliat this pecuUarity 141 of so opposite a nature, that they not only become objects of surprise and derision to does not form a contradiction to judgment in its general nature, but merely a modification of it. Taste is of two kinds ; first in sensual, secondly in intellectual, gratification. The pleasures of sense are chiefly confined to Tasting (those which arise fi'om Seeing and Hearing being of a superior cast,) and correspond with appetites. When we are induced by any motive, distinct from such natural desires as hunger or thirst, to prefer one object of sense to another, it certainly arises from peculiarity of organization, or from habit. But that more refined species of enjoy- ment which proceeds from the affection of the in- tellect depends chiefly upon the expanse of the mind. Difference of judgment, again, must arise from one person's possessing a greater degree of na- tural capacity, or having received a better educa- than another ; and, in this case, all habit must be considered the same as education, That taste or rehsh for things which belongs to the mind consists in being affected agreeably by them. Every peculiarity which it possesses has a referepce to the nature and operation of the intel- lectual powers. The interest which we take in any occupation, depends upon its forming a cer- tain medium between difficulty and facihty. The 13 U2 each other, but did we not know that plea- sure lay in us and not in the object, we mind has a relish for no pursuit which is either labour or incapable of stimulation. Some things are, therefore, disagreeable or indifferent, because superior to our capacity, and others because infe- rior ; while in other cases, habit renders arduous things' agreeable by diminishing their difficulty, and trifling things interesting by confining the at- tention to them. Again, all objects of beauty or deformity, grace or inelegance, are rendered such merely by opi- nion, which likewise arises from the capacity or ha- bits of the mind ; the former acting as the power of deciding our relish or dishke for things, and the latter as the means. Our judgment is formed according to our talents and opportunities, and our incHnation for things always corresponds with our "i opinion of them. A good understanding and a con*ect taste, in- deed, never fail to accompany each other. We often hear of refined taste, of just taste, and the due proportion of the principles of taste ; but all this leads merely to a definition of wisdom. The wisest conduct, again, is to do that which is pro- per, neither to fall short of the mark nor to go be- yond it ; and true taste, as well as wisdom, con- sists in propriety. What is grace iji motion, sini- 14S might almost be inclined to doubt the uni- versality of the principle of self-love. Our plicity in writing, or elegance in conversation, but that happy medium in which consists all perfec- tion ! As taste, therefore, depends upon judgment, it must keep pace with the expansion and improve- ment of the mind. The more extensive the range of our reflection, the juster will be our conclusions. Taste has always a reference to knowledge and experience. No two men have the same view of things ; each sees more or less, in one position or another ; each sees differently ; and each has, there- fore, reason to form a different opinion. Every person reasons and believes according to what he knows ; the knowledge of each is different ; and the opinion and tast6 of each individual are form* ed according to his knowledge. Hence that vari- ety of tastes which we find in the world, and hence the reason of that contempt in which one holds the taste of another, in the purity of which all are, with equal reason, confident. The same causes which operate in diversifying the taste of individuals also affect that of nations. In all nations, there are periods of youth and ma- turity. Some are farther advanced in one science than in another; some nations farther advanced in general st'icnce than others ; some place pcrfec* 14 144 passions operate with such vicissitude, that one may this moment possess the mind tion in a higher, some in a lower, degree. In dif- ferent period;s, opinions have prevailed, and have been admired, which would now be ridiculed ; and customs prevail at present in some parts of the world which in others are the subject of con- tempt. Elegance and beauty are different in Asia fi'om what they are in Europe ; that which is re- fined in London is gross in Paris ; and that which is interesting in Paris is trifling in London. Taste has differed in different ages, and a person, at different periods of his life, has differed in taste from himself, but the rules whereby he judged have never differed. Men have changed their c^inions as they knew more of facts and things ; but it was always according to their most uniform experience that they detemiined. In the same manner, however much the tastes of men may have differed from each other, or the taste of one person from itself, they have always been formed on the most general view or situation of things. The present probability is the rule of present be- lief; and the present view or situation of things, the law of present taste.' But a few persons, com- pared with the mass of mankind, bestow much re- flection upon the fine arts ; and of those few, the greater number confine theiv attention to a single 145 quite contrary to that which occupied it before. Self-love, indeed, always dictates branch ; some to painting ; some to music ; some to poetry ; and some to an individual species of poetry. A person who has studied only a parti- cular subject, may be best qualified to decide on that subject ; but he whose view extends to the great as well as to the minute, will have the most exalted and just ideas of nature and things. The object of taste is beauty ; the chief law of beauty, association : When we fipxd two objects or qualities generally united, we are inclined to think they should be always so. Hence the power of custom, and hence the origin of that taste which may be called national. Fashion, again, arises from a modification, or narrower application, of the law of association. With riches, we associate gentihty and propriety. Whatever is common among men of rank, soon appears graceful, beauti*'' ful, and becoming ; and this rule extends even to articles of utility. Fashions can, no doubt, with propriety, take their origin only from general prin- ciples; but after being established, though in con- tradiction to expediency, so great is the power of this association, and so far superior to every other species of utility the necessity of conformity to tlic ideas of our neighbours, that all tlie variations of fashion ought to be complied with. The change 146 the change ; but we are often led to think, that, as our pursuits are inconsistent, their of fashion is to be approved of on every principle of beauty, from the variety and spirit which it gives to life. , There are some things for which nature gives no law, and which are to be determined by cus- tom alone. The meaning of words is established by general consent, and it is general use which determines our choice with regard to purity and elegance of language. The same word which sig- nifies good, might signify bad ; and the only reason why it does not, is that men do not chuse that it should. It is also to be observed, that the generality of mankind look no farther than custom for the rule of opinions regarding truth as well as beauty. Hence it is, tliat whatever is new appears wrong ; that the ideas of a philosopher appear ridiculousr to a clown, as those of a clown appear absurd to a philosopher. As beauty arises from several causes, and taste may be decided on different principles, it often Iiappens, from peculiar passions, habits, or circum^ ,stances, that a person may be induced to prefer one species of beauty to another. Some place beauty entirely in colours, and others in form ; some in uniformity, and others in variety. Unless, 147 "r. ' motives cannot be the same. So far we ai'e right, that the particular and pecuhar mo- therefore, we are acquainted with the general ana- logy of nature, that our views may balance each other, and that we may preserve that medium which runs through the whole creation, we are often in danger of wandering from reality, and forming extravagant opinions and tastes. Dif- ferent species of beauty cannot, indeed, be_^ com- pared, each possessing perfection in itself ; that ob- ject is only to be preferred which contains the greatest number of beauties with the fewest faults. But it has often happened that a person, by pur- suing one idea, and neglecting aU others, has lost all notion of absurdity and propriety, and fonned a set of opinions and habits from which he has be- come most supremely ridiculous to his fellow creatures. ^ ' i j^^or Some false tastes are like some false opinions, which are justifiable to a person's self, because con- sistent with his knowledge, and those alone which he can form in the circumstances in wliich he is placed, but which are, at the same time, inconsist- ent with a more extended view, and with the ge- neral nature of things. It is always with the con- clusions of taste, as witli those of reason ; their correctness depends upon chusing a centi'C witliin |;he expanse of our knowledge ; as our view is 148 tives of contrary actions must be contrary ; but the general motive is not. Self-love, extended," tliis imaginary centre is removed ; and the meridian of our taste is ever altering as intel- lectual acquisition is increasing. Hence, it is not from want of judgment, or true taste, that one man conceives opinions or sen- timents contrary to another, when such opinions are formed according to the standard of generali- ty within the compass of his knowledge, but from want of information. Before, therefore, we con- clude against any person's understanding from his taste, we should examine whether it be agreeable to his knowledge. It can be no imputation a- gainst a person's judgment that he has formed erroneous opinions by being misinformed, if such opinions be consistent with his knowledge, and proper according to the view which he had of things. It has been remarked that men hold the same general language concerning beauty and deformi- ty where their particular ideas of it are different. All agree in praising elegance, grace, and proprie- ty, but differ in the ideas affixed to these terms. The cause of this difference is the difference of their abilities, or of their experience ; both ending in one of two results, either in expanding or con- tracting the view. The most beautiful object is 149 though it may vary its manner of pursuing pleasure, does not deviate from its original purpose, or change its nature. the nearest to perfection of the class to wliich it belongs. This perfection generally consists in medium. When we perceive a higher degree of any quahty, we are inclined to shift the point of perfection, without perceiving any other reason for it.* But if all objects which please are not al- lowed to be equally beautiful, and if a standard, to decide the differences of taste among men, be demanded, it cannot consist in general approba- tion. Multitudes may agree in one opmion of beauty, and yet their knowledge be confined. Now all beauty is an excellence, or an idea deriv- ed from several others. To select the most beau- tiful object, we must compare many. This com- parison, again, is the nearer to perfection the far- ther it is carried. Thus, judgment and taste un- ite in conclusion, taste being only our judgment of beauty. As the accuracy of our opinions de- pends upon forming general ideas, so the criterion of our taste must always he the extent ofourpriii- ciples of judging. * Thus, if we happen to see n person of a fresh complexion in company, it will receive our approbation ; but if another enter whose complexion is florid, we will be apt to consider the complexion of the first person as too pale. 150 Some men can extract pleasure from what is pain to others ; and some renounce all other enjoyments for that of being ad- mired alone. The Stoics abjured all sen- sual pleasure for the very glory of the dif- ficulty of rejecting it ; and men chearfuUy expose themselves to dangers, and undergo fatigues, for the honour attending heroism. But still pleasure is the object of all the pursuits of mankind, however different. The Stoic philosopher may find as much satisfaction in the magnanimity of despis- ing, as the Epicurean in enjoying, corporeal pleasure. Man cannot act without motives, nor form any motive different from his own good. Language will not express it ; and it requires only acuteness to discover self- love under every form of human conduct. When Eegulus returned to Carthage, in defiance of torture, and in compliance with a vain principle of honor, it is apparent that he proposed, as a reward, the veneration of mankind. \Yhen Brutus sacrificed his two sons to justice, he evidently expected as a recompense for so extraordinary a vir- tue, the approbation of future ages ; and his motives were obviously the same with those of the person who devoted himself voluntarily to death by setting fire to the Temple of Diana. It is evident that Dio^ genes pursued pleasure and fame, in his hy-?| pocritical and impertinent contempt of all those things which other men value ; and that when he despised the favours of the greatest prince upon earth, he expected to obtain glory equal to the sacrifice. The integrity of Cato was founded upon the approbation, or at least the self-satisfaction, which accompanied it ; and is an example to prove how consistent the most exalted moral qualities are with self-love. Even the celebrated Lucretia preferred reputa- tion to virtue, and might have preserved her chastity at the expense of her fame. But as admiration is the object and reward of all heroic deeds, they are performed only when they are to be known. Pleasure is always pleasure in whatever shape it appear. He who burns to signa- lize himself in the dangers of war, and he who sighs for the retirements of peace, have the same motive ; and the happiness 15^ of the one is different from that of the other only as their different dispositions are more or less gratified. The mind of man never furnishes arguments nor de- claims to itself against what appears plea- sure, because it really is such. A person can, in reality, never be happier than in the gratification of his inclinations what- ever they may be. No relation of things can diminish the importance of what is really pleasing or painful to the mind. Every thing is good or bad, pleasant or un- pleasant, merely as we feel it.* Now, as what may be agreeable to one may not be agreeable to another, we cannot, on account of the persuasion of the wisest of men, re- ject the present object of our passions for any thing different, until we see it in the same light, and think as they do. The at- tacks of moralists should, therefore, be made against the imprudence of pursuing such enjoyments as are ultimately destruc- tive of pleasure, not against pleasure itself; for what pleases above other things is best, * " The mind is its own place, and in itself ** Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Hca^v'n." us and every attempt to induce us to give the preference to any thing else must be vain. Hence, all morality is but the skilful pro- secution of the views of self-love, and the prudent pursuit of pleasure. To act mo- rally is but to act wisely; whoever acts best for himself acts best for society ; and wis- dom and virtue are always consistent. Various dispositions are necessary for the diflPerent modes of action which different circumstances require in the world. Self- love, though the same in general, may be more agreeable and useful in some of its diversities than in others, or as the pur- suits of individuals unite. Our own good may be involved in the good of others, and the path which leads to their happiness may also lead to our own. A man cannot, indeed, be said to be less selfish because he loves virtue. But it is surely a fortu- nate circumstance for society, as well as individuals, when the inclinations of men induce them to the practice of those actions which tend to the good of their fellow creatures ; when they delight in the pur- suit of fame, feel a pleasure in friend- K 154 ship, or derive a gratification from the prac- tice of benevolence. Nothing, again, can be more unfortunate than when self-love is contracted to so narrow a circle as to ex- clude the interests of others, and permit the mind to be occupied only by those mean and sordid passions which debase all the actions and sink all the ideas of mankind.* Those personal good qualities which are incident to the nature of things, or arise from peculiarity of disposition, however, * Nothing seems, in the present day, to be valued but rich- es ; and this sentiment is very openly professed. Riches are indeed the representative of all the necessaries of life (as well as of all sensual gratifications) ; and to prefer the rich is, per- haps, the best spur to industry, and, on the whole, most cal- culated for the good of society. Besides, a rich man is valued for the same reason as a benevolent man ; that is because he possesses good qualities. So great a portion of the happiness of mankind is included in riches, that a rich man must have many bad qualities before he becomes disagreeable, and a poor man must have a multitude of good qualities before we ^e pleased with his company. But if we esteem men for their riches only, we infallibly teach the same vulgarity of sentiment to others, and destroy all intellectual good qualities, such as benevolence and gene- rosity, from the exercise of which exalted minds derive a high gratification. ot- r. 155 cost us nothing, and procure advantage without sacrifice. Thus, mental capacity, personal strength, beauty, or agility, quali- ties proceeding from adventitious circum- stances, and cheerfulness, good nature, and temperance, arising from the accidental na- ture of our dispositions, are valuable to o- thers without being injurious to ourselves ; while honesty, fidelity, and honour, quali- ties resulting from the efforts of the mind, are agreeable to others only by being dis- agreeable to ourselves. These last may be called artificial good qualities^ being acquired by restraining our inclinations. But, as no man voluntarily counteracts his passions in one case without the prospect of gratifica- tion in another, the devices the world fall upon to induce men to those actions which they find agreeable, are innumerable. While those who practise indulgences, injurious to every one who does not participate in them, are punished, proscribed, and stig- matized with every degrading epithet which hatred can dictate, those who sacrifice their own gratification to that of others are ca- ressed, flattered, and honoured with every K2 U6 term of distinction which ingenuity can in- vent. While treachery, cowardice, and par- simony, are branded with tlie terms base- ness, meanness, and narrowness of mind ; patriotism, integrity, and generosity, are dignified with the appellations of magnani- mity, greati^ss, and elevation of soul. In short, the more we bend our dispositions to the will of others, the more we are flat- tered, and the greater honour and applause we receive. Hence we are often induced to neglect the pleasure arising from things for the pleasure arising from praise. But while we serve others, we serve ourselves. Our intentions are alwavs the same, how- ever variously they may appear in our ac- tions, and although we may be sometimes mistaken in our calculations. The fine spun principle of self-love has a variety of beautiful shapes and names. In the mazes of worldly interest, it appears in as many different forms as ever did the amorous Jove, but, like him, still under its native disposition. In the common course of life, we may, in appearance, often sacri- fice a portion of our own good to that of tm others ; but it is always with the prospect of an accumulated return. The intention of procuring a succession of agreeable sen- sations or ideas will, by constant and mi- nute observation, be perceived to guide even the most trifling actions of life. ^'i j,, SECTION IV. No emotion can be felt but on our own account. All feeling arises from what oc- casions agreeable or disagreeable sensations to ourselves. No affection can be disinter- ested. Even that sympathy which we have with a person who will never know it, with an inferior animal, or a fictitious account of distress, must arise from our own inter- . est ; for we can no more be affected with- out interest than we can feel without plea- sure or pain. Such interest is excited by changing situation, in imagination, with the sufferer.* Its degree then depends * It is sometimes necessary to answer an argument, not because it is strong, but because it has the appearance of truth, which, with a great many, passes for the reaUty. Against the doctrine that sympathy is foimded on self-love, Dr Adam Smith says " I consider what I woiild suffer if I was really vou, and I not only diangc circumstances with you, but / K3 158 upon the perfection of the analogy between his circumstances and our own ; for we can conceive and feel no distress unless we are conscious of the possibility of being sub- ject to it ourselves. The sensations which arise from this spe- cies of probability, or from sympathy, are produced by the greatest extension of in- terest, or by imaginary interest, and are, therefore, the weakest of all. But all our feelings, even in the affairs of others, arise from our own interest, and before being affected by their pains or pleasures we must transfer them to ourselves. It is from the appropriation of the passions of change persons and characters. How can that be regarded as a selfish passion which does not arise even from the imagination of any thing that has befallen or that relates to myself in my own character, but which is entirely occupied about what re- lates to you." This is merely a jargon of words about / and you. In his premises, he considers / as changed into you ; but he draws his conclusion as if no such change had taken place. He does not seem to perceive, although his words ex- press it, that, under every change, each person feels only for himself. If / be completely changed into you, you certainly feels for himself without any reference to /. In short, the whole of this passage approaches very near to what is called nonsense. 159 others, that we derive entertainment from the various circumstances and incidents which the history of mankind displays, and the transactions of daily life exhibit. It is from sympathy, that all generous moral feelings, such as enmity towards the un- just, detestation of the ungrateful, and in- dignation against the mean and narrow minded, arise. It is from appropriation and assimilation, that we hate^tyranny, and feel for the objects of it, as he who oppresses others would, if we were within the reach of his power, oppress us. From transfer- ring misfortunes and enjoyments to our- selves, arises the pleasure of doing good in secret ; it is the motive of that charity which has the prospect of no future re- compense, and of that trouble which we take for the entertainment of others which is independent of vanity or the prospect of reward. We are always will- ing, if it cost us nothing, to enjoy the pleasure of relieving the distressed, and of adding to the gratification of the hap- py. To relieve distress, raises in us the same sensation as if we were relieved from K4 160 distress ourselves, and what is added to the enjoyment of mankind, may, by sympathy, be added to our own. We are, also, often, induced to respect the feelings of others lest we do a violence to our own. The sensations which arise from sympa- thy are always proportioned to the con- nexion in which the object of it stands to us. We are more affected by" the death of a friend than by that of a stranger, and by the death of a human being than by that of any other. The accidents of the hu- man race are, indeed, always matter of se- rious consideration, while the sufferings of inferior animals are seldom thought worthy of reflection. The feeling which arises from sympathy is of the same natvire with that which arises from real interest, although weaker. It is impossible to sympathize willingly with any but agreeable circumstances, unless we imagine that our sympathy with distress occasions any alleviation of it.* In affairs * This, indeed, seems to be the cause of those agreeable sensations which we derive from sympathizing with painful circumstances ; but still our pleasure may arise only from their affecting the mind moderately at second hanjl. 161 in which we are actually engaged and in- terested, or which are not created by ima- gination, and afford no opportunity of changing bad into good, we sympathize with the happy, and partake of the good fortune of the successful, as much more readily as pleasure is preferable to pain. It is, in short, only the real or imaginary power which we have of converting distress into happiness which, at any time, influences us to sympathize willingly with distant or supposititious unfortunate characters. If we did not associate with sympathy towards distant or imaginary misfortune, the idea of the relief of its object, we could no more voluntarily sympathize with it than we could love pain ; and that sympathy which we have towards real evil is very nearly connected with fear. Painful objects are always hated, and pleasing loved, whether real or imaginary. The fortunate are surrounded with com- panions ; but the unfortunate are avoided as much as those who carry pestilence along with them. Unless, therefore, those to whom we propose to complain are interest- 162 ^d in relieving us, repeated observation has proved it uniformly to be the wisest con- duct to conceal our misfortunes and pre- serve the appearance of happiness. We always reluctantly sympathize with the misfortunes of others when they are closely connected with us, or when such sympathy occasions any violent degree of mental affection. Distresses, to which we are united only by analogy, we never will- ingly sympathize with, when that sympa- thy turns those misfortunes which were but imaginary with respect to us, into real, or occasions to us any actual danger, or loss of property. The smallest portion of reality never fails to overcome the greatest of fancy; the smallest degree of real, the greatest of ima- ginary interest.. We often seize inconsi- derable advantages which may produce the utmost calamity to others, without feeling any sympathy with their distress. The most trifling interest of our own when put in balance with the highest of others, easily preponderates. A man will kill a brute for 16*8 amusement, though every animal is of the same value to itself. It is impossible that we could, in any case, sympathize willingly with distress,^ were there not enjoyment to be derived from it. We never voluntarily incur pain but with the hope of future pleasure. A person will give himself little trouble to serve another, and feel little anxiety with regard to his pursuits, where he has no prospect of reward, or has little expectation of participating in his success. We are generally unwilling to incur danger in re- lieving, or the pain of grief in sympathizing with, those who can never be of use to us. But we often wish to enjoy the reward of sympathizing with distress without suffer- ing its inconvenience. When a person is attacked by sickness, he feels great plea- sure in describing his pains to others, and readily gives credit to those who say they .are affected by his distresses, because he is affected by them himself. But how false is his comfort ! and how coldly do others take part in his misfortunes, when they have 164 no direct interest, 4ind how hypocritical, ge- nerally, are their pretensions to sympathy ! We never feel without interest, and all feeling is proportioned to it. Although the most ardent lover were told by his mistress, that she was afflicted with a complaint which was violently painful, without en^ dangering her life or diminishing her beau- ty, as he would not perceive his interest to be involved in the matter, and as her suffer- ings would seem likely to be entirely her own, he would not be greatly affected by it. But that he might not lose her regard by his indifference, he would probably pretend to feelings which he did not possess, and declare that her distresses gave him the greatest pain. If, however, he were threats ened to be deprived of her by death, he would feel in reality, but, at the same time, make a merit of declaring his fears. When we die, or are absent, we are lamented, on- ly for those qualities which were capable of* contributing to the happiness of others, and which had their sole value from the wants of those who lament ns. As, therefore, all grief is an evil as long as it is remembered, 166 we never think we can too soon forget those friends of whom death has deprived us. These are, perhaps, disagreeable truths, and imperfections in happiness which it would be better to hide from ourselves. Eut he who analyses his friendships and joys too minutely, will often discover that they rest on a very slender foundation. We sympathize with agreeable objects or events on account of the acquisition, and with disagreeable on account of the dimi- nution, of pleasure. The former circum- stance is considered a good ; and the latter an evil ; but both proceed from self-love. We never sympathize willingly with the unhappy on account of their misfortunes, but for the sake of their valuable qualities ; and we as often feel alacrity in persecuting, as in assisting, the unfortunate.* But no person, however contemptible he may be to others, can be reduced to such a degree of unimportance as not to be valuable to him- self. Every person is incessantly employed * Whether pity or cruelty become the passion in this case, depends upon which offers the highest degree of pleasure ti> oussclves. i6& in increasing his own happiness, or dimin- ishing his miseries. Self-love is the spring of all the actions of mankind, pleasure the sole and entire object of self-love ; and so closely connected is self-love with consci- ousness, that no misfortune, or discourage- ment, can, for one single moment, suspend the activity of this principle of the mind. 167 CHAP. IV. The Senses or the Means of Pleasure, Matter is known to us only by its qualities. These, again, are known to us by means of our senses. Sensation is produced by that mysterious connection between mind and matter which can be traced only in the cor- respondence of external objects with our corporeal organs and nerves. Sensation may be called the original impression of matter upon mind ; and from it, all our ideas, even the most abstract, are derived. But, as the connection between the mind and its objects is accomplished by the in- tervention of the body, and other inter- media unknown, it is apparent that all the qualities of matter may be very different from what they seem to us. Besides, from our knowledge of some animals having few- er senses than we have, and the variety of qualities those we possess enable us to per- ceive in matter, it is not contrary to reason to suppose that we are capable of more senses than we really have. If, however, our nature admits of any new sense, the 168 addition cannot be great ; for the difference between the senses which we already pos- sess, amounts to httle more than perceiving the same quaUties in different manners. We cannot, indeed, discover colour by feel- ing; and hearing is confined to sounds alone. But we know the form of any body equally well from feeUng and seeing ; and tasting and smelling have, in most cases, a near resemblance. In judging of things, we are directed no less by our experience in an individual sense, than by the combined evidence of different senses. There can be no doubt that a man at a hundred yards distance ap- pears of only one fourth the size he seems at fifty. But, having seen man near, as well as at a distance, and knowing perfect- ly what sort of being he is, we supply by recollection any deficiency in the evidence of sense, and view him always as of the same size. When, however, we are igno- rant of the nature of the object, we are apt to be deceived. A fly passing suddenly close to the eye is, sometimes, taken for a bird at a distance ; and it is often difficult to .distinguish a loud sound which is distant, 169 ' t - ' *"**,'. '^t"''- iVbm a law'whicfi is near. But tliis, "per- haps, belongs, properly, to another subject. The senses always assist, and cannot con- tradict, each other, with regard to evidence and utility. But they often do so with re^^" gard to pleasure and pain. All are equally the means of both ; and it often happens that the agreeable effects of one sense are interrupted by the disagreeable effects of another. ' : . But the senses ai^eHniited, in pain, as well as in pleasure. There are certain boundaries beyond which human nature can no more suffer the former, than it can enjoy the latter. Even the most violent feeling, that which results from the opera- tion of fire on our bodies (which is the most acute pain, as it proceeds from the most speedy dissolution of that matter of which they are composed) when pushed beyond certain limits, loses its excess, destroys the sensibility of the nerves, and extinguishes sensation. This shews that every thing in nature is limited, that the perfection of even pain consists in medium, and that what is exquisite is of short duration. L 170 We are forcibly compelled, or powerfully bribed, to whatever we perform ; and those senses are strongest which are of most im- portance. The pleasm*e arising from the sense of tasting is greater tlian that which arises from the sense of smelling, because tasting is more necessary than smelling. In the exercise of the senses, there is always a great quantum of pleasure over what is neces- sary to influence us to perform those duties which the necessities of our nature require ; which shews both the wisdom and goodness of the Almighty. The duty of the senses few feel it a hardship to perform. SECTION l.^Feeling. Feeling is the strongest of all the senses. It is that by which the mind is most inti- mately connected with matter, and most distinctly rendered sensible of its existence. By it, we are best made acquainted with the form and dimensions of any body ; and it is one of those senses in which our experi- ence approaches nearest to uniformity, and which is seldom guilty of deception. It is a sense so strong and closely connected 171 with the nature of all animals, that it seems impossible for any one to exist without it. It appears, indeed, that we can never be deprived of it so long as we are connected with matter, and continue in our present state of existence. Feeling is a sense which does not seem so necessary to us, as una- voidably to result from the nature of mat- ter, and the connection of mind with it. Feeling, if tasting and the sexual plea- sure be not included in it, is the rneans of little enjoyment, but it is the medium of the highest degree of pain. It seems to ^be a faculty which is permitted to us, rather than designed for us, and which serves more for the regulation and economy of pleasure than as the means of such itself. The pains which arise from feeling, occasioned by wounds on the body, are very acute. iBut transitions from cold to heat, and from heat to cold, are the most frequent, and at the same time some of the strongest affections which we receive through the medium of this sense. With regard. to it, cold and heat are more important than form and magnitude. The sensations which arise L2 172 from the latter, through the medium of feeling, are not so frequent as those which arise from heat and cold ; and these quali- ties seem to be not so immediately the cause of pleasure and pain, with regard to this sense, as they are useful in regulating those affections which arise from the tem- perature of the body. The pleasure which is derived from feel- ing is permitted to us only in medium. Whenever our feeling passes medium, pain is a uniform consequence. That pain, again, which results from feeling is not like the pleasure arising from it, moderate, but is capable of the greatest excess with which we are acquainted. The sensation of heat or cold yields enjoyment only while it is mild and moderate, and is, therefore, in- capable of excess of pleasure. But the pain arising from these sensations, as it never proceeds but from an extraordinary degree of either, is capable of being most exquisite- ly tomienting. The highest exceDence of feeling, and the greatest utility which it possesses, arise from the organ of it, the hand, in which all 17S the appropriate peculiarity of this sense lies, for that feeling which is diffused over the rest of the body, may be said unavoidably to result from the nature of things. The correctness of the impression of the forms of bodies which is conveyed to the mind by the adaption of the hand to their surfaces, does not seem to be acquired by habit. For, such perfection of feeling is not attain- able by accustoming any other part of the body to the same operation. The hand is, tlierefore, properly the organ of feeling. It is from the peculiar form of the hand, the division of its parts, and the flexibility of its joints, that its perfection arises. Were there no other evidence on the subject, the wise structure of this member, its universal application and general utility, would, per- liaps, be sufficient to demonstrate the exist*- ence of an intelhgent Author. The hand has been called the sceptre of man ; and, from it, is derived no small portion of that superiority which he holds oyer the animal creation. With regard to pleasure and pain, this organ is not so much affected by the forins L3 17i of bodies, as by the nature of their surfaces. It is smoothness and softness which are pleasing, and roughness which is disagree- able, to it. SECTION II Tasting, Tasting is a species of feeling, or at least very nearly connected with that sense. What we taste we feel. Tasting seems only an addition to the sense of feeling, or a more excellent species of it. All the senses may, however, be reduced to contact or feeling. Tasting is, with regard to pleasure, a stronger sense than feehng, one which is capable of communicating a higher degree of enjoyment and less pain, and which is very necessary to our nature. To support the corporeal structure, to pre- serve it from decay, to restore the waste of perspiration, and to continue it in vigovir while the laws of the species permit, it is requisite that we add to it from other ma- terial substances. It is not enough that we perceive the necessity of such supplies to its preservation. Even self-love would not be a principle adequate to influence us to 175^ the performance of such a duty, as it is too foreign ; but it is necessary that we have a sense appropriated to that purpose. Those duties of which we are sensible only from abstract considerations, we are very apt to neglect, and will very readily allow, notwith- standing any importance of consequence, to slip out of the mind, and be forgotten. But that of wJiich we are continually re- minded by disagreeable sensations, we feel a pain while we neglect, and a pleasure when we attend to. The body inherits the power of informing the mind of all the necessities to which it is subject in the most forcible manner. Hence hunger, which corresponds to the sense of tasting, makes one of the strongest and most pressing desires, and is capable of producing as high a degree of pleasure as any which belongs to the ani- mal frame. Hunger and thirst may be said to be but one and the same sensation, both arising from the sense of tasting. But the gratification derived from thirst is inferior in excess and duration to that derived from hunger ; although we are incapable of en- during the former so long as the latter, 176 The sensations which arise from this sense are more advantageous to mankind- than those which arise from feeUng; because capable of yielding more pleasure and less pain, and because they are never so exces- sive in their torments, and sooner pass into easier modes of sufferance. From the necessity of distinguishing that which is suitable for food from that which is unsuitable, arises the superior delicacy which belongs to this sense. In the exercise of the sense of feeling, we dread contami- nation with those objects which we consider imclean. But as any impression on that sense is less intimate than on the sense of tasting, the disgust must be proportionally inferior. It seems strange, however, and irreconcil- able to the nature and purpose of the senses, that any thing should be useful to the body which is disagreeable to the taste. But what is disagreeable to the taste, is, in ge-^ nei-al, useful to the body only while it la- bours under disease. The deviation of the latter from that condition of perfection which is necessary to animal economy may, therefore, be said to require the contradic- 177 tion of the former tp cprnggl it to returu j|^p it3, natural state* - r*: , , '-ait ^^ "^ SECTION III. 5eaW. '^ Seeing is one of the most important and agreeable of om* senses, and yields a degree of pleasure equal to any of them ; although the enjoyment which arises from it is much more abstract and mental than that afford- ed by tasting. We are rendered sensible of the value of this sense only by a supposition of the want of it. There is no sense from which such a complexity of effects and multiplicity of sensations arise, which can be applied to so many useful purposes, or which furnishes a greater variety of enjoyment. The different tastes, and the different compositions which can be produced of them, the different notes of music, and the extent to which they can be varied, may equal the different colours and the shades which can be formed be- tween them. But still, the different forms, and the infinitely varied groups of objects, which are, by the landscape of nature, presented to us, through the medium of 178 the sense of seeing, render it unequalled, by any other, in conveying pleasure to the mind. Perhaps, inferior animals, on account of their inability to conceive the idea of beau- ty, do not derive the same degree of plea- sure from this sense as mankind. But were men deprived of sight, their condition would be like the universe without a Deity : all would be darkness, and nature a dreary wilderness. Seeing is one of the two senses through which the mind is affected without the con- sciousness of an organic impression. It may, therefore, be said to be a sense farther removed from perfection than some others ; as the perfection of the senses consists in the closeness of their intimacy with matter, and in conveying the most immediate per- ceptions to the mind. There are, indeed, no deceptions more remarkable than those f vision, because seeing depends upon the degree of light. But the evidence which this sense furnishes, when it has the proper means of exercise, seldom misleads. The impressions which we receive through it. i79 however distantly derived, are generally for- cible and lively, and always permanent. It likewise possesses this advantage over feeling and tasting, that the majority of the sensations which it affords are on the side of pleasure.* There is no comparison between the number of objects which are pleasant to the sight, and those which are unpleasant. There are few disgusting ob- jects of vision ; none are so much so that some degree of pleasure does not result from the contemplation of them in one re- lation or another ; and there is, perhaps, no deformity in nature through which some rays of beauty do not shine. Seeing is, besides, a sense, the exercise of which we are almost constantly enjoying. The same may, indeed, be said of feeling ; but its general effects can hardly be said to amomit to enjoyment. The utmost that can be expected and promised at any time from the sense of feeling is the absence of pain, comfortableness, and the permissioa There is only one object of vision, the effect of wliich is so excessive as to amount to pain. We are unable to bear tho eplendpur of the sun, and cannot look steadily upon him. 180 of other enjoyments ; because its perfec- tion consists in temperature, and uniformir ty. But it is quite the contrary with the sense of seeing. The more extraordinary are its effects, and the greater is their vari- ety, the higher enjoyment it produces. A$ it has a preponderance to pleasure, and as its perfection consists in excess, it is capable of the greatest degree of pleasure, and of but a very moderate degree of pain. Those disagreeable sensations which arise from the sense of seeing, are, in general, no pe- cuUarity of that sense, but proceed from its becoming the medium of the idea of those evils which may arise from the other senses. When we perceive danger, or are warned of future misfortunes or pains, by the sense of seeing, those evils ought no more to be imputed to it than to the mind, but should be ascribed to the senses from which they will ultimately arise. Nothing can, indeed, be more noble than the sense of seeing. It embraces a great portion of matter, presents a multitude of images, and by it we seem to touch the most remote as well as the nearest objects. 1I The propagation of light is so rapid as ah most to defeat computation ; but after light has reached us, sight has no dependence on its velocity. Images are then all equally near, however distant the objects they re- present ; and these images are always dis- tinct and free from confusion. -^iSeeing has another very great advantage over all the other senses, but that of tast- ing, by being more under the control of our will. We have the power of directing it in any manner we choose, or of suspend- ing its action entirely. SECTION lY.-^Hearing, Hearing must rank below feeling, tasting, and seeing. It is a sense which we could want ; although, without it, our nature and our conduct would be much more imper- fect. It is also naturally inferior in strength, as well as in importance, and utility, to feeling, tasting, and seeing. Its impres- sions are less forcible, and are of shorter duration than those of any of those sen- ses. The sensations arising from hearing are more of a passing and cursory nature, 18^ than those produced by any of our other senses, except smelling ; and the shortness of their duration renders repetition conti- nually necessary in order to produce a per- petuation of them. The extent of the ac- tion of sounds on the sense of hearing is not so comprehensive as that of light on the sense of seeing ; nor are sounds trans- mitted so rapidly as the images of sight ; although hearing and seeing resemble each other in this that we receive ideas through the medium of both without the conscious- ness of a sensible impression. That species of hearing which approaches nearest to perfection arises from only one sound at a time ; for if our hearing arise from many sounds, except in the harmony of music, they confound and destroy each other. But hearing, notwithstanding its natu- ral inferiority to the senses of feeling, tasting, and seeing, and with regard to brutes, has, by its incidental relation to the nature and circumstances of mankind, be- come, not onlythe most useful, but the most noble, and, in its effects, the most beautiful sense which we possess. By hear- 183 ing, thought, and matter are, in an abstracted and metaphysical manner, as closely con- nected as there is a possibility of their be- mg. Of it, men have formed two distinct species, the one adapted to the understand^ Wg, and the other to the passions, from neither of which, we are almost certain, do brutes derive either benefit or enjoyment. This sense has added more to tlie import- ance and improvement of human nature, and to the comfort and enjoyment of man- kind, than any other. To it, we owe all the advantages of education ; by which the ideas of man can be extended, and correct- ed, till he become so much another being as sometimes to appear almost to have di- vested himself of his original nature, and reached a state more than human. From the sense of hearing, must be deduced all tliose philosophical inquiries by which we are en-*' abled to discover the secret springs which move human nature, and those principles which most distantly direct matter, and which enable us to regulate both, and ap- ply them in the manner most capable of forwarding our happiness, and extending iu ur enjoyrnent. From it, also, is derived, all that extensive acquisition of pleasure furnished by works of fancy ; which ex- ercise the mind by fictitious misfortunes and difficulties, and delight it with imagin- ary gratifications, no less strong than those dei'ived from reality, and which have the additional advantage of being moulded to our will. It is to be thought that mankind, al- though they had never enjoyed the privi- lege of speech, might have derived the means of the cultivation of the understand- ing, and the power of gratifying the imagi- nation, from the experience afforded by the other senses. But how much assistance have both received from the faculty of speech, which corresponds with the sense of hearing ! The addition of speech to hearing is much more valuable than the original sense. Without an organ capable of speech,* we would be obliged to have recourse to the The peculiar form of the human tongue is, indeed, not the least bodily superiority which man holds over the rest of thQ animal creatjoii. 185 sense of seeing for the communication of ideas. But how far inferior to language would signs be ! to how much interruption and imperfection would they be liable ! and in how much inconvenience would they in- volve us ! The exercise of speech is liable to no other interruption than distance, or the intervention of dense bodies. Neither does it interfere with any of the other ac- tions of life, but has organs appropriated to its purposes. We do not, however, seem to have any right to claim speech as the produce of our own invention. It seems to be woven into the constitution of mankind, naturally necessary, and unavoidable, to human na- ture. There has yet been found no people in the world without a language, or names for objects and events, and the capability of communicating their ideas by speech. The invention of a language requires no effort from mankind. They naturally be- stow terms on things ; and the relations of objects regulate the combination of ideas, and become the principles and rules of syntax. Language is no farther arbitrary t M 186 than ill appellations. The construction of sentences is unalterably the same, and the forms of speech nearly similar, in all lan- guages ; and it is as natural for men to speak correctly as it is for ideas to arise from objects. Language is either prohibited to brutes, to preserve a distinction, and prevent an intimate intercourse, between them and men, or they are incapable of it. If the first be the case, it must have been intend- ed to deprive them of the means of ex- pressing those painful sensations which they suffer to supply the necessities, and gratify the cruelty and the amusements, of mankind. For, could they express their feelings in a distinct manner, it would be almost impossible for the most barbarous and cruel of mankind to remain unaffected, or to torment them in that degree which is too often practised. But that they are incapable of speech seems to be the true and original cause for their want of it. Tlie separation which this circumstance induces between them and mankind, is, perhaps, only a beneficial consequence of that im- 187 perfection ; as it appears that a person who is born dumb and deaf, and who wants the sense of hearing and the faculty of speech, still retains, in a certain degree, the power of educating himself, and of communicat- ing his ideas by means of his other senses, while beasts that can pronounce words have no idea of their meaning. Of the other purpose, however, to which men apply the sense of hearing and the perception of sound, music, we are not e- qually certain of inferior animals having no ideas, as of their having none of speech. But from the greater part of them discovering no marks of pleasure from that music which is calculated to produce delight and ecstasy in mankind, or from any music at all, it ap- pears that, in general, they have no con- ception of it. If, indeed, any individual species form an exception to this rule, their ideas of it must be as indistinct and weak as that degree of reason, by which they un- derstand the cry of alarm from their fel- lows ; by which a dog, from hearing his name, conceives that he is the object of at- tention ; or by which a horse, from the in- M2 188 fluence of the bridle, learns the will of his rider. That fondness which is apparent in most birds for singing, seems to contradict the idea of brutes being, in general, insen-. sible to music. But it is to be doubted whether even birds are so much delighted by their own music as we are, and whether it be not the performer exclusively that re- ceives pleasure from its own music, as no sign of attention is discovered by others. But the power of music on the human heart is wonderful, and the perfection to which mankind have brought it a remark- able proof of the comparative superiority of their abilities. The correspondence bcr tween notes and words, and between tunes and language, is amazingly correct, and imr pressive on the mind. The pleasure af- forded by music does not, however, like that of language, arise from the objects and ideas, which different sounds represent, but from its melody and variety. The ef- fect of nmsic is also much assisted by asso- ciation ; and by that principle is capable of exciting every passion of the mind. e4 (\^^^^^- 189 SECTIOISr V.^Smelling. The sense of smelling is the weakest of all our senses. One which we could easily do without, and which we owe solely to the bounty of the Almighty. It is a sense which produces neither much pleasure nor pain, and which is not violent in its effects either the one way or the other. But it is Surely, making all dtie allowance for the partiality with which we remark the idea of fain, and neglect that of pleasure, capa- ble of producing more pain than pleasure^ It is Certain that disagreeable smells are stronger than pleasing. The sense of smell- ing is never very strong but when it is dis- agreeable. No smell can, in reality, be a- greeable and at the same time strong. When the organ of smelling is but a very short time exercised, it loses the capability of sensation. The strongest agreeable smell becomes soon imperceptible. But disagree- able smells have more force, and continue longer to impress their effects upon us. The sense of smelling is but of little use to mankind, in enabling them to judge of MS 190 the qualities of objects, in directing them to agreeable, or warning them of disgust- ing, things. But, so far as it furnishes new ideas, it is the means of adding to our know- ledge, and extending our minds. It is a faculty which is much stronger in some brutes, especially in the pointer spe- cies of dogs, than in the human race, and is more necessary and useful to them. Some it enables to find their food, and others to avoid their enemies. But it is strongest in beasts of prey ; and when it enables any animal to avoid evil, it is always given for another purpose. That the mental superiority of man fre- quently compensates the deficiency of his corporeal quahfications, has often been re- marked. But in nothing is this more strik- ingly evinced than in his conduct with re- gard to tliis sense. The imperfections which he labours under in the sense of smelling, he supplies by the excellence of that sense in inferior animals. 191 SECTION W.'^The Sense of Beauty.* The perception of beauty is a sense pro- duced entirely by the abstract exercise of * Section 1. Beauty. As beauty forms a peculiar source of pleasure, it may be proper to ascertain those principles from which it is derived. The sense of beauty is entirely independent of the corporeal senses, is formed by the action of the mind alone, and is what is called an internal sense. Beauty is not a sensation but an idea* and must, from the weakness of their intellects, be nearly unknown to the brute part of the creation. The term beauty is used in a very y^gue sense, being extended not only to every object of vision, but also to sounds, and even to morality and sci- ence ; but when applied to the latter, it is certainly figurative. The appellation ought, undoubtedly, to be confined to objects of vision, and, even in that case, distinction is necessary. The sense of seeing, like other senses, is capable of furnishing different ideas, and, therefore, does not always please in the same manner. Sometimes a prospect is agreeable by its variety, such as a landscape, and certainly col- ours also please from their variety. To a land- scape, we cannot refuse the appellation of beauti- ful, because it pleases through the medium of the M4 192 the mind, which has no connexion with the body, and which is pecuUar to man- eye ; yet it appears to possess no peculiarity dif- ferent from the operation of the principle of va- riety in the other senses. Every object of sight, again, which gives plea- sure is not beautiful. Some objects of vision please from their deformity. The sight of an execution, or a shipwreck, may also give pleasure ; but still neither can be called beautiful. These latter ob- jects, together with those of Ttiagnitude, seem to belong to the class of sublime. Beauty, however, in the most restricted sense of the term, can, with difficulty, be reduced to one principle ; at least it is necessary, for the sake of distinctness, to divide it into different classes, al- though all these sometimes unite in one object. The species of beauty are three, viz. of form, colour, and action. Of these, that which belongs to form is the most complicated, and may be divided into proportion^ uniformity, and variety. It next remains to be inquired what are the principles which produce the several species of beauty. Proportion consists in a relation of parts^ and derives its beauty chiefly from the fitness of the structure to the end proposed ; uniformity, in a similitude of parts, and is agreeable by \t^ facili- ty of conception ; variety, in a difference of parts. 193 kind. It is what is called an internal sefise, and the passion which corresponds to it is and pleases by the exercise which it gives to the mind ; but if the term beautiful be extended be- yond variety in an individual object, it changes its meaning. Intricacy of form is also a species of beauty, deriving value from the difficulty of its conception, but evidently included in variety. Imi- tation may also be said to be a second hand beau- ty, and depends upon resemblance to the original. The beauty of a single colour arises from its viva- city, of several from the same cause added to va^ riety ; but, in most cases, beauty of colour is de* termined by association. Motion is not graceful by being rapid or slow, but by being in a medium between the two. The grand principle of beauty is association. Thus, with a ruddy complexion, we associate health; with a superb building, the power and wealth of the owner, design, and fitness for the end proposed. But the principle of beaUt)^- may, perhaps, admit of greater simplification, and it may still be asked, what is association ? Having found two objects frequently united, when one appears we expect the other. Association is, therefore, nothing more than the custom of observing the union of certain qualities. Hence it is remarked that different 194 admii'ation. Seeing, although beauty 1$ pe- culiar to that sense, is only the means of it. fbrmg and colours are admired in different species of things. Every species, it is observed, has its own particular form; the proportions which are valued in one are quite different from those which are esteemed in another. The most general form of an individual, again, becomes the standard of beauty to the species to which it belongs. The most beautifuL feature is a medium between all other features. AU approach it in resemblance ; and, although it differs from all, it is more like any one than they are to each other. Opposite spe- cies, it is said, do not assist us in judging of the beauty of each other. But it is as easy to fix a standard for those which are similar, as it is for the individuals of any particular species. Thus, although we can form no comparison between the beauty of animals and plants, yet we may compare one species of animals or plants with another, and ascertain the central species of either. The same principle extends to objects of use. The beauty of utility is, in the first place, un- doubtedly, produced by a comparison between the means and the end ; but custom must come in to consummate the rule laid down ; for even on a change of structure for the puq)Ose of rendering any thing more convenient, it is sometime before 195 It is, in reality, no more produced by see- ing than by any of the other senses. That we can reconcile ourselves to the new form. A- mong those things, the beauty of which consists in a relation of parts, the exact proportion is fixed by the medium of many. To those also, the beau- ty of which depends vi^onform or magnitude, the same rule appUes. In the structure of buildings and ships, in the disposition of gardens and fields, there is always an established form which is the standard to others. Furniture and di-ess are, a- gain, by that particular modification of association called fashion i continually vaiying ; but the pre- sent form always appears the most beautiful. In different countries, not only do all these vary, but even the conformation and complexion of human beings in the highest degree. But whatever is common in each, no doubt, appears most elegant and beautiful to the inliabitants. As the beauty of every object is ascertained by comparing many, the most beautiful object is the nearest to perfection of its kind, and, therefore, must be different from all others, and must possess singu- larity. Thus, it is always variety which produces pleasure, and beauty is but a particular species of novelty. At first view, it seems to be the re- verse, because a beautiful object is formed of a se- lection of common features, but that selection is a 196 thei^e is nothing intrinsically beautiful in objects, and that beauty is merely an idea, very extraordinary circumstance. Beauty is what is common and uncommon at the same timcy or it is general features combined in an individual. The variety of nature is immense, the variation of the forms of its objects innumerable. No two of them, in all their qualities and relations, caiii be found perfectly parallel. From that general re- semblance to others in which the beauty of one consists, all others are perpetually declining into remote degrees of beauty, into the most distant variety, into contortion and deformity. Still, however, the beauty of an individual is derived from the deformity of others, and depends upon that contrast which it forms with the infinite va- riety of degrees by which theiy approach, or recede from it in resemblance; But, as all contrast which is violent to A certain degree produces pleasure, beauty and deformity sometimes change relations, and the former gives a value to the latter. If deformity be at any time more extraordinary thdn beauty, the latter, in that case, becomes the basis of the value of the former ; and the principle of pleasure is exerted in a contrary manner. The idea of beauty arises from what is most consonant, and that of deformity from what i 197 arising from relation, are facts completely proved by the circumstance of a person most contrary, to common appearance. Both pro- duce pleasure in that degree in which they are ex- traordinary. As the marvellous and miraculous, which are always contrary to the uniformity of experience, rank with the greatest truths and most eminent discoveries, so any very extraordinary de- formity, or uncommonly irregular feature of na^ ture, becomes as gratifying, and capable of yielding as high enjoyment, as perfect and regular beauty. There arises as much pleasure from deformed as from beautiful objects, from ridiculous as sublime things, and from awkward as graceful actions, if they are deformed, ridiculous, or awkward, in an extraordinary degree. For, it is only when things are not deformed enough to raise wonder, or ac- tions ungraceful enough to move risibility, that they are harsh and disagreeable. Any wonderful variation of nature, or deformity, is pursued with as much eagerness as the most beautiful of its pro- ductions, and as they are both equally extraordi- nary, they both produce equal degrees of pleasure. Such deviations from the laws of nature are, how- ever, upon the reverse side of the principle of va- riety from beautiful objects. Instead of being combinations of common qualities in individuals, they are assemblages of uncommon. 198 having often changed his ideas of the beau- ty and deformity of certain objects, while they, in reahty, remained always the same. Thus, the different qualities of nature reflect a value upon each other. By passing from defor- mity to beauty, and from beauty to deformity, a transition of sensation is established, similar to that which takes place in the alternate changes of motion and rest, or of hunger and sa- tiety. Contrast operates in beauty and deformity as in other things. Each receives its influence from the other. Beauty and deformity are rela- tive, and, therefore, connected qualities ; and witJi- out the one, it is impossible for the other to exist 199 CHAP. V. T9ie Passions^ o;* the mamier of Pleasure. Although the passions originally arise from the senses, the senses are to be considered only as the medium of the passions. It is chiefly the situation of objects, and the re- lation of circumstances from which they are derived, and by which their importance is regulated. Passion is affection of mind, and but tlie the manner in which pleasure or pain is conveyed to us. The passions may be said to be formed more by the abstract operation of objects on self-love than by the immedi- ate effects of the senses. Most of them have no intimate connexion with any particular sense ;, and from the different relations from which they arise, the majority of them re- ceive their denominations. Their number is not regvdated by the senses, but they are as numerous as there are very different or extraordinary combinations of objects or circumstances ; and it is here proposed to mention but the most remarkable of them. S/00 To enlarge on the mixture of the affec- tions would be to describe cases rather than to delineate principles ; and is unnecessary, as those who can conceive them in their simple elements, can easily comprehend their various modes of operation when com- pounded. On this point, it may be suffi- cient to say, that the agreeable, as well as the disagreeable passions, associate most readily with those of their own species; and that when passions contradict each other, whether pleasmg or painful, the weaker always yields to the stronger. Most passions are, indeed, incompatible, only one existing at a time. Eut contrary passions generally destroy each other. Fear sometimes extinguishes anger, and anger sometimes overcomes fear. They may take possession of the mind alternately; but both cannot exist together ; unless the degree of each be moderate, and in that case a mixed affection may be the consequence. SECTION L^Love. Love, taking it in a general sense, is one of the two divisions of the passions. Love 201 and hatred are two of the strongest affeC^. lions of which the mind is capable, and, in fact, include all others. Love has no pecu- liarities arising from its own nature. The only varieties which it exhibits are the de^ grees and manner of it^ which are produced in an infinitude of ways by the different si- tuations and interests which occur in life* All the other passions which have any por- tion of pleasure in them are but branches or shades of it, diversified by circumstances ; and they are distinguished according to the different objects and relations by which they are created. The pleasure which objects promise is the strongest provocative which we can receive to action. They are, therefore, desirable, and capable of producing pleasure, in the same degree in which they are necessary and beneficial to our nature. The mutual sympathy of the sexe^ is, perhaps, the strongest degree of this passion which is occasioned by any relation of the interests of mankind ; and the multitude of circumstances in which it is diffused, and the different appearances which it assumes, a form one of the most delightful systems in the whale compass of human affairs. :r ' SECTION ll.-Hatred, TitE l^est illustration of hatred is love. Hatred is the second division of the pas- sions, and the very reverse of love. Like love, it has no peculiarities, arising from its own nature, and is varied only by the dif- ferent degrees of the disagreeableness of objects. Hatred, and all those secondary passions which arise from it, confer benefit, as well s those which produce pleasure. Both have their value from the necessities of our nature, although they influence, and serve, us very differently. The effect of those passions which produce pleasure is generally to promote our exertion, or to induce us to acquire some supply which our bodily conformation requires ; and of those which produce pain, to compel us to avoid those things which would hurt and injure us. Both are equally strong and equally useful. We are as forcibly compelled to seek ease from pain as to pursue pleasure. To rid ovu'selves of pain is not, as some have 20S tailed It, a negative pleasure, but oiily Iti expression and mere words. To be freed from paiuj is to acquire pleasure by the contrast between them. There is, indeed^ never any pleasure obtained, but by the destruction of a desire or want wliich has given pain. Hatred, frotn the highest to the lowest degree, is always occasioned by what is hurtful, and is great in proportion as the object is injurious, or unsuitable to our na- ture. We view with pleasure that which is perfect, fresh^ and wholesome, l*ut, with disgust and horror, that which is noxiouSj putrid, and corrupt. To this, however, there are some e^tcep- tions, which are sufficient to shew that all things are ordered for the best, and regu- lated in that manner which alone corres- ponds with perfection. Thus, however much we may abhore and avoid pernicious things with which we are unconnected, we are generally satisfied with that which be- longs to our own persons of whatever qua- lity it may be. Even some things which are hurtful to ourselves, and disagreeable N2 304 to others, when resulting from the peculi- arities of our own constitutions, are unat- tended with disagreeable ideas. ' SECTION III. /oi/. Joy is a passion which may be said to arise from love ; but which more properly be- longs to things in motion than at rest. It is a species of love adapted to the attain- ment of any thing agreeable, to the accom- plishment of any difficulty, to relief from pain, or escape from danger ; and it must be considered a mode of pleasure different from the enjoyment of what we already possess. The pleasure of joy is the greatest of all, because it arises directly from the original cause and principle of all pleasure, variety. Joy corresponds with success ; and is al- ways the result of something new and unex- pected. When any thing difficult is ac- complished, or when an agreeable event suddenly happens to us, the mind becomes, as it were, dilated and extended, our hope and expectation becomes more lively, our sensations more awake to pleasure, and 205 we feel a greater enthusiasm for action. The imagination then dwells entirely on those objects which are agreeable, and the mind, from the impulse which it has re- ceived, continues its exertion with a higher degree of vigour. When the mind is ac- customed to joy and gratification, it is bold and daring ; but when it is accustomed to misfortune, it is spiritless, hopeless, and fearful. Hence misery, as well as happi- ness, may become habitual. The duration of joy is short, because it is exquisite. It is always succeeded by a vacancy of mind which we are impatient to fill up by some new effort and acquisition. SECTION IV.^Grief. Grief is the counter passion of joy. The one arises from agreeable, and the other from disagreeable, events, r-the one from pleasure and the other from pain, the one from good and the other from evil. Grief seems to be a passion which is more hurtful than necessary to us, and which has not been intended as any appendage of our n^- N3 ^06 ture, but unavoidably to result from hatred or that which is disagreeable. When any misfortune happens to us, grief, like a dark cloud interrupting the rays of the sun, overspreads the mind, and gives to every thing a gloomy and horrid appearance. Grief deprives obj ects of their beauty, weakens hope and expectation, and retards, and diminishes, action. Grief lessens our confidence in our own abilities, suspends the anticipation of pleasure, and turns the mind entirely to the contempla-. tion of disagreeable objects, While the mind is under the influence of grief, it is deprived of the capability of pleasure, and of incentive to action. The creation then contains no attractions- Things which formerly gave delight, pass over it without impression. One misfortune deprives all objects of their beauty, and extinguishes every charm in nature. When a persou meets with an vmfortunate event, his ima- gination represents all those which futurity pontains as similar, and, upon any new mis- fortune, all former misfortunes rise up in the mmd. Nature then forms a group of 207 objects similar to those which compose the kingdom of Pluto ; and the mind believes, and dreads, in the same degree in which the objects of its fears are terrible. When the mind is habituated to grief, it becomes weak, timid, and irresolute, from the custom of experiencing misfortune, and expecting evil, and feels a languor and in- clination to inactivity. When we have once sunk under misfortune, the spirits rise only by the same progress in which they fell. Every succeeding action awakens feeling, and calls forth effort. If grief, therefore, be occasioned by the recollection only, and not by the continued endurance of misfor- tune, the perpetual obtrusion of pleasure upon the senses, and those new interests which the mind, by the change of objects, is compelled to form, will soon restore it to a healthful condition. In conquering grief, our own efforts assist the effiects of external objects. There is nothing which we are more anxious to escape from, which we are more willing to forget, or which the mind either recollects or dwells upon with more reluctance than N4 208 pain and misfortune. The great aim of the mind is happiness. Disagreeable ideas are admitted with reluctance ; no person will feel a misfortune if it be in his power to avoid doing so, and every one strives to escape from grief of whatever nature. The mind, indeed, when it is habituated to mis- fortune, searches for gloomy objects, but it always dwells upon them with pain, unwill- ingness, and a desire of bursting the chains which tie it down to them, SECTION Y.-^Anger. Anger is a passion so strong that when a person is angry, it is thought sufficiently precise to say he is in a passion. It arises directly from hatred and disagreeable ob- jects ; and is so purely original, and closely united to self-love, that any analysis of it is impossible. It is the vigilant protector of our rights, and the avenger of our inju- ries. It must, however, be distinguished from mere dislike. For, there are many things disagreeable in others, such as mis- fortune, disease, and incapacity, which pra- voke no resentment. Anger is a species of 209 hatred applied to conscious and active b^-. ings, and refers entirely to the intention to offend. It is impossible to conceive the idea of an injury without feeling anger and an in- clination to resent it. It is impossible to forgive an injury, so long as it appears an injury, until time has deprived it of its force, until it is worn out of the mind and is for- gotten. He, therefore, who does not feel anger does not feel injury. Those who are good-natured, or are not easily provoked, enjoy that happy disposition which is inca- pable of feeling the sting of any but un- common misfortunes or injuries, and, by it, anger is repelled with a blunted edge. Hence good nature depends upon the dul- ness of the disagreeable affections ; but in- sensibility to great offences is a weakness of no greater magnitude than irritability in trifles. Anger is not without enjoyment, but contains a mixture of pain and pleasure, in which pleasure predominates. It is remark- able that an injury towards ourselves should fee compensated by one towards another ^10 pei'son, and the loss of pleasure restored by the effects of retaliation. The motive of anger, and the purpose of revenge, is not merely to prevent a repetition of injury ; but we feel a gratification in the punish- ment of those who have offended us, and a satisfaction in the idea of having diminish- ed their happiness in the same degree in which they had lessened ours. For, even where there is no possibility of a repetition of injury, we seek revenge, and desire to in- flict punishment. SECTION Yl.^Fear. Fear is the passion of self-preservation ; and, although it is more passive and pro- duces less agitation than anger, it is one of the strongest affections of which human nature is susceptible. Sometimes it over- throws the mind,^,and amounts to madness. The advantage of fear is that it influences us to avoid evil, and those things which are injurious ; but it is, in its own nature, a passion entirely on the side of pain. Shal^e- speare calls it " a too-intensely thinking upon the event." When, indeed, the mind ^11 dwells too intensely upon any event, and separates, too distinctly, the fortunate from the unfortunate consequences, the transition from the good to the bad side is easy, and probability is lost between them. Fear is the most uncomfortable of our passions. In that disposition in which it predominates, all enjoyment is banished. It is a passion from which mankind suffer more than the inferior ranks of the crea- tion. They are, indeed, often alarmed by vain fears, but such alarms are soon for- gotten, and their minds are tranquil while their bodies are at ease. But the imagina- tion of man wanders into futurity, and he tortures himself with fears as vain as those of inferior animals, and much more nu^- merous. The stronger the mind is, the more a- cutely it can think, and the more intensely dwell upon any thing. The more attention it gives to misfortune, the more it suffers from it. A mind which is capable of little thought and little attention, soon allows it- self to fall away from any disagreeable ob- ject, and to sink into peace. There arc 12 some minds which have not strength enough to be unhappy, and which are too small for misfortune to take hold of. There is also a certain warmth of consti- tution which repels the dread of misfortune, and prevents it from interrupting enjoy- ment. This happiness of character, which is peculiar to youth and a sanguine dispo- sition, is occasioned by that glow of passion which exists between external objects and the internal feelings ; by which we are en- abled to fix our minds on the present to the exclusion of the future. There can be nothing more uncomfort- able and tormenting, or which is capable of rendering a person more miserable, than that disposition in which fear or anxiety is the predominant passion, and which indu- ces a person to analyze his enjoyments, and examine his prospects with too critical an exactness. Fear, and all other disagreeable passions, arise from an incapability of changing our ideas. It is wonderful with what an appearance of certainty melancholy impresses the dread of distant and impro- bable events upon the mind. A mclan- ^13 clioly disposition depends originally upon deficiency of animal spirits, or want of elas- ticity in the constitution to return the shock of impression, but is much increased by contemplation and reflection. Abstract principles and causes, as the bones are made on account of the external structure, are designed for the sake of common appear- ances. As beauty and pleasure float upon the surface of things, he who thinks too profoundly or too intensely is sure to miss them. Too intense a degree of thought is always accompanied by dreads, jealousies, and anxieties. If,^thereforg, he who is djs- (^cx^'tk trustful. with_regardto^^^t^^ intentions of.,. mankiiid,..-43iL..sce.ptial .and..dauk^^ fi;ilui:e^.-S.uccess,, cauld. obey instinct^- feel mfli:)e^.jand. tliink iess> he would perceiy e a- wonderful addition. tjaJiis . happiness. Man wants only the command of his own mind to be perfectly happy. If a person had the control of his passions as much as of his actions, he would allow nothing to interrupt his tranquillity. Hence we meet with many fine pieces of morality advising us not to feel pain ; which would certainly 214 be very wise if as practicable as desirable. Those high-sounding maxims, which incul- cate the doctrine that a wise man should be above being affected by good or evil, are, however, to be considered merely as moral quibbles or rhetorical flourishes which teach an apathy inconsistent with the nature of conscious beings. The mind is governed by principles not less fixed and determinate than those which govern matter ; and the same relation of cause and effect exists in the operations of the one, as in those of the other. With respect to good and evil, man is entirely passive in mind as well as in bo- dy. He must feel events according to his situation, the nature of his setises and pas- sions, and the qualities of objects.* When we sustain any irreparable injury, or receive an affront, our minds dwell upon it with the most intense thought. However vain it may be to continue to think upon that * On the subject of liberty and necessity, all that can be said in favour of necessity, is, that the mind is governed as regularly by its own principles as matter is governed by those ivhich belong to it ; and all that is to be said in favour of li- berty, is, that the principles of the former are different from those of the latter. 215 which is disagreeable, or however desira- ble it would be to forget that which we can- not amend, it is impossible, by any effort of will, to dismiss painful ideas. But if man had the entire command of his own mind, or the power of changing his ideas at pleasure, he would be too inde- pendent of this world to take any interest in its concerns. Such, therefore, is the perfection of its construction, that we can- not improve a part but at the expense of the whole. SECTION VII.^P%. tiTY is a passion very nearly connected with fear. Those misfortunes which ap- proach our own nature and condition, most readily command our sympathy ; and those persons who suffer what we ourselves dread and fear, most naturally exact our pity, be- cause we can most easily conceive their cir- cumstances. The unfortunate associate with the un- fortunate, and condole with each other; but the happy hear tales of distress with impatience, and are unwilling to have their 216 enjoyments interrupted by them. Those who suffer evils which we do not dread, which we think ourselves secure from, and which we have never experienced, we sel- dom pity. A person of a disposition insen- sible to fear or pain, or who is accustomed to happiness, is very rarely capable of sym- pathizing with the distresses of others. Those only who know and have experienced misfortune can conceive pity, and feel the power of sympathy.* Pity is a passion from which a very gresit degree of pleasure can be derived. To feel the misfortunes of others in a degree near- ly equal to what they themselves feel, and to have it in our power to alleviate their sufferings, either by sympathizing with or actually removing them, is, in effect, to ex- perience the same joy which they feel on * As both the virtues and the vices may arise from the same cause, it is often difficult to discover the particular prin- ciple on which individuals act. Thus both cruelty and hu- manity may originate from fear* It is natural for the most timid to be most malicious, because they have suffered most ; and it is also natural for the most timid to be most humane, because they have the greatest chance to stand in need of hu*> manity. being relieved, without the reality of their distress, or at any time tlie prospect of its continuance. When our pity is excited, we associate with it the idea, or at least the wish, of the removal of the evil, which affords a self-approbation productive of the high- est pleasure. Hence pity is a passion which, in every case, proceeds more- from inclina- tion than compulsive duty. SECTION VllL-^Envy. Envy is the reverse passion of pity. We pity the unfortunate, and envy the success- ful. Envy and pity resemble each other in the reverse, as black and white have a corresponding equality. As the condition of those whom we pity must approach our own to admit the capability of sympathy, so there must be some equaUty between us and those whom we envy to admit the idea of rivalship. Those who are situated far above, create as little envy as those who are far beloVv, us. Both extremes have the same effect, and are equally indifferent. That which is far removed from our situa- tion on either side, we are not in the habit t o 218 of being interested about, and have no i- deas concerning. It is only when interests are the same and situations different, or a- mong those whose circumstances were ori- ginally equal, but which afterwards became comparatively unequal, that envy exists. Envy is a species of hatred for an undue preference, like that which arises from an undue punishment. It is sometimes a fine sensibility of mind, occasioned by acute re- flection, and intense thinking, on the merits and successes of others, in comparison with our own. Envy and emulation are often nearly allied. In some circumstances, it would perhaps be unnatural and an imper- fection to be without the former. Where the pursuits of two persons are similar and their success different, envy is a necessary consequence. It is, indeed, impossible for persons of keen feelings not to suffer this passion when circumstances afford a com- parative inequality of merit and good for- tune. There are, however, different species of envy. Some gross and vulgar ; which arise from the expectation of the most immedi- 519 ate good to ourselves, without the deduc- tion of recompense, or the exchange of mu- tual benefit. Such envy results from that littleness of mind which is incapable of conceiving the relation of moral duties, and the dependance of individuals in society, or which induces men to judge of every action by the standard of self-advantage. Those, therefore, who allow sucli unreason- able and unbecoming passions to occupy their minds, are truly despicable. But if the world would consider rightly of the matter, they would, perhaps, find nothing unreasonable in the conduct of even the most contemptible of the envious. Envious persons are, for the most part, as unfortunate as criminal. Their conduct to the world, as well as the conduct of the world to them, arises from the want of those qualities which both value. Of all passions, envy is the most unhappy. The envious have not even the common privilege of tlic unfortunate a claim to our pity. All the world hate and despise them ; and is it to be expected that they will repay hatred and contempt with love and admiration ! Of> 520 SECTION IX. ra;z%. Vanity arises from the superiority which we suppose ourselves to possess over others. It is a mental or abstract sensation, and a peculiarity of the human race ; or if infe- rior animals possess any capability of it, it must be in a degree as much inferior to that of mankind as their minds are to the minds of men. > Vanity is universal, in the same manner as other passions ; but, like them, it predomi- nates in a greater degree in some minds than in others. Flattery has been called the passport to the human heart ; and every person possessed of candour must confess its power of pleasing. To receive flattery, even when we know that the commenda- tions which are bestowed upon us are false, is agreeable ; because it shews a desire to please us, and an attempt to gain our friend- ship, which are of themselves very powerful recommendations. We are even vain of the reputation of virtues which do not be- long to us, and imagine that those who flatter us are deceived though we are not 221 deceived ourselves. Besides, the very sup- position of the possession of those things which we value has a pleasant effect on the mind. Flattery, like poetry, is not the less agreeable because fictitious. Vanity must, however, be distinguished from the desire of approbation ; and com- mendation, or an acknowledgment of merit, from flattery. An acknowledgment of the abilities, useful or agreeable qualities, which we possess, is but praise. He is, therefore, a hypocrite who denies that he receives pleasure from it, and a fool who calls it flattery. Those who are deficient in acute- ness, and incapable of distinction, often confound one quality with another, and ge- nerally take every virtue for its neighbovir- ing vice. Economy they call parsimony ; prudence, cowardice ; and the acknowledg- ment of the pleasure which arises from just commendation, vanity. But a person who can accurately separate the virtues from the vices, will disregard prejudice, and ad- here to what his reason teaches him is just and right in defiance of the opinion of the shallow and narrow minded. There 03 222 aie certainly occasions on which a man must vindicate himself by mentioning his services or good qualities, and on which self-praise becomes even a duty. Of this Socrates's defence furnishes a great exam- ple. It must, indeed, always be very diffi- cult, for men to speak with justice concern- ing themselves ; but have they not the greater credit who accomplish so arduous an undertaking ? Vanity is, however, a ridiculous passion, which we are often betrayed into while we do not imagine it. No person, therefore, can be too careful not to transgress the bounds of modesty. Vanity is a species of false merit by which a person loses as much reputation as he acquires by real. Hence, we should be assured, from indisputable evi- dence, of our own merit before we are dog- matical concerning it. To those, indeed, who suspect their own firmness, as there is a greater probability of ridicule following misconduct, than praise merit, it is always more prudent to risk the loss of applause by silence than to incur the danger of con- tempt by judicious egotism. 22^ SECTION X.'-Modesty. Modesty is certainly very nearly connected with timidity. Both depend upon acute thinking, or that excess of sensibility by which we receive too strong an impression of the objects on which the mind is em- ployed. But, like fear, the capability of feeling uneasiness from whatever is im- proper or ridiculous, can certainly be con- quered by custom. Modesty is sometimes, like its contrary quality insensibility, guilty of excess. The sensations of modesty arise probably as often from imagination as reality. But this shews its independence of the senses, its peculiarity to human nature, and that it is a passion proceeding from the vigour of the mind alone. Modesty may be called a sense, with an equal degree of propriety as a passion, shame being still a passion re- su.lting from it. But between those pas- sions and senses which are mental or inter- nal, there is very little difference. The sense of modesty, and the passion of shame are, therefore, scarcely to be distinguished. 04 24 Modesty and shame are passions capable of furnishing very httlfe pleasure. The sen- sations which they produce are almost en- tirely composed of pain. If any degree of pleasure arise from them, it proceeds, per- haps, from the self-approbation of self-con- demnation. A dehcate dread of disappro- bation, of contempt, or of becoming the object of laughter, is one of the acutest feelings of which the mind, without the as- sistance of the senses, is capable. Shame is, indeed, one of the strongest pains which a reasonable being can suffer. Modesty is one of the most favourable indications of character, with regard to both understanding and moral qualities. But we must beware of being imposed upon by the assumed appearance of modesty ; for it is a quality too valuable not to give tempt- ation to forgery and imposition. Modesty is certainly a moral quahty a- lone. The discoveries wliich it makes with regard to the understanding proceed from the acuteness of moral sensibihty being al- ways in proportion to the extent of mental comprehension. 2^5 AH moral ideas of right and wrong av/z abstract perceptions. Men only are capa- ble of virtue. Brutes are not. They act merely from the immediate impulse of their senses, without regard to the rights or claims of each other. But men are capa- ble of a more abstract and extensive system of action, and of being governed by the most distant relation which things bear to each other. That celebrated rule of our religion, " do as you would be done by," is the perfect and complete theory of social duty; and in proportion always as the mind is extended, it is capable and sensible of morality. SECTION XL Admiration. The astonishment which arises from any new or extraordinary event is common to brutes as well as to men. But the percep- tion of beauty is entirely a mental sensation, of which inferior animals do not seem ca- pable. Astonishment proceeds merely from the effect which the object is expected to have on the mind. But the sensation of 226 beauty is generated by thinking, and is the offspring of intellect entirely. The plea- sure resulting from beauty rises immedi- ately from reflection, without the assistance of any of the external senses, farther than that connexion which perception, without any particular sensation or idea attached, forms between the mind and its objects. That which is soft to the touch, gratify- ing to the taste, soothing to the ear, or a- greeable to the smell, is not beautiful, but only possesses qualities which have a plea- sant effect on the sense which corresponds with it. While such might properly be distinguished by the term agreeable, that of admirable might very aptly be exclusive- ly appropriated to beauty, as it implies some effort of the mind. Although the eye is the organ of sight, and necessary to the perception of beauty, yet it is unable, without the assistance of reasoning, to produce any such idea. Beauty is, therefore, independent of that organ. The idea of beauty is not an effect arising from the sense of seeing, but from the operation of the powers of the mind-iu 227 the selection and comparison of features and forms. SECTION XII. i^ope. Hope is purely mental, and attached to human nature, as it proceeds from the ab- stract action of the mind, of which inferior animals are incapable. Any similar sensa- tion which they possess may be distinguish- ed by the name of expectation, as it arises from the most immediate perception of the situation of objects. Hope appears to be the purest, and is perhaps the only, enjoyment which we ex- perience. It is, in fact, a passion as inca- pable of pain as love is. Hope is raised equally by good and bad fortvme. The greater our success is, the more favourably we hope ; the greater evils we endure, the more we have recourse to hope for their support. When deprived of hope, our existence becomes insupport- able. 22S SECTION XIll.DisappomfmenL The sensation arising from disappointment is a si^ecies of astonishment, or that kind of admiration which is common to all ani- mals. The theory of disappointment is change. The reversal of interests is always occasion- ed by the fluctuation of objects. We draw our ideas from what is before us, and form futurity according to the present, to which it may, perhaps, have no resemblance ; or when we are absent from things, we repre- sent them as we left them, and expect to find them in the same situation at our re- turn, regardless of change. Our expecta- tions are, therefore, disappointed according- ly as they are ill-judged, vain, or foolish. But if we miss pleasures with which we flatter ourselves, we are, from the same cause, recompensed with others which we never had in view. Good as well as evil may come unexpectedly. Every one who is sensible of the fluctu- ating state of things, and the irregularity of the motion of nature, should be prepared^ 229 for disappointment. No wise man will, in- deed, allow himself to be surprised by it. But the chief evil, in this case, is, that, while things lose their value after acquisition, they receive an addition to it from disappoint- ment of obtaining them. SECTION ^lY. ^Despair. Despair, at first view, seems only a deeper shade of disappointment. But there is this difference between them, that, while disap- pointment proceeds merely from the ab- sence of expected good, despair arises from the pressure of positive and continued evil. There is no passion so dreadful as des- pair. For, as we are enabled to bear all evils only by the hopes which futurity af- fords, how terrible must those misfortunes be wliich totally exchide hope, and furnish only the prospect of unremitted misery ! Despair is the summit of calamity, and the utmost bounds of misfortune ; a passion which continues evil without the contrast of good, and exists only by varying the agonies of the mind. Yet there is no pas- sion from which we suffer so Uttle as des- 230 pair, because it is rare in the same degree in which it is terrible. There are few so miserable as to be deprived of all comfort, whose circuinstances totally exclude hope, or whose misfortunes are so great as to ad- mit of no alleviation. SECTION XV. -Laughter'. Laughter is one of the most extraordinary of passions. It is confined to the human race, is generated entirely by the mind, and produced singularly in the body. There is no apparent peculiar necessity for it to human nature. It seems, indeed, a gift of generosity from the Almighty. The object of laughter is incongruity of ideas, or in- consistency of actions or things. But the former produces this passion only by re- presenting, or referring to, the latter. Laughter is also a passion which repre- sents joy, and which it has the power of expressing as well as the effects of wit and humour. The means which brutes have of expressing satisfaction are by the eyes, leaping, or the movement of the tail. But the chief expression of joy in mankind, in- 231 dependent of speech, is by laughter, or that lesser species of it, smiling. . The power of denoting joy, or a state of pleasure and satisfaction, is, however, the least important purpose of the faculty of laughter. It is chiefly useful for expres- sing those sensations which arise from wit, humour, inconsistency, and absurdity. Laughter, by some, has been thought to to have an affinity to vanity. Laughter, it is true, is sometimes occasioned by what is ridiculous in ourselves, as well as in others ; but in that case, it must be in something upon which we do not value ourselves. Laughter, indeed, generally denotes tri- umph and exultation ; and may, in every case, be reduced to an expression of con- tempt. Laughter has not the smallest appearance of arising immediately from any external sense. Sensible objects obtrude their effects upon us, without the concurrence, assist- ance, or even knowledge of the mind, until they are felt by it. They always command attention, and produce the same effects on the same senses. But if our inclination js ^S2 he unsuitable to the perception of an ob- ject of laughter, it is beyond the power of any of the senses to communicate an idea of it to the mind. Laughter is a passion arising from a sense more purely mental than even that from which the idea of beau- ty arises. It has no dependence upon any particular corporeal sense, and has not al- ways an immediate connexion with exter- nal objects, but is often produced abstract- ly by the action of the mind, or the opera- tion of one mental faculty upon another. A person deprived of every sense, suppos- ing sudi a thing possible, would, if the means of commvmicating ideas to him, and of expressing the passion in the body only remained, still be capable of la\ighter. Laughter is a passion which yields no- thing but the purest pleasure, and which is incapable of producing pain. The pleasure which arises from laughter is the highest species of joy, as it proceeds from the great- est and most refined degree of novelty. SECTION XVLSecondary Passions, Ambition, jealousy, avarice, parsimony, re-^ veiige, cruelty, benevolence, &c. are but Secondary principles and the shades of the primitive passions. Their predominancy in some minds more than in others is occasion- ed by peculiarity of constitution, habit, edu- cation) or accident* PART II. -:>'i u>^ lu /io.( I CHAP. L ; M I f ; f * ^^*^^^ iTariefrf, or the Theory of Pleasure, As: man draws all his ideas from nature, and has all his interests and concerns in it, such connexion and dependence render it absolutely necessary that the mind should, in its operations, be consistent with nature, and keep a continual instabihty, like its other objects. All nature preserves an unremitted mo- tion and activity. Hence it happens, as a useful stimulus to the industry of man, that his inclinations suffer continual varia- tion ; that he always wants, always desires ; never is satisfied, fixed, or contented. This disposition is sometimes taken for a proof of our superiority to nature ; but it results merely from our circumstances, and that conformity to external objects which is re- quired of us. The necessity of it to influ- ence action is evident from a view of the contradiction and dissimilarity which a con- trary disposition would have to the system of things. P3 238 Objects are continually changing their situation, and varying the scenery of nature. The mind of man draws all its ideas from material objects, and while they are in a state of motion it cannot remain at rest. His thoughts involuntarily accompany na- ture in all its variations ; and his ideas are subjected to the same changes which it continually undergoes. When new objects present themselves, new ideas arise from them.* The body of man requires consist- ency with the state of things ; and his mind must accommodate itself to the situation of his body. The ideas and pursuits of man are as fluctuating as the objects of nature. All our ideas arise from our present interests and views. From a change of situation, arise new interests ; from new interests, new ideas ; and almost every attainment which the mind makes is balanced by the loss of some former acqviisition. The capacity of the mind of man is limit- ed, and his powers of retention have cii'~ * As the mind receives all its ideas from material objects, it can no more enjoy perfect liberty than an effect can hfi pro- duced -without a cause. cumscribed boundaries in their perfection.] x While recent events are bright in the mind, present are scarcely visible; and when we look forward, past things are effaced by futurity. But still as we advance in the progress of life, the imagination increases its acquisition of images, and the judgment enlarges its theatre of speculation and re- flection. ;.:y.^ ^iyji; ;f>The mind is kept in continual action by the motion of nature, and the incessant clianges of the forms and appearances of its objects. It is solicited by the beauty of some^ and repelled by the deformity of others, is pressed on every side, entangled - in successive difficulties, kept in a continual state of e5i.ertion and warfare by obstacles to its views, and in perpetual suspense from the latent events whicji the changes of na- . ture may unfold, As these events operate upon the passions, it experiences alternate^ ly hope and fear, joy and grj^f^ eleyation and depression. ' , : -.. The balance between all nature is just. That every creatvire may be kept in a con- tinual state of exertion, and that its exer-. X^ 4 ^40 ' Mons may be sufficient for its exigencies, the necessities of the whole order of the animal creation are proportioned to their abilities, and their abilities to their neces- sities. All are properly situated. Each species is formed for the element it inhabits, and for the particular kind of food its cir- cumstances afford. Some animals derive their security from their magnitude, and others from their diminutiveness ; some live Jong, and produce slowly ; others are short lived, but possess an extraordinary fecun- dity. Of the larger kinds, there are always few I and of the smaller, many^ The pro- pagation of the whole presses upon the Sup^ ply of food, and the want of food limits their increase. The intellectual capacity of man is kept in check by similar means. The activity of the human mind furnishes new wants as often as former are extinguished, and the supply, again, is regulated by the demand or market. Thus, all nature is a combination of op-, posing springs which receive elasticity from mutual compression. The mind and the objects of nature incessantly affect each ^41 other, and a state of action is the perfection of both. A person is miserable while un- employed, and never more happy than when agreeably engaged. Every difference of ideas arises from the difference of things ; and every variation of affection of mind depends upon the change of its ideas. The distinguishing quality of the mind is consciousness ; and all pleasure and pain may be resolved into variation of thought. We are certain that pleasure and pain depend upon interest or affection of, mind, that they are mental qualities, and that nothing similar exists in matter. The body is incapable of feeling either, and i$ merely thcf conductor of both to the mind. The extent of our pleasure or pain does not^ depend upon the size of our bodies. Plea- sure, or pain, is but an affection ; and every difference of affection depends upon its change. All pleasure and pain consist ii) the quickness of the succession of ideas. An elephant, from the superior size of his body, has no more enjoyment, nor is cap- able of more pain, than a mouse ; and kings derive no higher gratification from the con- 242 quering of kingdoms than otlier men do from ordinary acquisitions. That the senses are the means of plea- sure must be allowed. Eut it will by no means follow that the sensations arising from them are independent of the mind. It is the mind only which thinks, and feels ; and even the mind cannot feel unless vari- ously affected. It can with difficulty be con- ceived, and is, therefore, barely possible, that one sense alone, even with the assistance of the mind, could produce any degree of plea- sure. It is inconceivable, and therefore ira^ possible, that the unvaried action of one sense, or a continuance of the same degree of sensation could produce either pleasure or pain. Hence it is necessary to both, that the mind perceive objects by different means, through different senses, in different relations, and that it pass from one quality of thom to another. . Both sensation and abstract ideas are thoughts of the mind, arising from things ; the former from the immediate contact of our senses with their objects, the latter from the recollection of that impression, AU ab- 64S ^ract affection of mind is, indeed, only the representation or copy of actual sensation. But as abstract ideas are as much thoughts of the mind as the closest sensations, and as the most intimate sensation is merely thought of the mind in common with ab- stract affection, the importance of both, with regard to the intellect, is originally equal, and becomes different only by the casual variation of experience. < Brutes form few ideas but from sensation, and their sensations are certainly superior to any abstract idea which they can form. But it is not so with regard to man. The vigour of his mind is such, that, having once received ideas, through the medium of sensation, he can, with the utmost pre- cision, combine and distinguish their rela- tions, and foresee and preconceive their effects to the greatest extent. Among man- kind, animal passions soon give place to ar- tificial. There is no person who is nqt more governed by ideal considerations than by sensible impressions, or by his hopes and fpars than by his present feelings. As, thereforcj the importance of every thing 244 consists in the degree in which it influences the mind, or the vigour of thought which it engages, every object is to be estimated, not by its distance or proximity, but as it affords* a variation of sensation or change of ideas, ; The effect of every quality of matter on the mind depends merely on the relation which it bears to another. All qualities which are important are relative or compa- rative, and all distinctions arise from dif- ference. The mind is affected only by what is new ; and, therefore, has a natural tend* ency to change its ideas. No quality can retain its attention but for a moment, and it is perpetually changing from one to an-*- other. Hence anticipation, for the most part, exceeds reality. Whether we are in- duced to hope or to fear, to expect favour- ably or unfavourably, we are generally mis- taken with regard to the degree of actual good or evil. Pleasures which are expect* ed, and pains which are dreaded, are gene- rally superior in idea to what they are in reality.^ * We can have no hesitation in believing that a condemned criminal snflTci-s more frotn the idqa of death than during his execution. '245 The effect of A succeeding seAsatioti, 6f idea, depends solely on the contrast which it forms with a preceding. The import- ance of every change of objects or circum- stances, arises from the sensations which they create, or the ideas which they furnish, different from fol'nier. Pleasure and pain are relative qualities ; and the degree of the one is merely the result of the other. Every distinction is made by comparison, and by the efforts of the mind. It is by comparing effects that we become sensible of any effect at all. In the difference, there- fore, between effects, or in contrast, of which variety is but a continuance, consists the essence of both pleasure and pain. The a-^ greeableness or disagreeableness of all bodi- ly sensation^ or mental affection, depends upon its moderation or excess ; which de- pends solely on the comparative differences "of experience. Novelty is necessary to all sensation ; and the existence of pain, as well as that of pleasure, requires change^ Every affection of the mind is a change of its ideas, arising from an alteration of ex- ternal objects ; every variation of things af- # 246 fects the mind as the succeeding are con- trary to the preceding ; and from the Hmited nature of the human understanding, and the imperfection of the circumstances of mankind, arises the perpetual fluctuation of ideas and things. f It is want which creates desire, and igno- rance which stamps the value of novelty. These are the causes which prompt the mind to pursue, and inspire endeavour to obtain, every thing which we do not possess ; which induce us to admire things beyond our power, and to examine and fear what i^ unknown. Whatever we possess we cannot desire. However important or great any thing may have been while it was beyond the reach of our power, as soon as we obtain it, it loses its importance, and we our desire for it. As soon as any thing is fully possessed, there remains nothing in it to be desired. As soon as the quahties of any thing are enjoyed and known, its greatness and im- portance are at an end ; our desires leave it) because it then contains nothing desir- able ; and we fix our affections, wishes, and 247 desires, upon something yet unknown and yet unenjoyed. Mij, > r.i r uf Every event and circumstatice of the lif matter only by impulse. 4 Matter, therefore, as all our researches prove, is of a homogeneous nature, possess- ing only one quality extension, of which all others are to be considered merely as mo- difications. Hence, we are led to conclude, that all the differences of things are nothing more than original impulses preserving their nature, in the same manner as the heavenly bodies move round the sun, because there is nothing to interrupt their course. Again, any general fact, or ti^ain of events following each other in constant succession, and of this kind is to be considered the propaga- tion of both animals and vegetables, is called a principle. But it is evident that principles are nothing more than names, as they neither add to, nor subtract from^ matter. After the division of matter has taken place, and the beautiful classifications and gradations of nature are accomplished, an- other quality remains to be added, and that is motion. Without this, all would be dead and lifeless. But, if a power of acting one upon another, each over all, and all over each, be given to things, a communication and intercourse will take place between them, and motion be imparted to the whole. AVhere there is a universal subjec- tion, if a motion be communicated to one thing, it must circulate through all. What acts must, in its turn, suffer, till mutual compensation be established. The original principles, with which mat- ter is endowed, are continually struggling for ascendancy over each other, .and are continually gaining or losing it. The attack and resistance are mutual, and the superiority and subjection alternate. The whole creation is governed and ba- lanced by the contrary forces of bodies, which, continually dissolving and creat- ing new forms, preserve perpetual mo- tion. The struggle for predominancy sti- mulates the qualities of matter to act a- gainst each other, diffuses animation through the whole creation, and preserves in it an equipoise, and mediocrity. Matter is in continual motion, and the objects of it always in a state of progres- sion, either towards perfection or decay. When the inherent qualities of one body have yielded to the unremitted attacks oi others, though it appears to be destroyed, it is, in reaUty, only newly modified. Those bodies, again, by which it has been over- come are themselves, in their turn, obliged to submit to others which have continued to act upon them. From the earth, plants arise ; which are devoured by animals ; which, again, soon perish from age or acci- dent. From decayed animal substances, plants are again produced, to be destroyed by other animals, or by the attacks of the elements, which are themselves in conti- nual fluctuation. The sun, in a uniform process, raises vapours, which interrupt hia rays, condense, and fall by their own weight. The operation is again renewed* and again becomes necessary to vegetation. All the principles of nature carry on war against each other. Every thing, both ani- mate and inanimate, governs, and is go- verned, by force and necessity. The mo- ;rality of nature seems to be cruel, and to teach destruction. The majority of ani- mals prey upon each other. Almost all iiave victims, as well as enemies. None are so powerful as to be protected against every species of tyranny from others, or to be altogether exempted from evil ; and none are so weak as not to have others, in some manner, subject to them, as to be without the means of offence and protec- tion against the most powerful, or entirely destitute of comfort. The rise and decay of empires, the revolutions of morality and religion, and the instability of domestic comfort, all proceed from the general and unavoidable motion of things. No part of the creation ever lies dor- mant. The whole, as each principle gains the ascendancy, is constantly changing, and kept in motion. By the operation of the principles with which it is endowed, matter continually undergoes dissohition and re-union, and is formed into objects, which, by changing their manner of opera- tion on the senses, appear to us new. But whatever transformation matter may sufter, it is impossible to conceive the idea of the smallest particle of it being annihilated. To prevent, however, the destruction of any of the active principles of matter, as 8 they are nothing more than impulses ori- ginally communicated to it by the Al- mighty, it is necessary that they should be equal to each other ; and for the sake of motion and diversity, it is necessary they should be unequal. Principles are so dis- posed that, though their power is gene- rally equal, a disproportionate distribution of that power renders principles and bodies partially and locally unequal, superior and inferior. The principle which is strongest in one place is weakest in another, and that which governs here submits there. If a portion of one principle or element be sub- ject and inferior in one place, it will have the superiority in another. Where there is a quantity of land and a quantity of wa- ter, equal to each other in whole, divided into smaller quantities, unequal in respect to those of their own nature and to those which are different, it will produce a par- tial and particular superiority and inferiori- ty of land to land, of water to water ; of land to water, and of water to land. Thus, from similar individual disproportions, and scattered dispositions of parts, the same principles of nature are incessantly produ- 9 cing new combinations, and events unlike those preceding. i. From the unequal distribution of parts, arise continual excesses. But the general balance prevents any thing very bad from existing long ; as it would, if it possessed universal superiority, destroy all other things, and assume perfection to itself. Parts may change, but principles cannot. We can never, from the nature of things, expect to see such wonderful events as the extinction of the sun, the evaporation of the sea, or the entire extirpation of the ani- mal race. One of a species may be de- stroyed, but the species will remain entire; or an individual plant may perish, but ve- getation will continue u^nimpaired. " One generation cometh and another goeth, but the earth abide th for ever." Where we perceive any extraordinary appearance in nature, we expect that it will be balanced by a contrary. But should any principle once be extinguished, it could never be again restored unless by the original work- man who fabricated the machine. For, as an active principle is merely an impvdse given to matter, when it is interrupted, it is annihilated. If the motion of the earth, or of any of the other planets, were put a stop to, it would remain in a state of rest for ever ; or if the whole of any species of animals were destroyed, there would be an end to the propagation of the race ; unless the Almighty chose to repeat the creation, and renew the impulse. Hence, it appears, that a general perfec- tion, and an individual imperfection, exist in nature ; that, as the principle which is strongest in one place is weakest in another, a continual superiority and inferiority of action reign through the whole ; and that the machine, from the equal balance of its principles, and unequal distribution of theiy parts, will continue to move of itself till that Being who formed it choose to put a stop to its motion. Nothing happens by chance, because every thing has a cause. Causes, again, are linked together in the same chain. But where we do not see the cause which pro- duces any event, we are apt to conclude that there is none. It is impossible to il trace all the events which we experience to the original causes from which they arise ; because the disproportioned parts of prin- ciples, and heterogeneous qualities, are mingled together, in so inexplicable a con- texture of contending forces, which add to, and diminish, the power of each other, ac- cording to their respective connexions and relations, that, from an incomprehensible combination of causes, is produced an un- accountable diversity of effects. Whatever fortune, therefore, befal a person, whether good or bad, he has very little merit or dis- grace in bringing it about, or choice in pro- curing or avoiding it ; but is, in a great measure, carried along without knowing liow or whither. Perfection is inconsistent with division and action. Where division and action are, there must be less than infinity. Per- fection, accompanied with motion and di- vision, is, therefore, impossible, in like man- ner as a part cannot equal the whole. Whatever is opposed, circumscribed, or, in any degree, lessened, is not infinite ; and whatever is not infinite is not perfect. Z What acts must be superior to what suffers; and hence arises disproportion. From the necessity of motion, arises the necessity of imperfection and evil. If one thing had no power over another, the con- sequence would be universal inaction. But, as one thing is subjected to another for the sake of action, there cannot be an equality between them ; and where there is an in- equality between things, the one must be imperfect with respect to the other. From division, and action, arises comparison ; and from comparison, arise the ideas of svi- periority and inferiority, greatness and smallness, goodness and badness. The division of things also occasions im- mense vacuities in the system of naturq. Between every two links in the chain of any order of beings, there is room for an infinite series. There is no being so small that there may not be a gradation of beings less, nor so great that there may not be an order greater. Existence is, therefore, merely a point bounded by the immense ocean of vacuity. IS' One thing is superior or inferior, great or small, good or bad, only with respect to another. The partial imperfection of things is merely a consequence of their relations. But if nothing be perfect, nothing is alto- gether without importance. There is no thing, however small, but which, if it have not power to subdue the effects of other things, must resist, and subtract power from them, in a degree equal to its own power of resistance. If perfection cannot be without infinity, existence cannot be without power. Without partial evil, there would be ge- neral. If evil were not, or if the evil aris- ing from motion were not, the system of things would be more distant from per- fection than it is. Without evil, there would be but one thing, or one uniform state of existence. For evil, we are recom- pensed with action, and diversity of action. Motion and action are repugnant to ma- terial perfection, and it is contrary to the infinity of matter that it has been divided, or that one body can affect another. But all the mechanical powers depend upon 14 imperfection, or the action of one thing upon another. Upon the inequahty between parts and powers, arising from division, depend the degrees of good and evil, all comparative difference of qualities, and that variety which is so valuable to thinking beings. Without imperfection, the mind would be without action, and its expanse contracted in a manner inconsistent with the nature of reasonable creatures ; for, all the spe- culations of the understanding, and all the interests of mankind, arise from the differ- ent combinations of principles and rela- tions of objects. From the disproportion between parts, arises variety ; and from variety, discrimination ; in which consists all intellectual employment as well as plea- sure. Without difference in objects, it is difficult to conceive how the mind could think at all, and impossible to conceive how it could enjoy a change and succession of ideas. All secondary qualities of mat- ter,* all degrees of primary, and all moral 'qualities, are comparative. From down, we * lExtenHon is certainly not a secondary or relative quality. 15 form the idea of up ; from hard, the idea of spft ; without darkness, we could have no idea of Hght; without vice, we could have no idea of virtue ; without deformity, no idea of beauty. That idea, therefore^ which involves contraries is the nearest to perfection which we can form. : Hence it is evident, that, as all the sen- sations and ideas of the mind arise from external and material objects, moral evily is sufficiently explained by physical, if such a thing as physical evil can be admitted. Moral evil is pain. Pain, again, arises from an excess of mental affection, either action or sufferance ; which leads us back to ex- ternal objects, to division and motion, with- out which we could have no idea or sensa- tion whatever. Without evil, there could not be good. The idea of good is taken from the idea of evil. Were all things equal, there would be neither great nor small, high nor low. The meanness of one is, in fact, the excel- lence of another. All animals are not con- structed with the same degree of art. Some are evidently depressed tliat others, may be 16 exalted ; some apparently destined to be- come the food of others. But if we sup- pose that the whole system of tilings is not made for any particular part, but each part for the whole, one thing will appear as ne- cessary as another ; the rugged rock, or barren desert, as the verdant plain. Even monsters and anomala are defensible on the principle of variety, and serve to attest the wisdom of the Creator. To intellectual or moral qualities, the same reasoning applies. Without pain, we could not enjoy pleasure. Pain fits us for pleasure, and pleasure for pain. Pain and pleasure are inseparable. It is impos- sible to feel the one without having expe- rienced the other. Pleasure has no excess but from pain. The sweetness of all pre- sent enjoyment is proportionate to the bit- terness of past pain. Without alternate interchanges of labour and rest, difficulty and attainment, disappointment and suc- cess, human life would be devoid of inter- est. The worst things, indeed, never fail to create as much good as they produce evil. Whatever increases our wants aug- 17 ients our industry. All the necessities of man tend to multiply his gratifications, as well as to exalt his nature. Even war, shipwreck, and the other gi'eat evils inci- dent to the human race, serve to excite our exertions, and to produce all those splendid actions which fill the page of history. All perfection or good, as well as all im- perfection or evil, arises from division and motion ; and all comparative ideas from the relations of things. We draw our ideas of good from the degrees of it which we find in nature ; all which are, comparative- ly, merely degrees of evil. Whatever can be conceived is possible. But as we can form no idea of good without evil, or of pleasure without pain, it is impossible that the one can exist independently of the other. Withovit wants, we should have no desires ; without desires, we should be in- capable of enjoying pleasure. To experi- ence extreme degrees of evil, is necessary to extreme degrees of good.* The contrast * A man cannot be made very rich, if he be not very poor ; he cannot rise very hi^h, if he be not very low ; he cannot be saved, if he be not in danger. ' 18 thus becomes strongest, and we are render- ed the more sensible of the one quality by the other. It is impossible that the condition of the whole could be perfect, if the condition of the parts were perfect. Because the per- fection or happiness of the whole depends upon the imperfection and confined enjoy- ment of the parts. What has a tendency to general good, is often directly, and al- ways in a great measure, contrary to indi- vidual. Every general virtue is a restraint upon individuals. Thus, if an estate be- longed to a certain number of persons, it would be best for one to assume possession of it entirely ; but it would be best for the whole that it were divided among them. In the same manner, it would be best for an individual (at least according to common notions) that the property of the rest of mankind were at his disposal ; but it is best for society that he is restrained from depredation by the virtue of honesty. The perfection of every quality of nature depends so much upon comparison that we t'annot make one perfect without rendering 19 aYiother imperfect. What we add to one, we always deduct from another. The partial superiority and inferiority of things, with respect to each other, is sometimes a convenience and sometimes an inconvenience, according as our cir- cumstances require the superiority or in- feriority of one to another. It is some- times an inconvenience that iron is hard or strong, or that it resists fire ; but it would be oftener an inconvenience if it did not. Qualities are so suited to each other, that, if the partial magnitude or strength of one, were altered to inconsistency with their general equality, it would certainly, by the increase of excess, produce greater evil. Or if they were deprived of their partial ascendancy over each other, evil would be augmented by the want of motion. Con- trast and change are united with modera- tion, by a general balance and individual inequality. Whatever is bad in one respect is good in another, and whatever is inferior in one relation is superior in another. That iron can be cut is an imperfection, when the A a thief breaks into the house, or when the prisoner escapes ; but it is a convenience when we come to manufacture it. With the whole of the contrary quahties of mat- ter it is the same. The rigidity of miner- als, the malleability of metals, the softness of wood, the friability of earths, the rarity of one element, and the density of another, all contribute to the various purposes of mankind as well as to contradict each other. Good and evil are so mixed, that we can- not, for a moment, experience the one with- out suffering the other; and as both de- pend upon contrast, they cannot exist with- out the inequality and fluctuation of things. ITiat state of perfect happiness which Adam enjoyed, could not have been composed of the same materials or events which we, at present, perceive and experience. But our minds are now too much sunk in sin, and our condition in misery, to admit the idea of perfect virtue or happiness. We must, therefore, see another paradise before we can conceive it. The constitution of thinos, since the fall of man, is certainly changed : 21 although the imperfection which proceeds from action, and the idea of evil which a- rises from comparison, are very compre- hensively expressed by the doctrine of ori- ginal sin. Without partial evil, there could not be general perfection. The more we increase motion, the more we increase acting and sviffering, and consequently evil ; the more we reduce action and variety, the more we approach rest and uniformity, unimportance and nothing. "\^"e cannot, even in imagin- ation, form an idea of perfection ; includ- ing motion without subjection, superiority and inferiority, because it implies contra- diction, and is, therefore, demonstratively impossible. How there could be action without subjection, subjection without dif- ference, difference without comparison, or comparison without the idea of evil, we cannot conceive. As perfection, therefore, is to be found neither in motion nor in rest, it must consist of a mixture of both, and hold the medium between extremities. From all that we know, indeed, and as far as we can judge, the present system of 22 things approaches as near to perfection as the materials of which it is composed are capable of admitting. Evil is but a partial idea, and a compari- son of a part with the whole. No such quality exists in the general system of things, and it is only by dividing the whole that the idea of it arises. Imperfection is to be found only in individuals : ''All is for the best." The ideas of good and evil arise from the difference of parts, and all qualities are comparative. Good and evil depend upon each other ; and there can never be more good than evil, nor more evil than good. FINIS. ERRATA. P. 26 and 32, for pficpnomena .and pJm-nomenon, read phenomena and phenomenon. P. 36 and 60, for Berklei/, read Berkeley. P. 60, 1. 1 1, for nffict, read effect. 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