UC-NRLF $B lai ETM V OF THE [university] OF Digitized by tine Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/elementsofmoralpOOparkrich ELEMENTS OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. ELEMENTS OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY: COMPRISIN© THE THEORir OF nSORAKS f AND PRACTICAL ETHICS. BV JOHK I.. FjCLRKHURST. CONCORD, Tsr. ii. PUBLISHED BY J. B. MOORE & J. W. SHEPARD. 18^5. DISTRICT OF NEW-HAMPSHIRE, to wit: ^ ^ District Clerk's Office, J!l. S.| Be it remembered, that on the 2Sth dayof December, A. D. 1824, ''____J and in the forty-ninth year of the Independence of the United States of America, JOHN L. PAKKHURST of the said District, hath deposited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the words following-, to wit ! ** Elentents of Moral Philosophy : comprising the Theory of Morals and Practical Ethics. By JOHN L. PARKHURSl." In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, " An act for the encouragement of learning, bv securing the copies of maps, charts, and books to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned ;" and also to an act, entitled, " An act supplementary to an act, en- titled, an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books to''the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioaed, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, fcUffraving, and etching, historical, and other prints." WILLIAM CLAGGETT, Clerk of the District of iiew-Hampshire. A true copy of Record :— Attest, WILLIAM CLAGGETT, Clerk. G 6^ ./''^ CONTENTS. INTRODBCTION, PAGE. 13 THEORV OF lyEOR^IiS. CHAPTER I. FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. Definitions, I. Moral emotions are of a peculiar kind, . II. Moral feelings are of a peculiar kind. III. All men feel moral emotions, , , IV. The moral emotions are never capricious, 1. Moral emotions do not always arisC; 2. Complexity of actions, 3. Imperfection of language, 4. Failure in the memory, 5. Association, 1. Is conscience a distinct faculty ? Conscience and reason distinguished, 2. Is conscience an original faculty ? 3. Is ccmscience ever erroneous .'* Moral perceptions, .... a2 19 20 22 25 26 ib. 27 30 31 32 34 36 38 40 lb Ti CONTENTS. CHAPTER II. NATURE OF VIRTUE. Definitions; Moral Obligation; .... Ouglit the dietates of conscience always to be obeyed ? The case of St. Paul (Actsxxvi.9) considered, Ground of virtuous preference in acting; 1. The will of God, 2. Moral worth of actions, 3. Self-interest, Eternal happiness, 4. The promotion of happiness. Foundation of moral obligation, PAGE. 41 44 4S 49 53 54 ib. SI 6S 69 CHAPTER III DEGREE OF VIRTUE. 1. Influence of temptation^ 2. Influence of habit, 3. Influence of fortune. 71 72 74 PRACTICAI. STHZOS. CHAPTER I. THE RULE OF DUTY. 1. Experience and observation; General rules, • ^Ififluence of example, 78 79 82 00WTENT8. Vll PAGE. 2. The commands of God, ....... 86 The divine benevolence, • ib. On making exceptions to general rules, .... 92 Some objections considered, 94 CHAPTER II. SOURCES OF HUMAN HAPPINESS. 1. The moderate gralilication of the senses, . . . 100 2. Moderation in our views and wishes, .... 102 3. Exercise of our faculties, ...... 103 4. Habits, 104 5. Health, 105 6. Looking at things on the bright side, , . . • 106 7. The social affections, , 108 8. Pious affections, - . 109 CHAPTER III. GENERAL MEANS OF PROMOTING HUMAN HAPPINESS. 1. Example and habit; 2. Diffusion of knowledge and virtue, 3. Civil government, Crimes and punishments. 109 115 115 11$ CHAPTER IV. ON PROMOTING THE HAPPINESS OF OUR INFERIORS. 1. Treatment of domestics and dependants, i*i^sw»_ . 122 Slavery, . . . . . Ill fONTENTS. FAGE. 2. Professional assistance, 1^5 S. Pecuniary bounty, 126 Various duties of benevolence, 128 CHAPTER V. RESENTMENT, ANGER, AND REVENGE, . . . 13fi CHAPTER. VI. BUELLING, . . . . . . « Hfi CHAPTER VII. EMULATION AND AMBITION. I. Definition of terras, 149 II. Connection of emulation with some other principles, 151 III. Emulation distinguished from some other principles, IV. Influence of emulation on the public welfare, V. Means of exciting and encouraging emulation, VI, Means of stimulating the student without emulation, VII. Concluding remarks, 152 155 159 161 168 CHAPTER VIII. LITIGATION, . . . . . , . 17g CONTENTS. GRATITUDE, CHAPTER IX. PAGK^ 178 SLANDER, CHAPTER X. 181 or RIGHTS, CHAPTER XL 182 OF PROPERTY, CHAPTER XII. 187 CHAPTER Xlil. PROMISES. 1. Obligation to perform promises, 2. In what sense promises are to be interpreted, 3. In what cases promises are not binding, 189 ib. 192 CHAPTER XIV. CONTRACTS, 197 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XV. PAGE. MES, 203 CHAPTER XVI. OATHS, 21© CHAPTER XVII. WILLS, 212 CHAPTER XVIIL ON THK CONJUGAL RELATION, . . . .^13 JjJuties of the conjugal lelation, 219 CHAPTER XIX. ON THE PARENTAL AND FILIAL RELATIONS. 1 . Duty and rights of parents, , 228 2. Duty of children, • 232 CHAPTER XX. THE RIGHTS OF SELF-DEFENCE, . . , S37 •0NTENTI5. XI CHAPTER XXI. FAGS. DRUNKENNESS, 23^ CHAPTER XXII. SUICIDE, 246 CHAPTER XXIII. ON PRAYER AND PUBLIC WORSHIP, . . £47 CHAPTER XXIV. ON THE SABBATH, . . , . . . 254 CHAPTER XXV. ON REVERENCING THE DEITY, . . . . 256 ADVERTISEMENT. In the writing of this volume, the author has availed himself of the labors of others, so far as they have been to his purpose. In the Theory of Morals, he is chiefly indebted to Brown ; in Practical Ethics, to Paley. — In making the extracts from the work of Dr. Paley, liberty has been taken to abridge or alter, wherever it was thought expedient ; and, in a few instances, where the grammat- ical construction, the phraseology, or the sense, has been considerably altered, the ex- tracts are marked with single inverted com- mas. December 27, 1824. NOTE. Those who find the Thkort of Morals unintelligible or uninteresting, may pass from the Introduction to Practical Ethici ; p. 76. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. IXiTTaODXJGTIOXr . Knowledge is congenial to the human. mind. The acquisition of it affords a pleasure, independent of the uses to which it may be applied. But it is the practical utility of any branch of knowledge, which gives it its chief value. The difference between the practical utility of the various branches of knowl- edge, is very great. Some can scarcely be said to be of any benefit beyond the momentary gratification afforded by the acquisition ; others produce an effect on the mind which is indirectly beneficial ; and others are directly subservient to the purposes of human life. Such knowledge and such studies, as tend to strengthen and elevate the mind, to induce a habit of reflection, and to withdraw the thoughts from the thousand trifles by which they are so prone to be oc- cupied, exert a salutary influence on the conduct and on the happiness of the individual, by means of the effect which they produce on the mind, though they may not be capable of being directly applied to any practical purposes. But as it is the disposition of heart which individuals cherish, and the course of moral conduct which they pursue, that are the grand source of happiness or misery to themselves and oth- ers, that knowledge which is best adapted to melior- ate the disposition and to regulate the conduct, must be most worthy of our attention and pursuit. 14 INTRODUCTION. Man is not guided by instinct to the infallible at- tainment of his best good. He may fail of it by in- action, or by ill-directed efforts. He finds himself led astray by his passions ; and he looks in vain, for a safe guide, to the example of others. It is, then, the dictate of wisdom to inquire, by what means these wayward propensities may be subdued, and his feet guided in the path of peace. Happy are they who make this inquiry in early years. Still happier they, whom, before they are capable of making the inqui- ry, the hand of instruction has been already guiding in the path of knowledge and virtue. — But what is the knowledge, which the young inquirer should chiefly seek, and the friendly instructer most sedulously im- part ? What is the knowledge, which tends to recall us from low and sordid pursuits, to fix our affections on better objects, and to form us to such a character, and direct us to such a course of conduct, as will se- cure the divine approbation, and be most promotive of our own happiness and that of the community of which we are members ? It is the knowledge of our- selves, of human nature in general, of our Creator, and of the relations we sustain to him and to our fel- low-creatures. Of the means of obtaining a knowl- edge of our Creator, of the relations we sustain to him, and the duties which result from those relations, I forbear to speak in this place. To obtain a knowl- edge of ourselves and of human nature in general, we must carefully observe what passes in our own minds and hearts, watch the motives of our conduct, notice the conduct of those around us, study the de- lineations of human character contained in the sacred pages, and guide all these observations and inquiries I INTRODUCTION. 15 by a scientific acquaintance with the elementary prin- ciples of intellectual and moral philosophy. A scien- tific acquaintance with first principles, is no les§ important in studying the human character and in forming rules of human conduct, than in the observa- tions of the astronomer and the researches of the physical inquirer. " Moral philosophy or Ethics," says Dr. Paley, " is that science which teaches men their duty and the reasons of it." One advantage of making this sci- ence a study, is, to lead the student to reflect on the nature of the motives by which he is habitually actu- ated, and the tendency of the course of conduct which he is daily pursuing. Although the science should afford no new information in regard to the moral nature of man, nor cast any new light on (he path of duty, yet the individual might derive very great benefit from being led frequently and seriously to reflect on the subjects on whch it treats. It is of reflection rather than instruction, that many stand most in need. Another advantage of studying the science of eth- ics, is the eff*ect it has on the moral sensibility of the individual. As the external senses, by frequent ex- ercise and by habits of attention, become more ready in perceiving their appropriate objects, and discrim- inating the various differences that subsist between them ; so, by frequent exercise and by attending to its operations, the moral discernment becomes more ready and delicate. If refinement of taste in regard to natural beauty, is so highly prized, of much great- er value must be this refinement and delicacy of the moral taste. Thus, the love of virtue and the hatred of vice more strongly and spontaneously arise. The 16 INTRODUCTION. "^ distinction between right and wrong acquires a more prominent place in the mind. The hand shrinks in- stinctively from the performance of a wrong action ; and the existence of wrong feelings in the breast is followed by a more ready and a deeper compunction. The moral nature of man, is that which peculiarly distinguishes him from the brute creation. This, as it is virtuous or vicious, either gives him a deformity more odious than brutes ever possess, or adorns him with a beauty by which he is assimilated to angels ; and it will eventually either sink him into the deep- est wretchedness, or exalt him to the highest fehcity. But there is something in man, which disposes him to neglect the means of virtue and happiness, — to neg- lect even those instructions and commands which come to us with the authority of divine inspiration. Hence, another advantage of moral philosophy is, that it shows Reason to be the friend and auxilia- ry of Religion. It shows that the dictates of Reason coincide with the precepts of the Bible. This is a consideration, which to the good man indeed is less necessary, yet even to him it affords a satisfaction, and is not without its use ; but by the many, who are uninfluenced by the motives of religion, all its weight is needed, to excite them to seek their own moral im- provement. Most men are willing to study the max- ims which point out the path of virtue and happiness, if those maxims can be presented in connection with the reasons by which they are supported, and not as mere commands resting solely on the authority of God. On such, while their minds are enlightened in regard to the nature of virtue and vice, and they are led to reflect on the consequences of each, a salutary effect can hardly fail to be produced. I INTRODUCTION. 17 It Is in vain to say, that the Bible is sufficient for the moral improvement of mankind, and that there- fore books of moral philosophy are needless. We might as well say, that the Bible is sufficient for the religious improvement of mankind, and that therefore sermons, and systems of divinity, and all religious books of human composition, are needless ; or that the law of God is sufficient for the government of mankind, and that therefore the civil law, and all human laws, are needless. If the light and aid of reason in relation to human duty, are to be rejected, then Paul was in an error when he ' reasoned with the Thessalonians out of the scriptures ;'*— he ought mere- ly to have read to them out of the scriptures. We might just as well say, that all the prophecies and doctrines of the Bible muot be so plain, that there can be no need of reason to explain the one or to prove the other, as that all the precepts of the Bible must be so plain and so minute, that there can be no need of reason to illustrate and apply them. But why is not the law of the land a sufficient rule of life ? Many, indeed, make this their rule of life ; at least, they appear to be " satisfied with themselves, so long as they do or omit nothing, for the doing or omitting of which the law can punish them. But ev- ery system of human laws, considered as a rule of life, labors under the two following defects : 1. Human laws omit many duties, as not objects of compulsion ; such as piety to God, bounty to the poor, forgiveness of injuries, education of children, grati- tude to benefactors. The law never speaks but to command, nor commands but where it can compel ; * Acts, xvii. 2. b2 18 INTRODUCTIOIIf* consequently it omits those duties, which, by their nature, must be voluntary^ 2. Human laws permit, or, which is the same thing, suffer to go unpunished, many crimes, because they are incapable of being defined by any previous de- scription ; — of which nature are luxury, prodigality, disrespect to parents, &:c. For, this is the alternative ; either the law must define beforehand and with pre- cision the offences which it punishes, or it must be left to the discretion of the magistrate, to determine upon each particular accusation, whether it constitute that offence which the law designed to punish, or not; which is, in effect, leaving it to the magistrate to pun- ish or not to punish, at his pleasure, the individual who is brought before him ; — which is just so much tyranny."* It is evident, tLerefore,thatby the nature of the case, the civil law cannot be a complete direc- tory of human conduct. Such, indeed, is the deprav- ity of man, that neither reason, nor revelation, nor the civil law,is sufficient eflfectually to preserve him from crime, and to make him always virtuous and happy. The understanding may receive all the light of which t is capable, yet, without a heart to obey the dictates of reason and the commands of the Gospel, mankind will grope as in the dark. Moral Philosophy, rest- ing on the principles of the Gospel, offers herself as an auxiliary in reforming the vicious, in enlightening the ignorant, in elevating the degraded mind to wider views, m inspiring the sordid breast with nobler pur- poses, and in guiding the consciencious inquirer to those beneficent deeds and that course of conduct which will gratify, in the highest degree, the wishes of his benevolent heart. ♦Paley's Moral Philosophy; Book I. Chap. 3. k THEORY OF MORALS. CHAPTER Z. Foundation of Moral Distinctionf. By moral distinctions, are intended those, which are denoted by the epithets, ' virtuous' and ' vicious,' * right' and ' wrong.' These terms, though applied also to external actions, have a primary reference to certain internal feelings, which are the sources of virtuous and vicious actions, and in which all moral differences are really to he sought. One class of these feelings consists of emotions of approbation and of disapprobation. These I shall denominate moral emotions ; and those feelings ybr which a man is approved or disapproved, I shall denom- inate moral feelings. Moral emotions, indeed, being vir- tuous, are a species of moral feelings; yet the distinction just made between feelings and emotions, will be found convenient in the discussions on which we are about to enter. By an emotion of approbation^ is meant an emotion of love toward a virtuous man, regarded simply as such. This emotion is, by some writers, termed the love of complacency^ or complacential love. It is distinct from benevolence^ or benevolent love, which regards its object merely as susceptible of pleasure and pain. Both bene- volence and complacency are pleasant emotions, — not,^ however, consisting in pleasure, but being immediately followed by pleasure. 20 THEORY or MORALS. An emotion of disapprobation is one that is felt toward a man regarded merely as possessing a certain character. It is totally distinct from malevolence^ which directly and ultimately desires the misery of its object. Disapproba- tion is usually, and malevolence always, ^painful emotion ; that is, an emotion attended with pain. The pain arising from «c//'-disapprobation, is called remorse. When emo- tions of self-disapprobation are more vivid than usual, and accompanied with a greater degree of pain, and this state of mind continues ior some length of time, it is styled, in the language of theology, conviction of sin; and when the emotions of self-disapprobation are such as belong to the class of christian virtues, they constitute re- pentunce of sin. I now proceed to lay down and establish a few propo- sitions, which appear to embrace the first principles ot moral philosophy. I. Moral emotions are of a peculiar kind. The truth of this proposition, it cannot need much il- lustration to show. Little more seems necessary, than clearly to show what moral emotions are. The man to- ward whom these emotions are felt, is regarded as being amiable or odious^ as possessing good or ill desert^ as de- serving to enjoy happinessn or to sufl'er pain. We feel that there is a fitness and propriety in making h^m happy, that seeks the happiness of others ; and in making him miserable, that desires to make others so. An emotion of approbation is distinct from the emo- tion that is felt in view of natural beauty. The emotion which I feel in beholding a virtuous action, is obviously differenl from that which 1 feel in looking at a rose. But it may be thought that the emotion which is excited by the beauty of the human countenance^ is often of the same kind with that which is excited by a virtuous action. To FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 21 correct this mistake, it is only necessary to distinguish between mere beauty, as consisting in colors and forms, and that expression of the countenance, which consists in the ideas that are suggested by these colors and forms. When the countenance is such as to suggest the idea of an amiable disposition, consisting in the habitual exercise of virtuous feelings, no wonder that an emotion of approba- tion should be excited. Here, however, it is the virtuous heart that is approved, — not the beauty which is the means of suggesting the idea of this virtue to our concep- tion. Let an individual possess the fairest complexion and the most perfect symmetry of features, and at the same time be known, by intimacy of acquaintance, to be destitute of every virtuous feeling ; — how far will a look at the beauty of the countenance be from exciting the pleasant emotion of approbation ! Again, an emotion of approbation is distinct from the emotion that is felt in view of mere utility. The emo- tion which I feel in beholding a virtuous action, is obvi- ously different from that which 1 feel in looking at a newly invented machine^ The term ' approbation' is, in- deed, sometimes applied to a machine, and to various other things which are not virtuous ; but, in these cases, the word is used in a totally different sense. No one would say that a machine is amiable^ that it possesses good desert^ or is worthy to be happy. Even the beneficent actions of men are approved as virtuous, only when re- garded as proceeding from a virtuous motive. If, when I see an act of beneficence performed, I am in doubt as to the design of the actor, and, for some reason, cannot conceive him as acting with a good design, I cannot feel an emotion of approbation. The action appears no less useful ih'dn it otherwise would ; but the performance of it does not render the man amiable in my view. 22 THEORY OF MORALS. The emotion that is felt in view of knowledge and tal- ents^ is equally distinct from that which is felt in view of virtuous feelings. We may, indeed, know or conceive a man to have been influenced by virtuous motives in the acquisition of knowledge and the cultivation of his mind j and, in this case, the exhibitions of his genius and learn- ing will, by suggesting to us the idea of those virtuous motives, excite in us an emotion of approbation. Or his knowledge and talents may be employed in doing good ; and thus appear in a still nearer connection with a virtu- ous heart. But, in both these cases, as in that of the beauty of the countenance, it is the virtuous heart only that is the object of moral complacency. Suppose this extensive knowledge and these superior talents to be possessed by a man who employs them only in injuring and making wretched all who are within the sphere of his agency ; — we feel, at once, that in beholding such a man, not one complacent emotion can arise. Yet, if knowledge and talents were objects of moral approbation, we should feel this pleasing emotion in view of such a man, regarded as possessing knowledge and talents, how- ever much disapprobation we might feel of him, regarded as possessing a malignant disposition. II. Moral feelings are of a peculiar kind. We are so constituted, that we cannot help believing, that there are causes of the sensations and emotions which we feel, distinct from those sensations and emotions, and existing independently of them. This belief implies, that ^here is a variety in those causes, corresponding with the variety of sensations and emotions. ''' To the union of all the external causes of our sensations, in one great system, we give the name of the material woWc?.*"* The ♦Brown's Lecturei on the Philosophy of the Human Mind, Lecture 26. FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. $3 varieties of thoso caufif*?, — that is to say, those cansesr themselves, consi»?ei'ed ind.vidually, as being different one from another,— we call the prGperties or qualifies oi mat- ter. A certain nmnbcr o( these, that have, by affecting our senses at the snme tune, bfcorae associated in the mind, we call a body. When two bodies affect our senses dif- fereDll7, we believe, of course, that they are not both composed of precisely the same combinalioo of proper- ties. For example, we believe, that in sugar and worm- wood, there is a difference of properties, which is the cause pf their affecting the p:\late differently ; — that worm- wood is destitute of some of the properties of sugar, or contains some properties which sugar does not, or both. If we say, that the divine will is the sole cause of these different sensations, and that they are not owing to any difference between the sugar and the wormwood, we must, to be consistent, say, that the divine will Is the sole cause of all our sensations ; and thus deny the existence of the material world, and of all created beings beside our- selves. The existence of secondary causes of our sea-' sations, cannot be proved by reasoning ; neither can we prove that those secondary causes are different, one from another. Both the existence and the variety of those causes, are believed by us, because we are so constituted by our Creator, that the belief is intuitive and irresistible. In like manner, we believe, that in the internal causes of our emotions^ there is a variety^ corresponding with the variety of emotions excited. Those feelings, therefore, which excite moral emotions, — that is, in view of which moral emotions arise, — must be different trom every thing else, because there is nothing else which occasions the same emotions; This difference of those feelings from every thing else, is denoted by calling them 7nora/ feel- ings, or by saying that they are of a moral nature. So, emotions of approbatioa being different from those of 24 THEORY OF MORALS. disapprobation, the feelings which occasion the one set of emotions, must be different from those which occasion the other set of emotions ; and this difference is denoted by giving to the one class of feelings the name of virtue^ and to the other, that of vice. We learn the nature of material things by the sensa- tions which they excite, and the nature of moral feelings by the emotions which they excite. But there is one point, in which the analogy fails. We know nothing of material things, except through the medium of our sensa- tions; but we have knowledge of our moral feelings by consciousness, as well as by means of our moral emotions. Although, therefore, we had been formed without moral emotions, we should have the same means of distinguish- ing our moral from our other feelings, that we now have of distinguishing our moral emotions from the other men- tal phenomena. Take benevolence for an example. We might feel benevolence ourselves, might enjoy a pleasure in the exercise of benevolent feelings, and might have a conception of benevolence in others, — thus knowing dis- tinctly what benevolence is ; but we might not, as now, love a benevolent man for his benevolence. I find some difficulty in understanding what Dr, Brown means by saying, in his remarks on the phrase ' moral sense,' and elsewhere, that virtue and vice are mere re- lations to moral emotions, and that without these emo- tions, virtue and vice would have no existence. He seems to mean, that certain feelings become virtuous or the contrary by being approved or disapproved ; — that is to say, that a certain feeling is approved as virtuous, when, in fact, it is not virtuous till it becomes so by being approved ! We might, as Dr. Brown admits, have been so consti- tuted, that our moral emotions should be reversed, — that we should uniformly approve what we now disapprove, and disapprove what we now approve. It follows, ac- FOUNDATION OP MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 25 cording to his ideas of virtue and vice, that what is now vice, would really then be virtue, and that what is now virtue, would then be vice ; that is, that if all men really approved malevolence and disapproved benevolence, there would be nothing absurd or incongruous in such approbation and disapprobation, but malevolence would really be worthy to be loved, because we were so consti- tuted as actually to love it, and benevolence would really be worthy to be hated^ because we were so constituted as actually to hate it. The truth is, virtue and vice have each a nature of its own, which makes it to be virtue or vice, whether it be viewed with approbation, or disap- probation, or neither. If all our moral emotions should cease, and if the terms ' virtue' and ^ vice' should cease, still, the things which those terms now denote, if they continued to exist, as they might, would possess the same distinct and opposite nature as at present. The means of discovering moral differences might cease ; but the dif- ferences themselves would remain forever the same. in. All men^ without exception, feel moral emotions. The evidence that they do, is the same, as that all men feel emotions of any other particular kind, as of beautj', or sympathy. We know that we feel these emotions ourselves ; and we have all the evidence that the nature of the case admits, that they are felt by all mankind. It is as incredible, that any one, who belongs to the human species, should never feel an emotion of approbation or of disapprobation, in view of the actions of others, or in the recollection of his own, as that any one should regard all objects of sight as being perfectly indifferent to the eye, or should witness the sorrows and joys, the desires and aversions, of his fellow creatures, without ever hav- ing one congenial emotion excited in his breast. c 26 THEORY OF MORALS. IV. The same feelings are always approved^ and the same always disapproved. The meaning of this proposition is, that a man, who performs a certain action from certain motives, cannot feel, on account of the action, an emotion of self apppro- bation at one time, and of self-condemnation at another, — his views of the motives from which the action was per- formed, remaining the same ; or, that two men, possessing the same views of the motives which led to the perform- ance of an action, cannot regard the agent, the one with a sentiment of moral approbation, and the other with a sentiment of moral disapprobation. I shall do little more on this subject, than to give an explanation of those ap- pearances which seem to favor the contrary opinion. 1. It is to be remarked, that though all men feel moral emotions ; yet all do not feel them in every instance, in which an action, suited to excite them, is present- ed to the view. " There are moments," — to use the words of Dr. Brown, — '' in which the mind is wholly incapable of perceiving moral differences; — that is to say, in which the emotions that constitute the feeling of these moral differences, do not arise. Such are all the moments of very violent passion. When the im- petuosity of the passion is abated, indeed, we perceive that we have done what we now look upon with horror ; but when our passion was most violent, we were truly blinded by it, or at least saw only what it permitted us to see. The moral emotion has not arisen, because the whole soul was occupied w'th a different species of feel- ing. The moral distinctions, however, or general ten- dencies of actions to excite this emotion, are not on this account less certain ; or we must say, that the truths of arithmetic, and all other truths, are uncertain, since the FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 27 mind, ill a state of passion, would be equally incapable of distinguishing these."* It also seems probable, that even when the mind is not blinded by extreme passion, moral emotions are far from rising invariably in vie-v of virtuous and vicious actions. There appears to be such a thing as moral insensibility ; — in consequence of which, most men can sometimes, and some men can habitually, view a virtuous or vicious ac- tion without feeling any moral emotion. The apostle, using figurative language, speaks of men, '^ whose con- science is seared with a hot iron ;" which seems to de- note a callous, torpid state of the heart, without any susceptibility of moral emotion.! 2. There is an apparent contrariety in the moral emo- tions of men, arising from the complexity of actions. There are many " actions," — to borrow again the language of Dr. Brown, — " which are so complex as to have various opposite results of good and evil, or of which it is not easy to trace the consequences. An action, when it is the object of our moral approbation or disapprobation, is the agent himself, acting with certain views. These views, that is to say, the intentionsof the agent, are necessary to be taken into account, or, rather, are the great moral circumstances to be considered ; and the intention is not visible to us like the external changes produced by it, but is, in many cases, to be inferred from the apparent results. When these results, therefore, are too obscure, or too complicated, to furnish clear and immediate evi- dence of the intention, we may pause in estimating ac- tions, which we should not fail to have approved instantly, or disapproved instantly, if we had known the intention of the agent, or could have inferred it more easily from a simpler result ; or, by fixing our attention chiefly on * Brown's Pbilosophy, Lect. 74. f 1 Tim. iv. 2. See alsoEph.iv: 19 uititbrsit: 28 THEORY OF MORALS, one part of the complex result, that was perhaps not the part which the agent had in view, we may condemn what was praiseworthy, or applaud what deserved our condem- nation. If the same individual may thus have different moral sentiments, according to the different parts of the complex result on which his attention may have been fixed, it is surely not wonderful, that different individuals, in regarding the same action, should sometimes approve, in like manner, and disappprove variously, not because the principle of moral emotion, as an original tendency of the mind, is absolutely capricious, but because the ac- tion considered, though apparently the same, is really dif- ferent as an object of conception in different minds ac- cording to the parts of the mixed result which attract the chief attention. Such partial views, it is evident, may become the views of a whole nation, from the peculiar circumstances in which the nation may be placed as to other nations, or from peculiarity of general institutions. The legal per- mission of theft in Sparta, for example, may seem to us^ with our pacific habits, and security of police, an excep- tion to that moral principle of disapprobation for which I contend. But there can be no doubt, that theft, as mere theft, or, in other words, as a mere production of a cer- tain quantity of evil by one individual to another individ- ual, — if it never had been considered in relation to any political object, would in Sparta also, have excited dis- approbation as with us. As a mode of inuring to habits of vigilance a warlike people, however, it might be considered in a very different light ; the evil of the loss of property, — though in itself an evil to the individ- ual, even in a country in which differences of property were so slight, — being nothing in this estimate, when FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 29 compared with the more important national accession of military virtue."* " When the usages of a country allow the exposure of infants, is it not still lor some reason of advantage to the community, falsely supposed to require it, that the per- mission is given ? Or is it for the mere pleasure of de- priving the individual inflint of life, and of adding a few more suflerings to the general sufferings of humanity ? "Where is the land that says, Let misery be produced, or increased, because it is misery ? Let the production of happiness to an individual be avoided, because it is hap- piness ? Then, indeed, might the distinctions of morality in the emotions which attend the production of good and evil, be allowed to be wholly accidental. But if nature has everywhere made the prodiiction of good desirable for itself, and the production of evil desirable, — when it is desired and a[)proved, — only because it is accompanied, or supposed to be accompanied, with good, the very de- sire of the compound of good and evil, on this account, is itself a proof, not of love of evil, but of love of good. It is pleasing thus to find nature, in the wildest excesses of savage ignorance, and in those abuses to which the im- perfect knowledge even of civilized nations sometimes gives rise, still vindicating as it were her own excellence, — in the midst of vice and misery asserting still those sacred principles, which are the virtue and the happiness of nations, — principles of which that very misery and vice attest the power, whether in the errors of multitudes who have sought evil for some supposed good, or in the guilt of individuals, who, in abandoning virtue, still offer to it an allegiance which it is impossible for them to withhold, in the homa^^e of their lemorse. * Browu's Philosophy, Lect. 74. c2 30 THEORY OF MORALS- It never mu«t be forgotten, in estimating the moral im- pression which actions produce, that an action is nothing in itself, — that all which we truly consider in it is the agent placed in certain circumstances, feeling certain de- sires, willing certain changes, — and that our approbation and disapprobation may therefore vary, without any fickle- ness on our part, merely in consequence of the different views which we form of the intention of the agent. In every complicated case, therefore, it is so far from won- derful, that different individuals should judge differently, that it would, indeed, be truly wonderful if they should judge alike, since it would imply a far nicer measurement than any of which we are capable, of the mixed good and evil of the complex results of human action, and a power of discerning what is secretly passi*>g in the heart, which man does not possess, and which it is not easy for us to suppose man, in any circumstances, capable of possessing. ^ 3. There is sometimes an apparent disagreement in the moral sentiments of men, arising irom the imperfection of language. Words which denote the operations of the mind and the feelings of the heart, are frequently under- stood differently by different persons. This difference appears to arise from the circumstance, that an emotion or desire cannot be perceived, at the same moment, by different individuals. If a question arise concerning the color of a certain flower, the flower can be produced, and ^ simultaneous view of it will at once bring the parties to an agreement on the subject. But if a question arise whether a certain emotion or desire, anger for instance, be innocent or criminal, the parties have no such means of coming to a decision. They may not both mean the same thing by anger ; and may be unable to ascertain FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 31 whether they do or not. In like manner, disputes re- specting various things which are not subject to the cogniz- ance of the senses, frequently arise, not from any real difference of sentiment, but solely from the parties, not being able, or more frequently not taking proper means, to understand one another. 4. Men are liable to err in judging of their own past feelings through a fault in the memory. Moral feelings and moral emotions, in most men, receive little attention and are soon forgotten. Various operations of the mind, frequently, from not being objects of attention, pass away without being remembered a moment.* We need not wonder, then, that in a being so depraved as man, moral feelings and emotions should be neglected and forgotten ; that in one so little disposed to listen to the whispers of conscience, those whispers should fall unheeded on the ear, and soon pass into oblivion. And this inattention, as it respects the moral emotions, is^ increased by the cir- cumstance, that those emotions ar'^ usually less vivid^ than the other emotions that arise in the breast. The conse- quence is, that in this, as in other cases, when a man en- deavors to recollect things, to which he did not sufficient- ly attend to impress them on the memory, he falls into frequent mistakes. That which he conceives, is not that which really was. If he felt a feeble emotion of disap- probation at the time of performing an action, he now, perhaps, conceives himself to have felt an emotion of approbation ; and hence concludes, that the motives from which be acted were good. Or if, sensible that he can- not recollect his moral emotions, he endeavors to recol- lect his moral feelings, he falls into a mistake of the same kind. His motives may, in fact, have been bad ; but, they being forgotten, good motives, perhaps, arise to his ^ee Stewart on Attention, in bis Philoiopby of the Mind. 32 THEORY OF MORALS. conception; and, in view of these, he feels an emotion of self-approbation. The feelings of which he approves, are really virtuous ; but they are feelings that were not his. The mistake lies in conceiving himself to have ex- perienced feelings which he did not experience. 5. Moral emotions are frequently influenced by associa- tion. The words 'justice,' 'injustice,' &c., denote classes of actions. Suppose we see or hear of an action that be- longs to " a class that we term unjust^ we feel instantly," to use the words of Dr Brown, " not the mere emotion which the action of its$ilf would originiily have excited, but we feel also that emotion which has been associated with the class of actions to which the particular action belongs ; isnd though the action may be of a kind, which, if we had formed no general arrangement, would have excited but slight emotion, as implying no very great in- jury produced or intended, it thus excites a far more vivid feeling, by borrowing, as it were, from other analo- gous and more atrocious actions, that are comprehend- ed under the same general term, the feeling which they would originally have excited."* Association operates in a different manner, when an action, apparently vicious, is performed by one whom we know to possess many excellent qualities, especially if the person is one whom we love. Seeing the action di)ne by hirnn the many virtues which we know or believe him to possess, rush into our mind, and exclude those suggestions of bad motives, which would otherwise arise. The mere habit of regarding his actions as proceeding from good motives, is sufficient to lead us to ascribe them to such, even in cases where an impartial spectator would see ev- idence of an evil design. *Bron'n's Pliilosophy, LeJt, 74. FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 33 The view we have taken of the subject, is, I trust, suf- ficient to obviate every objection to the position, that, though, while the external act is the same, an emotion ei- ther of approbation or of disapprobation may arise, ac- cording to the conceptions that are formed of the design of the actor, yet the same jnotives^ the same moral feelings^ are, if any moral emotion arises, always approved, and the same always disapproved. If we should admit this not to be the case, we must give a new definition of vir- tue. We must say, that those feelingA are virtuous, in view of which an emotion of approbation arises more frequently than of disapprobation. And if any individual should be so unfortunate as to feel a disapprobation of virtue as often as an approbation of it, he must, in order to come at the truth, disregard his own moral emotions al- together, and inquire what are the feelings which man- kind m general approve. — Now it must he impossible, in many instances, for a man to know whether a certain emotion which he feels, harmonizes with those which he has usually felt in similar circumstances. If the feel- ings, of whose moral nature he would judge, are some which he has never had before, or which he cannot re- collect that he ever had before, he is utterly unable to ascertain whether they are virtuous or the contrary. If he has reason to apprehend that the moral emotions which he habitually feels, are not accordant with those of mankind in general, the difficulty of ascertaining the moral nature of particular feelings, must he greatly in- creased ; and the instances must be numerous, in which it is impossible even to form a probable conjecture whether a particular feeling be virtuous or not. It seems to me incredible, that He who has formed man to be subject to a moral law, should so constitute the mind of any individual, that he shall experience moral emotions whose only use is to deceive ; and that he 34 THEORY OF MORALS. shall be, many limes, reduced to the necessity of judging erroneously, if he judges at all, of the nature of his mor- al feelings. It avails nothing for a man, when subject to such a moral delusion, to examine his motives with a close, and impartial, and faithful scrutiny ; fur after all, he will feel, perhaps, a vivid emotion of self-approbation in act- ing from motives, which all the world beside and God himself would agree in condemning. Those very de- sires and affections, which, at another time, he would feel to be criminal, he now feels to be amiable and commend- able. This is indeed, — in a worse sense even than that in- tended by St. Paul, — to be given up to ^' strong delusion, so as to believe a lie." The views that have been taken in this chapter, will afford a solution of three questions that have been discus- sed by writers on ethics : 1. Is conscience a distinct faculty of the mind? 2. Is it an original faculty of the mind ? 3. Is conscience ever erroneous ? These three questions correspond with the first, third, and fourth general heads of the present chapter. I shall make a few remarks upon each in order. 1. Is conscience a distinct faculty of the mind ? Here a preliminary question arises ; What is a faculty of the mind ? In reply, I would observe, that the words, ^ intellect,' ' heart,' ' reason,' ' conscience,' are general terms, invented to denote certain classes of mental phe- nomena. The mind is endued with various powers and susceptibilities, or, in other words, is capable of existing in a great variety of states. Of these various states, some are similar to one another, and some are dissimilar. I'hey are, therefore, capable of being classed, by assign- ing to each class those phenomena which possess a simi- larity one to another. A faculty of the mind, there- FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 35 fore, is not a part of the mind, or an organ of the mind, but the indivisible mind itself, regarded as capa- ble of exhibiting, or as actually exhibiting, a certain class of phenomena. A knowledge of the mind can be gain- ed only by a careful observation of the phenomena which it exhibits. Without this observation of the phenomena themselves, the general terms used to denote them, — in other words, the terms which are used as names of the faculties, — must be unintelligible. Much perplexity has arisen, from attenipting to study the philosophy of the mind, merely by reading about the faculties, and laboring to determine the precise limits of these faculties, without looking into the mind itself. To him who knows how to apply the inductive philosophy to the study of the mind, it is comparatively unimportant, whether the mind be considered as having a greater or a less number of facul- ties. In some instances, faculties which really exist, have remained without a name ; but in a greater number of in- stances, faculties have been ascribed to the mind without foundation. Moral feelings are the most important of all the classes of mental phenomena ; yet the moral faculty has never received a name ; nor has any material incon- venience arisen from the want of a general term appro- priated to this purpose. When we wish to speak of man as being susceptible of moral feelings, it is sufficient to say that he is a ' moral agent.' To denote the class ot moral emotions, however, the term ' conscience Ms gener- ally used. The phrase ^ moral sense^ has been used for the same purpose by some writers. These terms, how ever, appear not to be used by all to include precisely the «ame class of mental phenomena ; and this is an evil, which, though of no small magnitude, is many times in- separable from the use of general terms. 1 prefer to use the term ' conscience' as denoting the class of moral emo- tions ; and taking it in this sense, it is certainly a distinct faculty of the mind. 36 THEORY OF MORALS. Dr. Brown objects to the phrase ' moral sense,' that the class of mental affections intended to be denoted by it, consists of emotions^ not of sensations or perceptions an- alogous to those of the external senses. But although the phrase is not to be used in a philosophic classification of the mental phenomena, yet it may, without impropri- ety, be used metaphorically. Natural beauty, as dis- tinct from the colors and forms of external objects, con- sists wholly in a peculiar emotion of the mind ; yet it is common to speak of seeing or perceiving the beauty of an object. In like manner, the amiableness of virtue is de- nominated moral beauty^ and we speak of seeing or per- ceiving this beauty. And if there is a moral beauty and a moral vision, there must, of course, be a inoral eye^ — in othei words, a ' moral sense ' Dr. Brown, though he avoids the phrase ' moral sense,' yet admits that it may ] be used metaphorically, and actually uses metaphors of equivalent import. He speaks of ' perceiving moral differ- ences,' and of being *• blinded to moral distinctions.' If, therefore, 1 should find it convenient to use metaphors of j this kind, I shall feel myself at liberty to do it, without trespassing against propriety of language. The following observations of Dr. Brown, illustrate the distinction between conscience and reason ; and define the limits of the two faculties, in relation to each other : '' If all the actions of which man is capable, had ter- minated in one simple result of good or evil, without any mixture of both, or any further consequences, reason, I conceive, would have been of no advantage whatever in determining moral sentiments, that must, in that case, have arisen immediately on the consideration of the sim- ple effect, and of the will of producing that simple effect. Of the intentional production of good, as good, we should have approved instantly — of the intentional production of evil, as evil, we should as instantly have disapproved ; FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 37 and reason could not, in such circumstances, have taught us to love the one more, or hate the other less ; — certain- ly not to love what we should otherwise have hated, nor to hate what we should otherwise have loved. But ac- tions have not one simple result, in most cases. In pro- ducing enjoyment to some, they may produce misery to others, — either by consequences that are less or more re- mote, or by their own immediate but compound opera- tion. It is impossible, therefore, to discover instantly, or certainly, in any particular case, the intention of the a- gent from the apparent result ; and impossible for our selves to know, instantly, when we wish to perform a particular action, for a particular end, whether it may not produce more evil than good, — when the good was our only object, — or more good than evil, when our object was the evil only. Reason, therefore, — that power by which we discover the various relations of things, comes to our aid ; and, pointing out to us all the probable physi- cal consequences of actions, shows us the good of what we might have conceived to be evil, the evil of what we might have conceived to be good, weighing each with each, and calculating the preponderance of either. It thus influences our moral feelings indirectly; but it influ- ences them only by presenting to us new objects, to be admired or hated, and still addresses itself to a principle which admires or hates. Like a telescope, or microscope, it shows us what was too distant, or too minute, to come within the sphere of our simple vision ; but it does not alter the nature of vision itself. The best telescope, or the best microscope, could give no aid to the blind. They imply the previous power of visual discernment, or they are absolutely useless. Reason, in like manner, supposes in us a discriminating vision of another kind. By pointing out to us innumerable advantages or disad- vantages, that flow from an action, it may heighten or re- D S6 THEORY OF MORALS. (luce our approbation of the action, and consequently, our estimate of the virtue of him whom we suppose to have had this whole amount of good or evil in view, in his in- tentional production of it ; but it does this only because we are capable of feeling moral regard for the intention- al producer of happiness to others, independently of any analyses which reason may make."* 2. Is conscience an original faculty of the mind ? In saying that it is, I only mean, in the words of Dr. Brown, " that we come into existence with certain sus- ceptibilities of emotion, in consequence of which, it will be impossible for us, in after life, but for the influ- ence of counteracting circumstances, momentary or per- manent, not to be pleased with the contemplation of cer- tain actions as soon as they have become fully known to us, and not to have feelings of disgust, on the contempla- tion of certain other actions."! Any faculty or power is properly denominated original and natural^ which is called into exercise in every individual to whom suitable occasions for its exercise are afforded. It is not necessa- ry that a faculty, in order to be termed original, should be exercised as soon as a human being begins to exist, any more than that it should be exercised at every mo- ment during his whole subsequent life. If, when an infant is born, we can predict, that in ca§e opportunities are af- forded, he will certainly be the subject of certain sensa- tions or emotions, it is sufficient to render it proper to apply the epithets ' original' and ' naturaP to that faculty or power to which those sensations or emotions are as- cribed. However desirable it may be to the parent, therefore, as an auxiliary in early education, to know at what period and on what occasions moral feelings and moral emotions first arise in the breast of his child, it is *Brown's Philosophy, Lect. 76. f Brown's Philosophy^ Lect. 74. FOUNDATION OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. 39 of no consequence at all in determining the question whether the moral faculties are original and natural, or accidental and acquired properties of human nature, I would take this opportunity to remark, that when we tell how God has constituted or formed the mind, or speak of the original lendencies which he has given it, our meaning is not, that the mind has any resemblance to a machine, which is so constructed^ that it will, of itself, gradually develope certain results ; or to the germ of a plant, which contains, in miniature, the various parts which are to be unjolded to view in the progress of veg- etation ; — but we mean simply to declare the fact, that every human mind, which God has created, exhibits, in certain circumstances, certain phenomena. To ascribe any of these phenomena, therefore, to the original con- stitution or tendencies of the mind,- -in other words, to say that these take place because the mind has been so constituted by the Author of its being, is to make an event or a series of events the cause of itself. To conclude, I would inquire of those who say that conscience is wholly acquired — that it is merely the creature of education — whether they believe that a child can be so educated, as to think that he merits the favor both of God and man, by doing to others, in all respects, just the contrary of what he would wish them to do to him. It seems to be the object of some, who are fond of maintaining that conscience is wholly acquired, and may receive any modification whatever from accidental cir- cumstances, to cast off the restraints of morality and re- ligion. They may, indeed, cast off these restraints ; they may habitually stifle the voice of conscience ; — but let them remember, that their moral feelings do not cease to arise, because their moral emotions are suspended, and that the eye of Omniscience does not cease to view their 40 THEORY OF MORALS. character as it is, because they have become blind to it themselves. 3. Is conscience ever erroneous? The various causes which have led many to believe that conscience may be perverted and erroneous, have been considered at some length under the fourth general head of this chapter. Such errors as these, however, are not properly ascribed to conscience. If there is any man, however depraved, who really thinks that benevo- lence is a hateful thing, and that a man deserves to be punished for loving his fellow creatures and promoting their happiness ; and who, on the other hand, thinks that malevolence is an amiable quality, and that it is a duty to hate and torment, as far as lies in our power, every being that exists ; then, I will acknowledge that conscience may be erroneous. In treating of moral distinctions, I have, in conformi- ty to the ideas of Dr. Brown, spoken only of moral feel- ings and moral emotions. These, however, seem not to include all the moral phenomena of the mind. There is another class, which 1 would denominate the moral per- ceptions. Good and ill desert are certain relations of a moral agent to enjoyment and sufffiring. But the idea or per- ception of a relation is an intellectual state of the mind, — not an emotion. The perceptions of good and ill desert are, therefore, not the same thing as the moral emotions, and hence may exist independently of them. Thus, the benevolent man, even to those who wish him ill, appears worthy to be happy ; and the malevolent man, even to himself, appears iiyori/tj/ to be miserable. Thus, a criminal is often sensible of the justice of the punishment which he suffers, while he hates those b^ whose authority it is inflicted. Perhaps also the relations of a moral agent to NATURE OF VIRTUE, 41 opprobation and disapprobation^ may be perceived by us, without feeling, at the time, the moral emotions them- selves. For example, the virtuous man, even to those by whom he is hated^ may appear worthy to be loved. A perception of one's own ill desert, may be accompanied with pain. If the pain is slight, it may be called a sense or feeling of ill desert ; if increased, it becomes remorse. Perhaps the moral emotions are always preceded by the moral perceptions. I would not ascribe these moral perceptions to a pecu- liar faculty ; but to reason^ " that power by which we discover the various re/a^iow^ of things.*" Since the moral perceptions may occasion remorse, without an intervening emotion of self-disapprobation, it follows, that although the moral emotions are virtuous, yet wicked men ma}^, while on earth, and hereafter in the vvorld of misery, suffer the torments of remorse, without any virtuous feelings, being involved in their re- morse. CHAFTXSR ZZ. Nature of Virtue. 1. Those feelings are virtuous, in the consciousness of which in ourselves, or the conception of which in any one, an emotion of approbation arises in the breast. 2. The term ' Virtue' denotes such habits of action, as may naturally be supposed to proceed from virtuous feelings. Justice, veracity, and temperance, are instances of this kind. Individual actions also, though not habitu- al, are termed virtuous, when they appear to proceed from virtuous motives. D 2 42 THEORV OJ^ MORALS. Strictly speaking, it is the agent only who is virtuous,^ as it is he only who is the object of approbation. A feeling or action is virtuous only in a secondary sense. A virtuous feeling is one which renders a man virtuous ; and a virtuous action is one which affords an indication that a m.an is virtuous. Thoughts, feelings, and actions, have no existence dis- tinct from the agent. An action is an agent acting ; and thoughts and feelings are the mind thinking and feeling. In other words, thoughts and feelings are mind^ existing in certain states j and an external action, consisting merely of certain bodily motions, is matter^ existing in certain states. Motion is a state of matter, and thoughts and feelings are states of mind. The definition above given of virtue, includes two classes of feelings ; of which the one may }»e denominat- ed instinctive and social virtues, and the other, christian virtues. The former are those which all men^ in some degree, possess ; the latter are those which are peculiar to christians. Emotions of approbation are also virtuous, and belong to the one or the other class of virtues, ac- cording to the kind of virtue that is approved. Emotions of disapprobation are also virtuous, and may belong to either of the two classes of virtues. To draw, between the christian virtues and those that are of an inferior order, a line of distinction, by which the difference may, in all cases, be perceived, belongs rather to the department of theology, than to that of ethics. For information on this subject, I would refer to " Edwards on the Affections," " Spring's Essays on the Distinguishing Traits of the Christian Character," and other writers who treat of the nature of christian virtue. The term ' virtue' is, however, generally limited to such duties toward other men and toward ourselves, as have no direct reference to a future state of existence. I NATURE or VIRTUE. 43 Duties toward God, and all duties that relate to a future state, are denoted by the terms ' piety' and ' religion.' The terms, ' virtue,' ' merit,' ^ obligation,' all have reference to one feeling of the mind, that of approba- tion ; and differ only as denoting a difference of time. Virtue denotes a certain feeling or action as present ; merit, as past ; and obligation, as future.'^ The terms ' right' and ^ wrong,' ' good' and ' bad,' applied to a feel- ing or action, are synonymous with ' virtuous' and ' vi- cious.' Dr. Paley, however, speaks of actions as being right or wrong in the abstract^ according as they have a tendency to promote the general happiness, or the con- trary. But the term ' right,' in this sense, becomes sy- nonymous with ^ useful ;' and if this sense of the term be admitted, we shall frequently have occasion to denominate an action right in the one sense, which is wrong in the oth- er, — which would be liable to produce perplexity. A man, through ignorance or want of judgment, may, though with the best intentions, perform a very hurtful action; and this action, however hurtful, is yei^ as connected with the moral feelings from which it proceeds, virtuous or right. On the other hand, a man may, though with an evil design, perform a very useful action ; and this action, however useful, is yet, as connected with the moral feel- ings from which it proceeds, vicious or wrong. An action is right or wrong, then, only as it proceeds from good or bad motives,— in other words, as the agent is virtuous or vicious in its performance. When an ac- tion is said to be right or wrong, there is always an allu- sion, more or less direct, to an agent, who is supposed to act under the influence of certain views and feelings. When we have reference to no particular agent, we de- nominate those actions right, which any man, who should ^ See Brown's Philosophy, Lect. 73. 44 THEORY OF MORALS. form a just estimate of their consequences, would feel under obligation to perform. And when we refer to a particular individual, who has performed a certain action, not knowing*, with certainty, the moral feelings which influenced him to act, we pronounce upon his conduct on the presumption, that he acted from those motives, which only could have influenced ourselves, in the same circumstances, to act in the same manner. We say, that he did rights or wrong ; though, at the same time, if it shall appear, that we mistook in regard to the motives from which he acted, our language will have been in- correct, and our commendation, or censure, unmerited. In like manner, we say that a man ought to perform a cer- tain action, presuming that his views of the tendency of the action are the same with our own. The condition that isimderstood in assertions of this kind, is, as in many other cases, so easily understood, that it seldom need be expressed. The expressions, ^I am under obligation to do an ac- tion,' ' I am bound to do it,' ' I ought to do it,' and ' It is my duty to do it,' all mean the same thing. We are said to be under obligation to exercise right feelings, and to perform right external actions. To be under obligation to exercise certain feelings, means, that if we exercise those feelings, we shall be proper objects of moral ap- probation ; and that, if we do not exercise them, it can only be owing to our exercising feelings of the contrary na- ture, which render us fit objects of moral disapprobation. To be under obligation to do a certain external action, means, that if we do that action, we shall appear amiable or worthy of approbation; and that, if we abstain from it, we shall appear odious or worthy of disapprobation. In other words, to be under obligation to do an action, means, that the exercise of right feelings will infallibly lead us to do the action ; and that, consequently, our neg- NATURE OF VIRTUE, 45 lecting to do it, will afford evidence of the exercise of wrong feelings. To feel under obligation to do an action, is to be sensible, that if mj moral feelings are right, I shall do the action ; and that nothing but wrong feeling* can prevent my doing it. The guilt of violating an ob- ligation, consists in those wrong feelings, to which only our neglect of the action can be owing. Man, as a moral agent^ is so constituted, that when an action is presented to view, which the exercise of right feelings would lead him to perform, he cannot be destitute of all moral feelings, and therefore cannot abstain from doing the action without being the subject of wrong feelings. Thus it is, that all guilt, considered as lying in the heart, is positive^ though, as respects external conduct^ there appears to be no impro- priety in speaking of "sins of omission," or of the guilt of neglecting duty. The commission of vicious actions is criminal only as it is indicative of wrong feelings ; and the omission of virtuous actions is frequently as indica- tive of something wrong in the heart ; so that bad exter- nal actions and the omission of good external actions, are criminal in precisely the same sense. The preceding illustration of the nature of moral ob- ligation, may enable us to see what we are to understand by the '• dictates' and the ' reproaches' of conscience > and also to determine one or two questions relative to the nature of duty. When an action, which we have abilit}' and opportu- nity to perform, is presented to the mind, the idea of the feelings which would lead to its performance, is suggested ; and we approve of these as right feelings, or disapprove of them as wrong. We will suppose the ac- tion to be such, that we approve of the feelings which would lead to its performance. The idea of the feelings which only can hinder its performance, is also suggested ; and we disapprove of these as wrong feelings. Either or 46 THEORY OP MORALS. both of these moral emotions, constitute a sense of duty or obligation to do the action. Perhaps, however, in most men, a sense of duty consists chiefly of a disappro- bation of the anticipated guilt of neglecting a virtuous action. " To know that we should feel ourselves unworthy of self-esteem, and objects rather of self-abhorrence, if we did not act in a certain manner, is," says Dr. Brown,'' to feel the moral obligation to act in a certain manner."* A sense of duty is called, metaphorically, the voice, dic- tates, or monitions of conscience. If the contemplated action is performed, and from good motives, the moral emotion that is felt, is called the approbation of con- science. The emotions of pleasure which are connected tvith this approbation, are the pleasure which arises from an approving conscience.* If the duty is neglected, or if any action is performed from wrong motives, the emotion of self-disapprobation that is felt, is attended with emo- tions of pain. These emotions of self-disapprobation and of pain, constitute the reproaches of an accusing con- science. The same painful emotions are sometimes cal- led remorse of conscience and the sting of conscience. — Such are the ideas which appear to be couched under the figurative terms in common use respecting conscience, when those terms are analyzed, and their meaning ex- pressed in literal language. It has been made a question by some, whether it is the duty of men to be perfectly holy. The question, however, is quite unmeaning, and can only have arisen from ob- scure or erroneous ideas of the nature of duty. It results from the very nature of moral obligation, that it is our duty to exercise right feelings toward every object, toward which we exercise any moral feelings at all. Another question is the following : ' Ought the die-' tates of conscience always to be obeyed ?' This question, ■*Brown's Philosophy, Lect, 73. NATURE OF VIRTUE. 47 lo, will be found, on examination, to be wholly unmean- ing. The ' dictates of conscience' are a sense of duty. The question, then, is, ' Ought a sense of duty always to govern our conduct V — in other words, ' Ought we al- ways to do our duty?' — in other words, ' Is it our duty always to do our duty V or, ' Ought we always to do what we ought V If, indeed, conscience might contradict it- self, and condemn at one time what it approved at anoth- er, we might admit that the dictates of conscience ought not alwaj's to be obeyed. But enough, I trust, has been said on this subject under the fourth general head of the preceding chapter. Or if we should admit a right and wrong in the abstract^ as an immediate foundation of duty, advantage might be taken of the ambiguity of terms, to say that the dictates of conscience ought not always to be obeyed. To illustrate my meaning, suppose that a man, in a certain instance, ought not to do what he real- ly thinks he ought to do. It follows, that he ought to do something which he really thinks he ought not to do. And if, among the innumerable variety of things which he believes it would be wrong for him, at that time, to do, he fixes upon some one, there is a possibility^ that by intending to do wrong, he may happen to do right. But it is said by some, and it would seem seriously said, that in such circumstances, a man will inevitably do wrong ; — for, if he does what he thinks he ought, it will be wrong, because his views of duty are erroneous, and the action is in itself wrong ; and if he does what he thinks he ought not, it will be wrong, because he acts with a bad design. Be it so ; — with equal truth I reply, that a man, in such circumstances will inevitably do right ; — for, if he does what he thinks he ought to do, it will bo right, because he acts with a good design ; and if he abstains from doing it, it will be right, because the action is in itself wrong., and ou^ht to be abstained from. These seeming contradic- 48 THEORY OF MORALS. tions arise from assuming, in each case, two standards of duty, and, of course, using the terms ' right' and ' wrong^ in two different senses. The two parts of the alterna- tive are made to appear both right or both wrong, by shifting the standard in passing from the one to the other. But it is to be remembered, that even if we use the term ' right' in an abstract sense, such a rectitude as this does not constitute duty. I will make a remark or two, illustrative of the way in which some have been led to imagine that conscience might sometimes err. When a man has performed an action that is followed by calamitous consequences, which men in general would have foreseen, and wbich he, with more information or a better judgment would have fore- seen, his neighbors very naturally ascribe the action to an evil design. And if he assures them that he meant well, that he acted conscientiously, this, instead of effacing from their minds the impression that he was influenced by wrong feelings, leads them to suspect that he was deceiv- ed in regard to the nature of his feelings, and to conclude, that if his conscience could approve such motives, it must be a perverted and erroneous conscience. Thus they persist in condemning him, because they cannot admit the belief, that his motives were really good. They could not, themselves, perform such an action from good mo- tives ; and they cannot conceive that any other could. Or, the man may have been previously criminal in neg- lecting to obtain that information, which might enable him to judge correctly of the tendency of the action; and they, fully persuaded that there is blame somewhere, liave not suflicient discrimination to attach it to that part of the man's conduct, to which it really belongs. And pos- sibly, the man liimself may err through the same want of discrimination ; or, more probably, amid the bitter regret which he feels, and the unanimous reproaches of others, NATURE OF VIRTUE, 49 he may forget his real motives, falsely conceive himself to have acted from bad motives, and hence conclude, that the self-approbation which he felt at the time was delusive, and that he did wrong in obeying the dictates of his con- science. If, however, he avoids this mistake, and retains a consciousness of rectitude, he may repel every impu- tation of blame by saying, ' I know that my motives were good ; and it is unreasonable to censure me for consequen- ces which I did not foresee nor intend, and which had I foreseen, I should by means have performed the action.' But is there not danger, lest some should justify them- selves in the commission of real crimes, under the pre- tence of honest intentions ? Madame de Stael suggests a danger of this kind. " What reply shall we make," she asks, " to those who should pretend that in departing from duty, they obey the dictates of conscience ?"* But I imagine that no great evil is to be apprehended from this source. In ordinary cases, it is easy to make a man see, that he can maintain the pretence of good in- tentions only by pleading ignorance or want of foresight; and there are few, — so depraved is man, — who would not rather be suspected of want of integrity than of want of understanding. The case of St. Paul merits a particular consideration. He says, " 1 verily thought with myself that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Naza- reth. -'t Was it, then, his duty to persecute the chris- tians, and to lay waste the church ? — On this subject, two or three preliminary remarks may serve to guard against misapprehension. * Que repondre, a ceux qui pretendroient, en s' ecarlant da devoir, qu' lis obeissent aux ir.ouvemens de leur conscience. — De L' Allemagne. Tome III. p. 205. t Acts xxvi. 9. E 50 THEORY OF MORALS. 1. Paul's views of Christ and of christians, were, be- fore his conversion, very erroneous ; and these errone- ous views, so far as he was led to entertain them by pre- judice, or pride, or any bad passion, were criminal. They were criminal in the same sense that any external conduct is, — that is, as proceeding from wrong feelings of heart. We often hear of the innocence of error; but error is frequently as criminal as falsehood, fraud, and other vices of the kind, because it originates in moral feelings equally bad. 2. Paul was criminal, not only in forming, but in con- tinuing to entertain^ those erroneous views. Right moral feelings would have led him to examine the subject of Christianity impartially and prayerl'uily ; and such an ex- amination would have ended in his conviction. 3. Paul was highly criminal in persecuting the chris- tians. He says that he was '•^ exceedingly mad against them ;" and there is much evidence that he was actuated by a malevolent and persecuting spirit. Such a spirit, his conscience could not approve ; neither could he think, that by indulging it, he should meet the approbation of God. It appears from the context, that he did not say that he once thought he ought to do many things against the name of Jesus, in the way of exculpating himself, but to show how erroneous his views of the christian re- ligion had been. In another place, too, he represents his persecuting the saints as the summit of his wickedness.* 4. I now proceed to observe, that Paul's views of the nature and tendency of the new religion, appear to have been such, that it was actually his duty, while he enter- tained these views, to oppose the progress of this reli- gion. But it was his duty to oppose the christians with right feelings, — with the same humble and benevolent « I Cor. XV. 9. NATURE OF VIRTUE. 51 spirit, with which they were lahoring to propagate their religion. This spirit, however, would have soon led him to see that his views were erroneous ; and of course, with the change in his views, his duty to oppose Chris- tianity would have ceased. — Is it said, that because his erroneous views were criminal, the course of conduct resulting from those views, must have been criminal ? I reply, that there is only one thing which can render the conduct criminal ; and that is, its proceeding directly from wrong feelings. I said " directly ;" I mean, as directly as any external conduct can proceed from the moral feel- ings, that is, through the medium of the conceptions and volitions. Criminal thoughts, criminal opinions, and criminal conduct, are all criminal in the same sense ; that is, not because one of them may proceed from another, but because they all proceed alike from wrong feelings. And although the moral feelings which a man had years ago, may, through a concatenation of intervening opin- ions, actions, and events, render his present conduct dif^ ferent from what it would otherwise have been, yet this conduct is not to be denominated right or wrong accord- ing to the nature of those distant feelings, but according to the nature ot the feelings from which it now springs. Such an indirect and complex method of estimating the morality of actions, would occasion infinite confusion in the language of ethics. Paul says, that he really thought he ought to do many things ill opposition to Christ ; and though he says this to show in how great a mistake he had been in regard to Christianity, yet it contains an explicit declaration, that he ^^ thought''' he ought to oppose Christ; — and what a man thinks he ought to do, he is, while he thinks so, un- der obligation to do. A man may, soon afterwards, mis- take in regard to his moral emotions, through the fault of his memory j but l^e cannot make sucii a miotake at the 52 THEORY OF MORALS. time. To use the words of Madame de Stael, " The voice of conscience is so delicate, that it is easy to stifle it ; but it is so clear and distinct, that it is impossible to misunderstand it."* But it does not follow irom this, that a man will in fact act from good motives in doing that which he previously felt it his duty to do. The same action may be performed from various motives ; and an action which right feelings would lead us to perform, may, nevertheless, be performed under the complete influence of wrong feelings. A man may feel that he should be self-condemned, if he forebore to perform the action; and yet may immediately proceed to perform it, impelled by feelings even worse than those which alone could have prevented him from performing it, and perhaps without once suspecting the real motives of his conduct. Although, therefore, it was Paul's duty, while he thought so, " to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth ;" yet we cannot infer from this that he actually did his duty, in opposing Christ, — since duty is performed only when we act from such motives as con- science approves. If Paul had correct views of the divine character, and believed it to be the will of God that the christians should be persecuted and destroyed, he might have been as justifiable in dragging them to prison, in pursuing them even to foreign cities, and in giving his voice against them when they were put to death, as the Israelites were in destroying the inhabitants of Canaan in obedi- ence to the divine command. But I do not suppose he did believe it to be the will of God, that he should per- secute them in the manner that he did. I suppose, in- deed, that even if he had been actuated by good mo- * La voix de la conscience est si delicate, qu' il est facile de 1' etouffer ; mais elle est si pure, qu' il est impossible de la meconnoitre.— X>e V Al- lemagnCf Tome III. ^p. 183. NATURE OF VTRTUE. 53 lives, he would have been led, till he saw his error, to do "many things" against the church; but not 50 many nor such things as he actually did, impelled by a malevo- lent spirit, which " breathed out threatenings and slaugh- ter against the disciples of the Lord." It is piobable, that the whispers of conscience were drowned amid the clamors of passion and the impetuosity of zeal. Had he paused to reflect, and to examine- the motives by which he was actuated, he might probably have become sensi- ble of his error and his guilt, even in the midst of his persecuting career. The preceding discussions bring us to an important practical conclusion ; — I'hat it is impossible to be too conscientious; that tenderness of conscience ought ev- er to be cultivated ; that the reproach of scrupulosity ought never to be feared; and that the moral emotions ought to be carefully attended to and remembered. I now proceed to an inquiry more directly illustrative of the nature of virtue, than the definitions, explanations, and reasonings, with which this chapter has, thus far, been occupied. Why do virtuous feelings lead to the performance of one action^ rather than of another ? It is obvious, that the foundation of this preference, must be a difference, of some kind, in actions themselves, or in their relations, or consequences. What this differ- ence is, constitutes, then, the object of inquiry. The subject on which we are now entering, is one on which various and disc( rdant opinions have been enter- tained. Some have supposed one thing and some another, to be the sole ground of virtuous preference in acting; and some have supposed there are various co-ordinate principles of virtuous action. Some of these supposi- tions we shall briefly consider. e2 54 THEORY OF MORAt^w 1 . The will of God is supposed by some to be the sole reason why the virtuous man prefers one action to anoth- er. The will of God is an infallible rule of duty, and his commands, in many instances, make known to us our duty; but there is a reason why it is our duty to conform to the will of God and obey his commands, and this is, that his will is perfectly benevolent, and his commands are per- fectly suited to promote the ends of infinite benevolence. Duty results from the nature and relations of things ; and is immutable, so long as that nature and those relatione remain the same. Therefore, even on the supposition that God should require his creatures to exercise hatred and malice toward one another, or should forbid ihem to act from benevolent motives, they could not feel an ap- probation of such a command and such a prohibition, and therefore, could not feel a self-approbation in complying with them ; — in other words, it would not be their duty to comply with them. '' We consider the Deity," says Dr. Brown, " as pos- sessing the highest moral perfection ; but, in that theolo- gical view of morality which acknowledges no mode of estimating excellence beyond the divine command itself, whatever it might have been, — these words are absolute- ly meaningless ; since, if, instead of what we now term virtue, he had commanded only what we now term vice, his command must still have been equally holy." " God has, indeed, commanded certain actions, and it is our virtue to conform our actions to his will ; but if the virtue df^pend exclusively on obedience to the command, and if there be no peculiar moral excellence in the ac- tions commanded, he must have been equally adorable, though nature had exhibited only appearances of unceas- ing malevolence in its author, and every command which fee had delivered to his creatures, had been only to add NATURE OF VIRTUE. 55 new voluntary miseries to the physical miseries which already surrounded them.""* 2. Some suppose, that there is a ' moral wertW in cer- tain actions, independent of their utility ; and that this moral worth constitutes a reason why the virtuous man performs actions of that kind. What this moral worth is, however, is difficult to be conceived. Does the moral worth of ^rw^/i, for instance, consist in the^fne** of things, in the adaptedness of one thing to another, and in the cor- respondence of words with the ideas which they represent, and of signs with the things signified? Then is there the same moral worth in the correct solution of a mathemati- cal problem, in the musical concord of voices in singing, or in the exact delineation of an object in painting, as in speaking the truth, or keeping a promise. There is. indeed, a moral worth in the motives from which truth proceeds, when those motives are good ; but in troth it- self, abstractedly considered, there appears to be no worth or value, of any kind whatever, except what may be cal- led a natural worth, consisting in the useful tendency of truth. 3. Some suppose, that the tendency of actions to pro- mote cne'^s own best interest^ is the sole reason of perform- ing them, in the mind of the virtuous man. According to this system, which is advocated by many able writers, virtue consists in a rational regard to one's own happi- ness ; and virtuous actions are those which are considered as being best adapted to promote this object. This is the system of Dr. Paley. In answer to the question, " Why am 1 under obligation to keep my word ?" he says, '^ Because I am urged to do so by a violant motive, (name- ly, the expectation of being after this life rewarded, if I do, or punished for it, if I do not,) resulting from the * Brown's Philosophy, Lect. 80. J56 THEORY OF MORALS. command of another (namely, of God.) This solution goes to the bottom of the subject, as no further question can reasonably be asked. Therefore, private happiness is our motive, and the will of God our rule." And in accordance with this, is his definition of Virtue : ^' Virtue is the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness." A ' rational regard' to our own happiness, must mean, a desire of personal hippiness, controlled and directed by rea- son. But reason, which is wholly an intellectual facility, is no part of virtue. If it were, there would be something of virtue in the operations of the reasoning faculty, when em- ployed in accomplishing the basest tind worst of purpo- ses. The reasoning powers are employed in adapting means to an end in deeds ot cruelty and oppression, pre- cisely in the same manner, as in deeds of kindness and philantbropy. The adaptation of means to an end, is the sole use of reason in the actions of men. The heart chooses and desires the end, and reason selects the means. Reason may, indeed, be employed in the preliminary process of estimating the probable good and evil conse- quences of an action, of which the performance is a sub- ject of deliberation ; but this is before the action can be said to have commenced ; and besides, the-faculty of rea- son is employed in the same manner in estimating the future consequences of actions, whether they are to be chosen for the sake of their good, or for the sake of their evil, consequences. It is evident, then, that in making virtue to consist in a ' rational regard' to one''s own hap- piness, the epithet 'rational' is superfluous; and that, according to this system, virtue consists in tlie desire of personal happiness^ whether rational cr irrational. If a man s^incerely and supremely desires the promotion of that object, in desiring and promoting which all virtue consists ; and if he exerts ail his powers and directs all NATURE OF VIRTUE. 57 his actions to this laudable end, who would blame him for missing, wholly or partly, of the object, merely through want of more extensive knowledge or more skilful calcu- lation ? It is to be remembered, that, on this plan, rea- son is not to be employed in promoting the happiness of others, except merely as a means of promoting our own ; nor in guarding against encroachments on the happiness of others, except just so far as those encroachments might be liable to bring evil upon ourselves. Hence, if this world were our only state of existence, it would be inno- cent, and even virtuous, to trample on the rights of oth- ers, and sacrifice their interest, whenever it happened to interfere with our own. And though a virtuous man of this stamp may appear to make some sacrifices to the wishes, or interest, or wants or others, yet it is in no de- "gree for their sake, but wholly for his own ; for, unless he hoped to gain by it, sooner or later, he would not de- ny himself the smallest gratification for the sake of saving others from the greatest evils, or securing to them the most important benefits. Such is " the selfish system^'^^ — as it is very correctly denominated. As a picture of the human heart, such as it is found in the great majority of mankind, this system may not be far from the truth ; but as a picture of the virtuous man, it is utterly false. Indeed, the represent tation is not perfectly correct, even when applied to the human heart in its natural state. For although selfishness is the supreme, and perhaps the most habitual, principle of action, in all who are destitute of christian virtue, yet, even in them, it is not the sole principle of action. They have not their own happiness in view in all their actions. They do not love virtue because this love is attended with pleasure ; nor do they relieve the distressed because the recollection will give them pleasure. The following remarks of Dr. Brown will set this subject in its true light : 58 THEORY OF MORALS* " Many philosophers seem to thipk, that they have shown man to be necessarily selfish^ merely by sho wing- that it is delightful for him to love thdse, whom it is vir- tue to love ; and whom it would have been impossible for him not to love^ even though no happiness had attended the affection ; — as it, is impossible for him not to despise or dislike the mean and the profligate, though no pleasure attends the contemplation."* '' Though we cannot, when there is no interfering pas- sion, think of the virtues of others without pleasure, and must, therefore, in loving virtue, love what is by its own nature pleasing, the love of the virtue, which cannot ex- ist without the pleasure, is surely an affection very dif- ferent from the love of the mere pleasure, existing, if it had been possible for it to exist, without the virtue."! " The immediate object of our desire, in rushing to the relief of one who is in danger, is not the pleasure of giv- ing relief, but the relief itself, — the subsequent contem- plation of which is, indeed, by a bountiful provision of Heaven, associated with delight, as the failure in the attempt to afford it, is accompanied with pain — -but which we desire instantly, without regard to our own personal delight that would follow it, or the pain that would be felt by us, if the relief were not given. "J '■' He who counts only the pleasure which the offices of virtue are to yield, and who acts as virtue orders, there- fore, only because vice does not offer to her followers so rich a salary, — is unworthy, I will not say merely of being a follower of virtue, but even of that pleasure which virtue truly gives only to those who think less of the pleasure, than of the duty which affords the pleasure. "§ *Bi wii's Philosophy, Lect. 60. flbid Lect. 59. t loiU. Uct. 95. 5 ibid. Lecu 98, NATURE OF VIRTUE, 59 If virtue consists in the desire of personal happiness^ the more undisguised this selfish desire is, (he more vir- tuous must an action appear; and the more any one is led, by benevolence toward others, to forget himself in acting", the less virtuous does the action become. But if this is so, why do men take so much pains to appear disinterest- ed ? It seems there is a f»»eling in the breast, even of the most selfish, which tells them that selfishness is not a virtue. This feeling is the moral emotion, — to which our ultimate appeal must be made, in all questions rela- tive to the nature of virtue. On this subject, I again quote the language of Dr. Brown : '' If two individuals were to expose themselves to the same peril, for the same common Irierid, — and if we could be made to understand, that the one had no other motive for this apparently generous exposure, than the wish of securing a certain amount of happiness to himself, at some time, either near or remote,— on earth, or after he had quitted earth ; — the other no motive but that of saving a life that was dearer to him than his own, — in which case would our feeling of moral approbation more strongly arise ? Is it the more selfish of the two whom alone we should consider as the moral hero ; or rather, is it not only in thinking of him who forgot every thing but the call of friendship, and the disinterested feeling of duty which prompted him to obey the call, — that we should feel any moral approbation whatever ? It is precisely in proportion as selfish happiness is absent from the mind of the agent, or is supposed to be absent from it, in any sacrifice which is made for another, that the moral ad- miration arises."* But it may be asked, If the moral emotions of men are never erroneous, and if a supreme desire of persoa- «Lect. 79. 60 THEORY OF MORALS. al happiness is not virtuous, how does it happen that the selfish system has found so many a«lvocates ? Why do not every man's own moral emotions tell him that such a system is false ? — Of this difiiculty, which seems not to have occurred to Dr. Brown, a solution nK'iy, perhaps, be found in the following considerations : There are cer- tain states of mind, in which moral emotions do not arise. Extreme passion and moral insensibility have been al- ready mentioned, as instances of this kind. Perhaps the strength of the selfish principle in many men, and the warmth of their attachment to a theory of virtue, which makes their own virtue appear so great, and an aban- donment of which would be almost to relinquish all claim to virtue, — may prevent the rise of moral emotions when their attention is turned to their favorite theory, and especially whenever this theory is attacked. An intellec" iual state of mind may also prevent both moial feelings and moral emotions from arising. Hence, while the ad- vocate of the selfish system, is deeply engaged in advocat- ing that system, or in contemplating the argumentsi which are used both to attack and defend it, he is in a^ state of mind which incajiacitates him ^or feeling that hise L' Allemagnej Tome III. p. 166. I^t THEORY OF MORALS. mortality has no analogy to the pleasures and pains of which we conceive here on earth. The sentiment which makes us aspire after immortality, is as disinter- ested, as that which would make our happiness to consist in heing devoted to that of others ; for the first fruits of religious enjoyment are in the sacrifice of ourselves ; so that every kind of selfishness is necessarily exclut'ed."* In order to determine whether the epithet ' seifirh' is properly applied to the man who makes his own eternal happiness the supreme object of desire and pursuit, it is necessary to inquire definitely what selfishness is. Sel- . fishness is a prefer cMce of an interest which is one^s ortm to an equal or superior interest which is not one's own. The selfish man prefers his own interest simi)ly because it is his own ; and upon the interest of others, though of equal value in itself, he places an inferior value, simply because it is not his own. It makes no difference in what this interest consists. The child, who attempts to deprive another child of a toy or an apple, exhibits an instance of selfishness. The man, who covets the wealth or honors that another has obtained, exhibits an instance of selfishness. So also does he, who envies another the possession of superior talents or of more extensive eru- dition. And so, too, does he, who makes his own eternal happiness his supreme object, — regarding the happiness of the whole universe beside as a subordinate object. The selfishness is not diminished by increasing the 7/iag' * Kant a pretendu que c' etoitalterer la purete desinteresse de la morale que de donner a nos actions pour but la perspective d'une vie future i plusieurs ecrivains Allemands T ont parfaitenient refute a cet egard ; en effet; r immortalite celeste n ' a nul rapport avec les peines et les recom- penses que r on con§oit sur cette lerre; le sentiment qui nous faitaspi* rer a l' immortarue est aussi desinteresse que celui qui nous feroit trouver noire bonheur dans le devouement a celui des autres; car les preniices de la felicite religieuse, c' est le sacrifice de nous-memes; ainsi done elle ecarte necessairement toute espece d' ego'israe — De VAlkmagn^y Tome III. p. 192. NAtURE or VIRTUE. 63 nitude of the object which is preferred, while the mag- nitude of the object to which it is preferred, is equally increased. Neither is the selfishness diminished by the purity and excellence of that which is preferred, while that to which it is preferred, is equally pure and excel- lent. A man is not, indeed, to be denominated selfish merely for desiring and seeking his own happiness, sen- sitive, intellectual, moral, or religious ; but for seeking these objects with a desire of such a kind as to inter- fere with that equal regard which he owes to his neigh- bor, that superior regard which he owes to the commu- nity, and that supreme regard which he owes to God. After all, there is no danger that such happiness as is enjoyed in heaven, will ever be, to any one, the object of supreme desire. The human mind is so constituted, that no one can have a conception of any thing which is different in kind from all that he has experienced. The pleasures of religion are, like their source, different in kind from all others. Of course, those who have never tasted these pleasures, cannot have any conception of them ; and that of which they cannot conceive, cannot be to them an object either of supreme or subordinate desire. Therefore, the future happiness which such imagine and desire, differs not in kind from what they enjoy on earth ; so that they cannot be shielded from the imputation of selfishness, by alleging the purity and ce- lestial nature of the object of their pursuit. As to those who have enjoyed a foretaste of the real happiness of heaven, they love God supremely, and their neighbor at themselves ; and, of course, regard their own happiness even in eternity, as a subordinate object. But it seems to be merely the vast amount of eternal happiness, which, in the mind of Dr. Paley, renders it virtuous to make this the object of all our actions ; for he " holds that pleasures differ in nothing but in continu- ance and intensity." This is to make virtue consist in nr '4g4 THEORY OF MORALS. ^^^^^H ' rational regard' to our own interest, — excepting that it is a little irrational and inconsistent to deny the appel- lation of virtue to such a pursuit of earthly pleasures as we may engage in without endangering our eternal hap- piness, or diminishing the sum total of our enjoyment. If all pleasures are the same in kind, and if virtue con- sists in the rational pursuit of pleasure, it must be as truly virtuous to desire the pleasures of sense, so far as they can be innocently enjoyed, as to desire ' everlasting happiness ;' — the only difference being, that lo desire to eat an apple or an orange is a small virtue, while the virtue becomes greater as the desire is directed to pleas- ures of greater intensity or greater duration. " The doctrine of Paley differs," says Dr. Brown, " from the general selfish system, only by the peculiar importance which it very justly gives to everlasting happiness and misery, when compared with the brief pains or pleas- ures of this life. In the scale of selfish gain, it is a greater quantity of physical enjoyment which it has in view. It is a sager selfislmess, but it is not less absolute selfishness which it maintains."* " This form of the selfish system is, I cannot but think, as degrading to the human character, as any other form of the doctrine of absolute selfishness ; or rather, it is in itself the most degrading of ail the forms which the sel- fish system can assume : because, while the selfishness which it maintains is as absolute and unremitting, as if the objects of personal gain were to be found in the wealth, or honors, or sensual pleasures of this earth ; this very selfishness is rendered more offensive, by the noble image of the Deity which is continually presented to our mind, and presented in all his benevolence, not to be loved, but to be courted with a mockery of affection. * Brown's Philosophy, Lect. 79. NATURE OF VIRTUE. Qi6 The sensualist of the common system of selfishness, who never thinks of any higher object in the pursuit of the little pleasures which he is miserable enough to regard as ha})piness, seems to me, even in the brutal stupidity in which he is sunk, a being more worthy of esteem than the selfish of another life ; to whose view God is ever present, but who view him always only to feel constantly in their heart, that in loving him who has been the dis- penser of all the blessings which they have enjoyed, and who has revealed himself in the glorious character of the diflfuser of an immortality of happiness, they love not the Giver himself, but only the gifts which they have re- ceived, or the gifts that are promised."* 4. A fourth supposition, — which I shall endeavor to illustrate and maintain, — makes benevolence the leading trait in the virtuous character ; and makes all virtue, which does not consist in benevolence, to consist in feel- ings that harmonize perfectly with the views of benevo- lence. All those virtuous feelings that are not directly benevolent, yet bear such a relation to benevolence, that their separation from this principle would render the character inconsistent and imperfect. Disinterested benevolence is the highest and most un- equivocal exercise of virtue. By disinterested benevo- lence, I mean a benevolence which is impartial and uni- versal in its nature ; which desires supremely the promo- tion of the greatest good of the universe, and desires the happiness of individual beings in proportion to the capa- city of happiness which they are known or conceived to possess. It rejoices in happiness, wherever happiness exists; always prefers a greater good to a less; and is willing that the less good should be sacrificed, whenever it is necessary in order to secure the greater. It seldom, » Ibid. f2 66 THEORY OF MORALS. perhaps, makes the greatest good of the universe the di- rect object of desire, because it seldom makes this an object of thought ; but, whenever this is contemphited, it becomes the object of supreme desire ; and, whatever ob- jects are contemplated together by the mind, the most important always preponderates. In the view of the en- yghtened christian, the glorj of God and the greatest good of the universe, are identified ; and he feels, that ill desiring supremely that the will of God may be done, he virtually desires that the greatest good of the universe may be secured. it is obvious, that a man in the exercise of the purest benevolence may make his own happiness an object of desire, since this benevolence prizes every object accord- ing to its real value. The evidence of pure benevolence, however, must be less in desiring one's own happiness or that of a friend, than in desiring the happiness of a stranger or an enemy ; as it must be less in promoting the happiness of another where it can be done without any inconvenience to ourselves, than where a large sacri- fice, without hope of remuneration, is required. But there are feelings, different in their nature from those just described, which may, nevertheless, be denom- inated benevolent. Even in those who are destitute of christian benevolence, there are feelings of instinctive and social benevolence, in view of which emotions of moral approbation arise. There are various A e lings of kindness in social intercourse, and various affections be- tween those who are connected by the ties of consan- guinity, which render the possessor more amiable in our view, and which may therefore be denominated virtuous. The grand object of desire, is happiness. The differ- ence between selfishness and benevolence is, that the former makes its own happiness the sole object of desire ; and the latter desires also the happiness of others. The jtatiTre of vmT0iB. 8? tlifference between christian benevolence and that which is of an inferior kind, is, that the former makes the gene- ral happiness the object of supreme desire, and feels such a desire of the happiness of individuals as will readily give place to the superior claims of an object of greater magnitude, whenever occasion requires ; and the latter desires the happiness of individuals and of the community sincerely indeed, but with a desire of such a kind, as vanishes the moment their interest comes ia competition with its own. It is to be remarked, that happiness is far from being the sole direct object of desire. Although objects are valuable only for the happiness which they afford, yet we are so formed as to desire them, frequently, without think- ing of that happiness. The objects of human desire are enumerated by Dr. Brown in the following manner : The desire of continued existence, of pleasure, of action, of society, of knowledge, of power, of the affection of others, of glory, of the ha[)piness of others, and of evil to others. But although we may desire continued existence, action, society, knowledge, power, and the affection of others, without thinking of happiness as connected with the attain- ment of these objects, yet it was wholly for the sake of the happiness which they may afford, that our benevolent Creator formed us thus to desire them. Nor are any of these desires virtaous, except the desire of the happiness of ourselves or others. It is evident, therefore, that whenever any of these desires would lead us in a course that would diminish the general happiness, virtue would require us to relinquish the pursuit. It sometimes happens, that virtuous feelings, such as compassion or filial affection, prompt to an action, which an enlightened mind sees to be inconsistent with the views of a more enlarged benevolence. In such a case, if the general tendency of the action is perceived by the indi- 48 THEORY OP MORALS. vidual, he must feel it to be his duty to sacrifice the leSSJ object to the greater. As our Creator endued us with these inferior principles of action wholly for the sake of promoting the general welfare, it is evidently our duty to keep them in subordination to the views of general be- nevolence. In order to place this subject in a clear light, let us suppose that 1 have an opportunity to save the life of one out of two human beings, of whom the one is a parent or child, and the other unconnected with me by the ties of nature or affection, but obviously and decisively a more important member of society ; — which of the two ought I to save ? if we omit all consideration of any dif- ference which there may be in the prospects of the two individuals in regard to a luture state of existence, the question must be determined by a balancing of the proba- ble temporal consequences of the action. If I save the stranger, and leave my parent or child to perish, it may produce a bad effect on all who are unable to conceive the real motives of my conduct; for, so far as my exam- ple has influence with such, the tendency of it is, to weak- en, in them, the ties of natural affection. Now, this is an evil of no small magnitude. The private affections are of incalculable importance to the welfare of society. In all, who are destitute of a more exalted benevolence, they are not only the chief source of enjoyment, but the only preservative from a thousand crimes and sufferings. If, then, the sacrifice of my parent or child for the sake of a stranger, would be likely to weaken, to any consid- erable extent, the ties of filial or parental affection, this evil may more than counterbalance the superior value of the stranger^s life. The consequences resulting to myself from each part of the alternative, are, perhaps, hardly worth mentioning. If 1 have made the sacrifice, not from any deficiency of natural afi'ection, but m.erely from being actuated by a principle of a superior order, there is no NATURE OF VIRTUE, 69 danger lest such an act should weaken, in myself, the ties of natural aifection toward surviving relatives and friendij. On the other hand, the i)ain which I must feel in having torn asunder one of these ties, will he compensated to me by the approbation of conscience for having performed an act of virtue so exalted. — On the whole, I undertake not to say, what decision ought to be formed in any parti- cular case of this kind. The decision ought not, I think, to be always the same ; but to differ according to varying circumstances. The subject was introduced for the sake of exhibiting more clearly the general principles, by which a man of an enlightened mind and of disinterested virtue, governs his conduct. It seems proper, in this place, to make a few remarks on a question, w^hich has usually been regarded as of pri- mary importance in the theory of morals : What is the Foundation of Moral Obligation? It is somewhat difficult to ascertain the precise mean- ing of the phrase, ' Foundation of Moral Obligation.' What moral obligation is^ has already been shown. To feel under obligation to perform an action, is to feel an emotion of approbation of the motives which would lead to the performance of the action, and of disapprobation of the motives which would hinder its performance. The question. What is the foundation of the obligation to per- form the action ? may mean either. Why do we feel those emotions of approbation and disapprobation ? or. Why would those motives which conscience approves, lead to the per- formance of the action ; and those which conscience disap- proves, hinder its performance ? The latter of these inqui-> ries,is that which we have been pursuing. Our desires lead us to perform such actions, as will accomplish the object desired. Virtuous actions are such as are designed to accomplish those objects, in the desire of which virtue 70 THEORY OF MORALS. consists. One object of virtuous desire, is happiness. Be- nevolence, therefore, leads us to perform such actions, a« are promotive of happiness. It is, perhaps, hardly ne- cessary to remark, that benevolence, in desiring the pro- duction or increase of happiness, desires, of course, the removal or alleviation of suffering; and the latter is a direct object of desire, as well as the former. Another objectof virtuous desire, is moral approbation. If it were possible, however, for a man to be totally des- titute of every other virtuous motive, and to act solely for the sake of gaining his own approbation and that of others, I think that his merit would be generally acknowl- edged to be very small. A desire of approbation and a dread of disapprobation, are rather an index of virtue, than virtue itself; and are probably, in fact, valued less for the degree of virtue which they are supposed to in- volve, than for the indication they afford of the habitual existence of other virtuous feelings. The other question mentioned above, requires a few remarks ; — ^ Why do we feel certain moral emotions, in view of certain moral feelings V To say, that we feel these emotions because we are so constituted^ is only to say, that we feel them because we always do feel them, and because all men feel them. Why, then, are we so constituted by our Creator ? — in other words. Why has he willed, that mankind should feel these emotions ? The answer is, Because he desires the happiness of his creatures, and could in no other way make them so happy, — could in no other way make them so much to resemble himself, as by making them to feeF, not merely virtuous desires and affections, but also aii approbation of virtue and a disapprobation of vice. (71) CHAPTFR III. Degree of Virtue, The degree of virtue in an action depends on the strength of virtuous feeling implied. Tiie character of an individual is virtuous in proportion to the frequency and strength of his virtuous feelings. So far is plain. The only difficulty lies in judging of the frequency and strfuigth of virtuous feelings by external actions. On this subject, I shall confine myself to some remarks on the manner in which the degree of virtue is affected by iempiation and by habit ; and also on the manner in which our estimate of the degree of virtue is affected by the re- sult of an action, when this result is different from the in- tention of the actor. 1. The influence of temptation on the degree of vir] tue. Temptation may either diminish or increase the de- gree of virtue. It may excite wrong feelings, and lead to a vicious action, in a case, in which, without the temptation, the feelings and the conduct would have been virtuous. In this case, we should err, if we regard ed the particular act of vice as an index of the general character. But in another case, where a temptation is presented, there may have been such wrong feelings as would have led to the commission of the crime without the temptation; and in this case, we are liable to err by regarding the temptation as an extenuation of the guilt. Again, temptation may excite some wrong feelings in a virtuous breast, sufhcient, not to prevail over the virtu- ous feelings indeed, but so to diminish their number and strength, as to render the degree of virtue in acting very ^ small. In this case, a man has the credit of superior vir- tue, on account of his victory over temptation j and this V2 THEORY OF MORALS. credit, though not due to him on acconnt of the virtue involved in the victory itself, may yet be due when we consider this victory as an index of the habitual exercise of virtuous feelings. Again, the effort that is made to re- sist temptation, hy the man of determined virtue, may give occasion to more numerous and more vigorous feel- ings of virtue, than would have arisen without the temp- tation. In like manner, the degree of virtue may be in- creased by the effort that is made to surmount any obsta- cles whatever to the performance of a virtuous action. These obstacles may properly be called a temptation, not, indeed, to perform a bad action, but to abstain from per- forming a good one. On the whole, yielding to tempta- tion indicates a much less degree of vice in the character, than committing the same crime without temptation ; and resisting temptation, especially performing a virtuous ac- tion notwithstanding a temptation to the contrary, or sur- mounting obstacles of any other kind, indicates a much greater degree of virtue in the character, than perform- ing the same actions where there is no temptation to be resisted or obstacle to be surmounted ; — though the indi- cation is by no means infallible, since the degree of vice may be as great with temptation as without it, and the degree of virtue may be as great without temptations and obstacles as with them. 2. The influence of habit on the degree of virtue. By habit, here, we are not to understand the habitual exercise of virtuous feelings, for the effect of this on the degree of virtue in the character, needs no illustra- tion; but the habitual performance of virtuous actions. In the first place, we may presume, that the habit of virtuous ac- tion was originally formed by the habitual exercise ol virtu- ous feelings. Here is an aggregate of virtue, that is not to be overlooked. But what I would chiefly inquire, is, what evidence the continued performance of the same habitual actions, affords ol the continued exercise of vir- DEGREE OF VIRTUE. 73 tuous feelings, and of the frequency and strength of those feelings. I think it must be admitted, that actions, to which we were at first prompted by virtuous feelings, are frequent- ly, when they have become habitual, performed without the recurrence of those feelingi<. But 1 cannot bf^lieve, that where the habit of virtuous action continues, the habit of virtuous feeling can have entirely ceased. If it had, temp- tation would resume its force, the m:m would fall into vice, and his virtuous habits be broken off. Man cannot cease to be a moral agent. As soon as virtuous feelings cease to occupy the breast, those of the contrary nature will enter. Still, it appears, that as virtuous actions be- come habitual, and temptations lose their force by being continually and uniformly resisted, the virtuous feelings, which are connected with these habitual actions, may be- come weaker than they originally were. Most of those associations of ideas which involve temptation, having been dissolved, the weakness of the virtuous feelings does not necessarily expose the mind to the assault of temptation ; and in case an assault is made, it being more unusual, the alarm is greater, and the slumbering virtues are at once aroused to vigilance and to action. To con- clude, we may venture to say, that in a man who is con- firmed in virtuous habits, the correspondent virtuous feel- ings are also habitual, though, perhaps, not perfectly uni- form, uor always so vigorous as at first, or as some of his other virtuous feelings, excited by circumstances less ha- bitual and familiar, now are ; and that what is wanting in the strength of these habitual virtuous feelings, is made up by their greater frequency, and by the more uniform ex- clusion of those wrong feelings, which intruded more fre- quently and with greater force, while the habits of virtue were not yet fully confirmed. 74 THEORY or MORALS. 3. There is another thing which affects, not the degree of virtue itself, but the estimate which we form of it. I allude to what Dr. Smith terms '' the influence of for- tune."* We are prone to commend or blame a man, rather according to the actual consequences of his actions, than according to the evidence which his actions afford of good or bad intentions. '^ The effect of the influence of fortune," says Dr. Smith, " is, first, to diminish our sense of the merit or demerit of those actions which arose from the most laudable or blamable intentions, when they fail of producing their proposed effects; and, secondly, to increase our sense of the merit or demerit of actions, be- yond what is due to the motives or affections from which they proceed, when they accidentally give occasion either to extraordinary pleasure or pain." This error in judg- ing of human conduct, is so common, and one of which so few are unapprised, that I forbear to offer any illus- tration. The frequency and extent of the error, are happily illustrated by Dr. Smith. 1 am inclined, howev- er, to account for it in a manner different from his. I would ascribe it to erroneous conceptions of the motives from which an individual acts. The external actions of men are the only means we have of learning their mo- tives. When an action fails of producing its intended effects, we find it difiicult to conceive of the man as real- ly intending the production of those effects. The cus- tomary evidence of his intentions is wanting ; and though the evidence which is afforded may be in itself sufficient, yet we continually forget this ; and hence our concep- tions of his moral feelings are obscure and defective, in like manner, when an action is productive of more good or more harm than was intended, we find it difficult to avoid conceiving of the man as intending all the effects which actually follow. Being in the habit of regarding * Theory of M«ral Sentiments, Part II. Section 3. DEGREE OF VIRTUE. 75 Sill the effects of actions as comprised in the intention of the actor, when we see the effects which are actually produced, conceptions of the motives which usually lead to such effects, spontaneously arise ; and we cannot easily check these conceptions, although we are aware that the case before us is an exception to the general rule. Be- sides, the excitement produced in our feelings by a view of the happy or unhappy consequences of the action, prepares our minds to entertain the more readily those conceptions which naturally arise. If the consequences are happy, the sympathy we feel with those who are made happy, disposes us to imagine their benefactor to be worthy of all the gratitude, which the production of so much happiness naturally inspires. If the consequen- ces are unhappy, the pain which we feel, disposes us to ascribe,to the author of the mischief, intentions bad enough to produce all this evil. If, indeed, we know that no evil was intended in the one cue©, and no good in the Other, our conceptions of good and ill desert are checked at once ; but if we have evidence that some evil was intend- ed in the one case, and some good in the other, the state of our mind disposes us to imagine the intentions to have been proportioned to the actual effects. The views which have been taken in this chapter, and also the remarks of Dr. Brown on '^ the complexity of actions," quoted in a former chapter, may serve to show how very liable we are to err, in judging of the motives from which men act; and especially, in estimating the degree of merit or demerit involved in the performance of a particular action. PRACTICAL ETHICS. CHLiLTTHB. Z. The Rule of Duty. The great object of virtuous desire, is the promotion of happiness. The various duties of virtue, are only various means of promoting this object. It is our external actions only, that can directly affect the happiness of others. Our thoughts and feelings^ hov^^ever, besides their direct influence on our own happiness, are the sources from which all our external actions proceed. In regard to our thoughts^ therefore, we are under obliga- tion, as far as they are produced or influenced by our moral feelings, — and they are thus produced and influen* ced in no small degree, — to control and direct them in that way, which we have reason to believe will be most likely to excite right feelings, which will guard most ef- fectually against wrong feelings, and which will be most likely to increase our knowledge and skill in the art of doing good. When we consider how much our actions are influenced by the habits of thinking which we form, we cannot but perceive, that the proper regulation of the thoughts, is a duty of very great magnitude. In regard to our external conduct^ we are under obliga- tion to perform, to the extent of our ability and oppor- tunity, all those actions which we know or believe to have a tendency to promote the general happiness. When different actions are presented to our choice, of which we can do but one, we are under obligation to do that which appears to have the most useful tendency, Whe^ RULE OF DUTY. 77 we cannot judge with certainty what action has the most beneficial tendency, or cannot determine whether the tendency of an action be beneficial or the contrary, we are bound, after obtaining all the light we can, to act ac- cording to apparent probabilities. Frequently, however, the doubtful tendency of an action is a sufhcient reason for dismissing it from our consideration^ — the prospect of benefit, in case we should find the action to be a useful one, not being great enough, to make it expedient to spend that time in deliberating and inquiring about it, which we might spend in doing something else that we know to be useful. In case we apprehend that the doing of an action may be injurious, and that the abstaining from it may also be injurious, we are bound, '' of the two evils 10 choose the least ;" or, in other words, to pursue that course, where there is the least reason toap. prebend evil, or where there is the least evil to be ap^ prehended. " In every question of conduct, where one side is doubtful, and the other side safe, we are bound to take the safe side. It is prudent^ you allow, to take the safe side. But our observation means something more. We assert that the action, concerning which we doubt, what- ever it may be in itself, or to another, would, in us^ while this doubt remains upon our minds, be certainly sinful. The case is expressly so adjudged by St. Paul :* ' Iknow and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that there is no- thing unclean of itself; but to him that esteerneih any thing to be unclean^ to him it is unclean. — Happy is he that con- demneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth ; and he that doubteth is damned {condemned) if he eat, ■* Romans, xiv. 14, 22; 23. g2 M PRACTICAL ETttlCS* for whatsoever is not of faith, (i. e. not done with a full persuasion of its lawfulness,) is sin.' "* An important inquiry now arises : How are we to know what actions are most promotive of the general happiness ? Here 1 would observe, that the general happiness ig only the aggregate of the happiness of individuals ; so that we add to the general stock of happiness by contri- buting to the happiness of an individual, whenever we can do this without diminishing the happiness of any other individual. And, in most cases, no fear of this kind need be entertained. — But how shall we know what actions are most conducive to the happiness both of indi- viduals and of the community ? 1. By the experience and observation of ourselves and others. We readily learn, by experience, what things are con- ducive to our present cemfort and happiness ; and we ea- sily infer, that the same things will produce the same ef- fect upon mankind in general. Said our Savior, '' What- soever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." AVhere experience fails to afford us information, observation may frequently supply the de- fect. By observing how certain things affect particular in- dividuals and men in general, we may learn, in many in- stances, how to promote the happiness of individuals and of society. But it is not a limited or temporary ef- fect alone, that is to be considered. A certain action may be beneficial to one man and injurious to others ; or it may aftbrd a temporary gratification, but diminish the sum of happiness in the end. It hence becomes necessa- ry, in regard to many actions, to have recourse to the experience and observation of others ; and sometimes, of men who have lived in different ages and in different na- * Paley'« Moral Philosophy, Book L Chap. T. RULE OF DUTY. 79 tiona of the world. It also happens, not unfreqnently, that a certain action, when viewed by itself, appears to be conducive to happiness ; but when it is considered, that this may lead to the formation of a bad habit^ or may have an influence, by way of example^ that shall lead to evil consequences, it becomes doubtful whether the pre- sent advantage is suflicient to overbalance the danger of future injury. In such cases, the combined experience and wisdom of mankind are peculiarly needed ; and the result of that experience and wisdom becomes the most useful to individuals, by being expressed in general rules or maxims of conduct, which may be applied, without deliberation, to a great variety of particular cases. — But this subject is very happily introduced by Dr. Paley. After observing that "' actions are to be estimated by their tendency," and that " it is the utility of any moral rule alone which constitutes the obligation of it," he proceeds thus : " But to all this there seems a plain objection, viz. that many actions are useful, which no man in his senses will allow to be right. There are occasions, in which the hand of the assassin would be very useful. The present possessor of some great estate employs his influence and fortune to annoy, corrupt, or oppress all about him. His estate would devolve, by his death, to a successor of an opposite character. It is useful, therefore, to despatch such a one as soon as possible out of the way ; as the neighborhood will exchange thereby a pernicious tyrant for a wise and generous benefactor. It might be useful to rob a miser, and give the money to the poor ; as the money, no doubt, would produce more hap]>iness, by be- ing laid out in food and clothing tor half a dozen distress- ed families, than by continuing locked up in a miser's chest. It may be useful to get possession of a place of preferment, or of a seat in parliament, by bribery or false svirearing ; as by means of them we may serve the 80 PRACTICAL ETHICS* public more effectually than in our private station. What then shall we say ? Must we a(ln>it these actions to be right, which would be to justify assassination, plunder, and perjury ; or must we give up our principle, that the criterion of right is utility ? ^' It is not necessary to do either. The true answer is this ; that these actions, after all, are not useful, and for that reason, and that alone, are not right. To see this point perfectly, it must be observed that the bad conse- quences of actions are twofold, particular and general. The particular bad consequence of an action is, the mis- chief which that single action directly and immediately occasions. The general bad consequence is, the viola- tion of some necessary or useful general ruleP'' Although, therefore, the particular consequences of an action may be good, yet the general consequences, which are of more importance, may be evil ; so that the action, on the whole, may not be useful, but the contrary. The evil of violating a general rule, consists in the danger of forming a had habit ; in the liability of individ- uals to make an erroneous estimate of the consequences of the violation ; in the loss of confidence among men ; and in the influence of example » If a person commits solitary acts of " assassination, plunder, and perjury," whenever he thinks they are use- ful, he will thus divest himself of the horror and detesta- tion which he felt at those acts when committed lor wick- ed purposes. He thus becomes prepared to commit the same acts in cases where their utility appears doubtful j and finally, to commit them whenever his private interest or his passions prompt. It cannot be denied, I think, that such is the tendency of allowing one's self in occa- sional transgressions of a general rule. And the danger of such a result is increased by another consideration. If a man may violate a general rule, whenever, in his pri- RULE OF DUTY^ 81 vate judgment, he thinks such a violation useful, it be- comes necessary that he should deliberate in regard to every particular act that falls under a general rule, and make an estimate, before he acts, of the probable conse- quences both of observing and of violating the rule. This must not only occasion great delay in acting, and lead to a habit of hesitation and indecision in all one's conduct, but a man is more likely to be influenced by wrong motives, and to overlook the most weighty considerations, in the moment of acting, than in deter- mining beforehand by whal general rule he will be gov- erned. More than this, few individuals are competent, if ever so impartial, to judge of the remote consequen- ces of such an action ; so that it is safer to adhere to a general rule, which the experience and wisdom of man- kind have established, than to violate it in a particular in- stanccj for the sake of some good consequences that will flow from it, and, at the ^ame time, nm the risk of great- er evil consequences that are not foreseen. The same consideration should deter individuals, not only from violat- ing established general rules in particular emergencies, but also from presuming to form rules of conduct for them- selves in opposition to those which the wisdom and expe- rience of ages have prescribed. I have mentioned the hesitation, indecision, and loss of time, which must arise from the rejection of general rules, and from making the consequences of every par- ticular action the subject of particular calculation. It would, indeed, be a piece of madness, and perhaps utter- ly impracticable, to do this in regard to every individual action of a man's life ; but just so far as it is done to the neglect of those rules of conduct whose usefulness is generally acknowledged, in this proportion must the bad effects 1 have mentioned be produced. This indecision of character, and instability of conduct, are an evil of no 82 PRACTICAL ETHICS. J jsmall magnitude. When it is understood that a man does f not bind himself to the observance of general rules in his conduct, no one can know what to expect from him, and the confidence, even of his best friends, must be with- drawn. If we suppose the number of individuals who renounce the obligation of general rules, to be increased, I so as to embrace any considerable proportion of mankind, f^ the loss of confidence must become so great, as almost to i produce a dissolution of civil society. But perhaps the evil of violating a general rule appears the most obvious and striking, when we consider the influ- ence oiexample. The person who tells a lie,or plunders the property of his neighbor, for the sake of doing good, af- fords a pretence to those who would commit the same ^ acts from worse motives. He even countenances them f in their conduct, as the motives of his own are not pub- f licly known. In all such cases, thi^refore, the precept ^ of the apostle ought to be regarded : " Abstain from all appearance of eviV' The tendency of example is, to lead all others to act in the same manner. If, therefore, ^ it would not be for the general good, that nil others should ; act in the same manner, the example ought not to be set. •* It is evident, that a man ought not to act in a manner, in which it would not be beneficial for men generally to act in the same circumstances. But a peculiarity of cir- cumstances is not always a sufficient reason for acting in a manner, in which it would be detrimental for men I generally to act,-— especially if the peculiarity consists in p circumstances of minor importance and not publicly p known. Men are influenced by example, especially if ^' the example falls in with interest or inclination, without ' adverting to peculiar circumstances of minor importance, p-€ven if they art known to them. In estimating theinflu- pcnce of example, we should consider, not what influence the example ought to havt', or in what manner oth- er men ought to act, but what influence the example is RULE OF DUTY. 83 likely in fact to have, and in what manner depraved men may be led by it really to act. But suppose that a general rule can be violated in a se^ c^et manner, so that the influence of example shall be avoided, what bad consequences are to be apprehended ? In reply, I would remark, tirst, that no one who commits such an act in secret, can be certain that it will never be brought to light. And in case it is detected, the conse- quences may be worse than if there had been no attempt at concealment. In the second place, even if the influ- ence of example is wholly avoided, the danger of a de- moralizing influence on the person himself^ remains. In the third place, such a person will probably, on some occasion or other, be under a necessity of expressing an opinion in regard to the duty of adhering invariably to general rules. If he expresses, or in any way betrays, his real sentiments, that a general rule may be violated for the sake of some particular good consequences, when- ever it can be done with perfect secrecy, he will ex- pose himself to the suspicion of having carried his prin- ciples into practice, and will remove the scruples of oth- ers who have an inclination to do the same ; thus *•' set- ting up a general rule, of all others the least to be endur- ed ; namely, that secrecy, whenever secrecy is practica- ble, will justify any action.''* On the other hand, if he contradicts his real sentiments, and advocates an invaria- ble adherence to general rules, he will do violence to his own conscience, and lay a foundation for a habit of insin- cerity, deception, and falsehood, the most ruinous in its consequences. There is one class of crimes, in relation to which the necessity of general rules and the evil tendency of vio- lating them, are very apparent. I allude to those crimes « Paley. $^ PRACTICAL ETHICS. which are forbiddea by human laws. " You cannot per- mit onc;? action and forbid another, without showing a dif- ference between them. Coosequcntly, the same sort of actions mnst be generally permUted or generally forbid- den. Where, iLeroibre, the general permission of them would be pernicious, it becomos ntxessary to lay down and support the rule v\blch geiieraliy forbids them. '^ Thus, to return once more to the case of the assassin. The assassin knocked the rich villain on the head, because he thought him better out of the way than in it. If you allow this excuse in the present instance, you must allow it to all w^ho act in the same manner, and irom the same motive ; that is, you must allow every man to kill any one he meets, whom he thinks noxious or useless ; which, in the event, would be to commit every man's life and safety to the spleen, fury, and fanaticism of his neighbor ; — a dia- position of affairs which would soon fill the world with misery and confusion ; and ere long put an end to human society, if not to the human species."* Human government cannot exist without general rules ; and these must, of necessity, be rigidly enforced. The violation of the civil law, for the sake of some particu- lar good consequences, involves in it evil consequences of a two-fold kind. In the first place, there are the same general bad consequences as in the violation of any other general rule ; and in the second place, there is the viola- tion of an additional important general rule, namely, that the law of the land ought to be obeyed. The mischiefs of insubordination in government, and the pernicious in- fluence of the example which is set by him who tram- ples upon the civil law, are so great, that the consequen- ces would be fatal to society, were not the strong arm of ppwer generally able to arrest the progress of the evil. •fPaley's Moral Philosophy, Book II. Chap. 7. RULE OF DUTY. 85 The injunction of St. Paul is in point : " Let every soul be subject to the higher powers." From the principles that we have been insisting upon, " a maxim may be explained, which is in every man's mouth, and in most men's without meaning, viz. ' not to do evil, that good may come :' that is, let us not violate a general rule, for the sake of any particular good con- sequence we may expect."* The importance and duty of a rigid adherence to gen- eral rules, cannot be too deeply impressed on the minds of the young. The subject ought to be explained and in- culcated by every parent and by every instructer. It is sometimes astonishing and painful to see how little regard is paid to general rules, even by men of education and of piety. 1 do not now allude to such crimes as breach of promise, lying, or theft ; but to various things in the con- duct, which are not capable of being classed under gen- eral terms, but which, if done by all in similar circum- stances, would be improper and hurtful. Surely, there must be something defective in the education, or some- thing faulty in the habits, of that man, who, being pious, can either inconsiderately or deliberately do things of this kind. — That such things are done, and done by such men, affords one proof among others, that those " moral sen- timents" (as they are called) which arise from early ed- ucation and from associations of ideas, and which operate without any consideration of utility, are not sufficient for the regulation of human conduct ; and that there is need of the science of ethics, to teach and inculcate more en- lightened and more perfect rules of duty. I am, indeed, of opinion, that those " moral sentiments" are themselves useful general rules, originally derived from experience and from a coasideration of consequences ; now impres- V Ibid. ChaD« vlii. 86 PRACTICAL ETHICS. I sed on the minds of children without their heing taught the reasons on which they were founded ; and thus trans- mitted, like a sort of blind moral instincts, from genera- tion to generation. 1 have, therefore, no fault to find with them. They are most of them good as far as they go. But some of them are defective ; and ail of them may be strengthened by explaining the reasons on which they are founded. Such are the utility and necessity of general rules, that the Supreme Being has thought proper to give to some of the most important of them the sanction of his authority. Hence we may ascertain what actions have a useful tendency, 2. By the commands of God, as contained in the scriptures. " This rule, however, proceeds upon the presumption that God wishes the happiness of his creatures.'^'"^ It may be proper, therefore, briefly to state the reasons upon which this presumption rests. There is more happiness than misery in the world. Some may be inclined to dispute this position. But let almost any man, who thinks himself as unhappy as mankind in gen- eral, number his pleasant and his painful sensations for a few days or hours ; or let him count the hours, which, while they are passing, he thinks better, and also those which he thinks worse, than non-existence ; and then see whether the result is in favor of existence or of annihi- lation. Then let him look at the world around him, and judge whether the scale of happiness or of misery pre- ponderates. " Throughout the whole of life," says Dr. Paley in an interesting chapter on " The Goodness of the Deity" in his " Natural Theology," — " Throughout the whole of life, as it is diffused in nature, and as far as we » Paley. RULE OF DUTY. ^ 87 arc acquainted with it, looking to the average of sensa- tions, the plurality and the preponderancy is in favor of happiness by a vast excess. In our own species, in which perhaps the assertion may be more questionable than in any other, the prepollency of good over evil, of health, for example, and ease, over pain and distress, is evinced by the very notice which calamities excite. What inqui- ries does the sickness of our friends produce ! What con- versation their misfortunes ! This shows that the com- mon course of things is in favor of happiness ; that happi- ness is the rule, misery the exception. Were the order reversed, our attention would be called to examples of health and competency, instead of disease and want." '• When God created the human species, either he wish- ed their happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was indifferent and unconcerned about both. If he had wished our misery, he might have made sure of his purpose, by forming our senses to be so many sores and pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratifica- tion and enjoyment ; or by placing us amidst objects so ill suited to our perceptions, as to have continually offend- ed us, instead of ministering to our refreshment and de- light. He might have made, for example, every thing we tasted bitter ; every thing we saw loathsome ; every thing we touched a sting; every smell a stench; and every sound a discord. If he had been indifferent about our happiness or mise- ry, we must impute to chance both the capacity of our senses to receive pleasure, and the vSupply of external ob- jects fitted to produce it."*— But what is " chance ?" The only proper use of the word, is to denote the operation of unknown secondary causes. But secondary causes pro- duce no effects which were not designed by the First *Pdley's Moial Philosophy; IJook II. Chap. 5. H^ PRACTICAL ETHICS. Cause. Therefore, if God had been indifferent about the happiness or misery of his creatures, if he had exercised no will or choice on the subject, neither happiness nor misery would ever have been experienced by them. It remains, then, that all the happiness which creatures en- joy, is to be traced to the divine benevolence. And since there is so much more happiness than misery, so much more pleasure than pain, in the world, we must conclude, that all the evils which do exist, are designed by God to be subservient, in some way or other, to the greatest pos- sible happiness of the universe. '^ The same argument may be proposed in different terms, thus : Contrivance proves design ; and the predom- inant tendency of the contrivance indicates the disposi- tion of the designer. The world abounds with contrivan- ces ; and all the contrivances which we are acquainted with, are directed to beneficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, ' exists ; but is never, that we can perceive, the object of contrivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to ache ; their aching now and then is incidental to the contriv- ance, perhaps inseparable from it : or even, if you will, let it be called a defect in the contrivance ; but it is not the object of it. This is a distinction which well de- serves to be attended to. In describing implements of husbandry, you would hardly say of the sickle, that it is made to cut the reaper's fingers, though, from the con- struction of the instrument, and the manner of using it, this mischief often happens. But if you had occasion to describe instruments of torture or execution, this engine, you would say, is to extend the sinews ; this to dislocate the joints ; this to break the bones ; this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here pain and misery are the very objects of the contrivance. Now nothing of this sort is to be found in the works of nature. "W e never discover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. fcULE OF DUTY. 89 No anatomist ever discovered a system of organization calculated to produce pain and disease ; or, in explaining the parts ol the human hody, ever said, this is to irritate ; this to inflame; this duct is to convey the gravel to the kidneys; this gland to secrete the humor which forms the gout : if by chance he come at a part of which he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it is use- less ; no one ever suspects that it is put there to incom- mode, to annoy, or to torment. Since, then, God has called forth his consummate wisdom to contrive and pro- vide for our happiness, and the world appears to have been constituted with this design at first, so long as this constitution is upheld by him, we must in reason suppose^ the same design to continue.''* We conclude, therefore, that God wishes the happiness of his creatures ; and that ' we may ascertain what ac- tions have a useful tendency by his commands, as contain- ed in the Holy Scriptures.' Til ere appear to be two advantages^ chiefly, in having express divine commands and prohibitions in regard to our conduct. The first is, that general rules, which are of vital importance to mankind, may be enjoined by an all-wise Being, in an absolute and unqualified manner, so that individuals may have every doubt removed in regard to the duty of an invariable adherence to them. Admit- ting that the science of ethics is sufiicient to remove eve- ry doubt of that kind ; yet few men, comparatively, make a study of this science ; and of those who do, many are not capable of taking comprehensive views of things, and perceiving the force of the arguments by which the duty of an invariable adherence to general rules is main- tained. Of the utility of those things which God re- quires, no one can doubt; and it is of incalculable im- portance to the mass of the community, to have a rule *Ibid. 90 PRACTICAL ETHICS. I of duty, so easily understood and of such undisputed au- thority. Besides, it is doubted, even by able writers on moral philosophy, ' whether any rule of morality ought to be so rigid as to bend to no exceptions.' The Bible, as it respects some rules of morality at least, affords a solution of this doubt. Suppose that an individual feels strongly urged, by peculiar circumstances, to commit theft. It appears to him that the advantages to be deriv- ed from the act, are greater than any bad consequences that can be apprehended to follow. He is sensible, that in most cases, theft is injurious and criminal ; and he is aware, perhaps, that many wise men have inculcated the importance of general rules, and the dangerous tendency of violating them for the sake of any particular good con- sequences. But he regards human wisdom and experi- ence as incompetent to prescribe universal and infallible laws. He remembers, too, that able writers on human duty admit, that there may he some exceptions to every geri' eral rule ; and he thinks that the present case may justly be regarded as an exception to the rule which forbids the taking of another's property. On the whole, it appears sufficiently clear to him, that the immediate and certain advantages are more than a counterpoise to the danger of uncertain and remote bad consequences. But let the command of an omniscient Being now reach his ears ; — and the scale turns at once. God cannot err. He sees the end from the beginning. He views actions and events in their remotest consequences ; and can form a just estimate of all the consequences, good and evil, that can flow from any action. And He has said, " Thou shall not steaV^ Take another instance. A case occurs, in which a man may save his life by telling a lie. He sees no harm that it can do to any one ; so that the evil consequences that attend lying in general, are not now to be apprehend- RULE or DUTY. 91 ed. The maxims of philosophers are inapplicable to the present case. The path of duty appears so plain, that all doubt is dispelled, and every scruple removed. But the Bible meets his eye. He there sees that God enjoins veracity and condemns falsehood in the most emphatical and unqualified manner ;* nor does he find any proviso or exception in all the sacred code. He therefore feels constrained to acquiesce in the wisdom and authority of God. He concludes, that if it is for the general good, that his life should be rescued from the impending dan- ger, God will provide some other way to effect it ; and that, if no such provision is made, it is only because the general good requires that his life should now be taken away. Here, then, we leave the subject. The commands and prohibitions of God are an infallible criterion of utility in human conduct ; and we may be sure, that those things which he requires, have, on the whole, a beneficial ten- dency, even though some of them may appear otherwise to our finite understanding, and though we may sometimes be strongly inclined to make exceptions to his laws. But there is a second advantage in having express di- vine commands and prohibitions in regard to our conduct. God is not only all-wise, but he is also almighty ; and he has annexed the most awful penalty to the transgression of his law. The fear of future punishment, and the dread of the just displeasure of God, have a powerful in- fluence to deter men from the commission of crimes, and to bind them to the performance of those external actions which promote the welfare of society. If all apprehen- sion of a judgment to come were removed, how little in- fluence, with most men, would a mere knowledge of right and wrong have, to keep them in the path of recti- * See Lev. xix. 11 ; Ps. Iviii. 3, cxix, 163; Isa. Ixiii. 8 ; Job. viii. 44i 90 ; Acts V. 1 — 11. 92 PRACTICAL ETHICS, tude, when, even now, the most atrocious crimes are fre- quently committed by those who have not cast off a spec- ulative belief in the retributions of eternity. We will dismiss the subject of the present chapter with a few general remarks. 1. No exception whatever ought to be made, even to general rules of human origin, unless the exception be of such a nature, as to admit of a previous description, and to leave no doubt that the evil consequences of adhering to the general rule in cases of that kind, would be great- er, than those of violating it. Such exceptions, being established by public consent, are free from the objec- tions which lie against those that are made by individuals at a moment when both the will and the judgment are pe- culiarly liable to be biassed. I have already, when speaking of the importance of an invariable adherence to general rules, observed, that some able writers on morality admit that there may he ex- ceptions to every such rule. The following is the lan- guage of Dr. Paley on this subject : " Moral Philosophy cannot pronounce that any rule of morality is so rigid as to bend to no exceptions ; nor, on the other hand, can she comprise these exceptions within any previous description. She confesses that the obligation of every law dep^ds upon its ultimate utility ; that, this utility having a finite and determinate value, situations may be feigned, and consequently may possibly arise, in which the general tendency is outweighed by the enormity of the particu- lar mischief"* — The ^''general tendency^'^ of this reason- ing, is, totally to abolish all general rules whatever. It is directly repugnant to the reasoning of the same author when speaking of the necessity of general rules in hu- * Moi-. and Polit. Philos. Book VI. Chap. 12. RULE OF DUTr. &3 man government.* The reasoning there used may be re- torted in all its force : " You cannot permit one" excep- tion to a general rule " and forbid another, without show- ing a difference between them," and that, he acknowledg- es, cannot be done, " Consequently," such exceptions •' must be generally permitted or generally forbidden. Since, therefore, the general permission of them would be pernicious, it becomes necessary to lay down and support the rule which generally forbids them." It appears to me that there is no general rule more important, than that which forbids the making of exceptions to general rules. If exceptions may be made, which cannot be comprised in any previous description, it must be left for individuals to judge, at the moment of acting, of the comparative magnitude of the particular and the general consequences. Now, the general consequence, although it may have a " finite," that is, not an infinite, " value," is almost cer- tain to be wnd!ervalued. While the particular consequence is near at hand and may be estimated with tolerable ac- curacy, the general consequence is remote, indefinite, unknown, and totally incapable of being estimated. Or rather, while the particular consequence, from its near- ness, and its affecting, as it commonly does, the private interest of the individual, is almost certain to appear of greater importance than it really is, the general conse- quences, from their distance, and their affecting only the interest of others, are equally certain to appear of much less importance than they really are. In such circum- stances, to leave individuals at liberty to violate a gene- ral rule, whenever the particular consequence shall ap- pear to them to exceed the general, is to give up the obligation of general rules altogether. Nor ought wri- ters on morality to use language like that quoted abovCj * See p. 83. 94 PRACTICAL ETHICS. unless thejs^ expect " situations" to " arise," in which '• the enormity of the particular mischief" shall be suffi- cient to outweigh the ulilitj', not only of the particular law in question, but of all general rules whatever. 2. The doctrine we have maintained, does not leave individuals at liberty to judge of the utility of particular actions by .their own unassisted calculations. This has been made sufficiently evident. But there is a difficulty attending the subject, which it may be well to consider a moment. I have said that the dictates of conscience re- quire us to consult the general good ; and yet have ob- jected to the violation of general rules, even when the individual really thinks that such a violation will be for the general good. How is this to be reconciled ? — I ob- ject to such a violation, not as wrong in the individ- ual, but as hurtful in its tendency. A man ought, indeed, always to do what he sincerely thinks to be for the best ; but it is to be lamented, that any one should think that to be for the best, which is not so. I am solicitous, not to make any one act in opposition to the dictates of con- science, but to make all think and see that it is for the best invariably to adhere to general rules ; — so that such an adherence shall meet the approbation, and a departure from it, the disapprobation, of every man's conscience. What I maintain is, that no person can think it useful ever to violate a general rule, except through ignorance, or in consequence of having erroneous ideas on the sub- ject. It is to remove such ignorance and to correct such errors, that I have been led to protract this chapter to its present length. Does any one say, that if he can do what he '' ought," and thus meet the divine acceptance, it makes no difference whether his ideas are correct or erroneous? It makes a difference, however, whether a man possesses a temper of mind which could prompt such a remark, or whether he possesses a disposition to RULE OF DUTY. 95 inquire after truth and duty. The remark evinces a to- tal disregard of the public welfare, and a supreme re- gard to private interest and personal happiness. The man who feels no solicitude to ascertain the tendency of his actions, who never inquires in what way he may be most useful to the world, may be assured that he will never meet the divine acceptance, until he acts from oth- er motives than those by which he has been hitherto governed. The doctrine that has been taught in this chapter, does not appear to be exposed to the objections which have justly been made to the theory of utility as it has been maintained by those writers who have excluded, either wholly or in a great measure, the obligation of general rules and of the divine commands.* That such a theory should furnish a pretence for " the perpetration of enor- mities," is easy to be conceived. Though we cannot say, that even that theory gave countenance to the commission of crimes, since it inculcated only actions of a useful ten- dency, and all crimes have a hurtful tendency. The fault lay either in the head or the heart of those who adopted the theory " as their whole code of morality." And 1 think we can have little doubt from which of the two sources the error chiefly proceeded. It is evident that those who " have availed themselves of the rule of general expediency as an apology for their deviations from the ordinary maxims of right and wrong," were not actuated by a sincere regard for the public welfare. " This utility," says Madame de Stael, '' is seldom any thing more than a specious pretext, under which men disguise their selfish designs."! How many evils have *See Stewart's Philosophy of the Mind, Vol. II. pp. 386-395, and note CCC.) fCettc utilite n' est presque jamais qu' un nom pompeux dont on re- vet son interet personnel.— De U AUcmagnc^ Tome III. p. 183. §6 PRACTICAL ETHICS, proceeded from a want of Jwdgmen^, in acting by that rule, I am not able to say. I trust, however, that this source of error has been sufficiently guarded against in the theo- ry of utility and the rules of duty which have been ex- hibited in the present chapter. After all, I am aware, that the theory is still liable to be perverted by men of a depraved disposition. But if it is good in itself, if it is " useful in its tendency ^'^'^ a liability to perversion is not a sufficient reason why it should be exploded. The best of things are liable to be perverted to the worst of pur- poses. The greatest enormities have been committed under the pretence of serving God and promoting reli- gion. That the theory which estimates all virtues by the usefulness of their tendency, is correct^ no one can deny. The very objections that are made against it, amount only to this, that it is hurtful, that is, not useful^ in its tendency ; — thus assuming its correctness in the very act of condemning it. The theory of utility is not alone in being objected against on account of its liability to perversion. Some of the fundamental doctrines of the gospel have been ob- jected against on the same ground. But this objection, so far from being a reason for suppressing those doctrines, only shows the importance of exhibiting them the more fully^ and explaining them the more clearly^ so that they may be understood by all. There is one way, in which children and people of small capacity, who cannot understand the nature and ob- ligation of general rules, and indeed any person who hap- pens to get an imperfect knowledge of the theory of utili- ty, may be particularly liable to err. A person who has been accustom.ed to believe that there is something wrong in certain actions, falsehood and theft for instance, without knowing what that something is, attaches, of course, the ide* of criminality to these actions in ail cases what- RULE OF DUTY. 97 r^oever, aud supposes the commission of them to be al- ways offensive to God. The effect is the same, if he has received an impression that falsehood and theft are wrong in their own nature, so that no reason why they are wrong can be assigned. But if he is taught, or hears it said, that lying and stealing are to be avoided solely on ac- count of their evil consequences, and that this is the only reason why they are forbidden hy God, he is liable, ic certain cases, where he can see no danger of any harm's arising, to conclude that he may lie or steal without any crime, and without incurring the divine displeasure. Let such a one be informed, that there is danger of evil con- sequences which he cannot foresee ; that the public good requires that falsehood and theft should be absolutely and totally prohibited ; that God, knowing this, has not left men at liberty to determine whether it may not sometimes be useful to violate bis laws ; and that the taking upon ourselves to do this, is highly presumptuous, and strongly indicative of a state of mind which is sure to meet the divine disapprobation. He that cannot feel the force of these considerations, ought not to study moral philosophy, or hear of the theory of utility. But as it respects the general tendency of this theory, if the best interests of the public cannot be promoted by imposing a restraint upon the selfish principles of our nature, and acting from enlarged views and benevolent motives, we must despair of seeing them promoted by human instrumentality. — This, however, brings me to observe, 3. That the doctrine of public expediency does not re- quire individuals to neglect their own interest or that of their friends. Although " it is reasonable and right, that the private affections should, upon all occasions, yield to the more comprehensive," whenever and as far as they come in competition ; yet it is usually in a very small de- gree, that they do come in competition. Although we S8 PRACTICAL ETHICS. ought always to be ready and willing to sacrifice our own interest or that of our friends, whenever and as far as it may be necessary for the promotion of the public good ; yet it is usually in a very small degree, that duty r*)quires any one to make this sacrifice. A few are called to part with property and friends, and to endure priva- tions and sufferings, for the sake of promoting the cause of human happiness. All are called to contribute a por- tion of their property for public and benevolent objects. But with these exceptions, a little reflection is sufficient to convince a person of common understanding, that the public welfare will be best secured, when every man discharges faithfully the duties of his particular station, and does all the good he can within his proper sphere. If all were wholly to neglect their own welfare, in order to seek that of their neighbors or of the public, nothing would be attended to as it ought, and nobody''s welfare would be promoted. A regard to the general happiness,, therefore, will lead every one to promote his own happi- ness and that of all around him, as the largest contribu- tion he can make to the general stock. More than this, universal benevolence involves good will to individuals proportioned to our knowledge of their character, wants, and circumstances ; so that we need not be afraid of set- ting too high a value upon our own happiness or that of our friends, provided we do not neglect our duties to the public, and are willing to give up our private interest whenever it interferes with that of the public. We ought, in forming our habits, and in fixing upon our course of life, to consider, chiefly, in what way we may be most useful to the world ; and we ought also, occasionally, to consider whether our daily habits and the course we are pursuing, render us useful in the highest degree of which we are capable ; but after having settled these points, there is no need of thinking of the public good and dc- RULE OF DUTY. 99 liberating about it, at everj step we take and every act we perform. Our " affections and actions," ti^erefore, never need be " dissipated and lost, for want of a proper limited object," though we maintain a state of feeling which will prevent us from interfering with the interest of others, and prompt us to embrace opportunities for promoting the happiness of others; and though we are ready, at any time, if called to it, to relinquish schemes of private advantage, to act in a larger sphere, and to give our beneficence a wider range. Some writers express many apprehensions, lest the extending of our benevolence to distant objects, should render us indifferent to those which are at home ; and lest an attempt to regard all objects according to their comparative excellence and importance, should lead us gradually to look with coldness on all. If benevolence were of such a kind as to be exhausted by being exercis- ed, then it would be well to be frugal of the treasure, and to expend it only on a few objects which we have the greatest opportunity directly to benefit by our efforts. If I have but one or two looks of kindness to spare in a day, it may oe well to bestow them on my wife and my child in the morning, rather than " reserve^'' them for a stranger, however worthy, who may happen to call on me in the afternoon. But it is found, in fact, that the exercise of kind affections toward one object, predisposes us to the exercise of them toward another; and that, the more the heart is enlarged to feel the importance of the greatest objects, and the excellence of the noblest and the best, the more spontaneously do the affections flow forth to- ward every proper object that is presented. No, it is selfishness of heart and narrowness of mind, not disinter- ested benevolence and enlarged views, that dry up the channels of kindness, and cause the eye to look with cold- ness on every one except those from whom favors have been received or from whom they are hoped. ( 100 ) CHAPTER ZI. Sources of Human Happiness. The tendency of every virtue, and the grand object of the virtuous man, being, to promote human happiness, we proceed to inquire, what are the sources from which human happiness springs. This inquiry is necessary in order to enable us to promote, in a higher degree, our own happiness and that of our fellow men ; — in other words, in order to give us a better knowledge of the du- ties which we owe to orurselves and to others. We may, indeed, as has been already remarked, learn what things are conducive to happiness, by human experience and observation, and by the divine commands. But it may be well to consider the sources of happiness a little more particularly, lest w6 should err in our estimate of their comparative value, and lest some of them should be en- tirely overlooked. In enumerating some of the various iources of human happiness, we may name, 1. The moderate gratification of the senses. The pleasures arising from this source, may be divid- ed into two classes ; such as are merely animal, and such as are more refined. It is in regard to the former, chief- ly, that there is need of restraint ; and in these, exces- sive indulgence defeats its own end, as well as violates the rules of virtue. Dr. Paley remarks, that " these pleasures continue but a little while at a time ; that they lose their relish by repetition ; and that an eagerness tor them takes away the relish from all others. As far as I have been able,'** continues he, " to observe that part of mankind, whose professed pursuit is pleasure, and who are withheld in the pursuit by no restraints of fortune, or scruples of conscience, I have commonly remarked, in them, a restless and inextinguishable passion for variety ; SOURCES OF HUMAN HAPPINESS. 101 a great part of their time to be vacant, and so much of it irksome ; and that, with whatever eagerness and ex- pectation they set out, they become, by degrees, fastidi- ous in their choice of pleasure, languid in the enjoyment, yet miserable under the want of it."* In regard to the pleasures of the senses in general, Dr. Brown has the following remarks : '^ The pleasures of the senses are not to be rejected by us as unworthy of man. In themselves, as mere pleasures^ they are good ; and if they left the same ardor of generous enterprise, or of patient self-command, — if they did not occupy lime, which should have been employed in higher offices, — and if, in their influence on the future capacity of mere enjoyment^ they did not tend to lessen or prevent happi- ness which would otherwise have been enjoyed, or to oc- casion pain which otherwise would not have arisen, and which is equivalent, or more than equivalent to the tem- porary happiness afforded, — it would, in these circum- stances, I will admit, be impossible for man to be too much a sensualist ; since pleasure, which in itself is good, is evil, only when its consequences are evil. He who has lavished on us so many means of delight, as to make it impossible for us, in the ordinary circum- stances of life, not to be sensitively happy in some great- er or less degree, has not made nature so full of beauty that we should not admire it. He has not poured fra- grance and music around us, and strewed with flowers the very turf on which we tread, that our heart may not rejoice as we move along — that we may walk through this world of loveliness with the same dull eye and in- different soul, with which we should have traversed un- varied scenes, without a color, or an odor, or a song."* * Paley's Mor. Philos. Book I. Chap. 6. I Brown's Philosophy; Lect. 99. 1% 102 1»RACTICAL EtmCS* 2. Moderation in our views and 'wishes^ is A source of happiness. While extravagant desires and expectations only pre- pare us to feel more sensibly the bitterness of disappoint- ment, the opposite state of mind renders disappointments a small evil, and thus leaves us free to enjoy, with a pro- per relish, the happiness which may arise from various unexpected sources. One of the most frequent mistakes in regard to hap- piness, is to expect to find it in greatness, rank, or ele- vated station ; that is, in gaining a superiority over those who are now our equals, and rising to eminence and dis- tinction in the world. On this subject. Dr. Paley has the following judicious remarks : " No superiority yields any satisfaction, save that which we possess or obtain over those with whom we immediately compare ourselves. The shepherd perceives no pleasure in his superiority over his dog, nor the king in his superiority over the shepherd. Superiority, where there is no competition, is seldom contemplated. But if the same shepherd can run or wrestle better than the peasants of his village ; and if the king possesses a more extensive territorj^, a more powerful fleet or army, than any prince in Europe, the parties feel an actual satisfaction in their superiority. The conclusion that follows from hence is, that the pleas- ures of ambition, which are supposed to be peculiar to high stations, are in reality common to all conditions. But whether the pursuits of ambition be ever wise, whether they contribute more to the happiness or mise- ry of the pursuers, is a diiferent question ; and a ques- tion concerning which we may be allowed to entertain great doubt. The pleasure of success is exquisite ; so also is the anxiety of the pursuit, and the pain of dis- appointment ; — and what is the worst part of the ac- count, the pleasure is short-lived. We soon cease to SOURCES OF HUMAN HAPPINESS. 103 look back upon those whom we have left behind ; new contests are engaged in, new prospects unfold them- •clves ; a succession of struggles is kept up, while there is a rival left within the compass of our views and pro- fession ; and when here is none, the pleasure with the pursuit is at an end."* 3. Another source of happiness is found in '' the exer- cise of our faculties^ either of body or mind, in the pur- Suit of some engaging end. Hence those pleasures are most valuable, which are most productive of activity in the pursuit. Employment is every thing. The more significant, however, our em- ployments are, the better ; but any employment, which is innocent, is better than none."t The pursuits of ambition have this, indeed, to recom- mend them, that they are productive of incessant activi- ty ; but this advantage is outweighed by considerations of an opposite kind, if it were alone sufficient to recom- mend a pursuit, that it affords scope to continual and per- severing activity, the pursuit of the miser might claim a distinguished place among the sources of human happi- ness. In order that a pursuit may be truly promotive of happiness, it must be such as can be engaged in without corrupting the heart or disturbing the tranquillity of the mind. The pursuit of knowledge, enjoys this advantage in a high degree. But to form and execute schemes for rel^errng the miseries and augmenting the happiness of mankind, or to co-operate in schemes of benevolence formed by others, not only gives the widest scope to ac- tivity, but at the same time opens other sources of pleas- ure, more pure and exalted, than the mere exercise of the faculties can ever afford. The christian philanthro- pist is engaged in a pursuit, in which the most animating objects are present to his view, in which he has a sure * Moral Philosophy; Book I. Chap. 6. f Ibid. 104 PRACTICAL ETHICS. prospect of success, and in which he may exert all his faculties both of body and mind. It is a common mistake to imagine, that happiness may be found in " an exemption from labor, care, and busi ness ; such a state being usually attended, not with ease, but with depression of spirits, a tastelessness in all our ideas, imaginary anxieties, and the whole train of hypo- condriacal aflfections. For which reason, the expecta- tions of those, who quit the world, and their stations in it, for solitude and repose, are seldom answered by the effect."* 4. Happiness depends much upon the habits which one foims, and upon keeping those habits under due control. Care should be taken to guard against the formation of such habits as do not allow of a deviation, without bringing uneasiness and pain. " The luxurious receive no greater pleasure from their dainties, than the peasant does from his bread and cheese ; but the peasant, whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast ; whereas, the epicure must be well entertained, to escape disgust." ' Those who spend every day in amusement, and those who spend every day in manual labor, find, perhaps, very little difference in the degree of satisfaction which they derive, immediate- ly, from the two employments ; but then, whatever sus- pends the occupation of the former, distresses them ; but to the latter, every interruption is a refreshment.'! There should also be such a variety in the habits which are formed, that the suspension or privation of one occu- pation or pleasure, shall not leave a person without re- sources. For this purpose, a taste for reading, and a mind furnished with materials for reflection, are well adapted ; as books are always at hand, and as no earthly change can deprive a man of those means of occupation * Ibid. I Ibid. SOURCES OF Il-UMAN HAPPINESS. 105 and those sources of enjoyment, which he has within him- self. To such a man, occasional retirement and soli- tude bring both improvement and pleasure ; while, to him who has not these resources, and '' who has long been accustomed to a crowd, or continual succession of company, retirement and solitude come clothed with melancholy,'** and are regarded with aversion and dread. Again, the habits should be kept under due control. The habits which are formed, may be all harmless in themselves, and there may be a sufficient variety of them ; yet they may all become settled and fixed in a certain system or order, so that no one of them can be moved out of its place without causing uneasiness and pain. In this case, many habits become, as it were, in- corporated into owe, — like the different members and parts of an organized body. For instance, a person may form a habit of retiring and rising, of eating, reading^ and walking, at certain hours ; of having some particu- lar kinds of food at certain meals, or on certain days of the week; of sitting in a certain chair and in a certain part of the room, — with other circumstances too trivial to be enumerated, — so that a change in any of these re- spects, shall make him uneasy, impatient, and unhappy. It is, indeed, important, that we should make a distribu- tion of our time, in order to its proper improvement. A systematic arrangement of one's business, and regular hours of eating, sleeping, exercise, &c., are desirable ; but the evil to be guarded against is, the extending of this habit to many trivial circumstances, and becoming so attached to all our habits, that we cannot patiently bear the least modification or interruption of any of them, when necessity, or some superior duty, requires. 5. Among the sources of happiness, health may well be enumerated. * Ibid. 106 PRACTICAL ETHICS. " In the idea of health,*' saj^s Dr. Paley, " I would include, not only freedom from bodily distempers, but al- so that alacrity of mind, which we call good spirits ; and which may properly enough be included in our notion of health, as depending commonly upon the same causes, and yielding to the same management, as our bodily con- stitution. Health, in this sense, is of such importance, that no pains, expense, self-denial, or restraint, to which we subject ourselves for the sake of it, is too much. Whether it require us to relinquish lucrative situations, to abstain from favorite indulgencies, to control intempe- rate passions, or undergo tedious regimens ; whatever difficulties it lays us under, a man, who" acts from a sense of duty, or who even " pursues his own happiness rationally and resolutely, will be content to submit."* 6. Another source of happiness, is the habit of looking at things on the bright side. This source of happiness, being, in a great measure, a mere habit, arising from the state of the health, cheer- fulness of mind, occasional efforts of the will, and other causes, might have been introduced under the two pre- ceding heads. The importance of the subject, however, is such as to give it a claim to a separate consideration. '• How few events," says Dr. Brown, '^ are productive only of advantage or disadvantage ! By far the greater number are productive of both ; — of advantage, which, if it existed alone, would excite gladness ; of disadvantage, which, if it existed alone, would excite regret ; and of which, as existing together, the resulting emotion is dif- ferent, according to the preponderance of the opposing causes of regret or gladness, — that is to say, according as more or fewer images of regret or gladness spontaneous- ly arise to our mind, or according as we examine and analyze, more or less fully, the one or the other of these * Ibid. SOURCES OF HUMAN HAPPINESS. 107 sources of mingled joy and , sorrow. There are many advantages of what is apparently evil, that cannot be known to us, unless we reflect on consequences which are not immediately apparent ; many evils of what is appa- rently profitable, that may be discovered, in like manner, but discovered only after reflection. We cannot change events, indeed, in many instances ; but in all of these, the aspect of events, at least, may be changed, as our atten- tion is more or less turned to the consequences that may result from them. To wish, is, in this case, almost to produce what we wish. Our very desire of tracing the consequences that are favorable to our happiness, will be followed by the suggestion of these, rather than of oth- ers, in the same manner as our other desires are always followed by the suggestion of images accordant with them."* " When an occurrence may be productive of good and evil, the good may arise to us, because our general frame of mind is accordant with wishes, and therefore with conceptions, of good ; or the evil only may arise to that gloomy spirit, which does not find good, merely because it does not seek to find it."t " Even when the same event is thus viewed by two dif- ferent minds, — and the same consequences, in every oth- er respect, arise to both minds, — how important a dift'er- ence must there be, in the general resulting emotion, according as the two minds are more or less accustomed to view all the events of nature, as a part of a great design, of which the Author is the benevolent wilier of happiness, or of the means of happiness ! The mere dif- ference of the habit, in this respect, is to the individuals almost the same thing, as if the events themselves had been in their own absolute nature diversified. * Browii*s Philosophy, Lect. 64. f Ibid. 108 PRACTICAL ETHICS. The same events, tberefore, in external circumstances exactly the same, maybe productive, to the mind, of emo- tions that are very different, according to its constitution- al diversities, or acquired habits, or even according to slight accidents of the day or of the hour. We may re- joice, when others would grieve, or grieve, when others would rejoice, according as circumstances arise to our re- flection, different from those which would occur to them. Nor is the influence necessarily less powerful on our views of the future, than on our views of the past. We desire often, in like manner, what is evil for us upon the whole, by thinking of some attendant good ; as we fear what is good, by thinking only of some atttndant evil."* " It is not on the nature of the mere event, then, that the gladness or regret which it excites wholly depends, but in part, also, on the habits and discernment of the mind wliich considers it ; and we are thus, in a great measure, creators of our own happiness,— not in the ac- tions merely which seem more strictly to depend on our wiil, but in those foreign events which might have seem- ed at first to be absolutely independent ofus."t 7. Another source of happiness, is found in *' the ex* ercise of the social affections. Those persons commonly possess good spirits," says Dr, Paley, " who have about them many objects of affec- tion and endearment, as wife, children, kindred, friends. Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domestic affections, and equally refreshing to the spirits, is the pleasure which results from acts of bounty and benefi- cence, exercised either in giving money, or in imparting to those who want it the assistance of our skill and pro- fession."J » Ibid. t Ibid. :|: Moral Philos. Book I. Chap. 6. MEANS OP PROMOTING HUMAN HAPPINESS. 109 8. Another source of happiness, is found in the exercise of pious affections. If the exercise of the social affections is a source of happiness, much more is the exercise of those affections which characterize the children of God. These, when exercised toward friends and neighbors, mingle with the ^social affections, and purify, enhirge, and exalt them. Christian affections have the advantage of those that are merely social, in that they are more noble in their na- ture, and more enlarged in their object. They extend to strangers and to enemies, as well as to ac(|uaintances and friends. The highest object of christian regvird, is the Author of our being. A pious resignation to his will, and an entire confidence in the nxtitude of his govern- ment, are a never failing source of consolation ; and a supreme delight in his character, is productive of the purest and most exalted haj>piness which a creature can enjoy. It is not, then, too much to say, that among all the sources of human happiness, the greatest, as well as the most lasting, is the exercise oi pious affections. CH.A.FTX:il III. General Means oj Promoting Human Happiness. I. Example and Habit, The powerful influence of example, arises from the imitative nature of man. In the education of children, parents may do much more, by the example they set be- fore them, to benefit or injure them, than they can by the best or the worst instructions they can give thera. And in regard to mankind in geoeral around us, we proba- bly benefit or injure them more by our example, than in any other way. The importance which is to be attached 110 PRACTICAL ETHICS, to example, will be apparent, if we consider, that " matt- kind act more from habit than reflection," and that, pro- bably, most habits have their origin in the influence of example. 1. "Mankind act more from habit than reflection. Man is a bundle of habits. There is not a quality or function, either of body or mind, which does not feel the influence of this great law of animated nature. It is on few only and great occasions, that men deliberate at all ; on fewer still, that they institute any thing like a regular inquiry into the moral rectitude or depravity of what they are about to do. VVe are for the most part determined at once, and by an impulse which is the efi*ect of pre-estab- lished habits. And this constitution seems well adapted to the exigencies of human life, and to the imbecility of our moral principle. In the current occasions and rapid opportunities of life, there is often little leisure for re- flection ; and were there more, a man, who has to re^^son about his duty, when the temptation to transgress it is upon him, is almost sure to reason himself into an er- ror."* Habits are imperceptible in their beginning ; and are formed in so very gradual a manner, that they frequently become confirmed before the individual is aware. Some- times a person is sensible that he is in danger of forming a bad habit ; but, feeling reluctant to relinquish it just yet, he thinks, that as he can, by a little resolution, break it off* at any time, he will indulge in it a little longer. Fatal mistake ! Such reasoning is a proof, that the habit has already become confirmed, and that his case is very alarming. The only way to be secure against the domin- ion of bad habits, and all the evil consequences to which they lead, is to guard against the first approaches of them. ♦Paley's Moral Philosophy, Book I. Chap. 7. MEANS OF PROMOTING HUMAN HAPPINESS. Ill oncl to break off from them with determined resolution, as soon as their influence begins to be felt * 2. It is probable that most habits have their origin in the influence of example. The power and extent of this influence, and the pro- pensity of mankind to settle down in any habit that hap- pens to have been commenced, are to be traced, chiefly, to that principle of the mind, termed the association, or suggestion, of ideas. The subject is very happily illus- trated by Dr. Brown : " What we have seen done in one situation," he ob serves, ^'is recalled to us by the very feeling of this situ- ation, when we are placed in it ; and, as it arises to us thus more readily, and is sometimes, perhaps, the only mode of conduct which arises clearly to our mind, we proceed on it without further reflection, and act in a cer- tain manner, because others have acted in a certain man- ner, and because we have seen them act, or heard of their action. It is evident, that, in resolving to act in a certain manner, on any occasion, we must have had a previous conception of the manner in which the action may be ^performed ; and that we may, therefore, often prefer one mode of action, from the advantages which it seems to present, when it would not have been preferred in competition with other modes of action, still more ad- vantageous, but not conceived at the time. The wise, indeed, on this very account, even when they see good that may flow from one mode of conduct, pause to consid- er various possibilities, and appreciate the differences of the good and the better ; but how few are the wise ; and how much more numerous they, who, when any immedi- ate good presents itself, do not wait to consider whether a better may not be found. The first conceptions that *See aa interesting chapter on '* Custom aqd Habit" in Karnes's "El- emeuts of Criticism." 112 PRACTICAL ETHICS, arise, are tbe coDceptions which regulate half their con- duct ; and these first conceptions, when the circumstan- ces of the case are similar, are, by the natural influence of association, the conceptions either of what they have themselves done before, or of what others were observed to do, in those similar circumstances. It is impossible to will any particular action, without having previously con- ceived that particular action ; and the various consequen- <:es of various modes of conduct, have seldom entered into the contemplation of the multitude. They see what others do ; and their thought has scarcely wandered be- yond what is commonly before their eyes, or what is the subject of common discourse. As soon, therefore, as sim- ilar circumstances recur, the image recurs of what has been thus familiar to them ; and it recurs more strongly and vividly, because its influence is not lessened by that of any other accompanying image. They act, therefore, as others have acted, not so much from a feeling of re- spect for general sentiment, as from mere ignorance, and the absence of any other conception, that might have given a different momentary impulse. They see only one path ; and they move on, accordingly, in that only path which their dim and narrow glance is capable of perceiving."* I will close this subject with two rules, which are wor- thy of attention : 1. " Many things are to be done, and abstained from, Aolely for the sake of habit."! An act which has a ten- dency to form or strengthen a good habit, ought to be done, though, from that particular act, no other benefit may arise ; and an act, which has a tendency to weaken a good habit, or to form or strengthen a bad one, ought to be abstained from, though no other harm may arise from it. It is to be remembered, that besides all the other ef- * Brown's Philosophy, Lect. 35. f Palcj-. MBANS OF PROJtOTINS ftUMAN HAPPINESS. 113 ^^fects of our habits, these very liabits are, in most instan- iHKes, continually operating, by way of example, to gene- rate similar habits in those around us. 2. ''Avoid all appearance of evil." As far as the in- fluence of example is concerned, the appearance of evil has the same bad tendency with evil itself II. Diffusion oj Knowledge and Virtue, *' In loving all human kind, and wishing their happi- ness," says Dr. Brown, " it is impossible that the benevo- lent should not love also the diffusion of knowledge and virtue to human kind, — since to wish permanent happi- ness, without these, would be almost to wish for warmth without heat, or colors without light."* Of the tendency of virtue to promote happiness, nothing need be said. Of the tendency of knowledge to promote happiness, 1 will say a few words. In the first place, the general dif- fusion of knowledge dries up or diminishes many sources of unhappiness. The evils which arise from that nar- rowness of mind, that illiberality, and those numerous prejudices, which are the usual attendants of ignorance, cannot be described, and can be conceived only by those by whom they have been witnessed. These prejudices, with the thousand superstitious notions by which persons deprived of the advantages of education are usually char- acterized, often render them exceedingly uncomfortable both to themselves and to others. Perhaps a hiibit of slan- der may be traced to a want of meiital cultivation more frequently than to any othr.r cause. On the contrary, a cultivated and well informed mind makes a man more happy in himself, and more agreeable to all around him. By the gen.'iral diifusicn of knowledge; in a community, the social affections, on which so much of ihe happiness of life tiopends, are greatly pr-jmoted. ^ Brown's Philosophy; Lect. 86. k2 114- PRACTICAL ETHICS* What, then, are the means of diffusing knowledge and virtue ? The influence of example in the diffusion of vir- tue, has already been mentioned. For the diffusion of knowledge, those, who possess information, may do much, by rendering their daily conversation instructive to all with whom they are connected or with whom they have intercourse. Wliy should a mane's domestics and neigh- bors hear so many idle and useless words from his lips, when he might so easily saj' things which would inform, enlighten, and improve them ? But it is the education of children and youth, that affords the greatest scope for the diffusion of knowledge and virtue. No one has a more favorable opportunity to make those around him wiser and better, than the parent and the instructer. How im- portant, then, that parents and instructers should possess, themselves, that wisdom and virtue which are necessarj' to qualify them to enlighten and form the minds of the young, and guide their inexperienced steps. As the mother has usually the greatest influence in forming the habits of young children, and the best opportunity to cul- tivate their opening faculties, it is of the first importance, that she should be qualified for this office by possessing, herself, an enlightened and a cultivated mind, and by be- ing skilled in the science of education. It is truly to be lamented, that this subject receives so little attention, — that females, to whom it is so import mt, are nevertheless so seldom instructed in either intellectual or moral phi- losophy. And almost equally lamentable is it, that in- structers of schools are so frequently unqualified tor the interesting duties which they undertake to discharge. Under the care of many instructers in common schools, children form such habits of study and reading, and receive such impressions, as are absolutely worse than total ig- norance. Much better is it, not to have been taught at all, than to have been taught in the defective and injudi- liEANS OF PROMOTING HUMAN HAPPINESS. 115 ^ous manner frequently practised. If, then, parents wish tie improvement of their children, if they wish their mo- >ey not to be worse than thrown awaj^, let them look well to the qualidcations of the instructers they employ. By raisins^ the qualiiications of instructers in common schools, and giving females a more solid education, the best foun- dation is laid for the wisdom and virtue of the rising generation, and, of course, for the permanent welfare of the nation to which we belong. But in wishing " the diffusion of knowledge and virtue to human kind," the benevolent man looks beyond the limits of the land in which he dwells. He remembers that there are other lands which are trodden by human feet. He remembers that his fellow men in distant re- gions of the globe, need the same knowledge and virtue to make them happy, which are essential to his own hap- piness. He remembers that most of them are destitute of these means of happiness to a degree, of which it i« difficult to form a conception in a land of science and civ- ilization. And he rejoices in being furnished with op- portunities to do something to instruct, enlighten, and bless them. These opportunities are presented to every one at the present day, when so many plans are formed, so many efforts made, and so many facilities afforded, for diffusing, through the earth, the benefits of education and the light of the Gospel. III. Civil Government^ Crimes and Punishments, Good laws, faithfully executed, are highly conducive to human happiness. Laws promote the peace and wel- fare of society, by regulating the commercial and pecu- ftiary intercourse of individuals, but chiefly by laying a restraint upon vice and crime, and affording a security to life, liberty, and property. '^ Civil liberty," says Dr. Paley, '^ is the not being restrained by any law, but what conduces in a greater degree to the public welfare j 116 PRACTICAL ETHICS. by vT/hich it is intimated, 1. That restraint itself is aii evil ; 2. That this evil ought to be overbalanced by some public advantage ; 3. i'hat the proof of this advantage lies upon the legislature ; 4. That the law'^s being found to produce no sensible good effects, is a sufficient reason for repealing it, as adverse and injurious to the rights of a free citizen, without demanding specific evidence of its bad effects. Hence also we are enabled to apprehend the distinction between personal and civil liberty. A citi- zen of the freest republic in the world, may be imprison- ed for his crimes ; and though his personal freedom be restrained by bolts and fetters, so long as his confinement is the effect of a beneficial public law, his civil liberty is not invaded."* " The proper end of human punishment is not the sat- isfaction of justice, but the prevention of crimes. By the satisfaction of justice, 1 mean the retribution of so much pain lor so much guilt ; which is the dispensatioh we expect at the hand of God, and which we are accus- tomed to consider as the order of things that perfect jus- tice dictates and requires.!" " Crimes are not by any go- vernment punished in proportion to their guilt, but in proportion to the difficulty and the necessity of prevent- ing them. Punishment ought not to be employed, much less rendered severe, when the crime can be prevented hy any other means. The facility with which any spe- cies of crimes is perpetrated, has been generally deemed a reason for aggravating the punishment. I'hvis, sheep- stealing^ horse-stealing, the stealing of cloth trom tent- ers or bleaching-grounds, by our iaws,| subjoct ttie of- fenders to sentence of death ; not that thest rrsmes are m their nature more heinous than many siniple eionies which are punished by imprisonment or ti'an^^ >rtatioq, *Paley's Moral and Political Pl!ilosOpuy,Book V"; Ciiap. &. flbid. Chap. 9. |The Lawsoi Eng wh MEANS OP PROMOTING HUMAN HAPPINESS. IIT but because the property, being more exposed, requires the terror of capital punishment to protect it. The dif- ficulty of discovery is a circumstance to be included in the same consideration. By how much, therefore, the detection of an offender is more rare and uncertain, by so much the more severe must be the punishment when he is detected. There are two methods of administerinpf penal justice. The first method assigns capital punishments to few of- fences, and inflicts it invariably. The second method as- signs capital punishments to many kinds of offences, but inflicts it only upon a few examples of each kind. The latter of these two methods has been long adopted in this country, where, of those who receive sentence of death, scarcely one in ten is executed. If judgment of death were reserved for one or two species of crimes only, which would probably be the case if thf*t judgment was intended to be executed without exception, crimes might occur of the most dangerous example, and accom- panied with circumstances of heinous aggravation, which did not fall witliin any description of offences that the laws had made capital, and which consequently could not receive the punishment their own malignity and the pub- lic safety required. What is worse, it would be known, beforehand, that such crimes might be committed with- out danger to the offender's life. On the other hand, if, to reach these possible cases, the whole class of offences to which they belong be subjected to pains of death, and no power of remitting this severity remain anywhere, the execution of the laws will become more sanguinary than the public compassion would endure, or than is ne- cessary to the general securit3^ The prerogative of pardon is properly reserved to the chief magistrate. The power of suspending the laws is a privilege of too high a nature to be committed to many hands, or to those of any inferior officer in the state. 1 18 PRACTICAL ETHICS. Aggravations which ought to guide the magistrate in the selection of objects of condign punishment, are prin- cipally these three, — repetition, cruelty, combination. With respect to the last circumstance, it may be observ- ed, that when thieves and robbers are once collected in- to gangs, their violence becomes more formidable, the confederates more desperate, and the difficulty of defend- ing the public against their depredations much greater, than in the case of solitary adventurers. In crimes, how- ever, which are perpetrated by a multitude, or by a gang, it is proper to separate, in the punishment, the ring lead- er from his followers, the principal from his accomplices, and even the person who struck the blow, broke the lock, Or first entered the house, from those who joined him in the felony; not so much on account of any distinction in the guilt of the offenders, as for the sake of casting an obstacle in the way of such confederacies b^ rendering it difficult for the confederates to settle who shall begin the attack, or to find a man among their number willing to expose himselt to greater danger than his associates. The frequency of capital executions in this country, owes its necessity to three causes ; — much liberty, great cities, and the want of a punishment short of death pos- seii^sing a sufficient degree of terror. The liberties of a free people, and still more the jealousy with which these liberties are watched, and by which they are preserved, permit not those precautions and restraints, that inspec- tion, scrutiny, and control, which are exercised with suc- cess in arbitrary governments. — Great cities multiply crimes by presenting easier opportunities and more in- centives to libertinism, which in low life is commonly the introductory stage to other enormities; by collecting thieves and robbers into the same neighborhood, which enables them to form communications and confederacies, that increase their art and courage, as well as strength MEANS OF PROMOTING HUMAN HAPPINESS. 119 and wickedness ; but principally by the refuge they af- ford to villany, in the means of concealment, and of sub- sisting in secrrcy, which crowded towns supply to men of every description. These temptations and facilities can only be counteracted by adding to the number of capital punishments. — But a third cause, which inereases the fre- quency of capital executions in England, is a defect of the laws, in not being provided with any other | unish- ment than that of death, sufficiently terrible to keep of- fenders in awe. Transportation, which is the sentence second in the order of severity, appears to me to answer the purpose of example very imperfectly ; not only be- cause exile is in reality a slight punishn ent to those who have neither property, nor friends, nor reputation, nor reg- ular means of subsistence at home, and because their sit- uation becomes little worse by their crime, than it was before they committed it ; but because the punishment, whatever it be, is unobserved and unknown. The end of punishment is two- fold, — amendment and example. In the first of these, the reformation of crimi- nals, little has ever been effected, and little, I tear, is practicable. From every species of punishment that has hitherto been devised, from imprisonment and exile, from pain and infamy, malefactors return more hardened in their crimes, and more instructed. Of the reforming punishments which have no* yet been tried, none promi- ses so much success as that of solitary imprisonment, or the confinement of criminals in separate apartments. This improvement augments the terror of the punish- ment ; secludes the criminal from the society of his fel- low prisoners, in which society the worse are sure to cor- rupt the better ; and is calculated to raise up in him re- flections n the folly of his choice, and to dispose his mind to such bitter and continued penitence, as may pro- duce a lasting alteration in the principles of his conduct. 120 PRACTICAL ETHieS. As aversion to labor is the cause from which half of the vices of low life deduce their origin and continuance, punishments ought to he contrived with a view to the conquering of this disposition. Two opposite expedients have been recommended for this purpose ; the one, soli- tary confinement, with hard labor; the other, solitary confinement, with nothing to do. Both expedients seek the same end, — to reconcile the idle to a life of industry. The former hopes to effect this by making labor habitu- al; the latter, by making idleness insupportable: and the preference of one method to the other depends upon the question, whether a man is more likely to betake him- self, ot his own accord, to work, who has been accustom- ed to employment, or who has been distressed by the want of it. If labor be exacted, I would leave the whole, or a portion, of the earnings to the pr)soner''s use, and I would debar him from any other j revisit n or supply ; that his suhsistence, however coarse or penurious, may be proportioned to his diligence, and that he may taste the advantage of industry together with the toil. I would go further; I would measure the confinement, not by the duration of time, but by quantity of work, in order both to excite industry, and to render it more voluntary. Torture is applied either to obtain confessions of guilt, or to exasperate or prolong the pains of death. I'he question by torture ap}years to be equivocal in its effects; for, since extremity of pain, and not any feeling of re- tnorse in the mind, produces those effects, an innocent man may sink under the torment, as well as he who is guilty. The almost irresistible desire of lelief may draw from one suiferar false accusations of himself or others, as it may sometimes extract the truth out of another. This ambiguity renders the use of torture, ai a means of procuring irformation in criminal proceed- ings, liable to the risk of grievous and irreparable iujus- MEANS OF PROMOTING HUMAN HAPPINESS. 121 tice ; — for which reason, though recommended by an- cient and general example, it has been properly exploded from the mild and cautious system of penal jurisprudence established in this country. Barbarous spectacles of human agony are justly found fault with, as tending to harden and deprave the public feelings, and to destroy that sympathy with which the sufferings of our fellow creatures ought always be seen ; or, if no effect of this kind follow from them, they coun- teract in some measure their own design, by sinking men's abhorrence of the crime in their commiseration of the criminal. The certainty of punishment is of more consequence than the severity. Criminals do not so much flatter them- selves with the lenity of the sentence, as with the hope of escaping. — There are two popular maxims, which seem to have a considerable influence in producing inju- dicious acquittals. One is, ' That circumstantial evidence falls short of positive proof This assertion, in the un- qualified sense in which it is applied, is not true. A concurrence of well-authenticated circumstances compo- ses a stronger ground of assurance, than positive testimo- ny, unconfirmed by circumstances, usually affords. Cir- cumstances cannot lie. The conclusion also which re- sults from them, though deduced by only probable infe- rence, is commonly more to be relied upon, than the veracity of an unsupported solitary witness. The other maxim is this, ' That it is better that ten guilty persons escape, than that one innocent man should suffer.' If by saying it is better^ be meant that it is more for the public advantage, the proposition, 1 think, cannot be maintained. The security of civil life, which is es- sential to the value and the enjoyment of every blessing it contains, and the interruption of which is followed by Universal misery and confusion, is protected chiefly by 122 PRACTICAL ETHICS. the dread of punishment. The misfortune of an individ- ual, (for such may the sufferings, or even the death, of an innocent person be called, when they are occasioned by BO evil intention,) cannot be placed in competition with this object. He who falls by a mistaken sentence, may be considered as falling for his country ; while he suffers under the operation of those rules, by the general effect and tendency of which the welfare of the community is maintained and upheld."* CHAPTER IV. On Promoting the Happiness of our Inferiors, " There are three principal methods of promoting the happiness of our inferiors : 1. By the treatment of our domestics and dependents. 2. By professional assistance. 3. By pecuniary bounty."! I. The treatment of our domestics and dependents. " Whatever uneasiness we occasion to our domestics, which neither promotes our service, nor answers the just ends of punishment, is manifestly wrong ; were it only on the general principle of diminishing the sum of human happiness. By which rule we are forbidden, 1. To enjoin unnecessary labor or confinement, from the mere love and wantonness of domination ; 2. To insult our servants by harsh, scornful, or oppro- brious language ; 3. To refuse them any harmless pleasure : * Paley's Mor. and Polit. Philos. Book VI. Chap. 9. tPaley's Moral Philos. Book III. Part II. Chap. 1. HAPPINESS OF OUR INFERIORS. 123 And, by the same principle, are also forbidden cause- less or immoderate anger, habitual peevishness, and groundless suspicions.'"* " The foregoing prohibitions extend to the treatment of SLAVES. — Slavery may be defined, ' an obligation to labor for the benefit of the master, without the contract or consent of the servant.' "t The evils of slavery are so obvious and so well known, as hardly to need description. " The natives of Africa are excited to war and mutual depredation, for the sake of supplying their contracts, or furnishing the market with slaves. With this the wickedness begins. The slaves, torn away from parents, wives, children, from their friends and companions, their fields and flocks, their home and country, are transported to America, with no other accommodation on shipboard than what is provided for brutes. This is the second stage of cruelty ; from which the miserable exiles are delivered, only to be placed, and that for life, in subjection to a dominion and system of laws, the most merciless and tyrannical thai ever were tolerated upon the face of the earth : and from all that can be learned by the accounts of the people upon the spot, the inordinate authority which the plantation laws confer upon the slave-holder, is exercised with rigor and brutality. But neces.nty is pretended ; the name under which eve- ry enormity is attempted to be justified. And, after all, what is the necessity ? It has never been proved that the land could not be cultivated by hired servants. It is said thit it could not be cultivated with quite the same con- venience and cheapness, as by the labor of slaves; by which means, a pound ©f sugar, which the planter now * Ibid. Chap. % f Ibid. Chap. 3, 1^4^ PRACTICAL ETHICS, sells for sixpence, could not be afforded under sixpence half-penny ; — and this is the necessity !"* That the blacks, by the system of slavery, suffer more than the whites gain, is a proposit;ion so evident, that he who disputes it, hardly deserves to be refuted, — unless it were by being chained, and subjected to the lash of a task-master. Therefore, as human happiness is dimin- ished by the system of slavery, it is unlawful and ought? to be abolished. Dr. Paley, however, proposes no defi- nite plan for this purpose. He says, " The emancipation of slaves should be gradual ; and be carried on by pro- visions of law, and under the protection of civil govern- ment." I would rather say, Let all the slaves, who wish it, be at once delivered from the hands of their masters. Let those who choose to remove beyond the bounds of the United States, be either transported to Africa, or per- mitted to go elsewhere, under such restrictions as the wisdom of the national legislature may impose. And of those who choose to stay, let all under a certain age (say 15) be put into schools supported at the public expense, till they are qualified to take care of themselves and make good members of society ; and let all above that age be employed in as profitable a manner as may be, under overseers appointed by government, who shall treat them with humanity and kindness. These may do enough to support themselves, to pay the expense of overseeing them, and perhaps to contribute something toward the support of the schools. As to the masters, they ought to receive a reasonable compensation for the loss of property which they may sustain in having their slaves taken from them. Whatever the expense of all this might be, it ought to be borne by the nation. Who that has the least spark of philanthropy in his bosom, would be reluctant to pay his share of a tax, which was to accomplish so hu- » Ibid. kAPi'lKESS OF OUR INFERIORS. 125 mane and so noble an object? The rights of injured Af- rica have long enough been trampled upon. The blood of her sable sons has long enough called for vengeance on the heads of guilty white men. It is time that these wrongs were redressed ; and some expiation made, for the tortures that have been inflicted, and the blood that has been shed. The-plan of colonization^ which has been set in operation bj christian enterprise, and which is patronised by our national government, is a good thing as far as it goes ; but it seems to be too slow a pro- cess, in a case, where the evil is so great, and the call of duty so loud. The least that our government ought to do, is immediately to deliver all the children of the slaves from the yoke of bondage, and place them in a situation, where they may become qualified to hold a respectable rank, as men and as citizens, as rational and immortal beings. " II. Professional Assistance. This kind of beneficence is chiefly to be expected from members of the legislature, magistrates, medical, l^gal, and sacerdotal professions. The care of the poor ought to be the principal object of all laws ; for this plain reason, that the rich are able to take care of themselves. Of all private professions, that of medicine puts it in a man's power to do the most good at the least expense. Health, which is precious to all, is to the poor invaluable ; and their complaints, as agues, rheumatisms, &c. are often such as yield to medicine. And, with respect to the ex- pense, drugs at first hand cost little, and advice costs nothing, where it is only bestowed upon those who could not afford to pay for it. The rights of the, poor are not so important or intri- cate, as their contentions are violent and ruinous. A Lawyer or Attorney, of tolerable knowledge in his pro- l2 146 PRACTICAL ETHICS. fession, has commonly judgment enough to adjust these disputes, with all the effect, and without the expense, of a law-suit."* III. Pecuniary Bounty. 1. The obligation to bestow rtliej upon the poor. It is our duty to bestow relief upon the poor, because a portion of our property will be a greater benefit to them, than it could be to us, and the sum of human hap- piness will thus be increased. " The christian scriptures are more copious and explicit upon this duty, than upon almost any other. — It does not appear, that before the times of Christianity, an infirmary, hospital, or public charity of any kind, existed in the world ; whereas most countries in Christendom have long abounded with these institutions. 2. The manner of bestowing bounty ; or the different kinds of charity. There are three kinds of charity which prefer a claim to attention. The first, and one of the best, is, to give stated and considerable sums, by way of pension or annuity, to in- dividuals or families, with whose behavior and distress we ourselves are acquainted. It is a recommendation of this kind of charity, that pensions and annuities, which are paid regularly, and can be expected at the time, are the only way by which we can prevent one part of a poor man's sufferings, — the dread of want. A second method of doing good, which is in every one's power who has the money to spare, is by subscription to public charities. Public charities admit of this argu- ment in their favor, that your money goes farther towards attaining the end for which it is given, than it can do by any private and separate beneficence. * Ibid. Chap. 4. HAPPINESS OF OUR INFERIORS. 1 27 The last, and, compared with the former, the lowest exertion of benevolence, is the relief of beggars. Nev- ertheless, we are, by no means, to reject, indiscriminate- ly, all who implore our alms in this way. Some may perish by such a conduct. Men are sometimes overtaken by distress, for which all other relief would come too late. Besides which, resolutions of this kind compel us to offer such violence to our humanity, as may go near, in a little while, to suffocate the principle itself; which is a very serious consideration."* There are other ways of relieving the poor, and pro- moting their happiness, which are as important as the giving of money, food, or clothing. They may frequent- ly be furnished with employment^ and thus not only be ena- bled to obtain a supply for their present wants, but also be led into a habit of industry. Those who employ la- borers, would do well to keep this subject in view ; and to consult, not merely their own interest, but also the relief and comfort of the neighboring poor. — But there is another species of charity, which affords a prospect of doing, in the end, still greater good; and that is, the making provision for the education of the children of the poor. By furnishing them with the means of literary, moral, and religious improvement ; we may put them in a way to become qualified to take care of themselves, and to be a blessing, instead of a burden, to the public. '' 3. The pretences by which men excuse themselves from giving to the poor, 1. ' That they have nothing to spare,' that is, nothing for which they have not provided some other use ; never reflecting whether it be in their power^ or that it is their duty^ to retrench their expenses, and contract their plan, ' thai they may have to give to them that need.' " * Ibid. Chap. 5., 128 PRACTICAL ETHICS. 2. ' That they have families of their own, and that charitjr begins at home.'' If, by giving, they would in- jure their own families more than they would benefit the poor, the plea is a good one. 3. ' That they pay the poor rates.' Very well ; and if all the poor and distressed are in this way comfortably provided for, they have no farther claim upon our com- passion and charity. " 4. ' That the poor do not suffer so much as we ima- gine : that education and habit have reconciled them to the evils of their condition, and make them easy under it.' Habit can never reconcile human nature to the ex- tremities of cold, hunger, and thirst, any more than it can reconcile the hand to the touch of a red-hot iron : be- sides, the question is not, how unhappy any one is, but how much more happy we can make him. 5. ^ That these people, give them what you will, will will never thank you, or think of you for it.' In the first place, this is not true : in the second place, it was not for the sake of their thanks that you relieved them."* I will close this chapter with some extracts from Dr. Brown " On the Duties of Benevolence ;"t and I flatter myself, that, though he does not confine his remarks to the promotion of the happiness of our inferiors^ though some ideas already advanced may be repeated, and though the extracts occupy several pages, it will not be thought, by the reader of moral sensibility, that in making them, I need apology, either for digression, repetition, or prolixity. " The benevolent spirit, as its object is the happiness of all who are capable of feeling happiness, is as univer- sal in its efforts, as the miseries which are capable of being relieved, or the enjoyments which it is possible to extend to a single human being, within the reach of its efforts, or * Ibid. t Brown's Philosophy, Lect. 86. HAPPINESS OF OUR INFERIORS. 129 almost of its wishes. When we speak of benefactions, in- deed, we think only of one species of good action ; and char- ity itself, so comprehensive in its etymological meaning, is used as if it were nearly synonymous with the mere open- ing of the purse. But ' it is not money only which the unfortunate need, and they are but sluggards in well do- ing,' as Rosseau strikingly expresses the character of this indolent benevolence, • who know to do good only when they have a purse in their hand.' Consolations, counsels, cares, friendship, protection, are so many re- sources which pity leaves us for the assistance of the indigent, even though wealth should be wanting." " If, indeed, there be in the heart those genuine wishes of diffusive good, which are never long absent from the heart of the virtuous, there will not long be wantiag oc- casions of exertion. It will not be easy for an eye, that has been accustomed to the search of objects of gene- rous regard, to look around without the discovery of something which may be remedied, or something which may be improved ; and in relieving some misery, or pro- ducing or spreading some happiness, the good man will already have effected his delightful purpose, before oth- ers would even have imagined that there was any good to be done." " The benevolent man will be eager to relieve every form of personal suffering. Public institutions arise, by his zeal, for receiving the sick, who have no home, or a home which it is almost sickness to inhabit, and for re- storing them in health to those active employments of which they would otherwise have been incapable. In the humblest ranks of life, when no other aid can be given by the generous poor, than that which their attend- ance and sympathy administer, this aid they never hesi- tate to afford. When their own toils of the day are over, they often give the hours of a night, that is to be termi- 130 PRACTICAL ETHICS. nated in a renewed call to their fatiguing occupations, — not to the repose which their exhausted strength might seem to demand, — but to a watchful anxiety around the bed of some feverish sufferer, who is scarcely sufficiently conscious of what is around him to thank them for their care, and whose look of squalid wretchedness seems to be only death begun, and the infection of death to all who gaze upon it. The same benevolence, which prompts to the succor of the infirm^ prompts to the succor also of the indigent Though charity is not tnere pecuniary aid, pecuniary aid, when such aid is needed, is still one of the most useful, because one of the most extensive in its ap- plication, of all the services of charity. Nor is it valuable only for the temporary relief which it affords to sufferings that could not otherwise be relieved. It has a higher and more comprehensive office. It brings together those, whose union seems necessary for general happiness, and almost for explaining the purposes of heaven in the pre- sent system of things. There are every where the rich, who have means of comfort which they know not how to ejijoy^ and scarcely how to waste ; — and everywhere some, w ho are poor without guilt on their part, or at least rath- er guilty because they are poor, than poor because they are guilty. All which seems necessary for the comfort of both, is, that they should be brought together. Be- nevolence effects this union. It carries the rich to the cottage, or to the very hovels of the poor j — it allows the poor admission into the palaces of the rich ; — and both become richer in the only true sense of the word, because to both there is an accession of happiness. The wealthy obtain the pleasure of doing good, and of know- ing that there are hearts which bless them ; — the indi- gent obtain the relief of urgent necessities, and the pleasure of loving a generous benefactor. HAPPINESS OF OUR INFERIORS. 131 Such are the delightful influences of positive henevo- lence, in their relation to the personal sufferings, and to the pecuniary wants, of those, who, if they have no property to be assailed by injustice, have at least neces- sities, the disregard of which is equal in moral delin- quency to injustice itself In its relation to the affections of those around^ who are connected with each other by various ties of regard, benevolence is not less powerful, as a producer, or fosterer of good. Wherever there are causes of future jealousy, among those who love each other at present, it delights in dispelling the elements of the cloud, when the cloud itself, that has not yet begun to darken, scarcely can be said to have arisen. It sus- picions have already gathered in the breast of any one, who thinks, but thinks falsely, that he has been injured ; it is quick, with all the ready logic of kindness, to show that the suspicions are without a cause. — If it find not suspicion only, but dissention that has burst out, in all the violence of mutual acrimony, it appears in its divine cha- racter of a peacemaker^ and, almost by the influence of its mere presence, the hatred disappears and the love re- turns — as if it were as little possible, that discord should continue where it is, as that the mists and gloom of night should not disappear, at the mere presence of that sun which shines upon them. " The virtuous man," it has been beautifully said, " proceeds without constraint in the path of his duty. His steps are free ; his gait is easy ; he has the graces of virtue. He moves along in beaevolence, and he sees arising in others, the benevolence which is in him. Of all our virtuous emotions, those of kind regard are the most readily imitated. To feel them is to inspire them ; to see them is to partake them. Are they in your heart ? — they are in your looks, in your manners, in your dis- course. Your presence reconciles enemies ; and hatred 132 PRACTICAL ETHICS. which cannot penetrate to your heart, cannot even dwell around you."* If benevolence is eager to preserve the affection of those who love each other, it cannot fail to be careful of their character,^ on which so much of affection depends. The whispers of insidious slanders may come to it as they pass, — with a secrecy, which has nothing in it of real secrecy, but mere lowness of tone, — from voice to voice in eager publication ; but if there be no other Toice to bear them farther, they will cease and perish, when it is benevolence which has heard. The power which nature has given us over the trains of thought and emotion, which we may raise more or less directly, in the minds of others, the benevolent man will employ as an instrument of his generous wishes, not as an instrument of cruelty. It will be his care to awake, in the mind of every one who approaches him, the most delightful feelings which he can awaken, con- sistently with the permanent virtue and happiness of him whom he addresses. He will not flatter, therefore, and speak of faults as if they were excellencies, for this would be to give a little momentary pleasure at the ex- pense of the virtuous happiness of years. But without flattery, he will produce more pleasure, even for the time, than flattery itself could give : — in the interest which he seems to feel, he will show that genuine sin- cerity, which impresses with irresistible belief, and of which the confidence is more gratifying to the virtue, — I had almost said to the very vanity of man, — than the doubtful praises to which the heart, though it may love to hear them, is incapable of yielding itself. Benevolence, in this amiable form, of course, excludes all haughtiness. The great, however elevated, descend, * St. Lambert, Ouev. Phil. Tome HI. p. 179. HAPPINESS OF OUR INFERIORS. 133 under its gentle influence, to meet the happiness and the grateful alf^ction of those who are beneath them; and in descending to happiness and gratitude, — which themselves have produced, they do not feel that they are descend- ing. Whatever be the scene of its efforts or wishes, to do good is to the heart always to rise^ and the height of its elevation is, therefore, always in proportion to the quantity of good which it has effected, or which, at least, it has had the wish of effecting. Politeness, — which is, when ranks are equal, what af- fability is, when the more distinguished rningie v*'ith the less distinguished — is the natural effect of that benevo- lence which regards always with sympathetic complacen- cy, and is fearful of disturbing, even by the slightest momentary uneusiness, the serenity of others. A.breach of attention in any of the common offices of civility, to which the arbitrary usages of social life have attached importance, even when nothing more is intended, is still a neglect, and neglect itself is an insult; it is the imme- diate cause of a pain which no human being is entitled, where there has been no offence, to give to any other human being. Politeness then, — the social virtue that foresees and provides against every unpleasant feeling that may arise in the breasts around, as if it were some quick-sighted and guardian Power, intent only on general happiness, — is something far more dignified in its nature, than the cold courtesies which pass current under that name, the mere knowledge of fashionable manners, and an exact adherence to them. It is, in its most essential respects, what may be possessed by those, who have lit- tle of the varying vocabulary, and varying usages of the season. The knowledge of these is, indeed, necessary to such as mingle in the circles which require them ; but they are necessary only as the new fashion of the coat or splendid robe, which leaves him or her who wears it, the 1S4 PRACTICAL ETHICS. same human being, in erery respect, as before ; and arc not more a part of either, than the ticket of admission, which opens to their ready entrance, the splendid apart- ment, from which the humble are excluded. The true politeness of the heart, is something which cannot be given by those who minister to mere decoration. It is the moral grace of life, if I may venture so to term it, — the grace of the mind^ and what the world count graces, are little more than graces of the body. Such is benevolence in the various forms in which it may be instrumental to happiness, — and, in being thus in- strumental to the happiness of others, it has truly a source of happiness within^ itself. It may not feel indeed, all the enjoyment which it wishes to diffuse — for its wishes are unlimited^ — but it feels an enjoyment, that is as wide as all the happiness which it sees around it, or the still greater and wider happiness of which it antici- pates the existence. The very failure of a benevolent wish ou\y hreuks its delight, without destroying it ; for when one wish of good has failed, it has still other wishes of equal or greater good that arise, and occupy and bless it as before. In considering the various ways in which benevolence may be active, we have seen how extensive it may be as a feeling of the heart. If wealth, indeed, were neces- sary, there would be few who could enjoy it, or, at least, who could enjoy it largely. But pecuniary aid, as we have seen, is only one of many forms of being useful To correct some error, moral or intellectual, — to coun- sel those who are in doubt, and who in such circumstan- ces, require instruction, as the indigent require alms, — even though nothing more were in our power, to show an interest in the welfare of the happy, and a sincere commiseration of those who are in sorrow, — in those, and in innumerable other ways, the benevolent, however scanty may be their means of conferring, what alone the HAPPINESS OF OUR INFERIORS, 135 world calls benefactions, are not benevolent only, but be- neficent ; as truly beneficent, or fiir more so, as those who squander in loose prodigalities, to the deserving and undeserving, the sufferers from their own thoughtless dis- sipation, or the sufferers from the injustice and dissipa- tion of others, almost as much as they loosely squander on a fjBW hours of their own sensual appetites. Even in pecuniary liberalities, benevolence does not merely produce good, but it knows well, or it learns to know, the greatest amount of good which its liberalities can produce. To be the cause of less happiness or com- fort, than might be diffused at the same cost, is almost a species of the same vice which withholds aid from those who require it. The benevolent, therefore, are magni- ficent in their bounty, because they are economical even in bounty itself. Their heart is quick to perceive sour- ces of relief where others no not see them; and the whole result of happiness produced by them, seems often to have arisen from a superb munificence which few could command, when it may, perhaps, have proceeded only from humble means, which the possessor of similar means, without similar benevolence, would think scarcely more than necessary for his own strict necessaries."* It is by its inattention to the little wants of man that os- tentation distinguishes itself from charity ; and a saga- cious observer needs no other test, in the silent disdain or eager reverence of his heart, to separate the seeming benevolence, which seeks the applauding voices of crowds, from the real benevolence, which seeks only to be the spreader of happiness or consolation. It is impos- sible for the most ostentatious producer of the widest * •' JSTecessary for his own strict necessaries^ So reads the only eilition of Brown's Lectures which I have seen, -that publislied at Andover, 1822. Ought it not to he, ' sufficient tor his own strict necessaries' ? or, * necessary for his own strict necessities' ? 136 PRACTICAL ETHICS, amount of good, with all his largesses, and with all his hy- pocrisy, to be consistent in his acts of seeming kindness ; because, to be consistent, he must have that real kind- ness, which sees, what the cold simulator of benevolence is incapable of seeing, and does, therefore, what such a cold dissembler is incapable even of imagining." CHAPTER V. Resentment^ Anger ^ and Revenge. The different and opposite opinions, that are expressed by different persons, respecting the lawfulness of resent- ment and anger^ are, probably, in many instances, nothing more than a disagreement in the use of words, without any difference of sentiment.* As to revenge^ the mean- ing of the term appears to be better established ; and I know of no law, except that of " Honor," by which the passion is authorized. Anger^ — as far as I can judge of the ordinary accepta- tion of the term, — is a desire that another may suffer pain^ on account of an injury he has done^ or an affront he has of- fered. This is distinct from a desire that the other may be reformed, or that he may bo punished lor the sake of being reformed, or that the injury or loss which we have sustained may be repaired. A desire that another may be punished for the sake of being reformed, is a benev- olent desire, which has the virtue, happiness, and useful- ness of the other as its object, and regrets the necessity of inflicting punishment in order to attain that object ♦ See p. 30. RfcSfcNTMENT, ANGER, AND REVENGE. 137 A desire that another may be punished for the sake of deterring others from committing the same crime, is also a benevolent de.«ire, and has the public welfare for its ob- ject. But anger is a malevolent desire, which feels a grat- ification arising directlj from the pain that the other suffers, and has the infliction of pain or evil as its direct and ultimate object. Anger may be mingled with other feelings; but jusi so far and so long as it has a place in the breast, this is its nature. A desire to obtain repara- tion for an injury, has respect merely to one's own inte- rest, and may be accompanied by anger, or may not. Revenge is the malicious inflicting of pain upon the person who has injured or offended us. If the pain is in- flicted from malicious motives, it is revenge, even though it go no further than the just ends of punishment or re- paration may require. " There cannot be much difficul- ty?" says Dr. Paley, ^^in distinguishing whether we oc- casion pain to another with a view only to the ends of punishment, or from revenge ; for in the one case we proceed with reluctance, in the other with pleasure."* — The word ' revenge,' as in the passage just quoted, is sometimes used to denote the passion^ which impels to acts of retaliation. Taken in this sense, it seems to differ from anger only in degree. When anger rises high, or continues long, so as to lead a person to meditate acts of retaliation, it is then called revenge. As to restntment^ it seems not to differ from anger, ex- cept in being a more sudden rising of the passion, and of shorter duration. Perhaps there is also this ^' rence, that resentment is wholly personal and selfish, while an- ger and revenge may be excited on account of another. In this latter case, however. Dr. Brown gives to the emo- tion, and perhaps more correctly, the name of indignation. *Paley's Moral Philosophy, Book III. Part II. Chap. 7. m2 138 PRACTICAL ETHICS. It appears, then, that resentment, anger, and revenge^ being all of the same nature, — and that a malevolent na- ture, — are all of them criminal^ '' in every degree, un- der all forms, and upon every occasion." — But it may be proper now to consider some passages of scripture, which have been thought to prove that anger is sometimes in- 7wcenU 1. "He looked round about on them with anger, being grieved for the hardness of their hearts."* If the Lord Jesus Christ, " who knew no sin," had feelings of anger, surely anger cannot always be sinful. — I replj^, that the word is here used in a different sense from that in which it is generally used at the present day. Its meaning is explained by the clause that follows : " being grieved for the hardness of their hearts." If those who hold that anger is sometimes innocent, mean such anger as our blessed Savior felt, when he was grieved at the impeni- tence and wickedness of the Jews, I have no controver- sy with them. — A similar remark may be made upon those passages, in which the anger or w rath of God is spo- ken of. The term, when thus used, denotes a disapproba- tion of sin, and a disposition to punish the wicked ; — but a disapprobation, which is consistent with perfect benevo- lerice toward the sinner ; and a disposition to punish, for the sake, not of inflicting pain on the individual, but of promoting the happiness of the universe. 2. " Whosoever is angry with his brother without a eause^ shall be in danger of the judgment ; that is, " wor- thy to be punished by the judges."! This passage seems to imply, that anger, when there is a cause for it, is in- nocent. — But, in the first place, Christ is here speaking of a human judicature ; and it is unsafe to conclude, that nothing will be condemned at the bar of God, for which * Mark, iii. 5. f Matt. v. 22. RESENTMENT, ANGER, AND REVENOE. 139 it is not proper that a man should be arraigned at a human tribunal. — In the next place, Christ is stating different grades of guilt ; and we are not authorized to take it for granted, that he begins at the lowest possible. He says, that unprovoked anger is worthy of a certain punishment^ which he specifies ; but he does not say, nor can we infer, that anger which arises from provocation, is worthy of no punishment. All that we can infer is, that such anger usually involves a lower degree of guilt, and deserves a less punishment. — Origen, I'ertullian, Jerome, and some others of the Fathers, considered the word ecxr]^ " with- out a cause," to be an interpolation ; and it seems not an improbable supposition, that the word was originally written on the margin as a gloss, and afterwards, — as has happened in other instances, — crept into the text. Gries- bach and Kosenmiiller, however, consider the received reading as genuine. 3. '^^ Be ye angry and sin not."* That is, ' When ye are angry,' or ' Though ye be angry, sin not ;' for it can hardly be supposed, that anger is here commanded as a duty. The word ^sin,' as here used, appears to refer to the external act ; as in Malt, xviii. 15 ; Luke, xvii. 3, 4 ; " If thy brother sin {d{xagT7]6ri) against thee."t Tak- ing the word ' sin' in the sense in which it is used in these and other passages, and supplying the words ' against any one,' the meaning will be, '^ When ye are angry, do not injure any one ;" or, " suffer not your anger to im- pel you to acts of revenge." Or, without supplying any- thing, the word ' sin' may denote such outward acts in general, as are promi)ted by angry passions. This inter- pretation seems to receive some countenance from the following verse, if vve translate it — as it may well be translated — according to the opinion of Schleusner, * Eph. iv. 26. t See also Gen, xlii. 22 ; Judges, xi. 27 ; 1 Sam. 3iix.4. 140 PRACTICAL ETHIC«. '^ Neither give occasion to the slanderer."" That the apostle does not mean to represent it as innocent to be " angry,'' appears from his utterly forbidding anger only a few lines below : " Let all bitterness^ and wrath^ and an^ ger^ and clamor, and evil-spcHking, be put away from you, with all m:dice ; and be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you/'* T. here is another view of the passage under conside- ration, which may, perhaps, be preferred by some lovers of Idblical criticism. This passage is quoted, in the words of the Septuagint Version, from Ps. iv. 4; '^ Stand in awe, and sin not." The Hebrew verb, which is ren- dered " Stand in awe," literally denotes agitation ; and is hence used to denote any passion or emotion which agi- tates the breast. It is frequently applied to Jear* in the Bible, and with equal propriety as to anger. Our trans- lators, therefore, have not departed from the original in their translation of Ps. iv. 4 ; and it appears from the context, that their translation is judicious and correct. Now, as far as the judgment and skill of the authors of the Septuagint can be depended upon, as coinciding with the opinion of our translators, the Greek verb, which they have used in Ps. iv. 4, and which St. Paul has quo- ted in Eph. iv. S;6, is not confined to the passion of an- ger, but is also used to denote that agitation in the feel- ings, which may be occasioned by fear, or hy other caus- es. A man's feelings may be wounded and agitated by unkindness, or by injuries and affronts, without his feel- ing any resentment, or desire of revenge, toward the in- jurious person. 'I'hus, the meaning of Eph. iv. £6, will be ; " When your feelings are hurt, and your breast agi- tated, by unkind treatment, suffer not any sinful passion to * See also Col. iii. 8 ; and Ps. xxxvii. 8. RESENTMENT, ANGER, AND REVENGE. 141 be excited, such as resentment, anger, or revenge ; and les^t this should be the case, calm the agitation of your breast, and heal the wound in your feelings, as soon ai possible ; let not the day close, before composure and peace are restored to your mind/' This interpretation rests on the supposition, that St. Paul has used the Greek verb, in Eph. iv. 26, in the same sense as the authors of the Septuagint Version have done in Ps. iv. 4 ; and that they understood the Hebrew verb, in that passage, in the same sense as our translators have d«ne. Perhaps the interpretation also receives some countenance from Mark, iii. 5 ; but it must be ac- knowledged that it is opposed by the ordinary meaning of the word ' anger' in the New Testament, and espe- cially in Eph. iv. 31. Whether we adopt this interpre- tation, or that which was tirst proposed, St. Paul says nothing which implies the innocence of such anger as prompts to revenge, or as is inconsistent with exercising, at the same time, benevolent feelings toward the person who has injured us. Other arguments, beside those derived from scripture, have been used in justification of anger. It has been said, that anger is very useful^ tending to repel injury and to strike evil-doers with terror. We might admit this, without admitting the conclusion that anger is justifiable. Anger is not shown to be virtuous or innocent, merely by showing that it is promotive of the public good. He, in the volume of whose word it is written, " The wrath of man shall praise thee," is able to overrule for good the blackest crimes which have ever been perpetrated. But from the circumstance that a thing is made subservient to the production oi good, it does not follow that it is good in itself. It may not be difficult to show '^ the wisdom of €rod in the permission of sin ;" but it is a strange kind of 142 PRACTICAL ETHICS. moral reasoning, which would infer, that because God is wise.) sin is a virtue. But we may be allowed to doubt, whether anger w use- ful, as it respects the present state of existence. It is, in- deed, desirable that injury should be repelled, and that he who tramples on the rights and invades the happiness of others, should suffer that punishment which may put an end to his own career of wickedness, and deter from an imitation of his example. But is there no principle in human nature, capable of accomplishing this, but ma- levolence, which delights in the very sufferings of its object ? When the traveller is attacked by the midnight robber, is there nothing but a desire to take revenge on the assailant, that can nerve his arm, and make him prompt and intrepid in defending his property and life ? Let us suppose the attack to be made by a ferocious beast, in- stead of a human foe. Must he imagine the brutal inva- der to act with a criminal design, and thus become fired with a spirit of retaliation, before he can exert all his strength in repelling the attack ? Or, to make the case still plainer, let us suppose a man to be exposed to immi- nent danger from some violence of the elements or from the impulse of inanimate matter. Can he not struggle with the wind or the water, — can he not oppose his arm to the rock or falling tree, that is about to crush him with its weight, and exert every bodily power that God has given him, unless he first imagines that he is attacked by a rational foe, who wickedly and maliciously seeks his life ? The same principle of self-preservation, which operates in these cases, appears capable of answering the purpose required equally well, when the attack is made by a human agent, — although unaccompanied by a desire of inflicting evil on the aggressor. But there is a case, to which the preceding remarks do not apply. After the injury is done, what principle, RESENTMENT, ANGER, AND REVENGE. 143 but that of retaliation, is sufficiently active and unfeeling to bring the offender to justice? I reply, a sense of future evil to be apprehended from the same source, together with a patriotic regard to the public welfare. The man, who has been injured in his person or property, must be sensible, that to suffer the villain who has injured him to escape with impunity, will but invite him to a repetition of the injury, and encourage others, of like disposition, to imitate his example. Such a man, too, though unin- fluenced by resentment, must have a more adequate con- ception, than others in general can have, of the perni- cious tendency of such crimes as it respects the public welfare. Every man, whether he possesses disinterested benevolence of the purest kind or not, desires the wel- fare of his own town, and province, and country. And there are few men, of common virtue, who would not exert themselves, — for the sake of the public good, in which themselves have a share, — to bring to justice those who transgress the civil law in instances much less atro- cious than an attack upon the person or property, were it not for the odium and censure to be incurred, — from some whose interest it is that the law should not be rigorously enforced,— by taking the lead in that, in which, it will be said, it was not their business to intermeddle. The ma- jority, I trust, is large, who, were it not for the fear of such odium and censure, would not suffer the laws to be violated, as they are, by sabbath-breaking, profaneness, and the unlicensed retail of spirituous liquors. Now, where a man has received a personal injury, he has not only a more distinct and adequate conception of the evil which himself and the public are liable to suffer from the future perpetration of similar crimes, but he can proceed to prosecute the offender without affording any plausible pretext for the tongue of calumny to utter its insinuations and reproaches. 144 PRACTICAL ETHICS^ It appears, then, that anger is not necessary for the safety or welfare of human society. How unhappy its effects often are, is too well known to need illustration. I have used the term ' anger' to denote a malevolent feeling, — a feeling which ^' prompts to revenge," hecauvse I believe this to be its general acceptation. 1 am aware, however, that there are some, who would use the word, occasionally at least, in a good sense, namely, to denote a strong disapprobation, — an emotion of disapprobation, perhaps, which produces some degree of agitation in the breast. But the occasional use of words in a good sense, which are generally used in a bad sense, or the use of words in a good sense by a few individuals, while they are understood in a bad sense by men in general, is pro- ductive of very great evils.* Neither does the practice of ascribing anger to God, in the sacred writings, appear to be a sufficient reason for using the same language to denote a virtuous disapprobation in men. When such language is applied to God, there is no danger of its being misunderstood by those who have any correct ideas of the divine character. In God, it must mean a holy disappro- bation of sin. But in man, there are other feelings, far from being virtuous, which may be, and frequently are, denoted by it. Add to this, that, excepting one or two passages, of doubtful interpretation, anger in men is uni- formly condemned in the Bible. I'he language of inspi- ration, therefore, furnishes an argument against using the term ' anger' in a good sense in relation to men. Of the criminality of a spirit of revenge in the sight of God, we may form an idea, by the stress that is laid, in the Bible, upon the duty of forgiveness. ^^ Christ, who estimated virtues by their solid utility," says Dr. Paley, " and not by their fashion or popularity, prefers this of *See remarks on the terms * Emulation' and ' Ambition/ Chap. VII. RESENTMENT, ANGER, AND REVENGE, 145 the forgiveness of injuries to every other. He enjoins it oftener ; with more earnestness ; under a greater variety of forms ; and with this weighty and peculiar circum- stance, that the forgiveness of others is the condition up- on which alone we are to expect, or even ask, from God, forgiveness for ourselves. And this preference is justifi- ed by the superior importance of the virtue itself The feuds and animosities in families and between neighbors, which disturb the intercourse of human life, and collec- tively compose half the misery of it, have their foun- dation in the want of a forgiving temper ; and can nev- er cease, but by the exercise of this virtue, on one side, or on both."* The following passages of scripture may suffice to shoir, what conduct and feelings are allowed toward an enemy, and what are forbidden : " If thou meet thine enemy's ox or his ass going astray , thou shalt surely bring it back to him again." — " Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, ahd pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you." — " if 3^e forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you ; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespas- ses." — " And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due to him : so likewise shall my heavenly Father do also to you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses." — " Put on bowels of mercy, kindness, hum- bleness of mind, meekness, long suffering ; forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any ; even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye." — " Be patient toward all men ; see that none render evil for evil to any man." — " Avenge not your- * Moral Philos. Book III. Part II. Chap. 8. isr 146 PRACTICAL ETHICS. selves, but rather give place unto wrath ; for it is writ- ten, Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink ; for, in so doing, thou shalt heap coals of lire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."* CKAFTZSR VX. Duelling, " A Duel is a single combat, at a time and place ap- pointed, in consequence of a challenge. It must be pre- meditated, otherwise it is called a rencounter. The origin of the duel is to be sought in the supersti- tious customs of the Scandinavians and other northern na- tions. Among all such nations, courage seems to have been the ruling principle. This principle, impatient of the forms of law, impelled them to avenge their own wrongs at the point of the sword ; and whoever declined to do so, was branded with the appellation of cowardice, and on that account looked upon as infamous. The prac- tice was also intimately connected with their notions of religion. The single combat was viewed as a direct ap- peal to heaven ; and he on whose side victory declared, was believed to have the juster cause. This custom, originating in a period of ignorance and superstition, has maintained its ground amidst all the im- provements of society. This circumstance is very much owing to the laws, which have been passed against it, not being carried into effect. *Ex. xxiii. 4; Matt. v. 44; vi. 14, 15; xyHi. 34, 35; Col. iiL 12, 13; Thess. Y. 14, 15; Rom. xii. 19—21. DUELLING. 147 The object which the duellist proposes, is altogether of a personal nature, being either to gratify some passion, which every good man ought to restrain, or to avoid the imputation of cowardice, of which, perhaps, he was never suspected. His object, therefore, is selfish ; and the means by which he attains this object are contrary to law, reason, and religion. He takes the laws, indeed, in his own hand, and acts as judge in his own cause. On account of some unguarded word, or some trifling offence, he wantonly risks his own life, and involves, perhaps, in wretchednesf, a wife and family who depend upon him for subsistence. Religion enjoins forgiveness of injuries ; — the duellist thinks only of revenge. Religion recom- mends patience and forbearance ; — the duellist declares, that he who does not resent his own wrongs, is not fit to live in society. Humility is a fundamental principle of the christian religion ; — duelling is supported and nour-^ ished by pride : for honor, in the fashionable sense of the word, is nothing else than pride modified by certain rules. Hence this practice has ever been reprobated by all wise and good men. The Due de Sully, one of the first generals of his own or any other age, has transmitted to posterity his testimony against it, in the following point- ed language : " That,'' said he, " which arms us against our friends or countrymen, in contempt of all laws, as well divine as human, is but a brutal fierceness, madness, and real pusillanimity."* Duelling is a crime, which partakes of the guilt both of murder and of suicide. " Wherever human life is de- liberately taken away, otherwise than by public authori- ty, there is murder."! Therefore, just so great a proba- bility as there is, that he who gives or accepts a challenge, will take the life of his opponent, just so much of the guilt of murder does he contract. And in the same de- "^New Edinburgh Encyclopedia. fPaley, 148 FRACTICAL ETHie5. gree is he guilty of suicide, because he, in the same de- gree, deliberately exposes his own life. Both these com- bined, appear to make a sum of guilt as great as that of deliberate murder. It seems probable, that the instances in which both parties fall, are as numerous as those in which neither does ; so that the number of those who are killed in duels, is as great as the number of duels fought ; and therefore, in any particular duel, there is a chance, which is equivalent to a certainty that one of the parties will be killed. If this should be thought to be going beyond the truth, it is to be taken into the account, that where the one party is killed, the other is often se- verely wounded ; that this is often the fate of both parties, where neither of them is killed ; that while he who is murdered by a common assassin, dies without disgrace or guilt, he who falls in a duel, covers his ashes with igno- miny ; that the example set by the duellist, is more con- tagious, and therefore more pernicious, than that set by a common assassin ; and that the distress which is brought upon the family and friends of the party that falls, is greater than in the case of ordinary murder. It is little or no extenuation of the crime of duelling, that " a law of honor has annexed the imputation of cowardice to patience under an affront, and challenges are given and accepted with no other design, than to prevent or wipe off this suspicion."* Though the duellist be not always, or be seldom, actuated by malice against his adversary ; yet the contempt which he casts upon God, and the infi- del presumption with which he hastens to the retribu- tions of eternity, appear to be even greater than in him who commits murder from motives of malice and revenge. Most emphatically may it be said of the duellist, " there IS NO FEAR OF GOD BEFORE HIS EYES." * Paley's Moral Philos. Book III. Part II. Chap. 9, ( H9) CHAPTER VIZ. Emulation and Ambition, I. Definition of Terms, The meaning of the terms ' emulation' and ^ ambition,' appears to be still more undefined and unsettled, than that of ' resentment' and ' anger.' Our first object, there- fore, will be to point out, as clearly and distinctly as pos- sible, the sense in which these terms will be used in the present chapter. 1. Emulation^ — as far as I can judge of the roost com- mon meaning of the word, — is a desire to excel, for the sake oj the gratification which arises from being superior to others. This gratification includes both the pleasure of reflecting on our own superiority, and also that of seeing and think- ing that this superiority is known to our companions, or to the world. The votary of emulation loves to look down upon others ; and the greater is the number which he sees below him, of those who were once his equals or superiors, the more exquisite is the gratification which he feels. He is willing that others should stand high, if he can stand still higher ; but if he must stand low, he wishes that they should stand still lower. This principle of action seems sometimes to become so strong, as to swallow up all others. Of this, a striking instance is af- forded in the language which Milton ascribes to Satan : " Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven." He who is actuated by the principle of emulation, usually chooses to obtain a superiority to others by elevat- ing himself, rather than by depressing them ; and that for two reasons : First, because he will in this way become -superior, not only to his immediate competitors, but also to others at a greater distance, and will thus hold a 16§ PRACTICAL ETHieS. more elevated station in the view of the world ; and se- condly, because he will gain more admiration and ap- plause, if he raises himself by fair means, than if he re- tards or sinks others in order to get above them. 2. The word ' ambitionP is frequently synonymous with ' emulation' ; but it is also frequently used in senses in which ' emulation' is not. This latter term is confined, chiefly, in its application, to children and youth ; while ' ambition' is used to denote the operation of the same principle in men, especially those who signalize them- selves in a political or military capacity. Emulation has respect, chiefly, to rivals that are near at hand : ambition seeks a superiority which has no limits. Emulation seeks to excel, chiefly, in things which are of a personal nature ; as in bodily strength and agility, or in mental attainments and powers. Ambition, beside seeking to exceed others in the same endowments exercised on a larger scale, also seeks to exceed them in grandeur, wealth, power, and fame. The principle^ in all these cases, is the same. It is a desire of superiority for the sake of the gratification and the personal advantages which it affords. The word ' ambition' is also sometimes used to denote merely an earnest desire^ without any reference to rival- ship or competition. Thus, a child who studies alone, is sometimes said to be ' ambitious' to learn, meaning mere- ly that he is very fond of his studies, and very desirous to acquire knowledge. Thus, a man sometimes says, that it is his ' highest ambition' to please another and to gain his approbation, meaning merely, in the language of hy- perbole, that he has a very strong desire to please him. In this sense, ambition is totally distinct from emulation. I am not certain, however, that this use of the word is found in any good writer. la the present chapter, 1 shall use the terms ^ emulation' and ' ambition' as denotinof the same principle. EMULATION AND AMBITION. 151 II. The nature and tendency of emulation, may be fur- ther illustrated by considering the connection which this principle has with some others. 1. It is intimately connected with pride and vanity^ Pride is " the thinking of ourselves more highly than we ought to think." Emulation, by leading a person to think frequently of his own attainments and excellencies, pro- duces and cherishes pride. Vanity is " a desire of admi- ration" ; and this is an essential ingredient in emulation. The votary of emulation usually receives his chief pleasure from being admired and commended. Here and there an individual may rest satisfied with a proud con- sciousness of superiority ; but there are few, who would derive any great satisfaction from being superior to oth- ers, unless their superiority were known and noticed. 2. Emulation is intimately connected with envy and hatred. '* Plato makes emulation the daughter of envy ;"* but I would rather say she is the mother of envy, since it appears to be a desire to possess the superiority and the advantages which we see another possess, that leads us to envy him that superiority, and those advantages. En- vy appears not to be a simple principle ; but to be com- pounded of a desire to deprive another of some good which he possesses, because we do not possess the same ourselves ; and a hatred of that other, because he enjoys something which we do not. The connection between emulation and envy, therefore, is that of cause and effect. Emulation, if unsuccessful, always produces envy ; and of course, always produces hatred, that being an essen- tial ingredient in envy. Sometimes the envy that is pro- duced by unsuccessful competition, is small in degree and transient in duration, being overcome by other prin- ciples ; and sometimes it rises into anger and revenge, or * Buck's Theological Dictionary. 152 PRACTICAL ETHICS. settles into inveterate hatred and malice. Any one who has employed the principle of emulation in the education of children, must have had opportunity to notice these unhappy effects. III. I now proceed to distinguish emulation from some other principles^ which are virtuous, or at least innocent, and with which it has been sometimes confounded. 1. Emulation is distinct from a desire to make great attainments in knowledge and virtue. A man may de- sire knowledge, and labor assiduously in acquiring it, be- cause he loves it ; because every new idea which the mind acquires, is a source of pleasure, and because he derives a satisfaction from the exercise of his mental faculties in acquiring ideas, and in afterwards recollect- ing and comparing them. All this is innocent. Again, he may desire and seek knowledge for the sake of be- coming more useful in the world, — of promoting the hap^ piness of others in a greater degree. This is a virtuous motive. In the same manner, a man may desire any en- dowment whatever, either of mind or body, not because it will render him superior to others, but because it is valuable in itself, and may promote his own or the pub- lic good. 2. Emulation is distinct from a comparison of our- selves with others for the sake of judging more correct- ly what progress we have made in knowledge and im- provement, if emulation exists, a comparison of our- selves with others is sure to fan the flame ; and if it does not yet exist, such a comparison is very liable to enkin- dle it. But this comparison is not emulation itself j and may be made without exciting it. Suppose that a youth is pursuing his studies, actuated by a desire to do good. He observes that he makes a greater progress than his fellow students. This gives him pleasure, not because EMULATION AND AMBITION. 15S he excels them, but because his prospect of being useful in the world is brightened. If, however, he knows, that their object in obtaining knowledge is the same as his, and reflects that their inferiority to himself in talents and proficiency will render them less useful than they might otherwise be, this reflection will give him more pain, than he will derive pleasure from the prospect of his own superior usefulness. After all, a frequent com- parison of our own talents and attainments with those of others, is a dangerous experiment ; and a disposition fre- quently to make such a comparison, so far from being consistent with upright intentions, is an almost certain indication of a spirit of emulation. It may be necessary that a person should compare his own capacity and qual- ifications with those of others, in considering the question in what station or calling he may probably be most useful in society ; but after he has determined this question, a comparison of himself with others, in those respects which are liable to excite emulation or envy, should be, as much as possible, avoided. 3. Emulation is distinct from a desire to do much good in the world. Distinguished activity in doing good, on however large a scale, or in however conspicuous a sta- tion, may spring from the purest benevolence, and is therefore no indication of a spirit of emulation, or of an ambitious disposition. A man who thus distinguishes himself, is not to be called ambitious, unless he appears fond of being known to be eminently useful, and gives evidence of a love of fame and applause. 4. Emulation is distinct from a desire to imitate the virtuous deeds of others, and to resemble them in virtuous traits of character. Virtue appears more amiable, when i t is exhibited in a living character, and when its happy fruits are actually seen, than it can when viewed in the abstract. Whoever loves virtue, therefore, will feel a 154? PRACTICAL ETHICS. Stronger desire to possess and practise it, in proportion as his perception of its excellence is more distinct and live- Ij.* — A desire to resemble and imitate the wise and good, is easily distinguished from emulation, because it involves no desire of superiority. This virtuous desire is in one instance, however, spoken of in scripture under the name of emulation : " If by any means 1 may provoke to emulation them that are my flesh, and may save some of them.'''t Here, to " provoke to emulation" means, to ' excite to imitation.' Paul's object was, to ' excite' his own nation, the Jews, to ' imitate' the Gentiles in believ- ing in Christ and obtaining salvation. It seems rather unfortunate that our translators should have made choice of the word ' emulation' in this passage, as it is not gen- erally used in this sense at the present day, and as they have used the word in a bad sense in the only other in- stance in which it occurs in the Bible. See Gal. v. 20, where '' emulations" are classed with '^ hatred, variance, wrath, strife, envyings, murders," &c. Here emulation appears in its proper company. 5. Emulation is distinct from the desire of having a good name, and enjoying the approbation of wise and good men. A good name is to be desired for the sake of in- creasing our influence and our usefulness in the world. The approbation of the judicious and virtuous, is to be desired for the same reason, and also because it assures us of the friendly regard of those whose appro- bation we enjoy. There is an innocent and a lively pleas- ure in being beloved by those whom we love ; and some degree of this pleasure is felt when we learn that we have gained the approbation of good men, even though no personal acquaintance subsist between us and them. ♦This subject is happily illustrated by Lord Kames, in his Elements of Criticism. See Vol. I. p. 55, on the *• Sympathetic Emotioa of Virtue." t Rom. xi. 14. EMULATION AND AMBITION. 1^5 This is a totally distinct thing from the love of praise, and the desire of admiration and applause. By a ' love of praise,' I mean a desire of commendation for the sake of the gratification it affords to vanity and pride. If the pleasure which I feel when another says something which shows that he has a high opinion of me, arises from the idea that the good qualities which he ascribes to me will render me more useful, or from the evidence which he gives of personal regard for me, this is not a love of praise ; but if it arises from being exalted in my own estimation, or from thinking myself superior to oth- ers, it is a love of praise, and a spirit of emulation. IV. We will next consider the influence of emulation ofi the public welfare, 1. Since emulation is a selfish principle, and inconsist- ent with a benevolent spirit, we might conclude, without any farther examination, that it cannot have a beneficial tendency. The encouragement of emulation cannot fail to strengthen all the selfish principles of our nature. Its connection with pride and vanity, envy and hatred, has been already shown. That all the selfish and malevolent principles have a hurtful tendenc}^, needs not to be prov- ed. Perhaps there is no one of them that has more ap- pearance of affording an innocent gratification, than vani- ty. A few remarks may serve to show the real nature and tendency of this passion. The vain person judges of his own character by the praises and flatteries of oth- ers. He looks not into his own heart, nor consults the decisions of conscience, which is the only safe method of obtaining self-knowledge. " He loves the praise of men more than the praise of God." If he judged of his cha- racter by the proper standard, the opinion of others would have no effect to raise him in his own estimation. Now, this frequent contemplation of his own excellen- 156 PRAGTICAL ETHICS, cies, makes him blind to the excellencies of others, and indifferent to their welfare and happiness ; and this erro- neous estimate of his own character, unfits him for filling his proper station in society, unfits him for usefulness, and for the company of any except his flatterers. But he cannot avoid mingling with the world, and having in- tercourse with many who will not manifest that high opinion of his excellencies, which he considers as his due. Hence sentiments of aversion, and perhaps of ma- lice and revenge, arise in his breast. — Such are the fruits of vanity, apparently the most harmless of all the selfish principles. It is sufficiently evident, then, that emula- tion, which is one of the strongest of these principles, and which " strengthens all the rest," must have a per- nicious influence on the public welfare. 2. Emulation has, in some respects, an »mfavorable influence on the acquisition of knowledge and the im- provement of the mind. In order that a student may un- derstand and remember what he learns, he must love learning for its own sake. And he that studies diligently, because he derives pleasure from studying, will not, while studying, think of any other motive. The con- stant pleasure he derives from the exercise of his men- tal faculties and the acquisition of new ideas, is a stimu- lus, that makes him diligent and persevering, that leads him to understand thoroughly whatever he studies, and that impresses indelibly on his memory whatever he learns. But emulation affords a motive, and proposes a pleasure, wholly different from this. This pleasure is the reward to which he looks forward as the fruit of his ap- plication. Just so far, then, as the mind dwells on this ob- ject, it is withdrawn from its present employment. And just so far as the desire of excelling others has a plsce in the breast, it excludes the love of study for its own sake. if the scholar, while studying, is constantly calculating EMULATION AND AMBITION. 157 how far he has got, and how far he can get, and antici- pating a triumph over his rivals, or fearing that they will triumph over him, it is next to an impossibility that he should get his lesson well, or should remember it long. His object is, to get such a quantity^ to go over so many pages ; and if he can recite it so as to satisfy the instructer at the time, it is all he cares for. He exercis- es his memory merely, while studying, with very little or no improvement of his judgment or discriminations- He recites the lesson at the slated hour, and then applies himself again to make farther attainments of the same kind, thinking nothing more of the former lesson, and to- tally indifferent whether he ever thinks of it again. I do not mean, that this is precisely the case with every student, who is influenced by the principle of emulation. In schools and other literary institutions, where the stu- dents are critically examined, quarterly or annually, up- on what they have been over, the evil is in some meas- ure counteracted. And there are some instructers who require their pupils to recite their lessons, not so much verbatim, as in a manner which shall give evidence that they understand them, — which is a powerful antidote to the influence of emulation. But neither these, nor any means that can be used, will wholly obviate the unfavorable influence of emulation on the acquisition of knowledge and the improvement of the mind. Besides, those instructers who encourage emulation in their pupils, are generally deterred from requiring them to understand what they learn, because they perceive that it diminishes the quantity of their lessons, damps their ardor, and checks the rapidity of their course toward the goal of ambition. And though we admit, that the stimulus which emulation aftbrds, may really accelerate the progress of some individuals in knowledge and in mental improvement, yet it is thought that in a majority of cases, the proficiency of the scholar 168 PRACTICAL ETHICS, is rather retarded than accelerated by this principl«« This will be the more evident, when we consider, lat the successful votaries of emulation must be comparative- ly few. The rapid progress, the high spirits, the triumph- ant exultation, of these few, and the distinctions and hon- ors bestowed upon them, operate as a discouragement to the many, who are left behind in the race. While the forward are too much elated, the slow despond. The vse of emulation as a stimulus to literary and scientific improvement, would be more plausible, if all, or most, could have a hope of success in the contest for superior- ity ; though, even then, the considerations which have been suggested, might render it doubtful whether the progress in real knowledge and in real mental improve- ment, would be accelerated. 3. Emulation has a dangerous influence on the charac- ter of men when they come to act on the theatre of the world. Few, 1 think, will deny the proposition, that the ambitious and aspiring are dangerous members of socie- ty. Those, whose supreme object is personal aggran- dizement, will, without hesitation, sacrifice any interest, however great, that comes in competition with their own. They will trample on the rights of others, when- ever they interfere with their ambitious views. The destructive consequences of ambition in statesmen and warriors are so well known, and have so often been the theme of declamation, that it is needless to dwell on the ^ subject here. Let it be remembered, that this same am- bition, which has so often trampled on the rights of man- kind, which has reduced millions of freemen to the condition of slaves, which has shed so much blood, auii sacrificed so many lives, is only the principle Oi emulation acting upon a larger scale. The child, in whose breast this principle is cherished, is pre-; paring, if circumstances should afford him the oppor- EMULATION A^D AMBITION. 169 tunitjr, to be numbered among the scourges of man- kii'li. ^^ Happily, few have the opportunity of seeking an immortality of fame in this way. The principles of government and of liberty are so well understood, and civil institutions are so firmly established, that the prin- ciple of ambition finds itself restrained, and there is lit- tle reason to apprehend that the " love of glory" will again produce scenes of carnage, or that the examples of former heroes and conquerors will ever be successfully imitated. — But is no evil to be apprehended from a prin- ciple which possesses such a tendency ? Some of the vices that are connected with this principle, have been already brought into view. *' It produces pride and van- ity, envy, hatred, and slander. It is opposed to real no- bleness, and independence, and decision of character. With him that eagerly covets praise, fame is virtue, and ignominy vice. The sense of duty is destroyed by an in- ordinate love of an empty glory."* And though emula- tion is a stimulus to exertion at school and at college, yet it is probable, that in most cases, this effect is afterwards reversed. " The unsuccessful votaries of emulation are always discouraged at the time, and, in some instances, i^ined and dispirited for life ;"t and few of her successful votaries continue to receive those distinctions and honors which they received at school or college ; and when the artificial stimulus ceases, exertion will also cease, V. It may be proper briefly to mention some of the means by which emulation is usually excited and encouraged. This is done, 1. By making comparisons between one individual and another. It is a common practice with instructers to^<»ll • See an excellent essay on " Ambition," ia the Christian Obserrcr; for August, 1818. f Ibid. 160 PRA€TICAL ETHICS. a particular scholar thai he learns better than another, calling the other by name ; or that there are only so ma- ny in the school that learn as well as he. On the other hand, a dull scholar is sometimes told how much better this or that schoolmate studies and learns than he does. The influence of such remarks, both upon those to whom they are addressed and upon others by whom they are heard, is obvious. But the most powerful means of ex- citing emulation, is, 2. By marks of distinction and honor. These are, in common schools, the having a " head" to every class ; the giving to those who keep at the head a certain length of time, " certificates" of approbation, or insig- nia of honor to be carried home, perhaps suspended from the neck ; and publicly bestowing rewards on the indi- viduals who have distinguished themselves. The effect of these marks of distinction and honor is greatly increas- ed by the commendations which are bestowed on those who obtain them, and the cold neglect, and sometimes censure, suftered by those who do not. The child who holds the precedence in his class, is generally praised, flattered, and caressed, by his parents and others, on ac- count of it. And to make the matter still worse, these honors and caresses are usually obtained, not by superior assiduity, but merely by being able to learn with greater facility. In academies and colleges, the same systematic excite- ment of the principle of emulation, is eflected by mean* of medals and premiums, and especially by the "grades" of honor and the assignment of " parts" on public occa- sions. The powerful influence of these things is well known, if not by the superior improvement of the students, at least by the contentions and commotions which are in this way produced. It is probable that the greater part of the frequent, and sometimes serious, di?- EMULATION AND AMBITION. 161 lurbances, which have arisen among students at college, €(nd between them and their instructers, have been owing to this cause. — But perhaps this is a digression. It may serve, however, to show the efficacy of the means which are employed in literary institutions to excite a spirit of emulation. 3. The principle of emulation is strengthened by clas- sical studies. Among the books which are denominated classical, there is, perhaps, not one, ancient or modern, in which this principle is condemned or discountenanced. On the contrary, wherever opportunity is afforded, the author or his hero, breathes a spirit of emulation and of ambition, which the student easily and unconsciously im- bibes. — But instead of saying more on this subject, I choose rather to refer to a writer, who has done much for the cause of religion and of human improvement. See Foster's Essays, Essay iV. Letters 5 and 6, " On the Unchristian Tendency of Classical Literature." VI. 1 now proceed to mention some means which may be employed to stimulate the student without the aid of emu- lation. The view that has been taken of the subject, shows, that if youth can be sufficiently stimulated in their stu- dies without the aid of emulation, such a thing is very desirable. To give a detail of the means by which this object may be effected, would require a treatise on education, and would be out of place in a system of mo- ral philosophy. Brevity, therefore, will be consulted in the remarks that follow. L The importance of knowledge and mental improve- ment as qualifications for respectability, usefidness, and happiness ^n future life, is a consideration that may have much influence with students who are capable of reflec- tion. I do not mean that it can afford any stimulus while o^ iSi PRACTICAL BtHlCS. the scholar is actually engaged in studying ; — it would then, like motives of emulation, only serve to divert the mind ;-— but it may contribute, sometimes, to prepare the mind for study, and it may induce the scholar to spend more hours in studying than he otherwise would. 2. A desire to gain the approbation of the instructer, of parents, and friends, is a more powerful motive of the same kind. It ought not to be thought of while the scho- lar is actually studying ; but it may induce him to be more economical of his time, may associate some pleasing ideas with the thought of taking up the book to get a lesson, and, in the intervals of study, when the mind is wearied, may produce an excitement which will prepare it for renewed application. Some caution, however, is necessary, in regard to the manner in which the appro- bation of instructers, parents, and friends, is to be ex- pressed. Praise should be sparingly bestowed on child- ren. If it is lavished on them, it becomes cheap, and loses its effect. As to telling them that they have done better than others, that is out of the question. But they may be told that they have done well^ or that they have done better than they have been accustomed to do. They may also be told, when the case requires it, that they have done ill^ not so well as they mighty or not so well as usual For the most part, however, the countenance of the instructer will express sufficient praise or censure, without the aid of words. If he loves to teach, and to see his scholars do well, they will readily perceive his feelings, and the liveliest emotions will be excited in their breasts. The pleasure which a good scholar feels when he sees the smile of approbation, is in- nocent, — so long as the principle of emulation is ex- cluded. There is need of caution, lest the smile of ap- probation should be so bestowed as to betray partiality toward individuals ; but I am not aware that there Is EMULATION AND AMBITION. 163 much danger of exciting a spirit of emulation, merely by comparing a scholar with himself, by telling him that he has recited this lesson better or worse than he did the last. The desire which a child feels to please his in- structer, and the pleasure he feels when he perceives that he does please him, are innocent, while they spring from esteem and affection. It is the pleasure of being beloved by those whom we love, and of contributing to their happiness. And an instructer, who is beloved by his pupils, and who loves to see them increasing in knowl- edge, has little need to fear that they will not be diligent in their studies. 3. But a love of learning for its own sake, is the most powerful stimulus which a student can feel, to assist his progress in real knowledge and improvement. This is a motive, that will not only draw him from amusement or other employments to his studies, but will operate pow- erfully, while he is studying, to produce intense applica- tion and unwearied perseverance. The scholar, who derives a lively pleasure from the acquisition of new ideas, and the exercise of his mental powers, will be far more likely to understand thoroughly whatever he learns; will find the new ideas he has acquired, frequently re- volving in his mind afterwards, from day to day ; and will retain them in his memory, ready for use whenever oc- casion may require. ' But how shall this love of learning for its own sake, be produced in scholars who are destitute of it, or who have even an aversion to their books?' — I feel little hesi- tation in asserting, that no such scholar ever existed, until he had been brought to feel this indifference or aversion by injudicious treatment on the part of parents or instruc- ters. Perhaps the truth of this assertion will be doubted by those who have not attended to the manner in which associations of ideas and feelings are formed. Such are 164 PRACTICAL ETHICS. requested to suspend their opinion, till they have studied the philosophy of the human mind and the science of education.* In the mean time, it may be well for them to act on the supposition that my sentiment is correct. What I would maintain, is, that if parents and instructers love knowledge for its own sake, and always speak of study as a privilege and a source of pleasure, children will be prepossessed in favor of it before they begin ; and that if they at school receive easy lessons, and such as they can understand, if the lessons are explained to them in lan- guage adapted to their capacity, and if such questions are asked as will bring other faculties of the mind, as well as memory, into exercise, they will find study to be pleasant, as they anticipated. The human mind is so constituted, that the voluntary exercise of its faculties, and the acqui- sition and comparison of ideas, are sources of pleasure, independent of every other consideration ; and this pleas- ure will always be felt, except when the mind is called away, reluctantly, from some more pleasing employment, to attend to new ideas, — or when those ideas are pre- sented to it in such a manner or under such circumstances, as to be connected with other ideas of a disagreeable nature, — or when it is fatigued with too intense or too long application. If parents and instructers expect that study will be a disagreeable task to children, they will inevitably do and say things, which will produce associa- tions in the minds of the children, that will prepossess them against study, and thus render it indeed disagreea- ble. But it they expect it to be pleasant to them, this expectation will lead them to present the subject to them in a light which will prepare them to find it so. — In a case where children have already formed unfavorable associations, or where parents and others counteract the *See, for instance, Hamilton and Edgeworth on Education; and Stew- art on the Mind. EMULATION AND AMBITION. 165 impression ^vhich the instructer wishes to make, he may, by well directed efforts, notwithstanding these discourage- ments, generally meet with such a degree of success, as will confirm his conviction of the correctness of his theo- ry, and enable him to see how much might be effected, if the obstacles, with which he struggles, were removed. In order to make improvements in the method of teach- ing, or to adopt those improvements when made by oth- ers, an acquaintance with intellectual philosophy seems indispensable. The ideas which are acquired by the human mind, may be divided into two classes; those which have a relation to something which is already fa- miliar to the mind, and those which have not. Ideas of the latter kind are acquired in learning the alphabet, and in learning to read words which have either no meaning, or none that is perceived by the child. In doing this, he acquires merely insulated ideas of characters presented to the eye, or of sounds addressed to the ear. The pleasure, however, which is felt in acquiring such ideas, may be very great, in consequence of the novelty of those char- acters and sounds, and the strong curiosity which a young child possesses. But afterwards, when he has learned to read with some fluency, and reads what he does not un^ derstand, he acquires no new ideas ; and the chief source of pleasure which he finds, is in exercising his skill m pronouncing correctly the words that meet his eye. This exercise of skill, too, will soon become familiar ; and, the charm of novelty being gone, the child, if he continues to read what he does not understand, will inevitably lose the interest which he felt in his book. The only way, therefore, to avoid this result, is to have the child, as soon as he begins to read words arranged in sentences, read such sentences as he can understand. If the verbal signs suggest to him the things which are signified, and espe- cially if he finds new ideas, or new combinations of ideas, 166 PRACTICAL ETHICS. upon subjects that are already familiar to his mind, the charm of novelty will be revived, and the book will continue to be a source of undiminished pleasure. And the greater previous interest he felt in those subjects with which these new ideas are connected, the greater pleas- ure will the acquisition of the new ideas afford. Hence, it is an object of primary importance, in teaching chil- dren and youth, to have them read only such things as they can understand, either by their own reflections, or by the aid of the teacher's explanations ; and, in present- ing new subjects or new ideas to their minds, to do it in such a manner, that they shall perceive some relations between these and ideas that were before familiar to them ; and, if possible, in such a manner, that these relations shall be suited to interest and please them. When 1 insist that the child ought to understand every- thing which he reads, I do not mean, that he must be able to answer every question that can be asked respecting the words and sentences which he reads, for of this the most learned adult is not capable ; nor even that those words and sentences shall suggest to him all the ideas with which they were connected in the mind of the author; but, that he shall perceive the most important ideas intended to be conveyed by every word and by every sentence. And this comprehends much more than an ability to define every word according to the dictionary. It comprehends a per^ ception of the principal relations which subsist between the different parts of a sentence, between the different parts of a paragraph or chapter, and between the ideas conveyed by the author and those previously acquired by the child. In order to teach in perfect consistency with these prin- ciples, a system of school books, modelled on a new plan would be necessary ; and we may venture to predict, that the progress of improvement in education will in time lead to the formation and adoption of such a system ; but EMULATION AND AMBITION, 167 the instructer, who understands the subject, may do much, as it is, by way of approximation to a perfect method of teaching. The method of Pestalozzi appears to be very much such a one as I have anticipated. Let this be universally adopted in the instruction and government of schools, and teachers will have little occasion to complain of aver- sion, indifference, or dulness in their pupils. I would fain transcribe the interesting account of Pestalozzi's school, given by Madame de Stael in her " Germany ;" but I suspect that I have already digressed sufficiently from the topics which directly belong to the general sub- ject of this volume. " It is a remarkable cirumstance," says she, " that neither punishment nor reward is neces- sary to excite his pupils in their labors. This is, per- haps, the first instance, in which a school of one hundred and Mty children has succeeded without having recourse to the principles of emulation and of fear. How many bad feelings are spared, when every emotion of jealousy and disappointed ambition is removed from the heart; and when the child sees not, in his companions, rivals, n©r in his teacher, a judge !. ..There, the object is, not to excel, not to succeed in a competition for superiority, but to make a progress, to advance toward an end at which they all aim with equal integrity and simplicity of intention."* * Une chose remarquable, c*est que la punition ni la recompense ne sont point nccessaiies pour les exciter dans leurs travaux. C*est peut- €itre la premiere fois qu* une ecole de cent cinqnante cnfans va sans Ic ressort de I'emulation et de la craintc. Combieu de mauvais sentimens sont epargnes a Thomme, quand on eloigne de son caeur la jalousie et Thu- miliation, quand il re voit point dans ses camarades des rivaux, ni dans ses maitres des jugcs !....I1 ne s'agii pis la de succes, mais de progres rers "un but auquel tous tendent avec une nieme bonne foi. — De UAUtmagnt, Tomii J. Chap. 19. 168 PRACTICAL ETHieS. VII. Concluding remarks, 1. Emulation^ in every degree and in every form, is eAminal^ and ought never to have a place in the breast. This is evident from what has already been said ; but the importance of the subject will justify us in bringing it more distinctly into view, Emulation is a selfish principle ; and is inconsistent with the exercise of pure and universal benevolence. If it were an innocent or a benevolent principle, a failure of success in striving to excel, would not produce envy and hatred. It is right to desire and seek our own happiness ; but it is not right to do this with feelings which can pre- vent us from rejoicing in the happiness of others, even when they are more successful and more happy than our- selves. That emulation is inconsistent with benevolence, is a proposition which is capable of demonstration. Sup- pose that a man occupies a certain station, in respect to talents, knowledge, reputation, and usefulness. To see pthers inferior to him in these respects, gives a pleas- jure, which ceases as soon as they are raised to an .equality with him, and is converted into pain as soon as they are raised above him, — although his own station, all the while, remains the same. The pleasure arises from seeing others destitute of a good which he enjoys ; ceases as soon as the same blessings which he enjoys are enjoyed by them ; and is succeeded by envy and hatred, as soon as additional blessings are bes^towed upon them^ — although his own talents, knowledge, reputation, and use- fulness, are as great as ever they were. Now it is evi- dent, that the feelings produced by a benevolent spirit, are just the reverse of all this, at every step of the pro- gress. The benevolent man feels his happiness dimin- ished on seeing others deprived of blessings which he enjoys; rejoices, when he sees the same blessings be- stowed upon them ; and rejoices still more, when he sees their happiness and usefulness still more increased. EMULATION AND AMBITION. 169 % Since the words ' emulation,' and ' ambition,' in the sense in which they are commonly used, denote a prin- ciple of action which is unlawful and criminal, they ought not to be used in other and diflerent senses. To use the same word sometimes in a bad and sometimes in a good sense, has a dangerous tendency. On account of the imperfection of language, indeed, this cannot always be avoided ; but so far as it can be avoided, it should be. if the more virtuous part of the community use certain words in a good sense which others use in a bad sense, the opinion of the former will be considered as counte- nancing the criminal sentiments and practices of the lat- ter. The frequent recurrence of such phrases as " noble emulation," '^ laudable pride," is an outrage on propriety of language, and has a most pernicious tendency. Ad- mitting that those who use iheva mean well ; yet many, who hear or read them, will understand them in a sense which will tend to corrupt their moral principles. This way of using words, may be considered as a species of bad example. It wears the " appearance of evil." It makes a man appear to be the advocate of vice. And even if the good man is understood as he means, when he commends something which is really laudable, under the name of emulation, ambition, or pride ; yet those who seek a cloak for their sins, will pervert this language in order to justify themselves, and will rejoice in the oppor- tunity of indulging the most unhallowed passions under these specious names. " it is no small thing," says Ma- dame de Stael, "for men to have plausible language which they may use in favor of their conduct. They employ it, at first, to deceive others ; and they end by deceiving themselves."* 1 therefore, as a friend to the * C'est beaucoup pour les hommes d'avoir des phrases d dire en faveur de leur conduite: ils s'en servant d'aboid pour tromper les autres, et fihissent par se tromper euxmemes.— 2?e UAUemchgne, Tome III. p. 206. P Iff .^i^ PRACTICAL ETHICS. cause of virtue, protest against the terms ' emulation' and ' ambition' ever being used lo expiess any thing which is laudable or innocent. 3. Since emulation is criminal, it ought not to be en- couraged, but discountenanced, in children and youth. It is said, 'that as scholars who are not pious, have no better principles of action, we must make use of such principles as they have; and that a spirit of emulation will exist among them, whether it is encouraged or not." — 1 admit, that scholars who are not pious, and even those who are, are actuated in a greater or less degree by wrong motives in pursuing their studies ; but it is one thing for them to be actuated by wrong motives in studying, and another for instructers directly to influence them, and expressly to encourage them, to act from such motives. — 1 admit, too, that the principle of emulation cannot be wholly eradi- cated from the breasts of the young. It is just as natural as human depravity ; and peihaps it is as impossiblo whol- ly to prevent it from being excited in a school, as to make all the scholars perfectly holy. But this, so far from being a reason why it should be encouraged and strengthened, is the very reason why we should be soli- citous to restrain its operation, and guard against its ex- citement. But it is said ' that scholars who are not pious, have no better principles of action, and they must be excited, in some way, lo diligence ami assiduity in their studies.' — Whether they have better principles of action or not, they certainly have those that are not so bad. The de- sire to promote their own future respectability and hap- piness, and the desire to please their instructers and pa- rents, are not so bad principles of action. They are not necessarily criminal at all ; and if sometimes so, are less so, and les^ dangerous, than motives of emulation. The love of learning for its own sake, is not so bad a principle EMULATION AND AMBITION. 171 of action. This is a most powerful stimulus ; and not being of a moral nature, is of course an innocent motive. Here are principles of action, amply sufficient to stimu- late every scholar in his studies without the aid of emu*' lation. — But this is denied, and it is said ' that scholars, without the impulse of emulation, will sink into a state of apathy and inaction.' Those who think thus, are re- quested to make a lair experiment. When they have done this, if they still think that the principles of action which I have recommended are not sufficient, that schol- ars would make much greater progress if excited by em- ulation, and even that their progress must be very small without this excitement, 1 will then request them to tell me how much intellecual improvement we must put into the scale to weigh against the moral evil of emulation, with its attendant train, vanity and pride, envy, hatred, and slander. The following is the language of Cowper on this subject. He is speaking of public schools : ♦' A principle, whose proud pretensions pass Unquestioned, though the jewel be but glass — That, with a world, not often over-nice, Ranks as a virtue, and is yet a vice ; Of rather a gross compoundv — ^justlj tried;— Of envy, hatred, jealousy, and pride — Contributes most, perhaps, to enhance their fame; And Emulation is its specious name. Boys, once on fire with that contentious zeal, Feel all the rage that female rivals feel; The prize of beauty, in a woman's eyes, Not brighter, than in theirs the scholar's prize. The spirit (»f that compeiitiou burns Witli all varieties ot ill by turns: Each vainly magnifies his own success; Resents his fellow's ; wishfcs it were less; Exults in his miscarriage, if he fail; Deems his tevvaid too great, if he prevail. The spur is powevfu^, an»i I grant its force: It pricks tije genius forward in its course ; Allows snort time lor play; and none for sloth ; tfi PRACTICAL ETHIG5* And; felt alike by each, advances both. But judge, where so much evil intervenes; ^,fW The end, though plausible, not worth the meant Weigh, for a moment, classical desert Against a heart depraved and temper hurt ; Hurt, too, perhaps, for life ; for early wrong, Done to the nobler part, affects it long; — And you are stanch indeed in learning's cause, If you can crown a discipline, that draws Such mischiefs after it, with much applause." Here, then, 1 rest my argument. It is not necessary to prove that emulation has an unfavorable influence on the acquisition of knowledge and on intellectual improvement. We may admit, not only that industry is promoted, but that the mental powers are excited into more vigorous action, and the pupiPs progress in science and literature accelerated, What is all this, when set by the side of "a heart depraved and temper hurt"? To christian parents and christian instructers, I make my appeal. I have little hope of influencing those who despise the vir- tues of the heart. But to you, ye followers of the meek and lowly Jesus, I look for co-operation in opposing a principle which is inimical to the genius of Christianity. You remember the lessons of humility which Christ re- peatedly inculcated on his primitive disciples, — especial- ly whenever they manifested a spirit of emulation or of ambition. You remember that he uniformly reproved an aspiring disposition, and taught them that humility is an indispensable qualification for admission into the kingdom of heaven. You will therefore consider the improve- ment of the moral and religious character as an object of infinitely '' greater importance than the attainment of any, or even of all, the intellectual accomplishments; nor will you wish your children to pluck of the tree of knowledge, like our first parents, at the suggestion of a fiend !*" * Miss Hamilton. EMULATION AND AMBITION. 173 The following paragraphs, on the subject of the pres- ent chapter, are extracted Trom Babington's " Treatise on Practical Education,'' originally published in the Christian Observer.* '•^ The parent must hold out examples to his child in such a way as not to excite emulation. To imitate an example is one thing; to rival any person, and endeav- or to obtain a superiority over him, is another. It is very true, as is maintained by the defenders of emula- tion, that it is impossible to make a progress towards ex- cellence without outstripping others. But surely there is a great difference between this being a mere conse- quence of exertions arising from other motives, and a zeal to attain this object being itself a motive for exer- tion. Every one must see, that the effects produced on the mind in the two cases, will be extremely dissimilar. Emulation is a desire of surpassing others, for the sake of superiority, and is a very powerful motive to exertion. As such, it is employed in most public schools ; but in none, I believe, ancient or modern, has it been so fully and sj'stematicaly brought into action, as in the schools of Dr. Bell and Mr. Lancaster. Whatever may be the mer- its of the schools of either of those gentlemen in other respects, in this they appear to me to commit such an offence against christian morals, that no merits could atone for it. I cannot but think emulation an unhallowed prin- ciple of action ; — as scarcely, if at all, to be disjoined from jealousy and envy, from pride and contention j — in- compatible with loving our neighbor as ourselves ; — and a principle of such potency, as to be likely to engross the mind, and turn it habitually and violently from the motives which it should be the great business of educa- tion to cherish and render predominant, namely, a sense * See the Christian Observer for Nov. 1813. p2 174 PRACTICAL ETHICS. of duty, and gratitude and love to God. Instead of en- larging on this subject, I beg leave to refer the reader to Mr. Gisborne's remarks upon it, in his " Duties of Wo- men." If emulation is an unhallowed motive, it cannot innocently be employed, whatever good effects may be expected from it. We must not do evil that good may come. But if any Christians should deem it not abso- lutely unhallowed, few will deny, I think, that it is ques- tionable and dangerous. Even then, in this more favor- able view of emulation, ought it to be used, except it can be shown to be necessary for the infusion of vigor into the youthful mind, and for securing a respectable progress in literature ? I can say, from experience, that it is not necessary for the attainment of those ends. In a numerous family, with which I am well acquainted, emulation has been carefully and successfully excluded, and yet the acquirements of the different children have been very satisfactory. I can bear the same testimony with respect to a large Sunday School, with which I have been connected for many years. 1 have often heard of virtuous emulation ; but can emulation ever be so charac- terized in a Christian sense ? Whether it may, in that loose sense of virtue which those adopt who take the worldly principle of honor for their rule, I will not stop to inquire. But it is not sufficient not to excite and employ emula- tion on plan and system, as a stimulus in education: great care ought to be taken to exclude it. And great care will be necessary ; for it will be continually ready to show itself ; and if not checked, it will attain strength, strike its roots deep in the heart, and produce bitter fruits, which, in the eyes of a Christian, will be ill com* pensated by the extraordinary vigor and energy it will gire to scholastic studies. When examples are held out for imitation^ (a very different thing, be it always remem- V^f, EMULATION AND AMBITIO!f*.5;5=:5sS^ 175 bered, from emulation^) or as warnings, the child must be made sensible that its slate, in the sight of God, is rendered neither better nor worse by the virtues or the faults of others, except as far as they may have influen- ced, or may have failed to influence, its own conduct; — that it ought to love its neighbor as itself, and to rejoice in every advance made by f^nother in what is good, and to lament over all his faults and defecis, without one sel- fish thought being suffrred to check the joy or the con- cern ; — that it ought, therefore, to wish all its companions all success in their common studies, with the same sin- cerity with which it wishes for its own success, and to be affected by their faults and fjii lures in the same manner it would by its cun. It should be made sensible, that in proportion as it may give way to feelings the reverse of these, its " eye will be evil because others are good ;" and it will actin opposition to the injunction, "Mind not every one his own things, but every one also the things of others," and to a whole host of scriptural precepts and ex- amples. These things must be inculcated, not by lectures in general terms, but by applying such views to all the little incidents which call for them as they successively arise. The child must also be made sensible how much better it is for himself that his companions should be eminent for laudable attahiments and good qualities ; for that in proportion to their excellence in these respects, they will be useful and estimable companions, and ought to be objects of his affection. All little boasts of having done better that this or that brother or sister, and every disposition to disappointment when they succeed best, should be checked, and the lesson of rejoicing with them that do rejoice, and of weeping with them that weep," very diligently inculcated." : ( 176 ) CHAPTER Vm. Litigation. " ' If it be possible^ live peaceably with all men ;' which precept," says Dr. Paley, " contains an indirect confession that this is not always possible. On the one hand, Christianity excludes all vindictive motives, and all frivolous causes of prosecution ; so that where the injury is small, where no good purpose of public example is answered, where forbearance is not likely to invite a repetition of the injury, or where the expense of an action becomes a punishment too severe for the offence ; there the christian is withheld by the authority of his religion from going to law. On the other hand, a law-suit is inconsistent with no rule of the gospel, when it is instituted, 1. For the establishing of some important right. 2. For the procuring of a compensation for some con- siderable damage. 3. For the preventing of future injury. But, since it is supposed to be undertaken simply with a view to the ends of justice and safety, the prosecutor of the action is bound to confine himself to the cheapest process which will accomplish these ends, as well as to consent to any peaceable expedient for the same purpose ; as to a reference^ in which the arbitrators can do, what the law cannot, divide the damage, when the fault is mutual ; or to a compounding of the dispute^ by accepting a com- pensation in the gross, without entering into articles and items, which it is often very difficult to adjust separately. As to the rest, the duty of the contending parties may be expressed in the following directions : Not by appeals to prolong a suit against your own con- viction. LITIGATION. 177 Net to undertake or defend a suit against a poor ad- versary, or render it more dilatory or expensive than ne- cessary, with a hope of intimidating or wearying him out by the expense. Not to influence evidence by authority or expectation. Nor to stifle any in your possession, although it make against you. Hitherto we have treated of civil actions. In crimi- Tial prosecutions, the private injury should be forgotten, and the prosecutor proceed with the same temper and the same motives, as the magistrate; the one being a ne- cessary minister of justice as well as the other, and both bound to direct their conduct by a dispassionate care of the public welfare. In whatever degree the punishment of an offender is conducive, or his escape dangerous, to the interest of the community, in the same degree is the party against whom the crime was committed bound to prosecute, be- cause such prosecutions must in their nature originate from the sufferer. Therefore, great public crimes, as robberies, forgeries, and the like, ought not to be spared, from an apprehension of trouble or expense in carrying on the prosecution, from false shame, or misplaced com- passion. The character of an informer is undeservedly odious. But where any public advantage is likely to be attained by informations, or other activity in promoting the exe- cution of the laws, a good man will despise a prejudice founded in no just reason^ or will acquit himself of the imputation of interested designs, by giving away his share of the penalty."* , » Paley's Moral Philos. Book III. Part 11. Chap. 10. u ( ns ) Gratitude. The merit of gratitude, as the term is generally used, appears to be overrated. If I mistake not, gratitude is generally regarded as relating merely to the reception of benefits, without taking into view the character, or the motives, of the benefactor. Hence it is thought that gratitude is due for favors received, although we know that they were bestowed from bad motives. Hence, too, it is thought, that we are bound by gratitude to speak well of one who has obliged us, although we krow his character to be bad, and although, were it not for the obligations of gratitude, we should feel it our duty to warn others against him as a dangerous man. And to this purpose is an adage, which I have sometimes heard from the mouth of the vulgar, " Always speak well of a bridge that carries you well over." What ! if you know that it is liable to precipitate the next passenger into the gulf beneath ? We ought to speak of things as they are, — as far as we speak of them at all. Nor are we bound, by gratitude, to speak any better of a man, than we ought, with the same knowledge of his character, to have spoken of him without that obligation. Neither are we bound, by gratitude, to esteem or love a man any more, than we ought, with the same knowledge of his character, to have esteemed and loved him without re- ceiving any favor from him. But the favors he bestows on us, may give us a better knowledge of b.is character, than we had bef<^re. They may -diford new evidence of his liberality and benevolence ; and may serve as memen- toes to lead the mind frequently to contemjriate those amiable qualities which prompted their bestowment. And this is the distinguishing feature of true gratitude. GRATITUDE. 179 It is a sentiment which differs in degree only, not in kind, tiom what is felt toward every man who is known to possess a benevolent disposition. If I see this benev- olence exercised in bestowing benefits upon my fellow cr-nitures, the sentiment ought to rise nearly, and some- times quite, as high, as if those benefits were bestowed on myself The only difference is, that i have a better opportunity to loarn the full value of the benefits which I receive myself; and these benefits, remaining with me, serve to remind me, from time to time, of the benevo- lence to which I owe them. It is thus, that by being personally obliged, I obtain more distinct and lively views, a more frequent recollection, and a more lasting remem- brance, of the amiable qualities of my benefactor. AH gratitude which is of any other kind, or which has any other basis, is spurious and selfish ; — is the sentiment which our Savior had in view when he said, '^ If ye love them that love you, what thank have ye ? for sinners also love those that love them. And if ye do good to them that do good to you, what thank have ye ? for sinners also do even the same."* It would seem not very difficult to distinguish between these two kinds of gratitude. In the one case, I love a benefactor for his favors merely ; in the other, 1 love him solely for that benevolence which prompted him to bestow favors on me. Or rather, in the one case, I love him solely be- cause he appears to love me ; in the other, I love him be- cause he manifests a disposition to do good wherever he has an opportunity. Perhaps selfish gratitude, frequent as it is, is not much more so, than selfish beneficence. Favors are often be- stowed merely to subserve one's own interest. It is not infrequent ''•to take advantage of that ascendency, which the conferring of benefits justly creates, to draw or drive * Luke vi. 3®, 38. 180 PRACTICAL ETHICS,. those whom we have obliged, into mean or dishonest compliances.'' ^' This argues a total deplitution both of delicacy and generosity, as well as of moral probity." It is hardly necessary to add, " that gratitude can never lay a man under obligation to do what is wrong ; and that it is no ingratitude, to reiuse to do what we cannot recon- cile to any apprehensions of our duty."* Lest what has been said should be so interpreted by some as to weaken the obligations of gratitude, 1 would observe, that even selfish graiitiule, though not entitled to the appeliation of a virtue, is often promotive of the happiness of society ; while ingratitude is universally odious, and serves '' to check and discourage voluntary beneficence." I ought to make a grateful return for the favors 1 have received, because I thus show that I value and love that benevolent disposition which has been man* ifested by the bestowment of those favors; and because the same benefactor, and all who witness my gratitude, will be mGre likely to bestow favors on others. For the same reason, I ought, at every opportunity, to show my sense of the kindness of a beneficent man, although his favors have not been bestowed on myself. In estimat- ing the evil of real or apparent ingratitude, we must consider, not how little it would check the beneficence of men who were actuated by pure benevolence, but in how great a degree it is likely to produce this effect on those who are influenced, in bestowing favors, by so large a share of selfishness as most men possess : 1 may some- times think it my duty to neglect a benefactor for the sake of doing a greater good in some other way. In such a case, the evil effects of apparent ingratitude may be, in part at least, prevented, by making known the motives from which I act, and the considerations that impej me to run the risk of appearing ungrateful. *Paley's Moral Philosophy; Book III. Part II. Chap. 11. ( 181 ) ?*f Slander, " Slander," says Dr. Paley, '' may be dislinguished into two kinds ; malicious slander, and inconsiderate slander. Malicious slander, is the r'-lating of either truth or falsehood, for the purpose of creating misery. I acknowl- edge that the truth or falsehood of what is related, va- ries the degree of guilt considerably ; and that slander, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, signifies the cir- culation of mischievous falsehoods : but truth may be made instrumental to the success of malicious designs as well as falsehood ; and if the end be bad, the means can- not be innocent. To infuse suspicions, to kindle or continue disputes, to avert the favor and esteem of benefactors from their de- pendents, to render some one whom we dislike contempt- ible or obnoxious in the pnblic opinion, are all offices of slander ; of which the guilt must be measured by the in- tensity and extent of the misery produced. The disguises under which slander is conveyed, whether in a whisper, with injunctions of secrecy, by way of caution, or with affected reluctance, are all so many aggravations of the offence, as they indicate more deliberation and design. Information communicated for the real purpose of warning, or cautioning, is not slander. The guilt of inconsiderate slander consists in the want of that regard to the consequences of our conduct, which a just affection for human happiness, and concern for our duty, would not have failed to produce in us. And it is no answer to this crimination to say, that we entertained no evil design.'^'^* * Paley's Mor. Philos. Book III. Part II. Chap. 12. J 82 PRACTICAL ETHICS. Inconsiderate slander appears to proceed chiefly from two motives. First, many people slander other*, merely because they think it exhibits their own character to bet- ter advantage. They wish the faults of their neighbors to serve as a cloak for their own, and also, by way of contrast, to render their virtues the more conspicuous. It is probable that most slanderers feel a secret pride in thinking that they are free — when they happen to be so — from the vices which they censure in others. In the second place, it seems likely that some, espe- cially persons of a loquacious turn, slander their neigh- bors merely for the sake of having something to talk about. Having formed a habit of loquacity, and being at a loss for topics of conversation, they have recourse to that prolific theme, which is never exhausted. It is la- mentable indeed, that the education of any should be so neglected, that they should ever find themselves reduced to the unhappy alternative of either saying nothing or slandering their neighbors. Such slander as this, almost innocent as it may appear at first view, shows not oiJy a destitution of mental furniture, but of sober reflection and virtuous principles. ca^apTisR 2:1. Of Rights. " Right and obligation," says Dr. Paley, '' are recip- rocal ; that is, wherever there is a right in one person, there is a corresponding obligation upon others, li one man has a ' right' to an estate, others are under ' obliga- tion' to abstain from it ; if parents have a ' right' to rev- erence from their children, children are under ' obliga- OF RIGHTS. 188 tion' to reverence their parents ; and so in all other in- stances."* " The Division of Rights. Rights are natural or ad- ventitious, alienable or unalienable, perfect or imperfect. 1. Rights are natural or adventitious. Natural righte are such as would belong to a man, although there subsist ed in the world no civil government whatever. Adventi tious rights are such as would not. Natural rights are, a man's right to his life, limbs, and liberty ; his right to the produce of his personal labor ; to the use, in com- mon with others, of air, light, water. Adventitious rights are, the right of a king over his subjects ; a right to elect or appoint magistrates, to impose taxes, &c. And here it will be asked how adventitious rights are created ; or, which is the same thing, how any new rights can accrue from the establishment of civil society. For the solution of this difficulty, we must return to our first principles. Many things are useful in civil society, and are, for that reason, right, which, without the establishment of civil society, would not have been so. 2. Rights are alienable or unalienable. '^'^ An alienable right is one which can be transferred to another person. An unalienable right is one which cannot. " The right we have to most of those things which we call property, as houses, lands, money, is alienable." The right of a prince over his people, and the right of every man to his life and liberty, are unalienable. The right to civil lib- ert}^ is unalienable, because this liberty is necessary in order to the discharge of the duties which we owe to God and our fellow men. No man has a right to do anything which would be likely to destroy or diminish his useful- ness in the world. An unconditional surrender of one's self as a slave, is a crime of the same kind, as the depriv- ing of one's self, voluntarily, of limbs, or health, or reasoir. * Paley's Moral Philos. Book U. Chap. ». 184. PRACTICAL ETHICS. " 3. Rights are perfect or imperfect. Perfect rights may be asserted by force, or, what in civil society comes into the place of private force, by course of law. Im- perfect rights may not. Perfect rights are, a man's right to his life, person, house ; for, if these be attacked, he may repel the attack by instant violence, or punish the aggressor by law ; also, a man's right to his estate, and to all ordinary articles of property ; for, if they be inju- riously taken from him, he may compel the author of the injury to make restitution or satisfaction. The following^ are examples of imperfect rights : A poor neighbor has a right to relief; yet, if it be refused him, he must not extort it. A benefactor has a right to returns of grati- tude from the person he has obliged ; yet, if he meet with none, he must acquiesce. Children have a right to affection and education from their parents ; and parents, on their part, to duty and reverence from their children ; yet, if these rights be on either side withheld, there is no compulsion by which they can be enforced. It may be at first view difficult to apprehend how a person should have a right to a thing, and yet have no right to use the means necessary to obtain it. This dif- ficulty, like most others in morality, is resolvable into the necessity of general rules. By reason of the inde- terminateness, either of the object or of the circumstan- ces of the right, the permission of force in this case would, in its consequence, lead to the permission of force in other cases, where there existed no right at all. A poor man has a right to relief from the rich ; but the mode, season, and quantum of that relief, who shall con- tribute to it, or how much, are not ascertained. Yet these points must be ascertained, before a claim to relief can be prosecuted by force. For, to allow the poor to ascertain them for themselves, would be to expose prop- erty to so many of these claims, that it woqld lose its val- OF RIGHTS. 185 tie, or rather its nature, that is, ceaJ»e indeed to be prop- erty. Th^ same observation holds of ail other cases of imperfect rights; not to mention, that in the instances of gratitude, affection, reverence, and the like, force is ex- cluded by the very idea of the duty, which must be vol- untary, or cannot exist at all."* It may be well just to remark, that when we denomin- ate a certain class of rights ' imperfect,' it is not implied, that a less degree of guilt is involved in the violation of the obligation which these rights impose. Indeed, im- perfect rights are so only in a legal, not a moral sense. ^^ There is as little an imperfect right in any moral sense," says Dr. Brown, •■' as there is in logic an imperfect truth or falsehood.*" ^' The General Rights of Mankind. These are, 1. A right to the fruits or vegetable produce of the earth. 2. A right to the flesh of animals. This is a very dif- ferent claim trom the former. Some excuse seems ne- cessary for the pain and loss which we occasion to brutes, by restraining them of their liberty, mutilating their bo- dies, and, at last, putting an end to their lives (which we suppose to be the whole of their existence,) for our plea- sure or convenience, it seems difficult to defend this right by any argument which the light and order of na- ture afford ; and that we are indebted for it to the per- mission recorded in scripture — Gen. ix. 1-3. Since it is God's intention, that the productions of the earth should be applied to the sustentation of human lifei all waste and misapplication of these productions, are contrary to the divine intention and will, and therefore wrong; such as the expending of human food on superflu- ous dogs or horses ; and the reducing of the quantity, ia ►PaJc>'s Moral Piiilos. B^ok II. Chap. 19, ^2 186 PRACTICAL ETHICS. order to alter the quality, and to alter it generally for the worse ; as in the distillation of spirits from bread-corn, the boiling down of solid meat for sauces, essences, &c. This seems lo be the lesson which our Savior inculcates, when he bids his disciples " gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost." And it opens indeed a new field of duty. It has not as yet entered into the minds of mankind, to reflect that it is a duty^ to add what we can to the common stock of provision, by extracting out of our estates the most they will yield; or that it is any sin to neglect this. From the same intention of God Almighty, we also de- duce another conclusion, namely, ' that nothing ought to be made exclusive property, which can be conveniently enjoyed in common,' Upon this principle may be deter- mined the question, whether the exclusive right of navi- gating particular seas, or a control over the navigation of these seas, can be claimed, consistently with the law of nature, by any nation? What is necessary for each nation's safety we allow ; as their own bays, creeks, and harbors, the sea contiguous to, that is, within cannon shot, or three leagues of their coast : and upon this principle of safety (if upon any principle) must be defended, the claim of the Venetian state to the Adriatic, of Denmark to the Baltic sea, and of Great Britain to the seas which invest the island. But, when Spain asserts a right to the Pacific ocean, or Portugal to the Indian seas, or when any nation extends its pretensions much beyond the limits of its own territories, they erect a claim which interferes with the benevolent designs of Providence, and which no human authority can justify. 3. Another right, which may be called a general right, as it is incidental to every man who is in a situation to claim it, is the right of extreme necessity : by which is meant, a right to use or destroy another's property, OF PROPERTY. 187 when it is necessary for our own preservation to do so ; as a right to take, without or against the owner's leave, the first food, clothes, or shelter we meet with, when we are in danger of perishing through want of them ; a right to throw goods overboard, to save the ship ; or to pull down a house, in order to stop the progress of a fire ; and a few other instances of the same kind. These are the few cases, where the particular consequence exceeds the general consequence ; where the remote mischief re- sulting from the violation of the general rule, is over- balanced by the immediate advantage. Restitution,howeT er, is due, when in our power; because the laws of prop- erty are to be adhered to, so far as consists with safety ; and because restitution, which is one of those laws, sup- poses the danger to be over.'-'^ CHAFTSR XZZ. Of Property. ^^ The principal advantages of the institution of prop- erty, are the following: 1. It increases the produce of the earth. The earth, in climates like ours, produces little with- out cultivation ; and none would be found willing to cul- tivate the ground, if others were to be admitted to an equal share of the produce. The same is true of flocks and herds of tame animals. 2. It preserves the produce of the earth to maturity. We may judge what would be the effects of a commu- nity of right to the productions of the earth, from the * Paley's Moral Philosophy, Book II. Chap. 11. 188 PRACTICAL ETHICS. trifling specimens which we see of it at present." Cher- ries, plums, pears, or peaches, that grow in the highway, " are seldom of much advantage to any body, because people do not wait for the proper season of reaping them. Corn, if any were sown, would never ripen ; lambs and calves would never grow up to sheep and cows, because the first person that met them wouid re- flect, that he had better take them as they are, than leave them for another. 3. It prevents contests. War and waste, tumult and confusion, must be unavoid- able and eternal, where there is not enough for all, and where there are no rules to adjust the division. 4. It improves the conveniency of living. This it does two ways. It enables mankind to divide themselves into distinct professions ; which is impossible, unless a man can exchange the productions ot his own art for what he wants from others ; and exchange im- plies property. Much of the advantages of civilized over savage life depends upon this. When a man is from necessity his own tailor, tentmaker, cnrpenter, cook, huntsman, and fisherman, it is not probable that he will be expert at any of his callings^ Hence the rude habi- tations, furniture, clothing, and impU menis of savages ; and the tedious lengih of time which all their operations require. It likewise encourages those arts, by which the ac- commodations ot human life are supplied, by ajpropria- ting to the artist the benefit of his discoveries and im- provements ; without which appropriation, ingenuity will never be exerted with efiect.*'* The institution of property is founded on expediency. It is for the benefit of society, that property should be * Paley*8 Mor. Piiilosophy, Book III. Part. I. Cliap. 2. PROMISES. 139 established. But there is one kind of property, namely, property in land^ which cannot be established, without leaving it to the law of the country to regulate the divis- ion. Of our right to this kind of properly, therefore, the civil law is the immediate foundation. CHAPTER XIZZ. Promises. " I. From whence the obligation to perform promises arises. The obligation to perform promises may be deduced from the necessity of such a conduct to the well-being, or the existence, indeed, of human society. Men act from expectation. Expectation is in most cases deter- mined by the assurances and engagements which we re- ceive from others. If no dependence could be placed upon these assurances, it would be impossible to know what judgment to form of many future events, or how to regulate our conduct with respect to them. Confidence therefore in promises is essential to the intercourse of human life ; because, without it, the greatest part of our conduct would proceed upon chance. II. In what sense promises are to be interpreted. Where the terms of promise admit of more senses than one, the promise is to be performed in that sense in which the promiser apprehended at the time that the promisee received it. It is not the sense in which the promiser actually in- tended it, that always governs the interpretation of an equivocal promise ; because, at that rate, you might ex- cite expectation, which you never meant, nor would be obliged, to satisfy. Much less is it the sense, in which 190 PRACTICAL ETHICS. the promisee actually received the promise ; lor7 accord^ ing to that rule, you might be drawn into engagements which you never designed to undertake. It must there- fore be the sense (for there is no other remaining) in which the promiser believed that the promisee accepted his promise. This will not differ from the actual intention of the promiser, where the promise is given without collusion or reserve ; but we put the rule in the above form, to exclude evasion in cases in which the popular meaning of a phrase, and the strict grammatical signification of the words, differ ; or, in general, wherever the promiser attempts to make his escape through some ambiguity in the expression which he used. Temures promised the garrison of Sebastia, that, if they would surrender, no blood should be shed. The gar- rison surrendered ; and Temures buried them all alive. Now Temures fulfilled the promise in one sense, and in the sense too in which he intended it at the time ; but not in the sense in which the garrison of Sebastia actually received it, nor in the sense in which Temures himself knew that the garrison received it : which last sense, ac- cording to our rule, was the sense in which he was in conscience bound to perform it. From the account we have given of the obligotion of promises, it is evident, that this obligation depends upon the expectations which we knowingly and voluntanly ex- cite. Consequently, any action or conduct towards another, which w-e are sensible excites ex}»ectations in that other, is as much a promise, and creates as strict an obligation, as the most express assurances. This is the foundation of tacit promises. You may either simply declare your present intention, or you may accompany your declaration with an engage- ment to abide by it, which constitutes a complete promise. PROMISES. 1 9 I In the first cage, the duty is satisfif d, if you were sincere at the time, that is, if you entertained at the time the intention you expressed, however soon, or for whatever reason, you afterwards change it. In the latter case, you have parted with the liberty of changing. All this is plain ; but it ma*t be observed, that most of those forms of speech, which, strictly taken, amount to no more than declarations of present intention, do yet, in the usual way of understanding them, excite the expectation and therefore carry with them the force of absolute prom- ises. If you choose, therefore, to make known your present intention, and yet to reserve to yourself the liber- ty of changing it, you must guard your expressions by an additional clause, as " I intend at present — if I do not al. ter^"* — or the like. And after all, as there can be no rea- son for communicating your intention, but to excite some degree of expectation or other, a wanton change of an intention which is once disclosed, always disappoints somebody ; and is always, for that reason, wrong." The expression of a present resolution or determination^ if there is no design to excite expectation, is to be consid- ered in the same light as the expression of a present inten- tion ; only, the stronger is the language used, the greater need there is of caution, lest expectation should be excit- ed and some one disappointed, or lest there should be a want of decision in our character. In the interpretation of promises, circumstances are to be included, as well as the principal thing promised. One of the most important of these is time. A man is as much under obligation to do a thing at the time at which he promised to do it, or at which he supposed it was under- stood that he should do it, as he is to do it at all. Many, however, who have not formed a general habit o{ punc- tuality ^ are very negligent in this respect. They do not consider, that the business of others will not aiways'bear 192 PRACTICAL ETHICS. to be out of time and out of place^ so well as their own. Some make a practice of being an hour, or half an hour behind hand in everything. They are as invariably and as systematically too late, as if it were a capital crime to do a thing when it should be done. We can hardly ex- pect such men to be punctual in any particular instance, until their general practice is reformed. In order to ef- fect such a reformation, let them be made to see the per- nicious tendency of a habit of negligence and procrasti- nation, both as it respects their own interest and that of their neighbors ; and let them be made to feel, that a -want of punctuality in fulfilling engagements, is actually a breach of promise, and a sin against God. '' III. In what cases promises are not binding. 1. Promises are not binding, where the performance is impossible. But observe, that the promiser is guilty of a fraud, and is justly answerable in an equivalent, if he is secretly aware of the impossibility, at the time of mak- ing the promise. When the promisor himself occasions the impossibility, it is neither more nor less than a direct breach of promise ; as when a soldier maims, or a ser- rant disables himself, to get rid of his engagements. 2. Promises are not binding, where the performance is unlawful. There are two cases of this ; one, where the unlawful- ness is known to the parties at the time of making the promise ; in which case they are not obliged to perform what the promise requires, because they were under a prior obligation to the contrary. The other case is, where the unlawfulness did not exist, or was not known, at the time of making the promise. The lawfulness, therefore, becomes a condition of the promise ; which condition failing, the obligation ceases." If the promis- er is aware of the unlawfulness of a promise, at the time of making it, and the promisee is not, the former is just- PROMISES. 193 \y answerable in an eqnivaleut, as in the case of promis- es of which the performance is impossible. " I would recommend, to young persons especialh'^, a caution, from the neglect of which many involve them- selves in embarrassment and disgrace ; and that is, nev- er to give a promise, which may interfere in the event with their duty ; for, if it do so interfere, their duty must be discharged, though at the expense of their pro- mise, and not unusually of their good name. It is the performance being unlawful, and not any un- lawfulness in the subject or motive of the promise, w hich destro3^s its validity : therefore the reward of any crime, after the crime is committed, ought, if promised, to be paid. For the sin and mischief, by this sujtposition, are over ; and will be neither more nor less for the per- formance of the promise. In like manner, a promise does not lose its obligation merely because it proceeded from an unlawful motive. A promise cannot be deemed unlawful, where it pro- duces, when performed, no effect, beyond what would have taken place had the promise never been made. And this is the single case, in which the obligation of a promise will justify a conduct, which, unless it had been promised, would be unjust. A captive may lawfully re- cover his liberty, by a promise of neutrality ; for bis conqueror takes nothing by the promise, which he might not have secured by his death or confinement ; and neutrality w^ould be innocent in him although criminal in another. It is manifest, however, that promises which come into the place of coercion, can extend no farther than to passive compliances ; for coercion itself could compel no more. Upon the same principle, prom- ises of secrecy ought not to be violated, although the public would derive advantage from the discovery. Such promises contain no unlawfulness in them, to destroy their 194 PRACTICAL ETHICS* obligation ; for, as the information would not have beeo imparted upon any other condition, the public lose noth- ing by the promise, which they would have gained with- out it. 3. Promises are not binding, where they contradict a former promise. Because the performance is then un- lawful ; which resolves this case into the last 4. Promises are not binding before acceptance. Where the promise is beneficial, however, if notice be given, acceptance may be presumed. 5. Promises are not binding, which are released by the promisee, 6. Erroneous promises are not binding in certain ca- ses ; as, 1. Where the error proceeds from the mistake or mis- representation of the promisee. Because a promise evidently supposes the truth of the account, which the promisee relates in order to obtain it. A beggar solicits your charity by a story of the most pitiable distress — you promise to relieve him, if he will call again — in the interval you discover his story to be made up of lies — this discovery, no doubt, releases you from your promise. One wants your service, describes the business or office for which he would engage you — you promise to undertake it — when you come to enter upon it, you iind the profits less, the labor more, or some material circumstance different from the account he gave you. — In such case you are not bound by your promise. 2. When the promise is understood by the promisee to proceed upon a certain supposition, or when the prom- iser apprehended it to be so understood, and that suppo- sition turns out to be false j then the promise is not bind- ing. This intricate rule will be best explained by an exam- ple. A father receives an account from abroad of the PROMISES. ISA ileath of his only son, — soon after which he promises his fortune to his nephew. — The account turns out to be. false. — The father, we say, is released from his promise ; not merely because he never would have made it, had he known the truth of the case, — for that alone will not do ; — but because the nephew also himself understood the promise to proceed upon the supposition of his cousin's death ; or at least his uncle thought he so under- stood it ; and could not think otherwise. The promise proceeded upon this supposition in the promiser's own apprehension, and, as he believed, in the apprehension of both parties ; and this belief of his is the precise cir- cumstance which sets him free. The foundation of the rule is plainly this ; a man is bound only to satisfy the expectation which he intended to excite ; whatever con- dition, therefore, he intended to subject that expectation to, becomes an essential condition of the promise. Errors, which come not within this description, do not annul the obligation of a promise. A father promises a certain fortune with his daughter ; but his circumstances turn out, upon examination, worse than he was aware of. Here the promise was erroneous, but will nevertheless be obligatory. It has long been controverted among moralists, wheth- er promises are binding, which are extorted by violence or fear. The obligation of all promises results, we have seen, from the necessity or the use of that confidence which mankind repose in them. The question, there- fore, whether these promises are binding, will depend upon this, whether mankind, upon the whole, are bene- fitted by the confidence placed in such promises. A highwayman attacks you, — aid being disappointed of his booty, threatens or prepares to murder you; you prom- ise, with many solemn asseverations, that if he will spare 106 PRACTICAL ETHICS. your life, he shall find a purse of money left for him, at a place appointed ; upon the faith of this promise, he forbears from farther violence. Now your life was sav- ed by the confidence reposed in a promise extorted by fear ; and the lives of many others may be saved by the same. This is a good consequence. On the other hand, confidence in promises like these greatly facilitates the perpetration of robberies. They may be made the in- struments of almost unlimited extortion. This is a bad consequence ; and in the question between the import- ance of these opposite consequences, resides the doubt concerning the obligation of such promises. Vows are promises to God. The obligation cannot be made out upon the same principle as that of other prom- ises. The violation of them, nevertheless, implies a want of reverence to the Supreme Being ; which iiB enough to make it sibful. There appears no command or encouragement in the Christian Scriptures to make vows ; much less any au- thority to break through them when they are made. The rules we have laid down concerning promises, are applicable to vows."* The student may be requested to solve the following questions, stating, in each case, the reasons of his decision. 1. Was Jephthah's vow binding, taken in the sense in which that transaction is commonly understood ? See Judges, xi. 30—40. 2. Was Herod's promise to his daughter-in-law bind- ing ? Matt. xiv. 3. A man, in the life time of his wife, pays his addres- ses, and promises marriage, to another \yoman. His wife dying, the woman demands the performance of the promise. Is he bound to perform it ? * Paley*s Moral Philosophy, Book III. Pan I. Chap. 5, CONTRACtS. 197 4. " I have promised to bestow a sum of money upon some good and respectable purpose. In the interval be- tween the promise and my fulfilling it, a greater and no- bler purpose offers itself, which calls with an imperious voice for my co-operation. Which ought I to prefer ?*' — Godwin, 5. It is a common saying, that " a bad promise is bet- ter broke than kept." What is the tendency of this max- im ? In what sense is it correct ? and in what incorrect ? CHAFTZSR XIV. Conti^acts. " A contract is a mutual promise. The obligation, therefore, of contracts ; the sense in which they are to be interpreted; and the cases where they are not binding, will be the same as of promises. From the principle established in the last chapter, ' that the oblig-ition of promises is to be measured by the expectation which the promiser any-how voluntarily and knowingly excites,' results a rule, which governs the con- struction of all contracts, and is capable, from its simpli- city, of being applied with great ease and certainty, viz. That, Whatever is expected by one side^ and known to he so ex- pected by the other^ is to be deemed a part or condition of the contract.'^''^ I. '*• Contracts of Sale. The rule of justice which needs with the most anxiety to be inculcated in the mak- ing of bargains, is, that the seller is bound in conscience * Paley's Moral Philosophy, Book III. Part L Chap. 6. R 2 195 PRACTICAL ETHiCSi to disclose the faults of what he offers for sale. Among other methods of proving this, one may be the following. I suppose it will be allowed, that to advance a direct falsehood in recommendation of our wares, by ascribing to them some quality which we know that they have not, is dishonest. Now compare with this the designed con- cealment of some fault, which we know that ihey have. The motives and the effects of actions are the only points of comparison, in which their moral quality can differ ; but the motives in these two cases are the same, viz. to procure a higher price than we expect otherwise to ob- tain : the effect, that is, the prejudice to the buyer, is al- so the same ; for he finds himself equally out of pocket by his bargain, whether the commodity, when he gets home with it, turn out worse than he had supposed, by the want of some quality which he expected, or the dis- covery of some fault which he did not expect. If, there- fore, actions are the same, as to all moral purposes, which proceed from the same motives, and produce the same effects, it is making a distinction without a difference, to esteem it a cheat to magnify beyond the truth the virtues of what we have to sell, but none to conceal its faults. It adds to the value of this kind of honesty, that the faults of many things are of a nature not to be known by any, but by the persons who have used them : so that the buyer has no security from imposition, but in the in- genuousness and integrity of the seller. To this of concealing the faults of what we want to put off, may be referred the practice of passing bad mo- ney. This practice we sometimes hear defended by a vulgar excuse, that we have taken the money for good, and must therefore get rid of it. Which excuse is much the samp as if one^ who had been robbed upon the high- way, should allege that he had a right to reimburse him- self out of the pocket of the first traveller he met j the CONTRACTS. 199 justice of which reasoning the traveller possibly might not comprehend. If the thing sohl be damaged, or perish, between the sale and the delivery, ought the buyer to bear the loss, or the seller? This will depend upon the particular con- struction of the contract, if the seller, either expressly, or by implication, or by custom, engage to deliver the goods ; as if I buy a set of china, and the china-man ask me to what place he shall bring or send them, and they be broken in the conveyance, the seller must abide by the loss. If the thing sold remain with the seller, at the instance or for the convenience of the buyer, then the buyer undertakes the risk ; as if 1 buy a horse, and men- tion, that 1 will send for it on such a day, which is in effect desiring that it may continue with the seller till I do send for it, then, whatever misibrtune befalls the horse in the mean time, must be at my cost. And here, once tor all, I would observe, that innumera- ble questions of this sort are determined solely by custom ; not that custom possesses any proper authority to alter or ascertain the nature of right and wrong ; but because the contracting parlies are presumed to include in their stip- ulation, all the conditions which custom has annexed to contracts of the same sort ; and when the usage is noto- rious, and no exception made to it, this presumption is generally agreeable to the fact."* II. " Contracts oj Hazard. In speculations in trade, or in the stocks, if 1 exercise my judgment upon the general aspect and posture of public affairs, and deal with a per- son who conducts himsell by the same sort of judgment, the contract has all the equality in it which is necessary ! but if 1 have access to secrets of state at home, or private advice of some decisive measure or event abroad, 1 can- *Paley's Moral Philosophy, Book III. Part I. Chap. 7. 200 PRACTICAL ETHICS. not avail myself of these advantages with justice, be- caufe they are exchided by the contract, which proceed- ed upon the supposition, that I had no such advantage. In insurances, in which the underwriter computes his risk entirely from the account given by the person insur- ed, it is absolutely necessary to the justice and validity of the contract, that this account be exact and complete."* 111. " Contracts of Lending Inconsumable Property. When the identical loan ii to be returned^ as a book, a horse, a harpsichord, it is called inconsumable^ in opposition to corn, wine, money, and those things which perish, or are parted with in the use, and can therefore only be restored in kind. The questions under this head are few and simple^ The first is, if the thing lent be lost or damaged, who ought to bear the loss or damage ? If it be damaged by the use, or by accident in the use, for which it was lent, the lender ought to bear it ; as if I hire a job coach, the wear, tear, and soiling of the coach, must belong to the lender ; or a horse to go a particular journey, and in go- ing the proposed journey, the horse die, or he be lamed, the loss must be the lenders : on the contrary, if the damage be occasioned by the fault of the borrower, or by accident in some use for which it was not lent, then the borrower must make it good. The two cases are distinguished by this circumstance, that in one case, the owner foresees the damage or risk, and therefore consents to undertake it ; in the other case, he does not. It is possible that an estate or a house may, during the term of a lease, be so increased or diminished in its val- ue, as to become worth much more, or much less, than the rent agreed to be paid for it. In some of which cas- * Ibid, Chap. 8. CONTRACTS. 201 es it may be doubted, to whom, of natural right, the ad- vantage or disadvantage belongs. The rule of justice seems to be this : If the alteration might be expected by the parties, the hirer must take the consequences ; if it could not, the owner."* IV. " Contracts concerning the Lending of Money, — The rate of interest has in most countries been regulat- ed by law. The policy of these regulations is to check the power of accumulating wealth, without industry ; and to give encouragement to trade, by enabling adventurers in it to borrow money at a moderate price ; and of late years, to enable the state to borrow the subject's money itself. Compound interest, though forbidden by the law of England, is agreeable enough to natural equity ; for in- terest detained after it is due, becomes, to all intents and purposes, part of the sum lent. \^ hoever borrows money, is bound in conscience to re- pay it. This every man can see ; but every man cannot see, or does not however reflect, that he is, in conse- quence, also bound to use the means necessary to enable himself to repay it. As to the imprisonment of insolvent debtors, if we consider it as a public punishment, founded upon the same reason, and subject to the same rules, as other pun- ishments, the justice of it, together with the degree to which it should be extended, and the objects upon whom it may be inflicted, will be apparent." t V. " Coniracts of Labor, 1. Service. Service ought always to be voluntary, and by contract ; and the master's authority to extend no farther than the terms or equita- ble construction of the contract will justify. Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed entirely in the profession or trade which they are intended to * Ibid. Chap. 9. f Ibid Chap. 10. 202 PRACTICAL ETHICS. learn. Instruction is their hire ; and to deprive them of the opportunities of instruction, by taking up their time with occupations foreign to their business, is to defraad them of their wages. The master is responsible for what a servant does in the ordinary course of his employment ; for it is done under a general authority committed to him, which is in justice equivalent to a specific direction. A master of a family is culpable, if he permits any vi- ces among his domestics, which he might restrain by due discipline and a proper interference. This results from the general obligation to prevent misery when in our power ; and the assurance which we have, that vice and misery at the long run go together. Care to maintain in his family a sense of virtue and religion, received the di- vine approbation in the person of Abraham, Gen. xviii. 19. "i know him, that he wiil command his children, and his household after him ; and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment."* 2. " Commissions. Whoevrr undertakes another man's business, makes it his own, that is, promises to employ upon it the same care, attention, and diligence, that he would do if it were actually his own : for he knows that the business was committed to him with that expectation. The agent may be a sufferer in his own person or prop- erty by the business which he undertakes ; as where one goes a journey for another, and lames his horse, or is hurt himself, by a fall upon the road ; can the agent in such case claim a compensation for the misfortune ? Unless the same be provided for by express stipulation, the agent is not entitled to any compensation from his em- ployer on that account : for whoever knowingly under- takes a dangerous emplcyment, in common construction, takes upon himsell the danger and the consequences/'t * Jbid. Chap. 11. f Ibid Chap. 12. ( 203 ) OHAFTER XV. Lies. " A lie is a breach of promise : for whoever seriously addresses his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the truth, because he knows the truth is expected. Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the direct ill consequences of lying to social happiness. These consequences consist, either in some specific inju- ry to particular individuals, or in the destruction of that cottfidence, which is essential to the intercourse of hu- man life : for which latter reason, a lie may be perni- cious in its general tendency, and therefore criminal, though it produce no particular or visible mischief to any one. There are falsehoods which are not lies ; that is, which are not criminal ; as, 1. Where no one is deceived; which is the case in parables and fables. 2. Where the person to whom you speak has no right to know the truth, or, moro properly, where little or no inconvenience results from the want of confidence in such cases ; as where you tell a falsehood to a madman, for his own advantage ; to a robber, to conceal your property ; to an assassin, to defeat or divert him from his purpose. The particular consequence is, by the supposition, benefi- cial ; and, as to the general consequence, the worst that can happen is, that the madman, the robber, the assassin, will not trust you again ; which (beside that the first ii incapable of deducing regular conclusions from having been once deceived, and the two last not likely to come a second time in your way) is sufficiently compensated by the immediate benefit which you propose by the false- hood.'^ 204 PRACTICAL BTHICS. Such is the language of Dr. Paley. It may be ques- tioned, however, whether he has allowed sufficient weight to the " general consequence" in regard to the duty of keeping a promise,* and speaking the truth to a robber or an assassin. If there is indeed no obligation in such cases, then the subject ought to be so understood by the public, and all men ought to practice accordingly. That which it is right for an individual to do, it is right for all to do in similar circumstances. But as soon as this sentiment and practice become universal or general, rob- bers and assassins will cease to repose confidence in promises and declarations that are made to them; and many lives will be lost, which might otherwise be saved. How much property^ let me ask, must be saved, to be an equivalent for the lives thus lost ? And just in proportion as the sentiment 1 am opposing prevails, just so far is this evil produced. If I were to fall into the hands of an highwayman, I should hope he had not read Faley's Phi- losophy, lest he should suspect me to be of the same sentiment. " The worst consequence that can happen," says Dr. Paley, " is, that the robber or assassin will not trust you again ; and they are not likely to come a second time in your way." But they are likely to come in somebody^s way ; and if they have been deceived once, they will be the more likely to refuse their confidence to the next man they meet. If they have been deceived repeatedly, they will most certainly trust no man any more. Shall i endanger the lives of my neighbors^ for the sake of saving a little property ? This may be consistent enough with a system of ethics, which makes the very essence of vir- tue to consist in supreme selfishness ; but it is repugnant to the benevolent spirit of the gospel. — Besides, it is »Seep.l95. LIES, 505, possible that the tobher may come in my way again. He may even seek me out of revenge for the deception I have practised upon him. How much property must I save by falsehood, to be " sufficiently compensated" for the danger to which my life would thus be exposed ? But supposing that property may he so concealed by telling a falsehood, that the robber shall never discov- er the deception, is not falsehood justifiable then? No; for, in the first place, I cannot be ccr^am that the deception will not be discovered, if the property in question be about my person, or my carriage, the robber may make trial of my integrity by searching for it ; and when he finds it, may stab me to the heart through indig- nation at the lie I have told him. Even robbers have a sense of the baseness of deception, — especially when it is practised upon themselves. In the second place, " if I have been habitually accustomed to regard a lie with abhorrence, it is extremely improbable that I shall be able to tell one, in such circumstances, with that firmness and freedom from embarrassment, which will make it ef- fectual."* And in the third place, if the lie be successful^ it may eventually do me more harm, than the loss of property or even of life : it will almost inevitably weak- en my general respect for truth. We have been considering the lawfulness of violating truth for the sake of saving property. It is a more difl&- cult question, whether truth may be violated by a person who is placed in a situation where a lie appears to be the only means of saving his life. This question, too. must, I think, be answered in the negative. *' Instances continually occur, in which men risk their lives, in va- rious ways, to defend their property ; but if it is justifia- ble to avoid such risk, where truth must for this purpose ♦Recs's Cyclopedia. 206 PRACTICAL ETHICS. be violated, then truth is to he regarded as of less Talue than money."* Besides, " if it is right to preserve life by falsehood, it must be wrong to forfeit it by adher- ence to truth ; and yet, we conceive there are few who would not cordially approve and admire the conduct of him, who, in such circumstances, followed truth at the certain risk of his life. As far as his conduct is known, it necessarily tends to produce a steady love of duty, a decided attachment to principle. As far as the conduct of one who has preserved his life by a violation of truth, is known, and regarded as justifiable, it tends to weaken the sense of the obligation of a virtue, which is of the first importance to the well-being of society."* In the preceding remarks, I have rested the argument entirely on human reason and experience. If there were need of it, the argument might be confirmed by the infallible authority of the word of God,t " If any one should be exposed to a trial so severe as what we have been considering, let him call to mind, that there is something more valuable than life and every ex- ternal means of comfort, — the approbation of our own hearts, and the present and final approbation of Him who is greater than the heart."J As to telling a falsehood to a madman^ it seems to be a case of a totally different kind. The prohibitions of scripture seem hardly applicable to our conduct toward such a man, since he cannot be regarded as a moral agent. The only general consequences to be apprehended, ap- pear to be the two following: First, if those who have the care of madmen, very frequently practice deception upon them, there is some danger of their forming a habit * Rees's Cyclopedia. f See p. SL See also Deut. xxxii. 4; Eph. iv. 25 ; Col. iii. 9 ; 1 Tim. iv. 2; Rev. xx'. 8; xxii. 15. \ Rees's Cyclopedia. LIES. 207 of deception, and sometimes practising it upon others * Secondly, if children were to see deception practised upon mad people, it might produce a bad effect upon them. After allowing due weight to these considerations, the only question appears to be, Whether the madman can, on the whole, be managed to better advantage with the help of deception, than without it. The lawfulness of deception in war^ is another diffi- cult case. As it is allowed by the laws of war, and it is so understood, there seems to be no unfairness in it. But would it not be equally fair for the contending parties, and more to the honor of the nations of the earth, if " the laws of war^' were so amended^ as to forbid the practice of ^deception ? At any rate, if deception is ne- cessary, and for that reason justifiable, in war, we can only say, that war itself is unlawful ; that the engaging in it, except for the defence of life or liberty, is a crime of the deepest die ; and that, therefore, we need not wonder, if one crime draws another in its train. One or two cases remain, not mentioned by Dr. Paley. Many, in their intercourse with children^ seem to feel released from the obligation of truth and sincerity. This probably arises from an idea, that the tendency of deceiv- ing them is not hurtful, as in the case of adults. But this is an unhappy mistake. The practice of deceiving chil- dren is productive of the most pernicious consequences. The formation of their character commences, at least as soon as they are capable of being deceived ; and an acquaintance with the elementary principles of educa- tion, must impress on the mind of every one the convic- tion, that in our intercourse with children, even in their earliest years, the strictest truth and sincerity oug^ht to be observed. ♦See p. 8a 208 PRACTICAL ETHICS. There is one case more, in which many think it right to deceive. It sometimes happens that the life of a sick person would be apparently endangered, by his being made acquainted with some event, which yet it is diffi- cult to conceal from him without telling a falsehood. On this subject I would offer the following remarks. 1. It may be presumed, that in most instances of the kind, the event may, by proper caution, be concealed without resorting to falsehood. 2. The news in question may have a different effect on the sick person from what is commonly apprehended. But of this a physician is the most competent judge. 3. If any curiosity or suspicion is excited in the sick person, it is seldom that the attendants can completely remove it, even by the aid of direct falsehood. The countenance, tone, and manner, will often contradict the tongue. It may therefore be better for the patient, to make to him a gradual disclosure of the truth, than to let him suffer the anxiety and agitation of suspicion and suspense. 4. If it is admitted, that it is right to deceive the sick, for their benefit, this maxim will be remembered on the sick-bed. The sick person will thus be led to feel a con- tinual distrust of those about him, even when they speak the truth. This is a general bad consequence, which seems sufficient to overbalance the particular good con- sequence that might be hoped for in the few cases where it might seem necessary to practise deception. 5. " Deceiving the sick contributes greatly, and almost inevitably, and far bej'ond usual estimation, to lessen the regard to truth in those around us."* And it must pro- duce the same effect upon ourselves, even when it is un- known to others. * Rees^s Cyclopedia, LIES. 209 Finally, let us remember, that it can hardly meet the approbation of the God of Truth, in whose hand, and at whose disposal the sick person is, that we should resort to falsehood or deception as a means of prolonging life. As the evil of lying consists in the deception^ it follows, that any mode whatever of deceiving, involves the guilt of lying. Exaggeration and misrepresentation in relating a fact or telling a story, are as bad as downright lying; and sometimes worse, because the mixture of truth in the narrative, is more likely to gain credit to the whole. Many people indulge in fiction and exaggeration in tel- ling stories, for the sake of affording amusement or ex- citing wonder, thinking there can be no harm in it, as it makes no difference to any body whether what they tell be true or false. But harm may sometimes follow, which is not foreseen. Besides, such a habit cannot but dimin- ish the confidence that is placed in one's veracity. And what is more, the habit has a pernicious efi'ect on the person himself, "I have seldom," says Dr. Paley, " known any one who deserted truth in trifles, that could be trusted in matters of importance." Again, every species of equivocation involves the guilt of lying. " It is the wilful deceit that makes the lie ; and we wilfully deceive, when our expressions are not true in the sense in which we believe the hearer to ap- prehend them : besides that it is absurd to contend for any sense of words in opposition to usage; for all senses of all words are founded upon usage, and upon nothing else. Or a man may act a lie ; as by pointing his finger in a wrong direction, when a traveller inquires of him his road : for to all moral purfioses, and therefore as to ve- racity, speech and action are the same ; speech being on- ly a mode of action. s2 210 1»RACTICAL ETHICS* Or, lastly, there may be lies of omimo^i.''* When a man professes, or means to be understood, to tell the whole truth on any subject, the intentional concealment of any part, involves all the guilt of direct lying. The case of Ananias and Sapphira is in point. Their crime consisted, not in keeping back a part of the price of the land, but in professing to lay the whole at the apostles' feet. When Sapphira was interrogated whether they sold the land for ^ so much,' she replied in the affirma- tive. How many there are who practice equivocation of the same kind ; and some, — palpably base as the sub- terfuge is, — even pretend to justify themselves, saying, "I did not tell a lie ; 1 did sell the land for 50 mwc^, — and more." Let those who deceive in this way, compare their case with that of Sapphira ; and learn in what light their equivocation is regarded by Him who search- eth the heart and who cannot be deceived. CHiLFTXSR XVX. Oaths, " An oath is the calling upon God to witness, i. e. to take notice of what we say, and it is invoking his ven- geance, or renouncing his favor, if what we say be false, or what we promise be not performed. Quakers and Moravians refuse to swear upon any occa- sion ; founding their scruples concerning the lawfulness of oaths upon our Savior's prohibition. Matt. v. 34." 'But the clause, " not at all" is to be read in connection with what follows: "Swear not at all, either by the » Paley'a Mor. Philos. Book III. Pari I. Chap. 15. OATHS. 211 heaven, or by the earth,^' &c.' It is well known that the Greek language frequently admits two negative particles, where the English admits but one. ' Hence, we may conclude that our Savior meant to prohibit, not judicial oaths, but merely such forms of swearing as he enume- rated, which do not appear ever to have been made use of among the Jews injudicial oaths. St. James's words, ch. 6. v. 12, are to be interpreted in the same way: " Swear not, either by heaven, or by earth, or by any oath of the kind." The guilt of perjury is greater than that of lying, be- cause it is a sin of greater deliberation, and in defiance of the sanctions of religion ; and also because it violates a superior confidence, and therefore, in its general con- sequence, strikes at the security of reputation, property, and even of life itself " it merits public consideration, however, whether the requiring of oaths on so many frivolous occasions, especially in the customs, and in the qualification for petty offices, has any other effect, than to make them cheap in the minds of the people."* For the sense in which oaths are to be interpreted, and the cases in which they are not binding, see the chap- ter on Promises. " In taking an " Oath in evidence," the witness swears " to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, touching the matter in question." Upon which it may be observed, that the designed concealment of any truth, which relates to the matter in agitation, is as much a violation of the oath, as to testify a positive falsehood; and this whether the witness be interrogated on that particular point or not."t ^ Ibid. Chap. 16. f Ibid. Chap. 17. ( 212) CHAFTXiR XVXX. Wills. " Many beneficial purposes are attained by extending the owner's power over his property beyond his lile, and beyond his natural right. It invites to industry, encour- ages naarriage, and secures the dutifulness and depend- ency of children. From the consideration that wills are the creatures of the municipal law which gives them their efficacy, may be deduced a determination of the question, whether the intention of the testator in an informal will be binding upon the conscience of those, who, by operation of law, succeed to his estate. By an informal will^ I mean a will Toid in law, for want of some requisite formality, though no doubt be entertained of its meaning or authenticity. Generally speaking, the heir at law is not bound by the intention of the testator. For the intention can sig- nify nothing, unless the person intending have a right to govern the descent of the estate. That is the first ques- tion Now this right the testator can only derive from the law of the land ; but the law confers the right upon certain conditions, with which conditions he has not com- plied. Had testamentary dispositions been founded in any natural right, independent of positive constitutions, I should have thought differently of this question."* * Ibid. Chap. 23. (213) CHAFTER XVUI. On the Conjugal Relation. It may net be improper to introduce the present chap- ter with a few remarks on such crimes, resulting from the constitution of the sexes, as may be committed without entering the conjugal relation. The remarks that follow, are in the language of Dr. Paley. I. Fornication. " The following are some of the mischiefs of promis- cuous concubinage. 1. Fornication supposes prostitution ; and prostitution brings and leaves the victims of it to almost certain mis- ery. It is no small quantity of misery in the aggregate, which, between want, disease, and insult, is suffered by those outcasts of human society, who infest popular cities; the whole of which is a general consequence of fornication, and to the increase and continuance of which, every in- stance of fornication contributes. 2. Fornication produces habits of ungovernable lewd- ness, which introduce the more aggravated crimes of se- duction, adultery, violation, &c. Likewise, — however it be accounted for, — the criminal commerce of the sexes corrupts and depraves the mind and moral character more than any single species of vice whatsoever. It pre- pares an easy admission for every sin that seeks it ; and is usually the first stage in men''s progress to the most desperate villanies. Add to this, that habits of libertinism incapacitate and indispose the mind for all intellectual, moral, and religious pleasures ; which is a great loss to any man's happiness. 214 PRACTICAL ETHICS. 3. Fornication perpetuates a disease, which may be accounted one of the sorest maladies of human nature ; and the effects of which are said to visit the constitution of even distant generations. The christian scriptures condemn fornication absolute- ly and peremptorily. " Out of the heart," says our Savior, ^' proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries,/or- nications^ thefts, false witness, blasphemies ; these are the things which defile a man." These are Christ's own words J and one word from him upon the subject, is final. If fornication is criminal, all those incentives which lead to it, are accessaries to the crime, as lascivious cou- versation, whether expressed in obscene or disguised un- der modest phrases ; also wanton songs, pictures, books ; the writing, publishing and circulating of which, wheth- er out of frolic, or for some pitiful profit, is productive of so extensive a mischief from so mean a temptation, that few crimes, within the reach of private wickedness, have more to answer for, or less to plead in their excuse. The invitation, or voluntary admission, of impure thoughts, or the suffering tht m to get possession of the imagination, tails within the same description, and is con- demned by Christ, Matt v. 28: " Whosoever lookeih on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." Christ, by thus enjoining a regulation of the thoughts, strikes at the root of the evil."* 11. Seduction. " Seduction is seldom accomplished without fraud j and the fraud is by so much more criminal than other frauds, as the injury effected by it is greater, continues longer, and less admits of reparation. * Paley»s Moral Philos. Book III. Part III. Chap. 2. eN THE CONJUGAL RELATIOK. 216 This injury is threefold ; to the woman, to her family, and to the public. The injury to the woman is made up, of the pain she suffers from shame, of the loss she sustains in her reputa- tion and prospects of marriage, and of the depravation of her moral principle. This pain must be extreme, if we may judge of it from those barbarous endeavors to conceal their disgrace, to which women, under such circumstances, sometimes have recourse ; comparing also this barbarity with their pas- sionate fondness for their offspring in other cases. No- thing but an agony of mind the naost insupportable, can induce a woman to forget her nature, and the pity which even a stranger would show to a helpless and imploring infant. It is true, that all are not urged to this extremity; but if any are, it affords an indication of how much all suffer from the same cause. What shall we say to the authors of such mischief? The loss^ which a woman sustains by the ruin of her reputation, almost exceeds computation. — The loss of her chastity is also generally the destruction of her moral principle ; and this consequence is to be apprehended, whether the criminal intercourse be discovered or not. The injury to the family may be understood, by the application of that infallible rule, " of doing to others what we would that others should do to us." Let a father or a brother say, for what consideration he would suffer this injury to a daughter or a sister ; and whether any, or even a total loss of fortune could create equal affliction and distress. Upon the whole, if we pursue (he effects of seduction through the complicated misery which it occasions ; and if it be right to estimate crimes by the mischief they knowingly produce, it will appear something mere than 216 PRACTICAL ETHICS. mere invective to assert, that not one half of the crimes for which men suffer death by the laws of England, al- so flagitious as this."* 111. Adultery. " A new sufferer is introduced, the injured husband who receives a wound in his sensibility and affections the most painful and incurable that human nature knows In all other respects, adultery on the part of the mac who solicits the chastity of a married woman, includes the crime of seduction, and is attended with the same mischief The infidelity of the woman is aggravated by cruelty to her children, who are generally involved in their pa- rents' shame, and always made unhappy by their quar- rel. If it be said that these consequences are chargeable not so much upon the crime, as the discovery, we answer, first, that the crime could not be discovered unless it were committed, and that the commission is never secure from discovery ; and secondly, that if we excuse adulter- ous connections, whenever they can hope to escape de- tection, which is the conclusion to which this argument conducts us, we leave the husband no other security for his wife's chastity,than in her want of opportunity or temp- tation ; which would probably either deter men, from marrying, or render marriage a state of such jealousy and alarm to the husband, as must end in the slavery and confinement of the wife. All behavior which is designed, or which knowingly tends, to captivate the affections of a married woman, is a barbarous intrusion upon the peace and virtue of a fam- ily, though it fall short of adultery. * Ibid. Chap. 3. ON THE CONJUGAL RELATION. 217 " Thou shaltnot commit adultery," was an interdict de- livered by God himself. By the Jewish law, adultery was capital to both parties in the crime : ^' Even he that committeth adultery with his neighbor's wife, the adulterer and adulteress shall surely be put to death."* t IV. Incest. " In order to preserve chastity in families, and between persons of different sexes, brought up and living together in a state of unreserved intimacy, it is necessary by eve- ry method possible to inculcate an abhorrence of inces- tuous connections ; which abhorrence can only be upheld by the absolute reprobation of all commerce of the sexes between near relations. Upon this principle, the mar- riage, as well as other cohabitations, of brothers and sisters, of lineal kindred, and of all who usually live in the same family, may be said to be forbidden by the law of nature."! V. Polygamy. " The equality in the number of males and females born into the world, intimates the intention of God, that one woman should be assigned to one man. It seems al- so a significant indication of the divine will, that he at first created only one woman to one man. Polygamy not only violates the constitution of nature, and the apparent design of the Deity, but produces con- tests and jealousies among the wives of the same hus- band, and distracted affections, or the loss of all affection, in the husband himself. Polygamy is retained to this day among the Turks, and throughout every part of Asia in which Christianity * Lev. XX. 10. t Paley's Moial Philos. Book IIL Part III. Chap. 4. t Ibid. Chap. S. S18 PRACTICAL ETHICS. is not professed. In christian countries, it is universal- ly prohibited. In Sweden, it is punished with death.''* VI. Divorce. " The power of dissolving the Carriage contract, was allowed to the husband, among.^ the Jews, the Greeks, and latter Romans ; and is at this day exercised by the Turks and Persians. The congruity of such a right with the law of nature, is the question before us. And, in the first place, it is manifestly inconsistent with the du- ty, which the parents owe to their children ; which duty can never be so well fulfilled, as b}' their cohabitation and united care. A lawgiver, whose counsels are directed by views of general utility, would make the marriage contract indis- soluble during the joint lives of the parties, for the sake of the following advantages : 1. Because this tends to preserve peace and con- cord between married persons, by perpetuating their common interest, and by inducing a necessity of mutual compliance. 2. Because new objects of desire would be continual- ly sought after, if men could, at will, be released from their subsisting engagements. The law of nature admits of an exception in favor of the injured party, in cases of adultery, of obstinate desertion, of attempts upon life, of outrageous cruelty, of incurable madness, and, perhaps, of personal imbe- cility. The scriptures seem to have drawn the obligation tighter than the law of nature left it. " Whoever," saith Christ, " shall put away his wife, except it be for forni- cation, and shall marry another, committeth aduUerj ; and whoso marrieth her that is put away, committeth adul- » Ibid. Chap. 6. ON THE CONJUGAL RELATION. JIS tery."* And there seems to be no sufficient reason to depart from the plain and strict meaning of Christ's words. The rule was new. It both surprised and of- fended his disciples ; yet Christ added nothing to relax or explain it. Inferior causes may justify the separation of husband and wife, although they will not authorize such a disso- lution of the marriage contract, as would leave either party at liberty to marry again ; for it is that liberty in which the danger and mischief of divorces principally consist. If the care of children does not require that they should live together, and it is become, in the serious judgment of both, necessary for their mutual happiness that they should separate, let them separate by consent. Nevertheless, this necessity can hardly exist, without guilt and misconduct on one side or on both. Moreover, cruelty, ill usage, extreme violence or moroseness of tem- per, or other great and continued provocations, make it lawful for the party aggrieved to withdraw from the so- ciety of the offender without his or her consent.**'! VII. Marriage. " The parties, by the marriage vow, engage their personal fidelity expressly and specifically; they engage likewise to consult and promote each other's happiness ; the wife, moreover, promises obedience to her husband. Nature may have made and left the sexes of the human species nearly equal in their faculties, and perfectly so in their rights ; but to guard against those competitions which equality, or a contested superiority, is almost sure to produce, the christian scriptures enjoin upon the wife that obedience which she here promises. Whoever is conscious, at the time of his marriage, of such a dislike to the woman he is about to marry, or of such a subsisting attachment to some other woman, that ♦Matt. xix. 9. t Paley's Moral Philos. Book IIL Part III. Chap. 7. 220 PRACTICAL ETHICS. he cannot reasonably, nor does in fact, expect ever to en- tertain an affection for his future wife, is guilty, when he pronounces the marriage vow, of a direct and delib- erate prevarication ; and that, too, aggravated by the presence of those ideas of religion, and of the Supreme Being, which the ritual, and the solemnity of the occa- sion, cannot fail of bringing to his thoughts. The same likewise of the woman. The marriage vow is violated, 1. By adultery. 2. By any behavior which, knowingly, renders the life of the other miserable ; as desertion, neglect, prodi- gality, drunkenness, peevishness, penuriousness, jealousy, or any levity of conduct which administers occasion of jealousy."* The following remarks of Dr. Brown " On the Duties of the Conjugal Relation," are worthy to be read, not on- ly before fixing the choice of a companion for life, but also " after twenty years of wedlock :"t " The duties of the conjugal relation, like the duties of all our other reciprocal affinities, however minutely di- vided and subdivided, are involved in the simple obliga- tion to make those who are the objects of it, as happy as it is in our power to make them. In these few simple words, however, what a complica- tion of duties is involved, — of duties, which il is less ea- sy for the ethical inquirer to state and define, than for the heart which feels affection, to exercise them all with instant readiness. He who loves sincerely the object of any one of those relations which bind us together in amity, and who is wise enough to discern the dif- ference of conferring a momentary gratification, which *Ibid. Chap. 8. f Brown's Philosophy, Lect. 88. ON THE CONJUGAL RELATION. 221 may produce more misery than happiness, and of con- ferring that which is not merely present happiness, but a source of future enjoyment, — needs no rule of duty, as far at least as relates to that single individual, for the di- rection of a conduct, of which love itself, unaided by any other guidance, will be a quick and vigilant director. The husband should have, then, as his great object and rule of conduct, the happiness of the wife. Of that hap- piness, the confidence in his affection is the chief ele- ment ; and the proofs of this affection on his part, there- fore, constitute his chief duty, — an affection that is not lavish of caresses only, as if these were the only demon- strations of love, but of that respect which distinguishes love as a principle^ from that brief passion which assumes, and only assumes, the name, — a respect which consults the judgment as well as the wishes, of the object belov- ed, — which considers /ler, who is worthy of being taken to the heart, as worthy of being admitted to all the coun- sels of the heart. If there are any delights, of which he feels the value as essential to his own happiness, — if his soul be sensible to the charms of literary excellence, — and if he considers the improvement of his own under- standing, and the cultivation of his own taste, as a duty, and one of the most delightful duties of an intellectual being, — he will not consider it as a duty or a delight that belongs only to man, but will feel it more delightful, as there is now another soul that may share with him all the pleasure of the progress. To love the happiness of her whose happiness is in his affection, is of course to be conjugally faithful ; but it is more than to be merely faithful ; it is, not to allow room even for a doubt as to that fidelity, at least for such a doubt as a reasonable mind might form. It is truly to love her best, — but it is also to seem to feel that love which is truly felt, T 2 222 PRACTICAL ETiflCS* As the happiness of the wife is the rule of conjugal duty to the husband, the happiness of the husband is in like manner the rule of conjugal duty to the wife. There is no human being whose affection is to be to her like his affection, as there is no happiness which is to be to her like the happiness which he enjoys. All that I have said of the moral obligation of the husband, then, is not less applicable to her duty ; but, though the gentle duties belong to both, it is to her province that they more es- pecially belong ; because she is at once best fitted by nature for the ministry of tender courtesies, and best ex- ercised in the offices that inspire them. While man is occupied in other cares during the business of the day, the business of her day is but the continued discharge of many little duties^ that have a direct relation to wedlock, in the common household which it has formed. He must often forget her, or be useless to the world : she is most useful to the world, by remembering him. From the tumultuous scenes which agitate man^ of his hours, he returns to the calm scene, where peace awaits him, and happiness is sure to await him — because she is there waiting, whose smile is peace, and whose very presence is more than happiness to his heart. Here Love his golden shafts employs, — here lights His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings — Here reigns and revels. The vows, which constitute a solemn part of the mat- rimonial engagement, give to this duty of reciprocal love the sanction of an additional authority ; but they only give an additional sanction, and increase the guilt of violating duties, which, without these vows, it would still have been guilt to violate. The husband is to seek the happiness of his wife, the wife, to seek the happiness of her^ husband. This rule is sufficiently simple and efficacious, where affijction is ^N THE CONJUGAL RELATIOV. 223 Bufficiently strong, as in the domestic scenes of harmony and delight which 1 have pictured. But there may be cases of occasional disagreement, and then what is the duty ? In such cases, it is obviously necessary^ that for mutual peace, the will of one should be submitted to the will of the other ; — and, if a point, so important as this, were left to the decision of the individuals themselves without any feeling of greater duty on either side, — the disagreement, it is evident, would still be continued, un- der a different name ; and, instead of combating who should concede, the controversy would be, of whom it was the duty to make the concession. It is of most im- portant advantage, therefore, upon the whole^ that there should be a feeling of duty to be called in foi decision, in such unfortunate cases ; and since, from various cir- cumstances, natural and factitious, man is everywhere in possession of physical and political superiority, — since his education is usually less imperfect, and since the charge of providing for the support of the family, in almost ev- ery instance, belongs to him — it is surely, from all these circumstances, fit, upon the w^hole, that, if the power of decision, in doubtful matters, should be given to one rather than to the other^it should be with man that it is to rest — whatever number of exceptions there may be, in which, but lor the importance of the general rule, it would have been of advantage, that woman, in those cases, the wiser and more virtuous, were the decider. The power of decision, therefore, which, for the sake of peace, must be understood as resting somewhere, should rest with man ; but though it rest with him, it is onlj in unfortunate cases, as I before said, that the power of authoritative decision should be exercised. In the gene- ral circumstances of conjugal life, there should be absolute equality, because, where love should be equal, there should be that equal desire of conferring happiness, which is 2^4 PRACTICAL ETHICS, implied in equality of love ; and he, who, irom the mer^ wish of gratifying his feeling of superiority, can wilfully thwart a wish of her, whose wishes,^ — where they do not lead to any moral or prudential impropriety, — should be to him like his own, or even dearer than his own, if they do not truly become his wishes, when known to be hers, — would deserve no slight punishment, as the viola- tor of conjugal obligation, if he were not almost suffi- ciently punished in the very want of that better affec- tion, the delightful feeling of which would have saved him from his tyranny of power. " The husband, it has been said, should decide, in af- fairs of im])ortance, — the wife in smaller matters. But the husband should decide, in consulting his wife, — the wife in seeking what is to please her husband. Let them learn, often, the pleasure of mutual concessions. Let them say often, 1 wish this because it is right ; but let them say sometimes, too, 1 wish this much, because I love you.""* The great evil in matrimonial life, is the cessation of those cares, which were regarded as necessary for ob- taining love, but which are unfortunately conceived to be less necessary, when love is once obtained. The care- lessnesses of a husband, are not less severely felt, how- ever, because they are the neglects of one whose atten- tions are more valuable, as he who offers them is more valued ; and frequent inattentions, by producing frequent displeasure, may at last, though they do not destroy love wholly, destroy the best happiness of love. No advice can be more salutary for happiness, than that which re- commends an equal attention to please, and anxiety not to offend, after twenty years of wedlock, as when it was the object of the lover to awake the passion, on which he conceived every enjoyment of his life to depend. We ♦St. Lambert, Oeuv. Pbil. Tome III. p. 38. ON THE CONJUGAL RELATION. 226 gain at least as much, in preserving a heart,^as in con- quering one. The cessation of these cares would be, of itself, no slight evil, even though love had originally been less profuse of then), than it usually is, in the extravagance of an unreflecting passion. She who has been worshipped as a goddess, must feel doubly the insult of the neglect which afterwards disdains to bestow on her the common honor that is paid to woman ; and with the ordinary pas- sions of a human being, it will be diflicult for her to re- tain, — I will not say love, for that is abandoned, — but the decorous and dignified semblance of love, for him who has cared little for the reality of it. It is not easy to say by how insensible a transition, in many cases, this conjugal resentment, or forced indifference, passes into conjugal infidelity ; — though it is easy, in such a case, to determine, to whom the greater portion of the guilt is to be ascribed. But it will perhaps be said, love is not dependent on our mere will — and how can we continue to love one, whom no effort of ours can prevent us from discovering to be unworthy of our continued affection ? But by whom is this objection usually made ? — Not by those, who, in engaging to love, and honor, and cherish during life, have been careful in considering who it was, to whom they entered under this solemn engagement. It is, in almost every instance, the objection of those, who, when they formed the engagement, made a vow, of the real import of which they were regardless ; and who after- wards dare to plead one crime as the justification of an- other. There are duties of marriage, which begin before the marriage itself, in the provision that is made for matrimonial virtue and happiness ; and he who neglects the means of virtuous love, in a state of which virtuous love is to be the principal charm, is far more 226 PRACTICAL ETHICS. inconsiderate, and far more guilty, than the heedless producer of misery, who forms a matrimonial connection without the prospect of any means of subsistence, for one who is to exist with him only to suffer with him in indigence, and for the little sufferers who are afterwards to make indigence still more painfully felt. He who has vowed to love one, to whom he pledges love only be- cause he knows that she is worthy of such a pledge, will not afterwards have reason to complain of the difficulty of loving the unworthy. If, however, it be necessary for man to be careful to whom he engages himself by a vow so solemn, it is sure- ly not less necessary for the gentler tenderness of wo- man. She, too, has duties to fulfil, that depend on love, or at least that can be sweetened only by lore ; and when she engages to perform them where love is not felt, she is little aware of the precariousness of such a pledge, and of the perils to which she is exposing herself. It is truly painful, then, to see, in the intercourse of the world, how seldom affection is considered as a necessary matrimonial preliminary, — at least in one of the parties, and in the one to whom it is the more necessary ; and how much quicker the judgment of fathers, mothers, friends, is to estimate the wealth or the worldly dignity, than the wisdom or the virtue, which they present as a lit offering to her, whom wealth and worldly dignity may render only weaker and more miserable, but whom wisdom might counsel, and virtue cherish. It is painful to see one, who has in other respects, perhaps, many moral excellencies, consent, as an accomplice in this fraud, to forego the moral delicacy, which condemns the apparent sale of affection, that is not to be sold, — rejoice in the splendid sacrifice which is thus made of her peace, — consign her person to one whom she despises, with the same indifference as she consigns her hand^ — a prostitute ON THE CONJUGAL RELATION. 227 lor gold, not less truly because the prostitution is to be for life, and not less criminally a prostitute, because le the guilt and meanness of the pecuniary barter, are ad- ded the guilt of a mockery of tenderness, that wishes to deceive man, and the still greater guilt of a perjury, that, in vows which the heart belies, would wish to de- ceive God, on whom it calls to sanction the deceit. When marriages are thus formed, it is not tor the suf- ferer to complain, if she find that she has acquired a few more trappings of wealth, but not a husband. She has her house, her carriage, and the living machines that are paid to wait around her and obey her ; she takes rank in public spectacles, and presides, in her own mansion, in spectacles as magnificent ; she has obtained all she wish- ed to obtain ; — and the affection and happiness, which she scorned, she must leave to those who sought them. " There is a place on the earth," it has been said, " where pure joys are unknown — from which politeness is banished, and has given place to selfishness, contradiction, and halt-veiled insults. Remorse and inquietude, like furies that are never weary of assailing, torment the in- habitants. This place is the house of a wedded pair, who have no mutual love nor even esteem. — There is a place on the earth, to which vice has no entrance, — where the gloomy passions have no empire, — where pleasure and innocence live constantly together, — where cares and labors are delightful, — where every pain ie forgotten in reciprocal tenderness, — where there is an equal enjoyment of the past, the present, and the future. It is the house, too, of a wedded pair — but of a pair who;, in wedlock, are lovers still."* ♦ St. Lambert, OeuY. Phil. Tome IL p. 6«. ( 228 ) CHAPTER XZX. On the Parental and Filial Relations. 1. Duty and Rights of Parents, " 1. Maintenance. The wants of children make it ne- cessary that some person maintain them ; and, as no one has a right to burden others by his act, it follows, that the parents are bound to undertake this charge themselves. Hence we learn the guilt of those who run away from their families, or, (what is much the same,) in consequence of idleness or drunkenness, throw them upon a parish ; or who leave them destitute at their death, when, by diligence and frugality, they might have laid up a provision for their support. 2. Education, Education may comprehend every pre- paration that is made in our youth for the sequel of our lives. Some such preparation is necessary for children of all conditions, because, without it, they must be mise- rable, and probably will be vicious, when they grow up. To send an uneducated child into the world, is injurious to the rest of mankind ; it is little better than to turn out a mad dog or a wild beast into the streets, in the infe- rior classes of the community, this principle condemns the neglec* of parents, who do not inure their children betimes to labor and restraint. In the middle orders of society, those parents are the most reprehensible, who neither qualify their children for a profession, nor enable them to live without one."* The following remarks of a writer in the New Edin- burgh Encyclopedia, are worthy the attention of every parent : *Paley*s Moral Philosophy, Book III. Part III. Chap. ». PARBNTAL AND FILIAL RELATIONS. 229 " !q every judicious system of moral education, few thiogsare more deserving of attention than the formation of habits. The great object to be aimed at in early culture, is the complete occupation of the mind by some employ- ment which may lay the foundation of useful habits in after life ; or, at least, may prevent the formation of such as are wrong. And where bad habits have been ac- quired, they are not to be conquered by the power of argument or of demonstration ; they are to be overcome only through the influence of some counteracting prac- tice, which must be made sufficiently interesting to en- gage the feelings, and abstract the attention from the hurtful habits which have engrossed it. To effect a re- formation in such circumstances, is a work of extreme difficulty ; but it ought not to be abandoned in despair. The most pernicious habits have often been acquired from the want of congenial employment ; for if a man is either idle or forced to do what he dislikes, he has every chance to seek for pleasure from forbidden gratifications. We should think it advisable to give every young person who is not condemned to manual labor, as many securi- ties as possible againit the formation of evil habits; and ample resources are furnished in cultivating the pleas- ures of taste, or in the departments of the arts, or of polite literature, or of scientific research. Anc} we be- lieve it has often happened, that, from injudicious re- straints, or from the mind's being forced into an unnatu- ral channel, the worst consequences have been produced ; and the young have been led to seek from vice, that plea- sure which might have been found more pure and ample in congenial occupations"* ^^3. A reasonable prevision for the happiness of a child ^ in respect to outward condition. This requires three * See the article '* Moral Philosophy/* in the New Edinbargh Eocy 6lopedia. V 238 PRACTICAL ETHICS* 4 things : a situation suited to his habits and reasonable ex- pectations ; a competent provision for the exigencies of that situation ; and a probable security for his virtue. In the disposal of his property after his death, a pa- rent is justified in making a difference between his child- ren according as they stand in greater or less need of the assistance of his fortune, in consequence of the differ- ence of their age or sex, or of the situations in which they are placed, or the various success they have met with. On account of the few lucrative employments which are left to the female sex, and by consequence the little opportunity they have of adding to their income, daugh- ters ought to be the particular objects of a parent's care and foresight ; and as an option of marriage, from which they can reasonably expect happiness, is not presented to every woman who deserves it, a father should endeavor to enable his daughters to lead a single life with independ- ence and decorum, even though he subtract more for that purpose from the portions of his sons than is agreeable to modern usage, or than they expect. If the rest of the community make it a rule to prefer sons to daughters, an individual of that community ought to guide himself by the same rule, upon principles of mere equality, — when it does not interfere with the weightier reason explained in the last paragraph. For, as the son suffers by the rule, in the fortune he may ex- pect in marriage, it is but reasonable that he should re- ceive the advantage of it in bis own inheritance. In- deed, whatever the rule be, as to the preference of one sex to the other, marriage restores the equality. After the first requisite, namely, a provision for the exigencies of his situation, is satisfies], a parent may di- minish a child's portion, in order to punish any flagrant crime, or to punish contumacy and want of filial duty. PARENTAL AND FILIAL RELATIONS. 361 Our children gain not so much as we imagine, in the chance of this world's happiness, or even of its external prosperity, by setting out in it with large capitals. Of those who have died rich, a great part began with little. And, in respect of enjoyment, there is no comparison be- tween a fortune, which a man acquires by well-applied in- dustry, or by a series of successes in his business, and one found in his possession, or received from another. A principal part of a parent's duty is still behind, vi«. the using of proper precautions and expedients, in order to form and preserve his children's virtue. For this purpose, the first point to be endeavored af- ter is, to impress upon children the idea of accountabler ness^ that is, to accustom them to look forward to the con- sequences of their actions in another world ; which can only be brought about by the parents' visibly acting with a view to these consequences themselves. Parents, to do them justice, are seldom sparing in lessons of virtue and religion ; in admonitions which cost little, and which profit less ; while their example exhibits a continual con- tradiction of what they teach. A good parent's first care is to be virtuous himself ; his second, to make his virtues as easy and engaging to those about him as their nature will admit. Virtue itself offends, whea coupled with for- bidding manners. Young minds are particularly liable to these unfortunate impressions. For instance, if a father's economy degenerate into a minute and teaming parsimo- ny, it is odds but that the son, who has sufi'ered under it, set out a sworn enemy to all rules of order and frugality. If a father's piety be morose, rigorous, and tinged with melancholy, perpetually breaking in upon the recreation of his family, and surfeiting them with the language of religion upon all occasions, there is danger lest the son ©arry from borne with him a settled prejudice against se- t35 PRACTICAL ETHICIS, xiousness and religion, and turn out, when he mixes with the world, a character of levity or dissoluteness."* " The rights of parents result from their duties. If it be the duty of a parent to educate his children, to form them for a life of usefuhiess and virtue, he ha«s a right to such authority, and in support of that authority to ex- ercise such discipline, as may be necessary for these pur- poses. The law of nature acknowledges no other foun- dation of a parent's right over his children."! II. Duty of Children. " The duly of children may be considered, 1. During Childhood. The submission of children dur- ing ihis period must be ready and implicit, with an ex- ception, however, of any manifest crime which may be commanded them. 2. Jlfier they have attained to manhood^ but continue in their father'^s family. If children, when they are grown up, voluntarily continue members of their father's family, they are bound, beside the general duty of gratitude to their parents, to observe such regulations of the family as the father shall appoint ; contribute their labor to its support, if required ; and confine themselves to such ex- penses as he shall allow. 3. After they have attained to manhood.^ and have left their father'^s Jamily. In this state of the relation, the duty to parents is simply the duty of gratitude ; not dif- ferent in kind^ from that which we owe to any other be- nefactor ; in degree^ just ?o much exceeding other obli- gations, as a parent has been a greater benefactor than any other friend."| It is an important question, how far the authority of #Paley's Moral Philos. Book III. Part III. Chap. 9. tlbid. Chap. 10. % Ibid. Ciiap. 11 PARENTAL AND FILIAL RELATIONS. 233 pareuts over children extends in regard to forming the marriage connection. 1. In the first phice, parents have a right, as long as their children are under age, to forbid their forming any particular connection which they disapprove, or, if they think proper, to forbid their marrying at all. Whether they have a right to prohibit all intercourse between the parties during this period, is not quite so clear ; but must, I think, be conceded. Children, in this case, are, generally speaking, bound to regard their parents as more competent to judge of the expediency and proprie- ty of a particular connection, than thenfiSelves. It is, therefore, not only their duty, when their parents require it, to abstain from all intercourse, personal or epistola- ry, but also to control their affections, so far, at least, that the attachment they have formed shall not unfit them, in any degree, tor the discharge of the duties which they owe to their parents, or retard them in the attainment of such education as their parents may think proper to give them. The child is not bound, however, to relinquish all idea of ever marrying the ob- ject of his affection. If, upon coming of age and renew- ing his acquaintance, he finds that the same preference and attachment still continue, the restrictions which his parents have imposed are no longer binding ; nor will they, if they have just views of the extent of their authority, any longer attempt to oppose his inclination, otherwise than by persuasion and advice Nor ought a child, who marries against his parents' wishes, to suffer in their af- fection or their fortune, any farther than, by such a mar- riage, he gives evidence of an unworthy charncter. It may, perhaps, be objected, that as " a parent has, in no case, a right to destroy his child''s happiness," and as' attachments are sometimes formed at an early age, so rong and unconquerable that the parties must be wretch. u2 e ^B4r PRACTICAL ETHICS. ed without each other, to forbid their marriage for a pe- riod of four or five years, and especially to prohibit all intercourse between them during that period, is exceed- ing the limits of the parent's authority ; and that, there- fore, the child, in such a case, is released from his obli- gation to obey. On a case of this kind, several remarks may be made. In the first place, it is an error to suppose that the at- tachment of the sexes is ever unconquerable, if proper means are taken to overcome it. The chief difficulty in controlling or overcoming an attachment, arises from a fixed belief in the parties themselves, that they cannot overcome it. This false and dangerous notion is deriv- ed chiefly from the reading of novels ; and is one of the mischievous effects produced by the indulgence, in youth, of an indiscriminate perusal of that class of writings. Besides, " it is the nature of love and hatred, and of all violent affections, to delude the mind with a persuasion that we shall always continue to feel them as we feel them at present: we cannot conceive that they will either change or cease. But experience of similar or greater changes in ourselves, or a habit of giving credit to what our, parents, or tutors, or books teach us, may control this persuasion."* Those romantic ideas of " irresistible love" and of " invincible and eternal attachment," ought to be banished from every rational mind, and especially ought never to be suffered to take possession of the minds of the young. Perhaps I shall be reminded how many have been made wretched lor life, and how many have lost their reason,in consequence of disappointment in love. It is probable that most of these cases have taken place in consequence of the pernicious practice of novel- reading, and through a criminal indulgence of passion in PARENTAL AND FILIAL RELATIONS. 235 the individual. But however this may be, those may be presumed to have been all cases, in which the disap- pointment was total, the hope of a connection forever abandoned, and the lover driven to despair. Now, 1 have only requirf;d the parties to suspend their inter- course till they are of age ; and if a girl will die of a broken heart because she cannot marry till she is eigh- teen, it cannot be a very great loss to the public. In the second place 1 would remark, that so violent an attachment at so early an age, is one of the most weighty reasons why the parties should not be suffered immedi- ately to marry. It is an indication of rashness and want of judgment; and is less likely to be lasting, than a pas- sion that is more moderate and more easily controlled. A third remark is, that if it will be four or five years before the parties will be of age, they are too young to be capable of making a judicious choice, have not yet had time to obtain a proper education, and cannot yet be qualified to discharge the duties connected with the mar- ried state, if we suppose a year or two added to their age, the period will be so much the shorter that they will have to wait, before they will be at liberty to act for themselves. 2. But it may he inquired, whether, in so important an affair as that of marriage, the authority of parents over their children, especially over their daughters, does not extend beyond the period of their minority. 1 reply, that important as the affair is, it is far more so to the parties themselves, than it can be to their parents ; and if they are allowed to act for themselves in other things, they certainly ought to be in this. — ' But are not daughters under the authority of their parents as long as they con- tinue in their father's family ?' They are bound to ob- serve all the regulations of the family ; and so they would be " if they were admitted into any other family, or re- ^ S3^ PRACTICAL ETHICS. ceived support from any other hand." But they are not bound to continue in the family any longer than they please ; neither can parents, without impropriety and in- humanity, forbid any gentleman's entering their house to visit a daughter, unless his moral character be bad, or they have reason to suspect him of dishonorable views. Parents have no more right to forbid a daughter to re- ceive company at their house, or to be absent at any hour she may choose, than they have to do the same in the case of any other female who may become a member of the family. " Still less have parents a right to urge their cliildren upon marriages to which thpy are averse ; nor ought they, in any shape, to resent the child's disobedience to such commands. This is a diflerent case from opposing a match of inclination, because the child's misery is a much more probable consequence ; it being easier to live without a person that we love, than with one whom we hale. Add to this, that compulsion in marriage necessa- rily leads to prevarication ; as the reluctant party promi- ses an affection, which neither exists, nor is expected to take place ; and parental, like all human authority, ceases at the point where obedience becomes criminal."* 1 close this subject with one remark. The gratitude which children owe to their parents, ought to lead them to consult their wishes and feelings, both while they re- main in the family and afterwards, and both in the choice of a companion and in other things, as far as they can consistently with duty and their own interest, and even to make some sacrifices of comfort and of interest, rather than render a parent unhappy. Children ought, also, in most cases, to pay that deference to their parents' judg- ment and advice, which is due to superior age and expe- * Ibid. THE RIGHTS OF SELP-DEFENCE. 23T rience ; — especially if their parents have shown them- selves worthy of their confidence and esteem, by the ed- ucation they have given them, the example they have set before them, and the provision they have made for their happiness. CHAPTSR Z3C. The Rights of Self-Defence. " There is one case in which all extremes are justifia- ble ; namely, when our life is assaulted, and it becomes necessary for our preservation to kill the assailant. This liberty is restrained to cases in which no other probable means of preserving our life remain, as flight, calling for assistance, disarming the adversary, &c. The instance which approaches the nearest to the preservation of life, and which seems to justify the same extremities, is the defence of chastity. Homicide is also justifiable, 1. To prevent the commission of a crime, which, when committed, would be punishable with death. Thus, it is lawful to shoot a highwayman, or one attempting to break into a house by night; but not so if the attempt be made in the day time. 2, In necessary endeavors to carry the law into execu- tion, as in suppressing riots, apprehending malefactors preventing escapes, &c."* There is one case which presents some difficulty, and can seldom happen ; but which is worthy of consideia- tion on account of the principle which it involves. How * Paley's Mor. Philos. Book IV. Chap. 1. *238 PRACTICAL ETHICS. is the right of self-defence, or rather of self-preserratioi, to be adjusted, " where two persons are reduced to a situ- tion, in which one or both of them must perish ; as in a shipwreck, where two seize upon a plank which will sup- port only one ?" According to Dr. Paley, each has a right to save his own life and take that of the other. Of course, since " right and obligation are reciprocals''''^ each is un- der obligation to yield up his own life to save that of the other. But to be serious, it seems that the doctrine of " public utility" might have led to a different conclusion. According to this principle, each of the two ought to consider which life is likely to be most useful to the pub- lic. Or is the obligation to consult the public good bind- ing no farther than while that good coincides with one's private interest ? If a man is not under obligation to part with his life for the public good, neither is he under obligation to expose his life to any hazard, or to make any sacrifice whatever, for the public good. I conclude, therefore, that in such cases as that stated, if both or either of the parties is able to form an opinion which life is likely to be the most valuable to the world, it is their duty to save that life and sacrifice the other. Where the one has a family dependent on his care and support, and the other has not, this might be sufficient to decide the question. in what 1 have said on this subject, I have gone on the supposition that both parties arc in the same situation in respect to being prepared for a future state. If the one is pious and the other not, the case becomes more difficult. I think, however, that in this case, the pious man ought to resign his life to save that of the other ; informing him of his motives for so doing, and exhorting him, with his last words, to devote the remainder of his life to the service of God. * See p. 182. ( 239 ) CHiLFTER XXZ. Drunkenness. " Drunkenness is either actual or habitual ; just as it i« •ne thing to be drunk, and another to be a drunkard. What we shall deliver upon the subject must principally be understood of a habit of intemperance. The mischief of drunkenness, from which we are t« eompute the guilt of it, consists in the following bad eflfects : 1. It betrays most constitutions either to extravagaa- oes of anger, or sins of lewdness. 2. It disqualifies men for the duties of their station, both by the temporary disorder of their faculties, and at length by a constant incapacity and stupefaction. 3. It is attended with expenses, which can often be ill spared. 4. It is sure to occasion distress to the family of the drunkard. 5. It shortens life. To these consequences of drunkenness must be added the peculiar danger and mischief of the example. Drunk- enness is apt, beyond any vice that can be mentioned, to draw in others by the example. I would expostulate with the drunkard thus : Do you say the waste of time and money is of small importance to you ? It may be of the utmost to some one or other whom your soci- ety corrupts. Do you say that you have a constitu- tion fortified against the poison of strong liquors ? Those excesses, which hurt not your health, may be fatal to your companion. Do you say that you have neither wife, nor child, nor parent, to lament your absence from home, or expect your return to it with terror ? Other families, in which husbands and fathers have been invited to share is J40 PRACTICAL ETHICS, your ebriety, or encouraged to imitate it, may justly lay their misery or ruin at your door. This will hold good, whether the person seduced be seduced immediately by you, or the vice be propagated from you to him through several intermediate examples. All these considerations it is necessary to assemble, to judge truly of a vice, which usually meets with milder names and more indulr gence than it deserves. Drunkenness is repeatedly forbidden by St. Paul : ''Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess." " Let us walk honestly as in the day, not in rioting and drunken- ness." " Be not deceived : neither fornicators, nor drunkards^ nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God."* The same Apostle likewise con- demns drunkenness, as peculiarly inconsistent with the christian profession : " They that be drunken, are drunk- en in the night ; but let us, who are of the day, be so- ber."! It is a question of some importance, how far drunken- ness is an excuse for the crimes which the drunken per- son commits. In the solution of this question, w^ will first suppose the drunken person to be altogether deprived of moral agency, that is to say, of all reflection and foresight. The guilt with which he is chargeable, was incurred at the time when he voluntarily brought himself into this situation. And as every man is responsible for the con- sequences which he foresaw, or might have foreseen, those vices which are the known effects of drunkenness, are nearly ns criminal as if committed with all his faculties and senses about him. If the privation of reason be on- ly partial, the guilt will be of a mixed nature. » Eph. V. 18. Rom. xiii. 13. 1 Cor. y'u 9, 10. 1 1 Thess. V. 1j 8. DRUNKENNESS, 241 The appetite for intoxicating liquors appears to me to be almost always acquired, — If a habit of drmikenness be ever overcome, it is upon some change of place, situ- ation, company, or profession. A man sunk deep in a habit of drunkenness, will, when he finds himself loosen- ed from the associations which held him fast, sometimes make a plunge, and get out. In a matter of so great im- portance, it is well worth while, where it is in any de- gree practicable, to change our habitation and society, for the sake of the experiment. Habits of drunkenness commonly take their rise either from a fondness for, and connection with, some compan}^, or some companion, already addicted to this practice; or from want of regular employment ; or from grief, or fa- tigue, both which strongly solicit that relief which ine- briating liquors administer, and also furnish a specious excuse for complyhig with the inclination. But the ha- bit, when once set in, is continued by different motives from those to which it owes its origin. Persons addict- ed to excessive drinking, suffer, in the intervals of sobri- ety, and near the return of their accustomed indulgence, a faintness and oppression, which it exceeds the ordinary patience of human nature to endure. This is usually re- lieved for a short time by a repetition of the same ex- cess ; and to this relief, as to the removal of every long- continued pain, they who have once experienced it, are urged almost beyond the power of resistance. This is not all : as the liquor loses its stimulus^ the dose must be increased, which increase proportionably accelerates the progress of all the maladies that drunkenness brings on. Whoever reflects upon the violence of the craving in the advanced stages of the habit, and the fatal termination to which the gratification of it leads, will, the moment he perceives in himself the first symptoms of a growing in- cliDatioQ to intemperance," firmly and solemnly resolve 242 PRACTICAL ETHICS. never more to touch the intoxicating howl. " Indefinite resolutions of ahstemiousness are apt to yield to extraor- dinary occasions ; and extraordinary occasions to occur perpetually. Whereas, the stricter the rule is, the more tenacious we grow of it." The only rational hope of safe- ty is in total abstinence.*' And, generally speaking, there is no hope that a man who is addicted to excessive drink- ing, will totally abstain from the use of ardent spirits, un- less he not only firmly and solemnly resolve so to do, hut also resolve to avoid every thing which might tempt him to break that resolution. There is a difference, no doubt, between convivial intemperance, and that solitary sottishness which waits neither for company nor invitation. But the one most commonly ends in the other ; and this last is the basest degradation to which the faculties and dignity of human nature can be reduced."! The degree in which intemperance prevails in our country, and the many and great evils which it draws in its train, will excuse a few additional remarks. For al- though much has been written, and well written, on the subject, yet a fiiend to human happiness can hardly feel justified in neglecting an opportunity for saying or doing any thing which may be likely to check, in any measure, the prevalence of so baneful a practice. Little hope, indeed, is to be indulged of the reformation of those who have already formed a habit of intemperate drinking. But it would seem as if we might hope, that the virtuous part of the community would be willing to make some efforts, and, if necessary, some sacrifices, to save them* selves and their children from being drawn into this vor- tex. The present generation of drunkards will soo» »See p. 11©. t Paley's Moral Philosophy, Book IV. Chap. 2. DRUNKENNESS. 243 pass oflf the stage ; and their fate is comparatively of lit- tle importance, if all the vice and wretchedness which are produced by intemperance, could be buried with them in the grave, a new era would commence in our land. And how can this event be secured ? By bring- ing up all the children that are now on the stage, and that shall hereafter be born, in total abstinence from the use of ardent spirits. If they never drank any they would never need any^ — except for a medicinal purpose, in case of sickness. Few, I think, will dispute the truth of this proposition. The experiment has been sufficiently tri- ed. Neither health, nor happiness is promoted by even the moderate use of ardent spirits. How much money, then, might be spared for better purposes, and how much vice and wretchedness might be prevented I But 1 would go farther. Most of those who are now in the habit of drinking spirituous liquor in such quantities as it has been customary for temperate men to use, might totally ab- stain without impairing their health, strength, or happi- ness. How can he be called a friend to virtue or to man- kind, who is not willing to make the experiment for a few months ? And let those who find they receive injury from total abstinence, reduce the quantity which they ha- bitually drink, as much as they can without injury. Both these have been done, in many instances, and the result has been happy. The vicious and the profane hare sometimes derided; but even they can seldom avoid be- ing influenced, more or less, by the example of those whose virtue and merits command their respect. The course 1 have recommended, will require no sa- crifice on the part of young children, and not much in those who are several years of age. As to adults, admit that it is a sacrifice, and that sell-denial will be, for a while, required ; what is this to the magnitude of the object ? That man is unworthy of the name, who is euch 244 PRACTICAL ETHIOS. an enemy to his species, and so grossly selfish, that he will not deny himself a small sensual indulgence, for the sake of promoting the public good. But there are many who are thus grossly selfish, and who will not submit to self-denial for the sake of the pub- lic good. Such must be made to feel that it is for their own interest, to shun the paths of intemperance. 1 do not mean their eternal interest, for that they disregard. They must be made to feel that the temporal and the pre- sent evils of intemperance, are too dear a price to pay for the pleasures of drinking. Nor is the prospect of ruining their health, shortening their life, and bringing poverty and distress upon their families, sufficient. Ma- ny form a habit of drinking, though aware of the dan- ger ; and persist in this habit, though with the fullest conviction that such must be the dreadful result. The intemperate man, even in the early stages of the habit, must be made to suffer present evils, and those of no small magnitude. The method I would recommend, is this. Let every person who drinks intemperately, whether he has become a confirmed drunkard or not, be excluded from the society of all sober people. Let no one offer him any employment, or have any dealings with him. Let him never be beheld, except with the aspect of pity, or the frown of disapprobation. Ant let him never be spoken to, except in a way that shall make him the more deeplj^ feel, that he has lost the favor of God and of man. It would be well, if a tax were laid on ardent spirits, so heavy, as to nii^ke the price of them tenfold what it now is. Many drunkards would thus be unable to obtain them ; and others would reduce themselves to poverty before they were past the hope of reformation. Many would also be prevented from ever forming a habit of intemperance. — But perhaps it is too much to hope SUICIDE. 245 that our legislators will at present impose such a tax. Indeed, if the laws already in existence in New-England for the suppression of intemperance, were rigorously enforced, much evil would be prevented. A neglect to enforce these laws, is scarcely less criminal than drunk- enness itself. And retailers of ardent spirits, who sell to those whom they know to be intemperate, appear to be as selfish, and as worthy to be reprobated, as the drunkards whose vices they encourage. — But it is on the more virtuous part of the community, that we must chiefly depend for the cure of this evil. Though they may not be able to procure the enactment of more ef- fectual laws, or even the enforcement of the laws al- ready in being, yet they may do much toward making every intemperate man an outcast from all respectable society. This would be the means of reforming many, and would inspire the rising generation with a proper ab- horrence and dread of intemperance. CHAPTER XXII. Suicide. The unlawfulness of suicide appears from the following considerations : 1. Suicide is unlawful on account of its general conse^ quences. It is evident, that, it it were to become a com- mon thing, the injury to the public must be very great. ^ Many lives would be lost, of which some might be use- ful and important ; many families would be brought into the deepest affliction, and all into a state of consterna- tion. Mankind would live in continual alarm for the fate of their friends and dearest relations.' x2 246 PRACTICAL ETHIdS* 2. Suicide is unlawful, because it is the duty of the self-murderer to live in the world, and be useful in it. We may venture to say, that there is no case where a person ought to despair ol ever again being able to do any good on earth. 3. Suicide is unlawful, because, beside the general bad consequences, there are particular bad consequen- ces, more or less numerous, attending on every case of the commission of this crime. 4. Suicide is unlawful, because he who commits it, deprives himself of all farther opportunity to prepare for happiness in a future state. The self-murderer takes away his life to escape from the evils he endures in this world ; and plunges into an abyss of inconceivable sor- row and despair. Finally, suicide is unlawful, because it is inconsistent with the spirit and temper of the gospel. This will be made evident from the following observations. " 1. Human life is spoken of in the New Testament as a term assigned or prescribed to us-. " Let us run with patience the race that is set before us." — '^ 1 have finish- ed my course." — " That I may finish my course with joy." — " Ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise." These expressions appear inconsistent with the opinion, that we are at liberty to determine the duration of our lives for ourselves. 2, There is not one quality which Christ and his apos- tles inculcate upon their followers so often, or so earnest- ly, as that of patience under affliction. Now this virtue would have been in a great measure superseded, and the exhortations to it might have been spared, if the disci- ples of his religion had been at liberty to quit the world as soon as they grew weary of the ill usage which they received in it. •N PRAYER AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 247 3. The conduct of the apostles, and of the Christians of the apostolic age, affords no obscure indication of their sentiments upon this point. They lived, we are sure, in a confirmed persuasion of the existence, as well as of the happiness of a future state. They experien- ced in this world every extremity of external injury and distress. To die, was gain. The change which death brought with it was, in their expectation, infinitely be- neficial. Yet it never, that we can find, entered into the intention of one of them to hasten this change by an act of suicide ; from which it is difficult to say what motive could have so universally withheld them, except the ap- prehension of some unlawfulness in the expedient."* CHAFTER XXZZZ. On Prayer and Public Worship. " Our duty towards God, so far as it is external, is di- vided into worship and reverence. God is the immediate object of both ; and the difference between them is, that the one consists in action, and the other in forbearance. When we go to church on the Lord's day, led thither by a sense of duty towards God, we perform an act of wor- ship ; when, from the same motive, we rest in a journey upon that day, we discharge a duty of reverence."t I. Prayer. " Prayer is necessary to keep up, in the minds of man- kind, a sense of God's agency in the universe, and of their own dependency upon him. The duty of prayer, however, depends upon its efficacy. The efficacy of *Paley's Moral Philosophy, Book IV. Chap. ^. Ibid. Book V. Chap. 1. 248 PRACTICAL ETHICS. prayer imports that we obtain something in consequence of praying, which we should not have received without prayer; against all expectation of which, the following objection has been often and seriously alleged : ^ If what we request be fit for us, we shall have it without praying ; if it be not fit for us, we cannot obtain it by praying.' This objection admits but of one answer, namely, that it may be agreeable to perfect wisdom to grant that to our prayers, which it would not Lave been agreeable to the same wisdom to have given us without praying for. 1. A favor granted to prayer may be more apt, on that very account, to produce good effects upon the person obliged. 2. It may be consistent with the wisdom of the Deity, to withhold his favors till they be asked for, as an expe- dient to encourage devotion in his rational creation, in order thereby to keep op and circulate a knowledge and sense of their dependency upon him, 3. Prayer has a natural tendency to amend the peti- tioner himself. But efficacy, we are told, is ascribed to prayer with- out that proof which can alone in such a subject produce conviction, the confirmation of experience. It is possi- ble, in the nature of things, that our prayers may, in many instances, be efficacious, and yet our experience of their efficacy be dubious and obscure." Though the particular favors that are asked be not granted, yet other favors may be bestowed in consequence of our prayers ; and such, perhaps, as will be more beneficial to us. — But it is said, that " to pray for particular favors by name, is to dictate to divine wisdom and goodness." Not if we pray with that submissive temper, with which every petition ought to be offered.* It is farther objected, that " to in- *See Luke xxii. 42. ON PRAYER AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 249 tercede for others, especially for whole nations and em- pires, is still worse ; that it is to presunne that we possess such an interest with the Deity, as to be able, by our ap- plications, to bend the most importaut of his counsels."" But to bestow blessings on some in answer to the prayers of others, '^ is nothing more than the making of one man the instrument of happiness and misery to another ; which is perfectly of a piece with the course and order that ob- tain, and which we must believe were intended to obtain, in human affairs. The happiness and misery of great numbers we see oftentimes at the disposal of one man's choice, or liable to be much affected by his conduct : what greater diflSculty is there in supposing, that the prayers of an individual may avert a calamity from mul- titudes, or be accepted to the benefit of whole communi- ties ?"* " The scriptures require prayer ta God as a duty ; and they contain positive assurance of its efficacy and acceptance. See the following passages : 1. Texts enjoining prayer in general. Matt. vii. 7, 11 ; Luke xxi. 36 ; Rom. xii. 12; Phil. iv. 6 ; 1 Thess. T. 17;, 1 Tim. ii. 8. 2. Examples of prayer for particular favors by name. 2 Cor. xii. 8; 1 Thess. iii. 10. 3. Directions to pray for national or public blessings. Ps. cxxii. 6 ; Zech. x. 1 ; 1 Tim. ii. 1-3. 4. Examples of intercession, and exhortations to in- tercede for others. Ex. xxxii. 1 1 ; Acts xii. 5 ; Rom. i. 9; XV. 30 ; James v. 16. 6. Declarations and examples authorizing the repeti- tion of unsuccessful prayer. Luke xviii. 1 ; Matt. xxvi% 44 ; 2 Cor. xii. 8."t II. Private Prayer. " Concerning private, family, and public devotion, it is first of all to be observed, that each has its separate and » Paley's Mor. Philos. Book V. Chap. 2. f Ibid. Chap. 3. 25d PRACTICAL ETHICS. peculiar use ; and therefore, that the exercise of one spe- cies of worship, however regular it be, does not super- sede, or dispense with, the obligation of either of the other two. Private Prayer is recommended for the sake of the following advantages : Private wants cannot always be made the subject of public prayer. Private prayer is generally more devout and earnest than the share we are capable of taking in joint acts of worship ; because it affords leisure and opportunity for the circumstantial recollection of those personal wants, by the remembrance and ideas of which the warmth and earnestness of prayer are chiefly excited. Private prayer, in proportion as it is usually accompa- nied with more actual thought and reflection of the pe- titioner's own, has a greater tendency than other modes of devotion to revive and fasten upon the mind the gen- eral impressions of religion. Solitude powerfully assists this effect. When a man finds himself alone in commun- ion with his Creator, his imagination becomes filled with a conflux of awful ideas concerning the universal agen- cy, and invisible presence, of that Being ; concerning what is likely to become of himself, and of the superla- lative importance of providing for the happiness of his future existence, by endeavors to please Aim, who is the arbiter of his destiny : reflections, which, whenever they gain admittance, for a season overwhelm all others ; and leave, when they depart, a solemnity upon the thoughts that will seldom fail, in some degree, to affect the con- duct of life. Private prayer, thus recommended by its own propri- ety, receives a superior sanction from the authority and example of Christ.* *See Matt. vi. 6; xiv. 23. eN PRAYER AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 251 III. Family Prayer. The peculiar use of family prayer consists in its influ- ence upon servants, and the young members of a family, whose attention you cannot easily command in public worship. IV. Public Worship. Assemblies for public worship afford opportunities for moral and religious instruction to those who otherwise would receive none." — Perhaps some one will say, ' I see no use in my going to church. 1 can spend the sabbath more to my benefit at home. Why should I be " obliged to sit out a tedious sermon, in order to hear what is known already, what is better learned from books, or suggested by meditation.' They, whose qualifications and habits best supply to themselves all the effect of public ordinan- ces, will be the last to prefer this excuse, when they ad- vert to the general consequence of setting up such an ex- emption, as well as when they consider the turn which is iure to be given in the neighborhood to their absence from public worship. You stay from church, to employ the sabbath at home in exercises suited to its proper bu- siness : your next neighbor stays from church, to spend the seventh day less religiously than he passed any of the six, in a sleepy, stupid rest, or at some rendezvous of drunkenness and debauchery, and yet thinks that he is only imitating you, because you both agree in not going to church. There are other valuable advantages growing out of the use of religious assemblies. 1. Joining in prayer and praises to their common Cre- ator and Governor, has a sensible tendency to unite man- kind together, and to cherish and enlarge the generous affections. Sprung from the same extraction, preparing together for the period of all worldly distinctions, re- minded of their mutual infirmities and common depen- 252 PRACTICAL ETHICS. dency, imploring and receiving support and supplies from the same great source of power and bounty, having all one interest to secure, one Lord to serve, one judgment, the supreme object to all of their hopes and fears, to look towards; it is hardly possible, in this position, to behold mankind as strangers, competitors, or enemies ; or not to regard them as children of the same family, assembled before their common parent, and with some portion of the tenderness which belongs to the most endearing of our domestic relations. 2. Assemblies for the purpose of divine worship, force upon the thoughts the natural equality of the human spe- cies, and thereby promote humility and condescension in the highest orders of the community. The public worship of Christians is a duty of divine appointment. '' Where two or three," says Christ, " are gathered together in my name, there am 1 in the midst of them."* This invitation will want nothing of the force of a command with those who respect the person and authority from which it proceeds. Again, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, " not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is ;"t which reproof seems as applicable to the desertion of our pub- lic worship at this day, as to the forsaking the religious assemblies of Christians in the age of the Apostle."J V. Forms of Prayer. ''Liturgies, or preconcerted forms of public devotion, being neither enjoined in scripture, nor forbidden, there can be no good reason for either receiving or rejecting them, but that of expediency ; which expediency is to be gathered from a comparison of the advantages and dis- advantages attending upon this mode of worship, with those which usually accompany extemporary prayer. * Matt, xviii. 20. f Heb. x. 2S. t Paley's Moral Philos. Book V. Chap. 4. ON PRAYER AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 253 The advantages of a liturgy are these : 1. That it prevents absurd and extravagant addresses to God." — So Dr. Paley. 1 would rather say, that men who cannot pray extempore without absurdity and ex- travagance, are unqualified for the christian ministry. " 2. That it prevents the confusion of extemporary prayer, in which the congregation, being ignorant of each petition before they hear it, and having little or no time to join in it after they have heard it, are confounded between their attention to ihe minister, and to their own devotion. ""—^The weight of this objection of Dr. Paley to extemporary prayer, must be judged of by experience. Nothing more seems necessary, however, to the devotion of a congregation, in time of prayer, than that each in- dividual distinctly perceive the ideas of the speaker, and have such feelings excited as correspond with those ideas. It is not found necessary, in other cases, that a man should know beforehand what he is going to hear, in order that it may have a proper effect on his feelings. When I converse with a friend, I can enter into all his various feelings, as he is uttoring sentence after sentence. Or when I hear an eloquent orator, he excites in my breast various emotions and passions, however rapid may be his elocution It would seem, therefore, by analogy, that extemporary prayer, if devout on the part of the speaker, may be so on the part of the hearers. 3. That it prevents the incoherence and needless repe- titions of extemporary prayer. This is an objection of weight. The incoherence of many extemporary prayers, which have, perhaps, no other fault, presents a serious obstacle to the devotion of them that join. " These advantages of a liturgy are connected with two principal inconveniences ; first, that forms of prayer composed in one age, become unfit for another, by the unavoidable change of language, circumstances, and 254 PRACTICAL ETHICS* Opinions ; secondly, tbat the perpetual repetition of the fame form of words, produces weariness and inaltentive- ness in the cong^regation. The Lord's Prayer is a precedent, as weii as a pattern, for forms of prayer, — The properties required in a pub- lic liturgy are, that it be compendious ; that it express just conceptions of the divine attributes ; that it recite such wants as a congregation are likely to feel, and no other ; and that it contain as few controverted proposi- tions as possible."* Of course, the same properties ar« required in extemporary prayer. CBAPTER XZZV* On the Sabbath. I. Use of Sabbatical Institutions. The advantages of sabbatical institutions are the fol- lowing : 1. " Sunday affords an interval of relaxation to the la- borious part of mankind. 2. Sunday leaves to men of all ranks and professions, sufficient leisure, and not more than what is sufficient, both for the external offices of Christianity, and the re- tired, but equally necessary, duties of religious medita* tion and inquiry. 3. They whose humanity embraces the whole sensi- tive creation, will esteem it no inconsiderable recom- mendation of a weekly return of public rest, that it af- fords a respite to the toil of brutes." 4. The institution of the sabbath, in connection with public worship, is promotive of mental and moral im- « Ibid. «hap. ». ON THE SAHBATM. 26fi provement, encourages a taste for reading, and conduces to cleanliness and neatness in the person and dress of the lower classes, and also to good manners and good order in society. These advantages are derived from the ob- servance of the sabbath, even supposing that they are unaccompanied with any religious improvement. Whoev- er reflects upon these and the other advantages that have been enumerated, '' must acknowledge the utility of the sabbath, and must consequently perceive it to be every man's duty to uphold the observance of the day when once established, let the establishment have proceeded from whom or from what authority it will."* II. T^e Christian Sabbath. " The practice of holding religious assemblies upon the first day of the week, was so early and universal in the Christian church, that it carries with it considerable proof of having originated from some precept of Christ or of his Apostles, though none such be now extant.t The duty of the christian sabbath is violated, 1. By the going of journeys, the paying or receiving of visits, or employing the time at home in writing let- ters, settling accounts, or in applying ourselves to studies, or to reading," conversing, or thinking on subjects, " which bear no relation to the business of religion. 2. By unnecessary encroachments upon the rest and liberty which Sunday ought to bring to the inferior orders of the community ; as by keeping servants on that day confined and busied in preparations lor the superfluous elegancies of our table or dress."J 3 By all recreations, even such as are innocent and allowable on other days. * Ibid. Chap. €. t See John, xji. 19, 26. Acts, xx. 6, 7. 1 Cor. xvi. 1, 2, Rer. i. 10. I Palcy's Moral Philos. Book V. Chapters 7 and 8. ( 256 ) CHA.FTSII :zK\r. On Reverencing the Deity. *' Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. Now the mention of the name of God is vain, when it is useless ; and it is useless, when it is neither likely nor intended to serve any good purpose ; as when it flows from the lips idle and unmeaning, or is applied upon occasions inconsistent with any consideration of re- ligion and devotion. The offence of profane swearing is aggravated hy the consideration, that in it duty and de- cency are sacriticed to the slightest of temptations."* To say nothing of the contempt which it casts upon God, and the abhorre'^ce in which it is therefore held by all men of piety, the want of good breeding which it shows, is enough to make it avoided by every person of a culti- vated mind or respectable character. There is another species of irreverence of the Deity, to which it may be proper just to advert. I allude to the quoting of passages of scripture, — not for the sake of mockery and ridicule, for that is the work of the in- fidel, — but lor the sake of pleasantry and wit. The wit consists in accommodating a passage to a purpose which is wholly foreign from that for which it is used in the Bible, and yet bears a fanciful resemblance to it. This manner of quoting passages of scripture is frequent, and is practised even by some men of piet;y. And perhaps it may sometimes be done without harm, when the pas- sages which are thus quoted, do not, in the Bible, relate to anything of a serious and solemn nature. Otherwise, the irreverence appears to be of the same kind with that of profane swearing. *lbid. Cliai). 9 ON REVERENCING THE DEITY. 257 Irreverence of the Deity, whatever form it may as- sume, can arise only from very inadequate conceptions, or an almost total furgetfulness, of his attributes, and of the relations which we sustain to him. A man who holds an elevated station, and who is venerable for his many virtues, is seldom treated with disrespect. Few can ap- pear in the presence of an earthly monarch, without some impressions of reverence and awe. What Ameri- can can pronounce irreverently the sacred and beloved name of Washington ? How would our bosom he pained, to hear such contempt cast on this name, as we are ac- customed to hear, on that of the Most High ! — Those who profane the name of Jehovah, or otherwise treat him with irreverence, forget who it is that they treat in this manner. They forget, that it is his power, by which they are upheld in existence from one moment to another, — by which their pulse beats and their limbs move ; — that power, which created all worlds, ?.nd which moves all ^ the wheels of nature. They forget, that not a word, or thought, or feeling of ours, can escape the notice of his omniscient eye ; — that eye, which surveys the universe, and, with a single glance, pervades innumerable orders of being. They forget, that life and death are at his disposal, and heaven and hell under his control; that he is as pure and holy, as he is wise and powerful ; that be- fore his tribunal we must all appear, and by his decision \ must be fixed in a state of interminable bliss or wo. ERRATA. Inconsequence of the greater part of the work having been printed without the superintendence of the author, se^^ral typographical errors, worthy of cor- rection, hare occurred. Page 41, line 18, read, * feelings' being involved.* " 49, line 10, read, * by no means.' ** 57, line 15, for * or othei-s' read * ot otliers.' ** 87, Jine 2, for * is' read < are.' «* 85, in the note, for » 83' read * 84'* •* lis, line 17, for « no' read * do.' ** 143, line 1, for * unfee'ing' read * unsleeping.* « 159, lines 22 and 23, read * titne^ and */or life,' in italics, *< 200* line 21, read * or be lamed.' « 213, line 13, for * popular' read < populous.' [niriviRsiTT] r c^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. jbRARY USESE? 1*89 LD 21~100m-ll,'49(B7146&16)476 VeH35l5 G G e 50 S T \ooG Pa