ico iLD BUTLER'S THREE SERMONS &c. W. WHEWELL D.D. Presented to the LIBRARY of the UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO by Victoria College Digitized by tine Internet Arcinive in 2010 witii funding from University of Toronto lnttp://www.arcliive.org/details/butlerstlireesermOObutl BY WILLIAM WHEWELL, D.D. Maiter of Trinity College, Cambridge. Elements of Momlity, including Polity. Fourth Edi- tion, with a Supplement, Octavo. i-.s. Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy in England. Xew and Improved Edition, ■with Additional Lectures. Small Octavo. 8^. Astronomy and General Physics considered with reference to Xatural Theology ^Bridgewatcr Treatise). New Edition. Small Octavo. ««. The Platonic Dialogues for English Readers. Vol. I. Containing Dialogues of the Socratic School and those referring to the Trial and Death of STV^ERSITY PRESS. BUTLER'S THREE SERMONS OX HUMAN NATURE AND DISSEETATION ON VIRTUE. EDITED BY TT. WHEWELL, D.D. MASTER OF TRLN'ITY COLLEGE. CAMBEIDGK. WITH A PREFACE AND A SYLLABUS OF THE WORK. FOVRTH ED IT I OX. eamBrt?)5c: DEIGHTO^T, BELL, AND CO. Sontion : LOXG>LA>f, GREEN", LONGMAN, ROBERTS & GREEX. 1865. /r' %Ml EDITORS PEEFACE. AN attempt to publish Bishop Butler's Trea- tises on Human Nature and on Virtue in a perspicuous form, may perhaps not be mthout interest for the general reader; but it has been made, in the present instance, mainly in conse- quence of the place which the works occupy in the course of reading prescribed in one, at leasts of our Colleges at Cambridge. They were intro- duced into that course fifteen years ago, it being conceived that they would be useful additions or corrections to other works which enter into the University course. This recommendation they are still conceived to possess : but there appears to be reason to believe that, in consequence of a certain degree of obscurity in Butler's style, his doctrines are often misapprehended by young readers. An attempt will here be made to avert such misapprehension, partly by an arrange- IV EDITOR S PREFACE. ment of the text, and partly by a few prefatory remarks. I hope it will not be considered that I have taken too great a libei-ty ^vith the text, in dividing it into i^aragraphs, and numbering the Articles, mth reference to the Syllabus which I have dra^>Ti up, marking the steps of the argument. I think this arrangement will help to make the reasoning on the doctrines clearer to most readers. With regard to Butler's doctrines, I sup- pose it is not questioned that they are, on several points, directly opposed to those of Paley. And those who judged that, on such i:)oints, Paley is in error, and that his errors are likely to mislead or perplex those to whom his "Moral Philosophy" is presented mth the recommendation of authority, conceived that the evil might be in some measure remedied by recommending an attention to Butler's ethical views at the same time. Butler's name stands so high among us, that the selection of such a work for this purpose could not be considered either as a capricious act, or as any mark of disrespect towards his adversary. EDITOR S PREFACE. V The points of opposition between Butler and Paley are obvious enough. Paley declares his intention (B. i. c. yi.) to omit the "usual declamation " on the dignity and capacity of our nature ; the superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our constitution; upon the worthiness, refine- ment and delicacy of some satisfaction, or the meanness, grossness, and sensuality of others. Butler, on the contrary, teaches that there is a difference of Jdnd among our principles of action, which is quite distinct from their differ- ence of strength [36*]; that reason was in- tended to control animal appetite, and that the law of man's nature is yiolated when the contraiy takes place. Paley teaches us to judge of the merit of actions by the advantages to which they lead; Butler [58 and 70] teaches that good-desert and ill-deseii; are something else than mere tendencies to the advantage and disadvantage of society. Paley makes virtue depend upon the consequences of our actions ; Butler makes it depend upon the due operation of our moral constitution. Paley is the moralist of utility ; Butler, of conscience. * The references are to the articles in this edition. vi editor's peeface. We must take care, however, that we do not press the antithesis of the two moralists too far; especially as both of them have, by their mode of writing, given openings for mis- apprehensions. Paley, aiming above all things to say what was lucid and what was practical, often selects modes of expression which violate the habits of previous moml writers, for the very reason that they do so ; as in the passage just quoted, when he calls it "declamation," to speak of the dignity and capacity of our nature, the superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our nature ; adding, ''I hold that pleasures differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity." So also in his declaration that " whatever is expedient is right." Such expressions as this last, if taken in the usual sense of the words, are altogether immoral; since they acknowledge no necessary moral superiority of truth over falsehood, or kindness over cruelty ; and the preceding tenet, \ recognizing no necessary superiority of human pleasures over those of animals, might be called brutish. Yet Paley's own right feeling leads him to explain away the greater part of that which is vicious and debasing in these expres- EDITOR S PREFACE. ^11 sions. He had no tiim for speculative morality ; i^ and the errors of his fundamental principles are compensated by other errors in applying them and reasoning from them, so that most of his practical conclusions admit of a harmless sense; although there is likely to remain, in the mind of his readers, a peiTucious influence, produced by his disparaging rejection of so many of the most familiar and significant forms in which the moral convictions of all ages have been expressed. Nor is Butler free fi'om the danger of beings misunderstood. There is especially one expres- sion of his, which is likely to lead his readers into an en'oneous doctrine; a doctrine, as may easilv be shewn, not held by the writer himself. He speaks [34] of the natural supremacy oij^ Conscience. Xow this might easily be under- stood, and has often been undei-stood, as im- plying the doctrine that Conscience is the supreme and ultimate judge of himian actions; —that there is a special facidty so denominated, which is held by the wiiter to be the ultimate criterion of right and wrong;— that there is a General Conscience in man, which, by its own powers, discloses to him a standard or law of Vlll EDITOR S PREFACE. human action : — or perhaps, that each individual person has such a faculty, which is the i)i*oper judge or standard of his actions; and that if he conform his conduct to his conscience, he \must act rightly. And this impression may have been much strengthened by the kind of personification of Conscience in which Butler repeatedly indulges; as when he [34] speaks of its 2^^^'^ogative ; and says [38] that if it had strength as it has right, if it had power as it has authority, it would rule the world. And I in like manner, other writers may have con- ) firmed such an impression by speaking of Con- science as an Accuser, a Witness, a Judge, and a Punisher of crime. The arguments against Conscience, in this sense, being the foundation of morality, are ob- vious and irresistible. If conscience be the supreme judge of right and wrong, whose conscience is to be taken? If that of the individual, what crimes have not been com- mitted with a tranquil conscience, and even for conscience' sake? If that of the human species, how is it to be found, among the conflicting moral judgments of different ]}er~ sons, nations and ages? These are the argu- EDITOR S PREFACE. IX ments never satisfactorily answered, by which the assertion of the Supremacy of Conscience, in the exact sense of the phrase, has always been repelled. If Butler held the Supremacy of Conscience in this sense, those who follow him have to provide replies to these interro- gations. But it will be evident to an attentive reader, that such a supremacy of conscience was not intended by Butler. He did not hold an original and independent faculty of con- science, whose decisions were to be accepted as rules of right action. With him, conscience was a facidty, if you choose, but a faculty, as ^ reason is a facidty; a power by exercising which we may come to discern truths, not , a repository of truth already collected in a visible shape. Conscience, indeed, is the Rea-l son, employed about questions of right and >^Tong, and accompanied with the sentiments of approbation or disapprobation which, by the nature of man, cling inextricably to his apprehension of right and wrong. This, I think, is plainly Butler's view; see, for instance, the passage [54], where he speaks of "a moral faculty; whether called conscience, moral reason , b : V) X EDITOE S PREFACE. moral sense, or divine reason; whether con- sidered as a perception of the understanding, or as a sentiment of the heart; or, which seems the truth, as including both." And I may observe, that tlie caution with which Butler, in this and other passages, avoids fixing upon any one term as the i)ermanent designation of the moral faculty, and pur- posely, as it might seem, accumulates both simple and compound descriptions of it ; (be- sides those already quoted, "Reflection or Conscience, an Aj^probation of some prin- ciples and actions, and a Disapprobation of others;" "Eeflex Approbation or Disapproba- tion;") is evidence that he had no intention of laying down the distinct and independent existence of such a Faculty, as a psychological doctrine. I have {Elements of Morality, Third Ed. Art. 262, &c.) described Conscience as the Fa- culty or Habit of referring our acts to a moral standard; — as the stage at which we have arrived in our moral progress; — as an author- ity, not ultimate and supreme, but depending, for its validity, upon its coincidence with the supreme rule; the supreme rule being one editor's preface. xi which requires the exercise of reason for its discovery and application. I conceive that this teaching agrees with that of Butler. And this is illustrated by observing that when Butler has to establish particular Duties he does not prove them to be Duties by direct reference to conscience, as a supreme internal guide which directly tells us that they are so. He refers to the consequences of actions, and to the purpose for which the various affections and principles of action are implanted in us by our ^laker*. That which we thus learn, is the dictate of Conscience; — the law written in the heart. It is written there, but it requires the use of the Understanding to enable us to read it. Thus Conscience, though according to But- ler she has a natural authority over Appetite, Desire, and Affection, has not a supreme autho- rity, but is herself subject to the Supreme Rule which enjoins all Virtue and Dut}^, and which is, in reality, the Law of God. And we may remark that this view explains the relation of two maxims of morality which are generally and justly assented to, but which appear, at * See for instance, Sermon IX,, On Forgiveness of Injuries. h2 XU EDITOR S PREFACE. first sight, to be somewhat inconsistent : namely, these two : — that to act against ones Conscience is ahvays ivrong"^; but that to act according to ones Conscience does not ensure helng ii'gJit, For the Conscience may be darkened or misled or perverted in various ways, and so, may lead men into error and even into crime; but still Conscience, however erroneous, is superior to mere appetite and desire, and is in the right when she controls those inferior springs of action. If Butler's mode of speaking of Conscience may possibly place him more entirely in oppo- sition to Paley than his real view does ; on the other hand, his doctrines may appear to approach more nearly to Paley's than is their true posi- ■^ A passage from a popular drama may shew ho"w fami- liar this doctrine is, {Lovers' Vows, Act V. Scene 2.) Baron. Ah, Anhalt, I am glad you are come. My con- science and myself are at variance. Anhalt. Your conscience is in the riglit. Baron. You don't know yet what the quan-el is. Anhalt. Conscience is always right, because it never speaks unless it is so. If Anhalt had said "never contradicts your likings except when it is right," he would have uttered his maxim in a less dangerous form. The opponents of utilitaiiau morality have often been charged with holding an instinctive sense of right and wrong ; but I think that doctrine has been mainly confined to the sentimental dramatists. EDITOR i3 PREFACE. XlU tion, ill consequence of his speaking of Virtue sometimes as identical, in the main, witli the pursuit of our real Happiness, and sometimes as tending to promote in the greatest degree the Happiness of mankind. Thus [47] he employs himself in shewing that if we seek Happiness, we shall find virtue the best wav to it, and asserts [50] that self-love generally coincides with virtue. And in other places, he makes the like assertions or concessions. Thus in his eleventh Sermon (upon the Love of our Xeigh- bour) he says, " It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us ; that they will, nay, if you x)lease, that they ourfiit to prevail over those of order and beauty and harmony and proportion, if there ever should be, as it is impossible there ccer should he, any inconsistence between them ; — though these last two [that is, order and beauty, and harmony and proportion.] as expressing the fitness of action, are as real as truth it- self.' The passages which I have marked in italics shew how far Butler is from giving up our internal standard of Virtue, when he ac- xiv editor's preface. knowledges its ultimate coincidence with the pursuit of Happiness ; yet an adherent of Paley, by omitting these notices of Butler's real opi- nion, might assert an agreement between the two writers. And in the next sentence, he again says, "Let it be allowed, tJiough virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in affec- tion to and jnirsuit of what is right and good, as such; yet that when we sit down in a cool liour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will be for our happ)iness, or at least not contrary to it." The agreement in the results of two systems of morality, constructed by two thoughtful and virtuous men, is what we might naturally look for : and a very little attention will suffice to shew how it comes to pass that Butler so readily assents to a formula which is mainly character- istic of a school very different from his : although it is true, that the use of this formula, as the motto of a school, has become much more dis- tinct and frequent since Butler's time. Butler, in asserting that virtue is the right road to hap- piness, asserted what was in entire consonance with his own more peculiar doctrine, that virtue EDITOE'S PEEFACE. XV consists in the right oj^eration of man's internal constitution ; because Butler necessarily in- cludes, in his idea of happiness, the tranquillity and peace of mind and satisfaction which arise from a harmonious operation of man's inward faculties and principles. He may well allow that virtue is the pursuit of happiness, because he cannot allow happiness to exist where virtue is not. He allows that we ought to aim at happiness; and one element of the happiness at which we ought to aim, is the approval of our actions by our own conscience. Vie have to seek happiness under the impulse of various desires, affections, and principles of action ; and among these princii)les, is that which approves and disapproves of our actions, and which, as Butler has shewn, is superior in kind and authority to the rest. This, as well as the others, must exercise its due sway, and must be duly satisfied, in order that we may approach towards happiness. Butler could not allow that state to be happiness, in which we gratify the desires and affections, and disregard the voice of conscience. Upon his doctrine, this would be a most unhappy discord and disorder of our nature. It would not have been possible, therefore, xvi editor's preface. for Butler to assent to such an account of hap- piness as that given by Paley (B. i. c. vi.), that it consists in the exercise of the social affections, of the faculties of body and mind, the prudent constitution of the habits, and health. He AYOuld naturally say that all these, without the pur- suit of good ends by good means, could not make a man happy ; still less could they do so, if, with all these, a man were pursuing criminal purposes, or living a life of vice, or labouring under self-accusation or remorse; in all which there is nothing inconsistent with Paley's ac- count of hapj^iness. And thus, whatever casual coincidence there may be in the phrases used here and there by Butler and by Paley, there is a very mde difference in reality between the moral j)hilosophy of the one and of the other. Paley 's chapter on Human Happiness is, in- deed, a curious example of his combination of good sense and good feeling with an entire inaptitude for systematic thinldng and writing. The chapter might be read as a very pleasing and sensible essay upon those elements of hap- piness which have least to do with the founda- tions of morality : (for even the social affections are considered only so far as they affect "the EDITOE S PREFACE. XVll spirits;") but it has not any connexion with anything which goes before or comes after it. The chapter is indeed verbally connected with the beginning of the succeeding one, in so far tliat the word hajypiness is prominent in both places. '• Virtue is the doing good to mankind in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness." But it is evident that there is scarcely the vestige of a connexion between the sense of the word happiness in the one passage and in the other. The passage in which this word liapplness comes in, so as to shew its real place in Paley's scheme of mo- rality, is Chapter v. of the second Book ; where he says "that the method of coming at the will of God concerning every action by the light of nature, is to inquire into the tendency of that action to promote or diminish the general hap- piness." This mode of determining the moral character of actions, by tracing their influence upon the general happiness of mankind, is the mode professed by Paley ; but not followed out by him with any logical coherence, in conse- quence, among other things, of his not having given any account of human happiness which can be used for such a purpose. 3.Iore recent xviii editor's preface. Avriters on morals have endeavoured to execute his plan more completely, by follo^ying the course which it obviously suggests; — analysing happiness into its elements, and using this analysis in estimating the moral value of actions. I conceive it might be she\^Ti that the analysis thus given, besides being precarious, is in all cases either incomplete, or is itself dependent upon moral ideas ; but I shall not here pursue the subject. But I may point out what is Butler's view of such a system of morality. In Art. [58] and [70] he teaches us that good desert is not mere tendency to the good of society, and that bene- volence is not the whole of virtue : and in [76] he says, with reference to Shaftesbury, ^vhat we may say with reference to Paley : that writers "of gi'eat and distinguished merit have ex- liressed themselves in a manner which may oc- casion some danger to careless readers :" namely, the danger of imagining the whole of virtue to consist in aiming rightly at promoting the hap- piness of mankind in the present state ; and the whole of vice in the contrary : than which mis- takes, Butler emphatically says, none can be conceived more terrible. Ao:ain : in a note on EDITOr. S PREFACE. XIX his twelfth Sermon (upon the Love of our Xeiglibour) he says: ''As we are not competent judges what is upon the whole for the good of the world, there may be other immediate ends appointed us to pui*sue, besides that of doing good, or produciug happiness. Though the good of the creation be the only end of the Author of it, yet he may have laid us under particular obligations, which vre may discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a percep- tion, that the observance or violation of them is for the happiness or misery of our fellow- creatures." ''And this is in fact the case." And he then goes on to shew, that "there are cer- tain dispositions of mind, and certain actions, Avhich are in themselves approved and dis- approved by mankind, abstracted from their tendency to the happiness or miseiy of the world; — approved or disapproved by that prin- ciple within which is the guide of life, the judge of right and wrong." He i:>roceeds to mention treachery, indecency, meanness, as dispositions which we disapprove: greatness of mind, fidelity, "honour, justice, as things which XX EDITOR S PREFACE. we approve, ''iu quite another view than as conducive to the happiness or misery of the world." It would be easy to adduce from Butler other passages of the same import: but from what has already been said, it must be obvious how far he is removed from those who define and measure virtue by its tendency to pro- mote human happiness. He does not say that virtue does not do this; but he says that we are not competent judges of what is upon the whole for the good of the world. He willingly grants that the good of the creation may be the only end of the Author of it ; but he holds that the same Author of Creation has laid us under particular obligations, which we are to discern and feel in some other way. And this way is, in his creed, a reference to our internal Faculties and Powers, not to external objects and efiects. The means of discovering our Duty which he mainly recommends are, the consideration of the plain office and authority of our various faculties, and the judgment of our minds in our calmer hours, when passion and interest are silent. By such a consider- ation he conceives that we cannot fail to see EDITOR S PREFACE. XXI the moral value of such ideas as beneyolence, justice, veracity, decency, and the like. Among the other phrases which Butler suggests as used to describe tlie moral Faculty of man [54] he introduces Moral Sense ; a term which has become more celebrated in conse- quence of its being employed, or supposed to be employed, by some moralists to imply a sense which discerns the moral qualities of its objects directly and immediately, as the sight discerns colours, or the taste savours. It may be doubted whether such a crude and physical notion of a ]\loral Sense was ever entertained by any thoughtful moralist: for the judgment of man concerning actions as good or bad cannot be expressed or formed, without re- ference to language, to social relations, to acknowledged rights: and the apprehension of these implies the agency of the understanding in a manner quite different fi'om the per- ceptions of the bodily senses. It is plain, at least, as I have already said, that Butler never dreamt of asserting a Moral Sense in any such use of the term as this. Paley, with his usual love of clearness, and his usual in- aptitude in what concerns systems, has stated XXll EDITORS PREFACE. the question of the Moral Sense in the most exaggerated physical form. He supposes a case of parricide to be stated to "a savage v^ without experience, and mthout instruction, cut off in his infancy from all intercourse with his species, and consequently under no pos- sible influence of example, authority, educa- tion, sympathy, or habit;" and he enquires whether such a creature would disapprove of the parricide. To this we might reply, that such a creature would be no evidence of what is the natural operation of the faculties of man, as man, a social creature, necessarily educated by social intercourse; any more than Caspar Hauser, the wild boy, who, after being kept pinioned from childhood to man- hood, tottered into the streets of Xurenberg, is evidence of man's natural faculty of walking. Such a creature as Paley describes is, for the present, not so much a man, as a brute. But we may add further, that though a brute, he would, as a brute, disapprove of parricide, if his disapproval be collected from his actions; which, language being supposed to be excluded, is the only way in which the sentiments of brutes can be collected. The mutual affection EDITOR S PREFACE. XXlll of the parents aud offspring among brutes is a germ of the human affections wliich make us condemn parricide and child-murder as unnatural crimes. ^yith regard to Paley's subsequent remarks in the same chapter, that we approve at first those qualities in others which are beneficial to ourselves, that the sentiment thus becomes associated with the quality, and that this is the way in which men come to a general agreement with regard to the moral qualities which they admire, — I conceive that Butler would by no means agree with him, or allow that we are led at first to admire fidelity, honour, justice, magnanimity, by considering that these qualities are beneficial, or likely to be beneficial, to ourselves. Xor do I conceive that either the nature of the admiration which we bestow, or the manner in which it grows up, so far as we can observe its growth (for instance, in children,) agrees with this account of it. As I have said, Butler does not assert a floral Sense to exist in any technical or distinct form; but I conceive that he does assert it to be the natural tendency of the human mind to approve benevolence, veracity, XXIV EDITOK S PREFACE. justice, and the like, Avithoiit waiting for a calculation of the consequences of such quali- ties. x\ncl this doctrine is not inconsistent with the actual and unblamed practice, among men, of actions which are not benevolent, faithful, and just; because it may be that the acts in question are considered by the actors under some other i:>oint of view; if indeed they are treated at all as matters of morality, and are not rather the results of ungoverned impulses of passion. Thus, cruelty to enemies is, per- haps, considered as fidelity to friends, or as iustice ; and however narrow and blind this morality be, it does not approve of cruelty as such. To see what benevolence, veracity, and justice really require of men, under given circumstances, is, no doubt, the office not of any simple Sense or Faculty, ojierating by direct perception, but of the rational and moral Faculties of man, guided by the best light that can be procured for them. But this does not prove that men must arrive at their decision by calculating the total amount of pleasure or happiness Avhich any given course of conduct would produce. This, Butler, in a passage which I have already quoted, con- EDITOR S PREFACE. XXV ceives to be a point of which Tve are not com- petent judges; and he refers us to other methods of determining Avhat is our Duty. But though to calculate the consequences of actions be not a safe way, nor generally a practicable way, and still less, the only way of determining how far the actions are virtuous or vicious, no thoughtful moralist ever doubts that virtuous acts do really, and upon the whole, promote the good and happiness of mankind, when all the elements of good and happiness are taken into the account. And though many of these elements may be too subtle and various to be described and mea- sured in our calculation, (as the state of mind and heart) and though the operation of our actions upon these elements (that is, the effect of our actions upon our o^vn minds and those of others) may be impossible to appreciate, — yet, we can, to a certain extent, trace the way in which virtuous actions tend to the happiness, and vicious actions to the unhappi- ness, of mankind. And so far as we can do this, it is a pleasant and healthful employ- ment of our minds. In several instances Paley has pursued this employment in a lucid, lively, c XXvi editor's PPvEFACE. and sensible manner; and in tliis point of view, parts of his worls: may be read with profit and pleasure. If the Y»ork had been eDtitled Morcdiiy as derived from General VtUlty, and if the Principle had been taken for granted, instead of being supported by the proofs which Paley oiFers, the work might have been received with unmiDgied gratitude; and the excellent sense and temper which for the most part it shews in the application of rules, miglit have produced their beneficial efiect without any drawback. I will now j)roceed to make a few remarks with a view of illustrating particular parts of the treatises of Butler here printed. The first Sermon has for its object to shew that man's nature is as truly social as it is selfish. The occasion of this is the same as that which is stated in the Preface with regard to the eleventh Sermon. "There is a strange affectation in many people of exi)laining away ;dl particular affections, and representing the whole of life as one continuous exercise of self-love." And he proceeds to instance this in the Epicureans, Hobbes, and La Pioche- foucault. And in the first Sermon also, he \ EDITORS PREFACE. XXVil refers to Hobbes, and especial!}^ to that part of his " Human Xature," m which he gives his account of good-icill or cliarlty, as being a form of the love of power, (chap. ix. sect. 17). " There is yet another Passion sometimes called Love, but more properly Good-uill, or Clutrity. There can be no greater argument to a man of his own Power, than to find himself able not only to accomplish his own desires, but also to assist other men in theirs ; and this is that conception wherein consist- eth Charity. In which, first, is contained that natural affection of parents to their children, which the Greeks call Xropyr), as also that afiection wherewith men seek to assist those that adhere unto them." This strange and arbitrary dogma Butler refutes. (Xote to Art. [3]). The truth of the distinctions established by Butler on this subject, has been recognised and confirmed by succeeding writers ; for instance, Dugald Stewart, Brown, and ]\[ack- iutosh. The result of such true distinctions appears naturally in a systematic enumeration and arrangement of the principles or springs of human action. In the Elements of Morality C2 xxviii editor's preface. I have had occasion to make such an enume- ration; and I have arranged the springs of human action as — the Ajypetitcs, (Hunger, Thirst, &c.) the Affections, (Love of various kinds, and Anger), the Desires; namely, the Desire of Safety, the Desire of Having, the Desire of Society, the Desire of Superiority, the Desire of Knowledge, the Desire of Esteem, with other Desires. After these I have arranged Self-love, as a more complex, derivative, and reflective principle than the others. It is evident, indeed, that Self-love, in any precise use of the term, is, as Butler says, both distinct from the elementaiy appe- tites and desires, and in its operation pre- supposes the particular appetites and desires belonging to that self which we love, and w hich we wish to gratify. Perhaps some light is thrown upon the inclination that some men have to call all our springs of action selfish, by what is said on the subject oi Mental Desires; {Elements of Morcil- ity, Art. 49) that the ]\Iental Desires include the Appetites and Affections, and take the place of them in our contemplation. Though the Love of Money is different from the Love EDITOR S PREFACE. XXIX of Good Eating, it may take the place of it, in him by whom money is sought mainly as the means of procuring good cheer: and though Self-love may be diiferent from the Love of Money, yet Self-love exists there especially where a man's aim of life is to orpatifv his own o V Love of ^loney and similar desires. And thus however diiferent Self-love may be from ele- mentary Appetites and Desires, it is a mental habit which sums up in an abstract form the results of appetites and desires ; and it may be confounded with its elements, by men seekino^ to shew their sagacitv in the analvsis of human principles of action. In fact however, as we see by this remark, the term selfish does not apply with any pro- priety to the appetites, or affections, but to the man himself. It is not his Elementary Desires which are selfish, but his habit of mind which makes him so. It is not that either Hunger or ^laternal Love can, with any mean- ing, be called Self-love, but that the character involving these elements, may be selfish, as it may also be unselfish, however much these springs of action exist. A man may be un- selfish, however himgry he be, and however XXX EDITOR S PREFACE. heartily he eat, if he give to others what they iieed; a mother, however fond of her child, AYOuld be called selfish, if she were to allow him to burn down a neighbour's house for his amusement. When the character, or mental habit, is thus selfish, it is evident that the springs of action, the elementary afiections and appetites, are not under that control of which we can approve. And thus the term selfish denotes not a positive and definite attribute, but a comparative quality to which some blame ine- vitably clings. This agrees with what Stewart says, {Outlmes of Moral Pldlosopliy, Art. 168) : ''The word Selfishness is always used in an unfavourable sense; and hence, some authors have been led to suppose that vice consists in an excessive regard to our own happiness. It is remarkable, however, that, although we apply the epithet selfish to avarice, and to low and ^^ ]3rivate sensuality, we never apply it to the ^ desire of knowledge, or to the pursuits of virtue, which are certainly sources of more exquisite pleasure than Riches or Sensuality can bestow.' And IMackintosh says, (Disser- tation, p. 193): "The weakness of the social EDITORS PEEFACE. XXXI alFections and the strength of the private de- sires constitute selfishness." With regard to the subject of the second and third Sermons, the peculiar character and " supremacy " of the conscience or moral faculty, many modern writers, and especially Mackin- tosh, ascribe to Butler the merit of having first brought these doctrines into a clear light. I have already stated the objection which may, I think not unreasonably, be urged against the use of the term siqoremacy in this case. In this i)lace, where we are familiar with the study of the great moral writers of antiquity, it is interesting to us to note the points of resemblance between their doctrines and those of our most admired modern moralists. The agreement between the moral philosophy of Plato and of Butler is, indeed, very striking. In Plato's Dialogue on the RepuhVic, as in But- ler's Sermons, the human soul is represented as a system, a constitution, an organized whole, in which the difi'erent elements have not merely their places side by side, but their places above and below each other, with their appointed offices; and virtue or moral rightness consists in the due operation of this constitution, the XXXU EDITOR S PREFACE. actual realization of this organized subordina- tion. We may notice too, that Plato, like But- ler, is remarkable among moralists for the lucid and forcible manner in which he has singled out from man's springs of action the irascible element, (his OviMoeihh ; Butler's Besentment;) and taught its true place and office in a moral scheme. Aristotle's ethical doctrines are less philo- sophically definite than those of Plato; but in their general import they agree very nearly mth those asserted by Butler. Thus Aristotle be- gins by treating of the end of human action, Happiness; and though he thus appears to make an external end the sovereign guide of action, and thus to differ from Butler, he soon intro- duces an element which makes this guide cease to be an external one, by telling us {Etli. Nicom. i. 7)> that the happiness of man involves "the activity of the mind in the way of virtue." For thus, Virtue and Happiness always and neces- sarily coincide, which Butler everywhere as- serts ; while Virtue is not derived from external objects, which would be contrary to Butlers scheme. Butler's sympathies, however, as to j^hiloso- EDITOR S PREFACE. XXXlll l")liical doctrine, are undoubtedly with the Stoics. In order to describe the peculiar sentiment of rejection and disapproval with which we regard actions unjust or otherwise wrong, he borrows the formula of the Stoics, which Cicero had borrowed before him, and in which such actions are said to be contrary to nature. See the pas- sage in Cicero's Offices : (iii. 4 : " Redeo ad for- mulam. Detrahere ahquid alteri, et hominem hominis incommodo suum augere commodum magis est contra naturam quam mors, quam paupertas, quam dolor, quam caetera, Cjuse pos- sunt aut corpori accidere aut rebus externis.") And in the Dissertation on Virtue [52] Butler quotes the commencement of that classical work of the later Stoics, AiTians Eplctetus: in Avhich we read that '" Of the other faculties, you will find none which contemplates itself, (avrrjv airT]<; OewprjTiKriv,) still less which approves and dis- approves its own acts : " (doKi/iaaTiK7]v rj clitoookl- fiaariKrjv :) which way of speaking, Butler says, he has adopted as the most full and the least liable to cavil. It is indeed evident that the two opposite moral schools of antiquity, the Stoical and the Eiucureau, have had their antagonism prolonged xxxiv editor's preface. into modern times; nor can it cease to subsist so long as there is a school of Independent Mo- rality, which, like Butler, seeks the ground of virtue or moral rightness in the faculties of man and their relation to each other; and another School of Dependent I\Iorality, which, like Paley, looks for the criterion of rightness to external things; — pleasure, utility, expediency, or by whatever name it may be called. That Paley is the successor of the Epicurean, as Butler is the adherent of the Stoical school, is evident on the face of his system. And this is a view which probably he would not himself have repudiated. His first literary production, I believe, was a " Bachelor's prize " Essay, to which the prize was adjudged by the University in 1765. The subject of this essay was a comparison between the Stoic and Epicurean i^hilosophy, and in this he had, as was natural with his habits of mind, taken the Epicurean side. IsTor was this an effusion hastily and lightly flung from his pen ; for it was accompanied with elaborate notes in English, and is still recollected as bearing marks of that vivacity of thought and expres- sion, for which his writings were afterwards so justly admired. EDITOK S PREFACE. XXXV I have inserted the whole of the Author's Preface to the Sermons. The introductory part of this Preface contains an able and instiiictive Apology for the obscurity which is sometimes alleged as a defect of these discourses. The notice of Sermon xi., which occupies the most, space after that of Sermons i., ii., iii., applies also to Sermon i. The notices of the other Sermons are very brief, and may serve to re- mind the reader that the Sermons here printed extend to a small portion only of. the subject of Morality according to Butler's view. Trixity Lodge, March 14, 1'548. Ix the preceding Preface, it is stated as one of the re- commendations of the study of Butler's ethical viorks, that this study may be useful in correcting the impressions which may be produced by the study of Paley's "Moral Philosophy,'' as required by the University for the B.A. Degree. It may therefore be proper to notice that by a Grace of the Senate, passed Feb. 7, 1855, an acquaint- ance with Paley's work is no longer required by the University. But the University has shewn that this step was not taken from any disposition to reject the study of Ethics ; for Moral Philosoj:)hy is one of the Subjects in which a Certificate of a satisfactory Examination given by the Professor is accepted as a condition for the B.A, Degree; and also one of the Subjects for which Honours are assigned in the Moral Sciences Tripos. And what- ever may be thought of Paley, Butler's ethical views are, I believe, generally accepted in the University. If his works had contained a System of Morality, and not mere fragments of a system and discussions of principles, probably he would have been installed in the place from which Paley has been removed. Trixity Lodge, February 8, 1855. CONTENTS. Author's Preface. SERMONS UPON HUMAN NATURE. SERMON I. man's nature includes principles which tend to the good of society. 1. Original reference of the text. 2. We are made for the good of society, as well as for our own good. 3. We have benevolent aflfections. Note on Hobbes's account of benevolence. {a) Is benevolence love of power? (b) Occasion of the dogma. (c) Cases where benevolence cannot be love of power. {d) If true, cruelty would be the same as good will. (e) The question must be decided by facts. (/) The facts prove benevolence as clearly as re- sentment. 4. Benevolence and self-love coincide in results. 5. Several other affections lead to public good as well as private. Note on the distinction between self-love and other affections. (a) Nature of the distinction. {b) Examples. XXXVlll CONTENTS. 6. We might classify affections as social and individual. ICote on this classification. Example. Hunger, and Desire of Esteem. 7. Affections which lead to the good of society. 8. They may do this without intention. 9. Such affections are by God intended for social good. 10. Conscience. 11. Produces social good. 12. Distinction of conscience and affection. 13. Proof of conscience. 14. It is here merely noticed in its tendency to social good. 15. Hence man is made for society. 16. Mutual attraction of men. 17. Objection to social affections. 18. Answer from individual affections. 19. There are no simply anti-social affections. Note on Envy. The original affection is Emulation, which is not anti- social. 20. There are exceptions to individual as to social affec- tions ; 21. And as frequent. Proof. 22. Men obey both individual and social principles im- perfectly. SERMON II. III. CONSCIENCE IS A PRINCIPLE SUPERIOR IN KIND TO APPETITES AND DESIRES. 23. Constitution proves intention. 24. Man's moral constitution may be known. 25. Moral constitution proves intention. 26. Man has affections, and conscience, which tend to the good of society. CONTENTS. XXXIX 27. Objection : that a man, in obeying other principles also follows nature. 28. FoUoicing nature does not mean acting as we please. 29. The word nature to be explained. 30. Two senses of nature excluded. 31. Nature has a positive meaning. 32. The heart is not a law. 33. Conscience makes man a law to himself. 34. Xatural supremacy of conscience. 35. Actions disproportionate to man's nature. 3G. A difference in kind among principles of action 37. Is evident on looking at them. 38. Authority of conscience. 39. OflSce of conscience. 40. Proof ex ahsurdo. 41. How virtue consists in following nature. Xote on the meaning of a constitution, (a) A constitution. (&) Perfect and imperfect constitution. 42. Man by his constitution is a law to himself. 43. The law is generally applied without difficulty. 44. The law involves an obligation. 4.'5. Objection : we need not regard others. 46. Answer: we cannot be happy -without regarding others. 47. If we seek happiness, virtue is the best way. 48. Virtue has no disadvantage as a restraint : 49. Especially when habitual. 50. Self-love generally coincides with virtue. 51. Recapitulation. xl CONTENTS. DISSERTATION OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 52. We have a Moral Faculty. 53. Proofs of this. 54. Men agree in general as to its results. 55. First. Its objects are actions ; 56. And intentions. 57. Secondly. It implies desert. 58. Desert is not mere tendency to the good of society. 59. Example. 60. Ill-desert is a notion resulting from the comj)arison of vice and misery, 61. Good-desert is feebly apprehended in general. 62. Ill-desert is apprehended as diminished by temptation. 63. Thirdly. Ill-desert implies a comparison with the capacities of the agent. 64. Fourthly. Prudence is approved. 65. Prudence is different from a desire of happiness. QQ. Imprudence is less disapproved than falsehood, &c. Why. 67. But still is disapj)roved : 68. As folly: 69. Whether we call it a vice or not. 70. Fifthly. Benevolence is not the whole of virtue. 71. Examples of the diflference. 72. Proof. 73. We condemn falsehood &c. not from regard to con- sequences. 74. Divine benevolence. 75. Moral government. 76. Danger of estimating vice by consequences. 77. Further danger. 78. Use of benevolence. 79. Kature of veracity. AUTHOR'S PREFACE. THOUGH it is scarce possible to avoid judging, in some way or other, of almost every thing ^yhich offers itself to one's thoughts ; yet it is certain, that many persons, from different causes, never exercise their judg- ment, upon what comes before them, in the way of determining whether it be conclusive, and holds. They are perhaps entertained with some things, not so with others; they like, and they dislike: but whether that which is proposed to be made out be really made out or not; whether a matter be stated accord- ing to the real tinith of the case, seems to the generality of people merely a circumstance of no. consideration at all. Argimients are often wanted for some accidental pui-j^ose : but proof as such is what they never want for them- selves; for their own satisfaction of mind, or conduct in life. Xot to mention the multitudes who read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify themselves for the world, or some such kind of reasons; there are, even of the 1 2 AUTHOR S PREFACE. few who read for their own entertainment, and have a real curiosity to see what is said, several, which is prodigious, who have no sort of curiosity to see what is true: I say, curi- osity; because it is too obvious to be men- tioned, how much that religious and sacred attention, which is due to truth, and to the important question. What is the rule of life ? is lost out of the world. For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they are of different capacities, different kinds, and get into this way from different oc- casions, I have often wished, that it had been the custom to lay before people nothing in mat- ters of argument but premises, and leave them to draw conclusions themselves; which, though it could not be done in aU cases, might in many. The great number of books and papers of amusement, which, of one kind or another, daily come in one's way, have in part occa- sioned, and most i)erfectly fall in Avith and humour, this idle way of reading and con- sidering things. By this means, time even in solitude is happily got rid of, without the pain of attention: neitlier is any part of it more put to the account of idleness, one can scarce forbear saying, is spent with less thought, than great part of that which is spent in reading. Thus people habituate themselves to let things pass through their minds, as one may AUTHOR S PREFACE. 3 speak, ratlier than to tliiuk of them. Thus by use they become satisfied merely ^vith seeiug what is said, without going any further. Review and attention, and even forming a judgment, becomes fatio^ue; and to lav anv thing before them that requires it, is putting them quite out of their way. There are also persons, and there are at least more of them than have a right to claim such superiority, wlio take for granted, that they are acquainted with every thing; and that no subject, if treated in the manner it should be, can be treated in any manner but what is familiar and easy to them. It is true, indeed, that few persons have a right to demand attention; but it is also true, that nothing can be understood without that degree of it, which the very nature of the thing requires. Xow morals, considered as a science, concerning which speculative difficul- ties are daily raised, and treated with regard to those difficulties, plainly require a very peculiar attention. For here ideas never are in themselves determinate, but become so by the train of reasoning and the jjlace they stand in; since it is impossible that words can always stand for the same ideas, even in the same author, much less in different ones. Hence an argument may not readily be apprehended, which is different from its being mistaken; 1—2 4 author's preface. and even caution to avoid being mistaken may, in some cases, render it less readily appre- hended. It is very unallo^vable for a work of imagination or entertainment not to be of easy comprehension, but may be unavoidable in a work of another kind, where a man is not to form or accommodate, but to state things as he finds them. It must be acknowleged, that some of the following Discourses are veiy abstruse and diffi- cult; or, if you please, obscure; but I must take leave to add, that those alone are judges, whether or no and how far this is a fault, who are judges, whether or no and how far it might have been avoided — those only who will be at the trouble to understand what is here said, and to see how far the things here insisted upon, and not other things, might have been put in a plainer manner ; which yet I am very far from asserting that they could not. Thus much however will be allowed, that general criticisms concerning obscurity con- sidered as a distinct thing from confusion and perplexity of thought, as in some cases there may be ground for them; so in others, they may be nothing more at the bottom than complaints, that every thing is not to be un- derstood with the same ease that some things are. Confusion and perplexity in writing is indeed Avithout excuse, because any one may, AUTHOR S PREFACE. 5 if he pleases, know whether he understands and sees through what he is about : and it is unpardonable for a man to lay his thoughts before others, when he is conscious that he himself does not know whereabouts he is, or how the matter before him stands. It is coming abroad in disorder, which he ought to be dis- satisfied to find himself in at home. But even obscurities arising from other causes than the abstruseness of the argument may not be always inexcusable. Thus a sub- ject may be treated in a manner, which all along supposes the reader acquainted with what has been said upon it, both by ancient and modern TM'iters ; and with what is the present state of opinion in the world concern- ing such subject. This will create a difficidty of a very pecuhar kind, and even throw an obscurity over the whole before those who are not thus informed; but those who are will be disposed to excuse such a manner, and other things of the like kind, as a saving of their j)atience. However upon the whole, as the title of Sermons gives some right to expect what is plain and of easy comprehension, and as the best auditories are mixed, I shall not set about to justify the propriety of preaching, or under that title publishing, Discourses so abstruse as some of these are : neither is it worth while 6 AUTHOR S PREFACE. to trouble the reader with the account of my doing either. He must not ho\Yever impute to me, as a repetition of the impropriety, this second edition*, but to the demand for it. Whether he Avill think he has any amends made him by the follo^ying illustrations of what seemed most to require them, I myself am by no means a proper judge. (i, II, III.) There are two ways in which the subject of morals may be treated. One begins from inquiring into the abstract rela- tions of things : the other from a matter of fact, namely, what the particular nature of man is, its several parts, their economy or constitution; from whence it proceeds to de- termine what course of life it is, which is cor- respondent to this whole nature. In the former method the conclusion is expressed thus, that vice is contrary to the nature and reason of things: in the latter, that it is a violation or breaking in upon our own nature. Thus they both lead us to the same thing, our obligations to the practice of virtue ; and thus tiiey ex- ceedingly strengthen and enforce each other. The first seems the most direct formal proof, and in some respects the least liable to cavil and dispute : the latter is in a peculiar man- ner adapted to satisfy a fair mind ; and is * The preface stands exactly as it did before the second edition of the {Sermons. AUTHOK S PREFACE. 7 more easily applicable to the several particular relations and circumstances in life. The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter method. The three first whoUv. They were intended to explain what is meant by the nature of man, when it is said that virtue consists in follo^ving, and vice in deviat- ing from it ; and by explaining to shew that the assertion is true. That the ancient mo- mlists had some inward feeling or other, which they chose to express in this manner, that man is born to virtue, that it consists in foil owing nature, and that vice is more contrary to this nature than tortures or death, their works in our hands are instances. Xow a person who found no mystery in this Avay of speaking of the ancients; who without being very explicit ■with himself, kept to his natural feeling, went along with them, and found within himself a full conviction, that what they laid down was just and true ; such a one would probably wonder to see a point, in which he never per- ceived anv difficultv, so laboured as this is, in the second and third Sermons ; insomuch perhaps as to be at a loss for the occasion, scope, and drift of them. But it need not be thought strange that this manner of expres- sion, though familiar with them, and, if not usually carried so far, yet not uncommon amongst ourselves, should want explaining ; 8 AUTHOR S PREFACE. since there are several perceptions daily felt and spoken of, which yet it may not be very easy at first view to exi^licate, to distinguish from all others, and ascertain exactly what the idea or perception is. The many treatises upon the passions are a proof of this ; since so many would never have undertaken to unfold their several complications, and trace and resolve them into their principles, if they had thought, what they Avere endeavouring to shew was ob- vious to every one, who felt and talked of those passions. Thus, though there seems no ground to doubt, but that the generality of mankind have the inward perception expressed so commonly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more than to doubt whether they have those passions ; yet it appeared of use to unfold that inward conviction, and lay it open in a more explicit manner, than I had seen done; especially when there were not wanting persons, who manifestly mistook the whole thing, and so had great reason to express them- selves dissatisfied with it. A late author of great and deserved reputation says, that to place virtue in following nature, is at best a loose way of talk. And he has reason to say this, if what I think he intends to express, though with great decency, be true, that scarce any other sense can be put upon those words, but acting as any of the several parts, with- authok's pee face. 9 out distinction, of a mans natiu*e happened most to incline him*". Whoever thinks it worth while to consi- der this matter thoroughly, should begin ^vith stating to himself exactly the idea of a system, economy, or constitution of any particular na- ture, or any particular thing : and he will, I suppose, find, that it is a one or a whole, made up of several parts; but yet, that the several parts even considered as a whole do not com- plete the idea, unless in the notion of a whole you include the relations and respects which those parts have to each other. Every work both of nature and of art is a system : and as every particular thing, both natural and arti- ficial, is for some use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one may add, to what has been already brought into the idea of a system, its conduciveness to this one or more ends. Let us instance in a watch — Suppose the several parts of it taken to pieces, and placed apart from each other : let a man have ever so exact a notion of these several parts, unless he con- siders the respects and relations which they have to each other, he will not have any thing like the idea of a watch. Suppose these seve- ral parts brought together and any how united : neither will he yet, be the union ever so close, have an idea which will bear any resemblance * Rel. of Xature delin. ed. 1724. pp. 22, 23. 10 author's peeface. to that of a watch. But let him view those several parts put together, or consider them as to be put together in the manner of a watch ; let him form a notion of the relations which those several parts have to each other — all conducive in their respective ways to this purpose^ shewing the hour of the day ; and then he has the idea of a watch. Thus it is with regard to the inward frame of man. Ap- petites, passions, aifections, and the principle of reflection, considered merely as the several parts of our inward nature, do not at all give us an idea of the system or constitution of this nature ; because the constitution is formed by somewhat not yet taken into consideration, namely, by the relations which these several parts have to each other ; the chief of which is the authority of reflection or conscience. It is from considering the relations which the several appetites and passions in the inward frame have to each other, and, above all, the supremacy of reflection or conscience, that we get the idea of the system or constitution of human nature. And from the idea itself it will as fully appear, that this our nature, i.e. constitution, is adapted to virtue, as from the idea of a watch it appears, that its nature, i.e. constitution or system, is adapted to measure time. What in fact or event commonly hap- pens is nothing to this question. Every work author's preface. 11 of art is apt to be out of order : but tins is so far from being accordiug to its system, that let tiie disorder increase, and it will totally destroy it. This is merely by way of expla- nation, what an economy, system, or constitu- tion is. And thus far the cases are i^erfectly parallel. If we go further, there is indeed a difference, nothing to tlie i)resent purpose, but too important a one ever to be omitted. A ma- chine is inanimate and passive: but we are agents. Our constitution is put in our o^vu power. We are charged with it ; and therefore are accountable for any disorder or violation of it. Thus nothing can possibly be more con- trary to nature than vice; meaning by nature not only the several parts of our eternal frame, but also the constitution of it. Poverty and disgrace, tortures and death, are not so con- trary to it. Misery and injustice are indeed equally contrary to some different parts of our nature taken singly: but injustice is moreover contrary to the whole constitution of the na- ture. If it be asked, whether this constitution be really what those philosophers meant, and whe- ther they would have explained themselves in this manner; the answer is the same, as if it should be asked, whether a person, who had often used the word resentment , and felt the 12 AUTHOli'S PKEFACE. thing, would liave explained this passion exactly in the same manner, in which it is done in one of these Discourses. As I have no doubt, but that this is a true account of that i^assion, which he referred to and intended to express by the word resentment; so I have no doubt, but that this is the true account of the ground of that conviction which they referred to, when they said, vice was contrary to nature. And though it should be thought that they meant no more than that vice Avas contrary to the higher and better part of our nature; even this im- plies such a constitution as I have endeavoured to explain. For the very terms, higher and better, imply a relation or respect of parts to each other; and these relative parts, being in one and the same nature, form a constitution, and are the very idea of it. They had a per- ception that injustice was contrary to their na- ture, and that pain was so also. They observ- ed these two perceptions totally different, not in degree, but in kind : and the reflecting upon each of them, as they thus stood in their nature, wrought a fidl intuitive conviction, that more was due and of right belonged to one of these inward perceptions, than to the other; that it demanded in all cases to govern such a creature as man. So that, upon the whole, this is a fair and true account of what was the ground of their conviction : of what thev intended to refer author's preface. 13 to, when they said, virtue consisted in following nature : a manner of speaking not loose and un- determined, but clear and distinct, strictly just and true. Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is felt by almost every one ; yet since, considered as an argument and put in words, it appears somewhat abstruse, and since the con- nexion of it is broken in the three first Sermons, it may not be amiss to give the reader the whole argument here in one view. Mankind has various instincts and principles of action, as brute creatures have ; some leading f most directly and immediately to the good of. the community, and some most directly to pri- vate good. Man has several which brutes have not ; par- ticularly reflection or conscience, an approba- tion of some princii3les or actions, and disappro- bation of others. Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action, according to certain rules; suppose the constitution of their body, and the objects around them. The generality of mankind also obey their instincts and principles, all of them ; those pro- pensions we call good, as well as the bad, ac- cording to the same rules ; namely, the constitu- tion of their body, and the external circumstances which they are in. [Therefore it is not a true 14 author's preface. representation of mankind to affirm, that they are wholly governed by self-love, tlie love of power and sensual appetites : since, as on the one hand they are often actuated by these, with- out any regard to right or ^vi'ong ; so on the other, it is manifest fact, that the same persons, the generality, are frequently influenced by friendship, compassion, gratitude; and even a general abhorrence of what is base, and liking of what is fair and just, takes its turn amongst the other motives of action. This is the partial inadequate notion of human nature treated of in the first Discourse : and it is by this nature, if one may speak so, that the world is in fact influenced, and kept in that tolerable order, in Avhich it is.] Brutes in acting according to the rules be- fore mentioned, their bodily constitution and circumstances, act suitably to their whole nature. [It is however to be distinctly noted, that the reason why vre affirm this is not merely that brutes in fact act so ; for this alone, however universal, does not at all determine, whether such course of action be corresjiondent to their whole nature : but the reason of the assertion is, that as in acting thus they plainly act con- formably to somewhat in their nature, so, from all observations we are able to make upon them, there does not appear the least ground to ima- gine them to have any thing else in their na- AUTHORS PREFACE. 15 ture, which requires a diiferent rule or course of action.] Mankind also in acting thus would act suit- ably to their whole nature, if no more were to be said of man's nature than what has been now said; if that, as it is a true, were also a com- plete, adequate account of our nature. But that is not a complete account of man's nature. Somewhat further must be brought in to give us an adequate notion of it; namely, that one of those principles of action, conscience or reflection, compared with the rest as they all stand together in the nature of man, plainly bears upon it marks of authority over all the rest, and claims the absolute direction of them all, to allow or forbid their gi-atification : a dis- approbation of reflection being in itself a prin- ciple manifestly superior to a mere propension. And the conclusion is, that to allow no more to this superior principle or part of our nature, than to other parts ; to let it govern and guide only occasionally in common with the rest, as its turn happens to come, from the temper and circumstances one happens to be in ; this is not to act conformably to the constitution of man : neither can any human creature be said to act conformably to his constitution of nature, unless he allows to that superior principle the abso- lute authority which is due to it. And this con- clusion is abundantly confirmed from hence, " 16 author's preface. that one may determine what course of action the economy of man's nature requires, without > so much as knowing in what degrees of strength tlie several principles prevail, or which of them have actually the greatest influence. The practical reason of insisting so much upon this natural authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is, that it seems in great measure overlooked by many, who are by no means the worst sort of men. It is thought sufficient to abstain from gross wickedness, and to be humane and kind to such as happen to come in their way. Whereas in reality the very constitution of our nature requires, that we bring our whole conduct before this superior faculty ; wait its determination ; enforce upon ourselves its authority, and make it the business of our lives, as it is absolutely the whole business of a moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is the true meaning of that ancient precept. Reverence thyself. The not taking into consideration this au- thority, which is implied in the idea of reflex approbation or disapprobation, seems a material deficiency or omission in Lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shewn be- -^ond all contradiction, that virtue is naturally the interest or happiness, and vice the misery, of such a creature as man, placed in the cir- cumstances which we are in this world. But author's preface. 17 suppose there are particular exceptions ; a case which this author Avas unwilling to put, and yet surely it is to be put : or suppose a case which he has put and determined, that of a sceptic not convinced of this happy tendency of virtue, or being of a contrary opinion. His determination is, that it would be irithoiU remedy'". One may say more explicitly, that leaving out the autho- rity of reflex approbation or disapprobation, such a one would be under an obligation to act viciously; since interest, one's own happi- ness, is a manifest obligation, and there is not supposed to be any other obligation in the case. ^ But does it much mend the matter, to take in tliat natural authority of reflection? There in- deed would be an obligation to virtue; but would not the obligation from supposed interest on the side of vice remain?' If it should, yet to be under two contrary obligations, i.e. under none at all, would not be exactly the same, as to be under a formal obligation to be vicious, or to be in circumstances in which the constitution of man's nature plainly required that vice should be preferred. But the obligation on the side of interest really does not remain. For the natu- ral authority of the principle of reflection i^ an obligation the most near and intimate, the most certain and known: whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear no more * Characteristics, Yol. ii. p. 69. 9 18 author's teeface. than probable ; since no man can be certain in any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present world, much less can he be certain against another : and thus the certain obligation would entirely supersede and destroy the uncer- tain one; which yet would have been of real force without the former. In truth, the taking in this consideration totally changes the whole state of the case ; and shews, what this author does not seem to have been aware of, that the greatest degree of scep- ticism which he thought possible will still leave men under the strictest moral obligations, what- ever their opinion be concerning the happiness of virtue. For that mankind upon reflection felt an approbation of what was good, and dis- approbation of the contrary, he thought a plain matter of fact, as it undoubtedly is, which none could deny, but from mere aflectation. Take in then that authority and obligation, which is a constituent part of this reflex approbation, and it will undeniably follow, though a man shoidd doubt of every thing else, yet, that he would still remain under the nearest and most certain obligation to the practice of virtue ; an obliga- tion imi)lied in the very idea of vktue, in the very idea of reflex apjyrohation. And how little influence soever this obliga- tion alone can be expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one may appeal even to interest AUTHOE'S PEEFArE. 19 and self-love, and ask, since from man's nature, condition, and the shortness of life, so little, so very little indeed, can possibly in any case be gained by vice ; whether it be so prodidoiis a thing to sacrifice that little to the most intimate of all obligations ; and which a man cannot tmnsgi'ess without being self-condemned, and. unless he has corrupted his nature, without real self-dislike : this question, I say, may be asked, even upon supposition tliat the prospect of a future life were ever so uncertain. The observation, that man is thus by his very nature a law to himself, pursued to its just con- sequences, is of the utmost importance : because ft'om it it will folloAv, that though men shoidd. through stupidity or speculative scepticism, be ignorant of, or disbelieve, any authority in the universe to punish the violation of this law; yet, if there should be such authority, they would be as really liable to punishment, as though they had been beforehand convinced, that such pun- ishment woidd follow. For in whatever sense we understand justice, even supposing, what I think would be very presumptuoiLS to assert, that the end of divine punishment is no other than that of civil punishment, namely, to prevent future mischief; upon this bold supposition, ignorance or disbelief of the sanction woidd by no means exempt even from this justice : because it is not foreknowledge of the punishment which 20 author's preface. rendei^ us obnoxious to it ; but merely violating a known obligation. And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a manifest error or mistake in the author now cited, unless perhaps he has incautiously ex- pressed himself so as to be misunderstood; namely, that it is malice only, and not good- ness, ivliich can make us afraid'^\ Whereas in reality, goodness is the natural and just object of the greatest fear to an ill man. Malice may be appeased or satiated ; humour may change, but goodness is a fixed, steady, immoveable principle of action. If either of the former holds the sword of justice, there is plainly ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for impunity : but if it be goodness, there can be no possible hope, whilst the reasons of things, or the ends of go- vernment, call for punishment. Thus every one sees how much greater chance of impunity an ill man has in a partial administration, than in a just and upright one. It is said, that the interest or good of the idiole 72iust be the interest of the imiversal Being, and that he can have no other. Be it so. This author has proved, that vice is naturally the misery of mankind in this world. Consequently it Avas for the good of the wliole that it should be so. What shadow of reason then is there to assert, that this may not be the case hereafter? Danger of future punishment * Cliaract. Vol. i. p. 39. AUTHOli's PREFACE. 21 (and if there be danger, there is ground of fear) no more supposes malice, than the present feel- ing of punishment does. ■^i^vii, X.) The Sermon iqwn the Cliaracter of Balaam, and that npon Self -Deceit, both re- late to one subject. I am persuaded, that a very great part of the wickedness of the Avorld is, one way or other, owing to the self-partiality self-iiattery, and self-deceit, endeavoured there to be laid open and explained. It is to be observed amongst persons of the lowest rank, in proportion to their compass of thought, as much as amongst men of education and improvement. It seems, that people are capable of being thus artful v/ith themselves, in proportion as they are capable of being so with others. Those who have taken notice that there is really such a thing, namely, plain falseness and insincerity in men with regard to themselves, will readily see the drift and design of these Discourses: and nothing that I can add will explain the design of them to him, who has not beforehand remarked, at least, somewhat of the character. And vet the admonitions they contain may be as much wanted by such a person, as by others ; for it is ^ to be noted, that a man may be entirely pos- sessed by this unfairness of mind, without having the least speculative notion what the thing is. * [Sermon iv. is Upon the Government of the Tongue: Sermon v. and vi. Ujyon Comjmssion. "\V.] 22 author's peeface. (viii.) The account given of Resentment in the eighth Sermon is introductory to the follow- ing one upon Forcfiveness of Injuries. It may possibly have appeared to some, at first sight, a strange assertion, that injury is the only natural object of settled resentment, or that men do not in fact resent deliberately any thing but under this appearance of injury. But I must desire the reader not to take any assertion alone by itself, but to consider the whole of what is said upon it: because this is necessary, not only in order to judge of the truth of it, but often, such is tlie nature of language, to see the very mean- ing of the assertion. Particularly as to this, injury and injustice is, in the Sermon itself, exi)lained to mean, not only the more gross and shocking instances of wickedness, but also con- tempt, scorn, neglect, any sort of disagreeable behaviour towards a person, which he thinks other than what is due to him. And the general notion of injury or wrong plainly comprehends this, though the words are mostly confined to the higher degrees of it. (ix.) Forgiveness of injuries is[one of the very few moral obligations which has been dis- puted. But the proof, that it is really an obli- gation, what our nature and condition require, seems very obvious, were it only from the consi- deration, that revenge is doing harm merely for harm's sake. And as to the love of our enemies : author's peeface. 23 resentment cannot supersede the obligation to uiiiversal benevolence, unless they are in the nature of the thing inconsistent, which they plainly are not"^. This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love our enemies, though to be met with in Gen- tile moralists, yet is in a peculiar sense a precept of Christianity ; as our Saviour has insisted more upon it than upon any other single virtue. One reason of this doubtless is, that it so peculiarly becomes an imperfect, faidty creature. But it may be observed also that a virtuous temper of mind, consciousness of innocence, and good meaning towards every body, and a strong feel- ing of injustice and injury, may itself, such is the imperfection of our virtue, lead a person to violate this obligation, if he be not upon his guard. And it may well be supposed, that this is another reason why it is so much insisted upon by him, who hiew loJiat teas in num. (xi, XII.) The chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to state the notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order to shew that benevo- lence is not more unfriendly to self-love, than any other particular affection whatever. There is a strange affectation in many people of explaining away all particidar affections, and representing the whole of life as nothing but one continued exercise of self-love. Hence arises that surpris- * See the Sermon. 24 author's preface. ing confusion and peq^lexity in the Epicureans^ of old, Hobbes, the autlior of Reflections, Sen- tences, et Maximes Morales, and this whole set of writers; the confusion of calling actions in- terested which are done in contradiction to the most manifest known interest, merely for the gratification of a present passion. Xow all this confusion might easily be avoided, by stating to ourselves wherein the idea of self-love in general consists, as distinguished from all particular movements towards particular external objects; the appetites of sense, resentment, compassion, curiosity, ambition, and the restf. Wh en this is done, if the words selfish and interested cannot be parted with, but must be applied to every thing; yet, to avoid such total confusion of all language, let the distinction be made by epithets : and the first may be called cool or settled selfish- ness, and the other j^assionate or sensucd selfish- ness. But the most natural way of speaking • One ueed only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean system, in Cicero's first book De Finibiis, to see in wliat a sui-prising manner this was clone by them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being beloved, he explains to be no other than desire of safety : regard to our country, even in the most virtuous character, to be nothing but regard to ourselves. The author of Reflections, ^c. Morales, says, Cui'iosity proceeds from interest or pride ; which pride also ■would doubtless have been explained to be self-love. Page 85. ed.^ 172.5. As if there were no such passions in mankind as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge. Hobbes's accomit of the affections of good- will and pity are instances of the same kind. t See the Sermon. author's peeface. 25 plainly is, to call the first only, seJf-love, and the actions proceeding from it, interested: and to say of the latter, that they are not love to our- selves, but movements towards somewhat exter- nal: honour, power, the harm or good of an- other : and that the pursuit of these external ob- jects, so far as it proceeds from these movements (for it may proceed from self-love*), is no other- wise interested, than as every action of every creature must, from the nature of the thing, be ; for no one can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own. Self-love and any particular passion may be joined together; and from this compKcation, it becomes impossible in numberless instances to determine precisely, how far an action, perhaps even of one's own, has for its principle general self-love, or some particular passion. But this need create no confusion in the ideas themselves of self-love and particular passions. We dis- tinctly discern what one is, and what the other are : though we may be uncertain how far one or the other influences us. And though, from this uncertainty, it cannot but be that there Avill be dififerent opinions concerning mankind, as more or less governed by interest; and some will ascribe actions to self-love, which others will ascribe to particular passions: yet it is absurd to say that mankind are wholly actuated by * See the Xote, Art. [5]. 26 author's preface. either; since it is manifest that both have their influence. For as, on the one hand, men form a general notion of interest, some placing it in one thing, and some in another, and have a consider- able regard to it throughout the course of their life, which is owing to self-love ; so, on the other hand, they are often set on w^ork by the particu- lar passions themselves, and a considerable part of life is spent in the actual gratification of them, i.e, is employed, not by self-love, but by the passions. Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit necessarily presupposes particular pas- sions or appetites ; since the very idea of in- terest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite or affection enjoys its object. It is not because we love ourselves that we find delight in such and such objects, but because we have particular afiections towards them. Take away these affections, and you leave self- love absolutely nothing at all to employ itself about*; no end or object for it to pursue, ex- cepting only that of avoiding i^ain. Indeed the Epicureans, who maintained that absence of pain was the highest happiness, might, con- sistently with themselves, deny all affection, and, if they had so pleased, every sensual ap- petite too: but the very idea of interest or happiness other ^ than absence of pain, implies * See Sermon xi. author's preface. 27 particular appetites or passions ; these being ne- cessary to constitute that interest or happiness. The observation, that benevolence is no more disinterested than any of the common particular passions * seems in itself worth being taken notice of; but is insisted upon to obviate that scorn, which one sees rising upon the faces of people who are said to know the world, when mention is made of a disinterested, generous, or public-spirited action. The truth of that observation might be made appear in a more formal manner of proof: for who- ever will consider all the possible respects and relations which any particular aflection can have to self-love and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably, that benevolence is not in any respect more at variance with self- love, than any other particular affection what- ever, but that it is in every respect, at least, as friendly to it. If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and benevolence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed, but only to be dis- tinguished from each other ; in the same way as virtue and any other particular affection, love of arts, suppose, are to be distinguished. Every thing is what it is, and not another thing. The goodness or badness of actions does not arise from hence, that the epithet, * See Sermon xi. 28 author's preface. interested or cUsinterested, may be applied to them, any more than that any other indif- ferent epithet, suppose iiiqidsitive or jealous, may or may not be applied to them ; not from their being attended with present or future pleasure or pain; but from their being what they are ; namely, what becomes such creatures as we are, what the state of the case requires, or the contrary. Or in other w^ords, we may judge and determine, that an action is morally good or evil, before we so much as consider, whether it be interested or disinterested. This consideration no more comes in to determine whether an action be virtuous, than to deter- mine whether it be resentful. Self-love in its due degree is as just and morally good, as any affection whatever. Benevolence towards par- ticular persons may be to a degree of weak- ness, and so be blameable: and disinterested- ness is so far from being in itself commend- able, that the utmost possible depravity which we can in imagination conceive, is that of dis- interested cruelty. Neither does there appear any reason to wish self-love were weaker in the generality of the world than it is. The influence which it has seems plainly owing to its being con- stant and habitual, which it cannot but be, and not to the degi-ee or strength of it. Every caprice of the imagination, every curiosity of AUTHORS PREFACE. 29 tlie understanding, everj^ affection of tlie heart, is perpetually shewing its weakness, by pre- vailing over it. INIen daily, hourly sacrifice the greatest known interest, to fancy, inquisi- tiveness, lore, or hatred, any vagrant inclina- tion. The thing to be lamented is, not that men have so great regard to their own good or interest in the present world, for they have not enouGfh * ; but that thev have so little to the good of others. And this seems plainly owing to their being so much engaged in the gratification of particular passions unfriendly to benevolence, and which happen to be most prevalent in them, much more than to self- love. As a proof of this may be observed, that there is no character more void of friend- ship, gratitude, natural affection, love to their country, common justice, or more equally and uniformly hardhearted, than the cibandoned in, wdiat is called, tlie way of pleasure — hard- hearted and totally without feeling in behalf of others ; except w^hen they cannot escape the sight of distress, and so are interrupted by it in their pleasures. And yet it is ridi- culous to call such an abandoned course of pleasure interested, when the person engaged in it knows beforehand, and goes on under the feel- ing and apprehension, that it will be as ruin- ous to himself, as to those who depend upon him. f Art. [21]. 30 author's peeface. Upon the whole, if the generality of man- kind were to cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if they were to accus- tom themselves often to set down and con- sider, what was the greatest happiness they were capable of attaining for themselves in this life, and if self-love Avere so strong and prevalent, as that they would uniformly pursue this their supposed chief temporal good, with- out being diverted from it by any particular passion ; it would manifestly prevent number- less follies and vices. This was in a great measure the Epicurean system of philosophy. It is indeed by no means the religious or even moral institution of life. Yet, with all the mistakes men would fall into about in- terest, it would be less mischievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will, and plea- sure: for certainly self-love, though confined to the interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide than passion*, which has absolutely no bound nor measure, but what is set to it by this self-love, or moral considera- tions. From the distinction above made between self-love, and the several particular principles or affections in our nature, we may see how good ground there was for that assertion, maintained by the several ancient schools of * Art. [47J. author's preface. 31 philosophy against the Epicureans, namely, that virtue is to be pursued as an end, eligible in and for itself. For, if there be any prin- ciples or affections in the mind of man dis- tinct from self-love, that the things those prin- ciples tend to^yards, or that the objects of those affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to be pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in as an end, is implied in the very idea of such principle or affection*. They indeed asserted much higher things of virtue, and with very good reason ; but to say thus much of it, that it is to be pursued for itself, is to say no more of it, than may truly be said of the object of every natural affection whatever. (xiii, XIV.) The question, Avhich was a few years ago disputed in France, concerning the love of God, which was there called entlmsiasm, as it will every where by the generality of the world; this question, I say, answers in religion to that old one in morals now men- tioned. x4nd both of them are, 1 think, fully determined by the same observation, namely, that the very nature of affection, the idea it- self, necessarily implies resting in its object as an end. I shall not here add any thing further to what I have said in the two Discourses upon * Sermon xil 32 author's preface. ilmt most important subject, but only this: that if we are constituted such sort of crea- tures, as from our very nature to feel certain affections or movements of mind, upon the sight or contemplation of the meanest inani- mate part of the creation, for the flowers of the field have their beauty ; certainly there must be somewhat due to him himself, who is the Author and Cause of all things ; who is more intimately present to us than any thing else can be, and with whom we have a nearer and more constant intercourse, than we can have with any creature : there must be some movements of mind and heart which corre- spond to his perfections, or of which those perfections are the natural object : and that when we are commanded to lore the Lord our God icitli all our heart, and with all our mind, and with all our soid; somewhat more must be meant than merely that we live in hope of rewards or fear of punishments from him ; somewhat more than this must be intended: though these regards themselves are most just and reasonable, and absolutely necessary to be often recollected in such a world as this. It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that he is not to look for any par- ticular reason for the choice of the greatest part of these Discourses ; their being taken from amongst many others, preached in the author's preface. 33 same place, through a coiu^se of eight years, being in great measure accidental. Neither is he to expect to find any other connexion between them, than that uniformity of thought and design, which Avill always be found in the writings of the same person, when he Amtes with simplicity and in earnest. Staxhope, Sept. 16, 1729. UPON HUM AX NATURE. SERMON I. [man's nature includes principles which tend to the good of society.] EOMANS XII. 4, 5. For as we have many tnemhers in one hody, and all members have not the same office: so we being many are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another. [1] nnBUG epistles in the New Testament have JL aU of them a particular reference to the condition and usages of the Christian world at the time they were written. Therefore, as they cannot be thoroughly understood unless that condition and those usages are known and at- tended to ; so, further, though they be known, yet, if they be discontinued or changed, exhor- tations, precepts, and illustmtions of things, which refer to such circimistances now ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in that manner, and with that force, which they were to the primitive Christians. Thus the text now before us, in its first intent and design, relates to the decent management of those extraordi- 3—2 36 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. nary gifts which were then in the church^, but which are now totally ceased. And even as to the allusion, that "we are one body in Christ," though what the apostle here intends is equally true of Christians in all circumstances; and the consideration of it is plainly still an additional motive, over and above moral considerations, to the discharge of the several duties and offices of a Christian; yet it is manifest this allusion must have appeared with much greater force to those, who, by the many difficulties they went through for the sake of their religion, were led to keep always in view the relation they stood in to their Saviour, who had undergone the same; to those who, from the idolatries of all around them, and their ill-treatment, were taught to consider themselves as not of the world in which they live, but as a distinct society of themselves ; with laws, and ends, and principles of life and action, quite contrary to those which the world professed themselves at that time in- fluenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian was by them considered as nearer tliat of affinity and blood ; and they almost literally esteemed themselves as members one of an- j other. It cannot indeed possibly be denied, that i our being God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are born under, and the whole * 1 Cor. xii. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 37 constitution of man being plainly adapted to it, are jDrior obligations to piety and virtue, than the consideration that God sent his Son into the world to save it, and the motives which arise from the peculiar relation of Christians, as mem- bers one of another, under Christ our head. However, though all this be allowed, as it ex- pressly is by the inspired writers, yet it is mani- fest that Christians, at the time of the revela- tion, and immediately after, could not but insist mostly upon considerations of this latter kind. These observations shew the original parti- cular reference of the text ; and the peculiar force with which the thing intended by the allu- sion in it, must have been felt by the primitive Christian world. They likewise afford a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way. [2] The relation which the several parts or members of the natural body have to each other, and to the whole body, is here compared to the relation which each particular person in society has to other particular persons, and to the whole society; and the latter is intended to be illus- trated by the former. And if there be a like- ness between these two relations, the conse- quence is ob^dous : that the latter shews us we were intended to do good to others, as the for- mer shews us that the several members of the natural body were intended to be instruments of good to each other, and to the whole body. 38 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. But as there is scarce any ground for a com- parison between society and the mere material body, this, without the mind, being a dead, in- actiye thing ; much less can the comparison be carried to any length. And since the apostle speaks of the several members as having dis- tinct offices, which implies the mind, it cannot be thought an unallowable liberty, instead of the hocly and its numbers, to substitute the whole nature of man, and all the variety of internal py^nciples ichi^h belong to it And then the comparison will be between the nature of man as respecting self, and tending to pri- vate good, his own preservation and happiness ; and the nature of man as having respect to society, and tending to promote public good, the happiness of that society. These ends do indeed perfectly coincide ; and to aim at public and private good are so far from being incon- sistent, that they mutually promote each other : yet, in the following discourse they must be considered as entirely distinct; otherwise, the nature of man, as tending to one, or as tending to the other, cannot be compared. There can no comparison be made without considering the things compared as distinct and difierent. From this review and comparison of the nature of man as respecting self, and as respect- ing society, it will plainly appear, that there are as real and the same kind of indications I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 39 in human nature^ that tve tcere made for so- ciety and to do good to our felloic-creatures, as that ice were intended to take care of our own life, and health, and private good; and that the same objections lie against one of these assertions as against the other. For, [3] First, There is a natural principle of henevolence"^ in man, which is in some degree * Suppose a man of learning to be writing a gi-ave book upon human nature, 2in.di to shew in several parts of it that he had an insight into the subject he was considei-ing : amongst other things, the following one would require to be accounted for ; the appearance of benevolence or good- will in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, and in others^. [a] Cautious of being deceived with outward show, he retires within himself, to see exactly what that is in the mind of man from whence this appearance proceeds ; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. "Would not every body think here was a mistake of one word for another? That the philosopher was contemplat- ing and accounting for some other human actions, some other behaviour of man to man ? [6] And could any one be thoroughly satisfied, that what is commonly called benevolence or good-"vviil was really tlie afi'ection meant, but only by being made to understand that this learned person had a general hypothesis, to which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be recon- ciled ? That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition ; that delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with benevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger, of the two : but in reality that passion [ambition] does no more accoimt for the whole appearance of good-will, than this appetite [hunger] does. [c] Is there not often the appearance of one man's wish- ing that good to another, which he knows himself unable to 1 Hobbes of Human Nature, c. ix. § 17. 40 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. to society what self-love is to the individual. And if there be in mankind any disposition to procm^e him; and rejoicing in it, tliougli bestowed by a third person ? And can love of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire or delight 1 Is there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before another, to do good to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least account for the distinction and preference ? For this principle can no otherwise distinguish between objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion of power to do good to one rather than to another. \cr\ Again : suppose good- will in the mind of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power: men might indeed be restrained by distant and accidental considera- tions ; but these restraints being removed, they would have a disposition to, and delight in mischief, as an exercise and proof of power: and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same principle in the mind, as a dis- position to, and delight in charity. Thus cruelty, as dis- tinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same in the mind of man as good-will: that one tends to the happiness, the other to the misery of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not the least regard to. These are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into, when they have occasion to belie tlieir nature, and will perversely disclaim that image of God which was origi- nally stamped upon it ; the traces of which, however faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man. [e] If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as good- will in one man towards another ; (for the question is not concerning either the degree or ex- teusiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself ;) let it be_ observed, that whether man he thus, or otherwise con- stituted, ichat is the inicard frame in this particular, is a mere question of fact or natural history, not proveable immediately by reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other facts or matters of natural history are : by appealing to the external senses, or inward perceptions, respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognizable I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 41 friendship; if there be any such thing as com- passion, for compassion is momentaiy love; if there be any such thing as the paternal or filial affections; if there be any affection in human nature, the object and end of ^yliich is the good of another; this is itself benevolence, or the love of another. Be it ever so short, be it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily con- fined; it proves the assertion, and points out what we were designed for, as really as though it were in a higher degree and more extensive. [4] I must however remind you, that tliough benevolence and self-love are different ; though the foiTQer tends most directly to public good, and the latter to private; yet they are so per- by one or the other : by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions ; for a great number of actions of the same kind, in different circimistances. and respecting different objects, will prove, to a certainty, what principles they do not, and, to the gi'eatest probability, what principles they do proceed from : and, lastly, by the testimony of mankind. [f] Xow, that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was< this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shewn in no other ways than those in which it may be shewn, that there is such a thing in some degree as real good-will in man towards man. It is sufiicient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon our own heart and temper; to cultivate, to im- prove, to call it forth, to exercise it in a steady, uniform manner. This is our work : this is virtue and religion. 42 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. fectly coincident, that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend upon our having benevo- lence in a due degree ; and that self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour towards society. It may be added, that their mutual coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one without the other, is equally a proof that we were made for both. [5] Secondly. This will further appear from observing, that the several passions and affections, which are distinct* both from bene- * Every body makes a distinction between self-love, and the several particular passions, appetites, and affections ; and yet they are often confounded again. That they are totally different, will be seen by any one who will distinguish be- tween the passions and appetites themsehes, and endeavour' ing after the means of their gratification. [ci\ Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem : these being the occasion both of pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love, as well as the appetites and passions themselves, may put us upon making use of the proper methods of ohtaining that pleasure [esteem], and avoiding that pain [liunger] ; but the feelings themselves, the pain of hunger and shame, and the delight [from food and] from esteem, are no more self-love than they are any thing in the world. Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain of hunger as he would that of the gout : and it is plainly supposable, there may be creatures with self- love in them to the highest degi'ee, who may be quite in- sensible and indifferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those, upon whom their happiness does not in some further respects depend. And as self-love and the several particular passions and appetites are in themselves totally different; so that some actions proceed from one, and some from the other, will be manifest to any who will observe the two following very supposable cases : — [6] One man rushes upon certain ruin for the gratifica- I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 43 volence and self-love, do in general contribute and lead us to public good as really as to pri- vate. [6] It might be thought too minute and particidar, and would carry us too great a length, to distinguish between and compare together the several passions or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose primary use and intention is the security and good of society; and the passions distinct from self-love, whose primary intention and design is the security and good of the individual*. tion of a present desire : nobody will call the principle of this action self-love. Suppose another man to go through some laborious work, upon promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the reward Avill be : tliis com'se of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion. The former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some particular passion or affection, the latter as plainly to the general aflfection or principle of self-love. That there are some particular pursuits or actions con- cerning which we cannot determine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this, that the two principles are frequently mixed together, and run into each other. * If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a particular instance, the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for one. Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite; because the end for which it was given us is the preservation of the individual. Desire of esteem is a public passion ; because the end for which it was given us is to regulate our behaviour towards society. The respect which this has to private good is as remote as the respect which that has to public good ; and the appetite is no more self-love, than the passion is benevolence. The object and end of the former is merely food; the object and end of the latter is merely esteem : but the latter can 44 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. [7] It is enough to the present argument, that desire of esteem from others, contempt and esteem of them, love of society as distinct from affection to the good of it, indignation against successful vice, that these are public affections or passions; have an immediate re- spect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our behaviour in such a manner as will be of service to our fellow-creatures. If any or all of these may be considered likewise as private affections, as tending to private good ; this does not hinder them from being public affections too, or destroy the good influence of them upon society, and their tendency to i)ublic good. [8] It may be added, that as persons with- out any conviction from reason of the desira- bleness of life, would yet of course preserve it merely from the appetite of hunger ; so, by acting merely from regard (suppose) to rei)u- tation, ^nthout any consideration of the good of others, men often contribute to public good. In both these instances they are plainly instru- ments in the hands of another, in the hands of Providence, to carry on ends, the preserva- tion of the individual and good of society, which they themselves have not in their view or in- tention. no more be gratified, without contributing to the good of society, than the former can be gratified, without con- tributing to the preservation of the individual. ?.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 45 [9] The sum is, men hare various appe- tites, passions, and particular affections, quite distinct both from self-love and from benevo- lence ; all of these have a tendency to promote both public and private good, and may be con- sidered as respecting others and ourselves equally and in common: but some of them seem most immediately to respect others, or tend to public good : others of them most im- mediately to respect self, or tend to private good : as the former are not benevolence, so the latter are not self-love; neither sort are in- stances of our love either to ourselves or others, but only instances of our ^Maker's care and love both of the individual and the species, and proofs that He intended we should be instruments of good to each other, as well as that we should be so to ourselves. [10] Thirdly, There is a principle of reflec- tion in men, by which they distinguish between, approve and disapprove their own actions. We are plainly constituted such sort of creatures as to reflect upon our oami nature. The mind can take a view of what passes within itself, its propensions, aversions, passions, affections, as respecting such objects, and in such degrees, and of the several actions consequent there- upon. In this survey it ai)proves of one, dis- approves of another, and towards a third is af- fected in neither of these ways, but is quite 46 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. indifferent. This principle in man, by which he approves or disapproves his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience ; for this is the strict sense of the word, though sometimes it is used so as to take in more. [11] And that this faculty tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each other, and leads them to do good, is too manifest to need being insisted upon. Thus, a parent has the affection of love to his children : this leads him to take care of, to educate, to make due pro- vision for them; the natural affection leads to this : but the reflection that it is his proper business, what belongs to him, that it is right and commendable so to do; this, added to the affection, becomes a much more settled prin- ciple, and carries him on through more labour and difficulties for the sake of liis children, than he would undergo from that affection alone ; if he thought it, and the course of action it led to, either indifferent or criminal. [12] This indeed is impossible, to do that which is good, and not to approve of it; for which reason they are frequently not considered as distinct, though they really are : for men often approve of the actions of others, which they will not imitate, and likewise do that which they approve not. [13] It cannot possibly be denied, that there is this principle of reflection or conscience in I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 47 human nature. Suppose a man to relieve an innocent person in great distress; suppose the same man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the greatest mischief to a person who had given no just cause of offence ; to aggravate the injury, add the circumstances of former fi'iendship, and obligation from the injured person : let the man who is supposed to have done these two differ- ent actions, coolly reflect upon them afterwards, >vithout regard to their consequences to himself- to assert that any common man would be af- fected in the same way towards these different actions, that he would make no distinction be- tween them, but approve or disapprove them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need being confuted. There is therefore this principle of reflection or conscience in mankind. [14] It is needless to compare the respect it has to private good, ^vith the respect it has to public; since it plainly tends as much to the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought to tend chiefly to the latter. This faculty is now mentioned merely as another part in the inward frame of man, pointing out to us in some degree what we are intended for, and as what will natu- rally and of course have some influence. The particular place assigned to it by nature, what authority it has, and how great influence it ought to have, shall be hereafter considered. [15] From this comparison of benevolence 48 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. and self-love, of oui* public and private affec- tions, of the courses of life they lead to, and of the i)rinciple of reflection or conscience as re- specting each of them, it is as manifest, that ice were made Jar society, and to jwomote the hap- piness of it; as that we tvere intended to talze care of our oivn life, and health, and private good. [16] And from this whole review must be given a different draught of human nature from what we are often presented with. Mankind are by nature so closely united, there is such a correspondence between the inward sensations of one man and those of another, that disgrace is as much avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem and love as much desired as any external goods: and, in many particidar cases, persons are carried on to do good to others, as the end their affection tends to, and rests in ; and manifest that they find real satis- faction and enjoyment in this course of be- haviour. There is sucli a natural principle of attraction in man towards man, that having trod the same tract of land, having breathed in the same climate, barely having been born in the same artificial district or division, becomes the occasion of contracting acquaintances and fami- liarities many years after: for any thing may serve the purpose. Thus relations, merely no- minal, are sought and invented, not by governors. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 49 but by the lowest of the people ; whieli are found sufficient to hold mankind together in little fraternities and copartnerships: Tveak ties, in- ! deed, and -what may affi^rd fund enough for ridi- cule, if they are absurdly considered as the real principles of that union ; but they are, in truth, merely the occasions, as any thing may be of any thing, upon which our nature carries us on according to its own previous bent and bias; which occasions, therefore, would be notliing at all, were there not this prior disposition and bias of nature. ]Men are so much one body, that in a peculiar manner they feel for each other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, ho- nour, prosperity, distress ; one or other, or all of these, from the social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the occasion of natural rela- tion, acquaintance, protection, dependence ; each of these being distinct cements of society. And, therefore, to have no restraint from, no regard to others in our behaviour, is the speculative absurdity of considering ourselves as single and independent, as having nothing in our nature which has respect to our fellow-creatures, re- duced to action and practice. And this is the same absurdity as to suppose a hand, or any part, to have no natural respect to any other, or to the whole body. [17] But allo^dng all this, it may be asked, " Has not man dispositions and principles with- 4 50 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERJT. ill, wliicli lead him to do evil to others, as well as to do good? whence come the many miseries else, which men are the authors and instruments of to each other?" [18] These questions, so far as they relate to the foregoing discourse, may be answered by asking, "Has not man also dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do evil to himself as well as good? whence come the many miseries else, sickness, pain, and death, which men are the instruments and authors of to themselves?" [19] It may be thought more easy to an- swer one of these questions than the other, but the answer to both is really the same: that mankind have ungoverned passions whicli they will gratify at any rate, as well to the injury of others, as in contradiction to knoAvn private in- terest : but that as there is no such thing as self- hatred, so neither is there any such thing as ill- will in one man towards another, emulation and resentment being away ; wliereas there is plainly benevolence or good-Avill ; there is no such thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, ingra- titude; but only eager desires after such and such external goods; which, according to a very ancient observation, the most abandoned would choose to obtain by innocent means, if they were as easy and as effectual to their end: that even emulation and resentment, by any I.] UPON HUMAN NATUEE. 51 one who will consider what these passions really are in nature % ^yi]l be found nothing to the purpose of this objection; and that the prin- ciples and i^assions in the mind of man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevolence, primarily and most directly lead to right beha- viour with regard to others as well as himself, and only secondarily and accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men, to avoid the shame of one villany, are sometimes guilty of a greater, yet it is easy to see, that the original tendency of shame is to prevent the doing of shameful actions; and its leading men to conceal such actions when done, is only in consequence of their being. done; i.e. of the passion's not having answered its first end. [20] If it be said, that there are persons in the Avorld, who are, in great measure, ^vith- out the natural affections towards their fellow- creatures; there are likewise instances of per- * Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or superiority over others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not appear to be any other grief in. the natural passion, but only that icant which is implied in desire. However, this may be so strong as to be the occa- sion of gi'eat griff . To desire the attainment of this equality, or superiority, by the particular means of others being brought down to our own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of envy. From whence it is easy to see that the real end, which the natural passion, emulation, and wliich the unlawful one, envy, aims at, is exactly the same; namely, that equality or superiority : and, consequently, that to do mischief is'not the end of envy, but merely the means it makes use of to attain its end. 4—2 52 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEIIM. sons witlioiit the common natural aiFections to themselves : but the nature of man is not to be judged by either of these, but by what appears in the common v/orld, in the bulk of mankind. [21] I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if, to confirm the truth of this account of human nature, and make out the justness of the foregoing comparison, it should be added, that from what appears, men, in fact, as much and as often contradict that x>tt^'t of their nature which respects self, and which leads them to their oiim 2y^^ivate good and happiness, as they contradict that p«r^ of it which respects society, and tends to public good : that there are as few persons, who attain the greatest satisfaction and enjoyment which they might attain in the pre- sent world, as who do the greatest good to others which they might do; nay, that there are as few who can be said really and in earnest to aim at one, as at the other. Take a survey of mankind: the world in general, the good and bad, almost without ex- ception, equally are agreed, that were religion out of the case, the happiness of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in riches, honours, sensual gratifications; insomuch that one scarce hears a reflection made upon pru- dence, life, conduct, but upon this supposition. Yet, on the contrary, that persons in the greatest afiiuence of fortune are no happier I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 53 than sucli as have only a competency ; that the cares and disappointments of ambition for the most part far exceed the satisfactions of it ; as also the miserable intervals of intem- perance and excess, and the many untimely deaths occasioned b}^ a dissolute course of life: these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one acknowledged; but are thought no objections against, though they expressly contradict this universal principle, that the hap- piness of the present life consists in one or other of them. Vvlience is all this absurdity and contradic- tion? Is not the middle way obvious? Can any thing be more manifest, tlian that the happiness of life consists in these, possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree; that to pursue them beyond this degree, is ahvays at- tended with more inconvenience than advan- tage, to a man's self, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness? Whence then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradiction? Is it really the result of consideration in mankind, how they may be- come most easy to themselves, most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness attainable in this world? or is it not manifestly o^nng either to this, that they have not cool and reasonable concern enough for themselves to consider wherein their chief happiness in the 54 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. present life consists; or else, if they do con- sider it, that they will not act conformably to what is the result of that consideration? i.e. reasonable concern for themselves, or cool self-love, is prevailed over by passion and appetite. So that from what appears, there is no ground to assert, that those principles in the nature of man, which most directly lead to promote the good of our fellow-creatures, are more generally or in a greater degree violated, than those which most directly lead us to pro- mote our own private good and hapiwiess. [22] The sum of the whole is jilainly this. The nature of man, considered in his single capacity, and with respect only to the present world, is adapted and leads him to attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the present world. The nature of man, considered in his public or social capacity, leads him to a right behaviour in society, to that course of life which we call virtue. Men follow or obey their nature in both these capacities and re- spects to a certain degree, but not entirely: their actions do not come up to the whole of what their nature leads them to in either of these capacities or respects ; and they often violate their nature in both : i. e. as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow- creatures, to which their nature leads them; I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 55 and are injurious, to which their nature is abhorrent: so there is a manifest negligence in men of their real happiness or interest in the present world, when that interest is in- consistent with a present gratification; for the sake of which they negligently, nay, even know- ingly, are the authors and instruments of their own misery and ruin. Thus they are as often unjust to themselves as to others, and for the most part are equally so to both by the same actions. SEEMON II. [conscience is a principle superior in kind to appetites and desires.] EOMAXS II. 14. For when the Gentiles, which have not tJie laWy do hy nature the things contained in the law, these^ having not the laio, are a law unto themselves. [23] A S speculative tnitli admits of different J-A. kinds of proof, so likewise moral obligations may be shewn by different me- thods. If the real nature of any creature leads him and is adapted to such and such pur- poses only, or more than to any other; this is a reason to believe the Author of that nature intended it for those purposes. Thus there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see with. And the mere complex any constitution is, and the gi'cater variety of parts there are which thus tend to some one end, the stronger is the proof that such end was designed. [24] However, when the inward frame of man is considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution must be used that none make SEEM. II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 57 peculiarities in their own temper, or any thing "svhich is the effect of particular customs, though observable in several, the standard of what is common to the species; and, above all, that the highest principle be not forgot or excluded, that to which belongs the adjustment and cor- rection of all other inward movements and affec- tions : which principle will of course have some influence, but which, being in nature supreme, as shall now be shewn, ought to preside over and govern all the rest. The difiiculty of rightly obsei'ving the two former cautions ; the appearance there is of some small diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty, with respect to their natural sense of moral good and evil; and the attention necessary to survey with any exact- ness what passes within, have occasioned that it is not so much agreed what is the standard of the internal nature of man, as of his external form. Xeither is this last exactly settled. Yet we understand one another when we speak of the shape of a human body; so likewise we do when we speak of the heart and inward prin- ciples, how far soever the standai'd is from being exact or precisely fixed. There is, therefore, ground for an attempt of shewing men to themselves, of shewing them what course of life and behaviour their real nature points out and would lead them to. 58 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. [25] lSi0^y, obligations of virtue shewn, and motives to the practice of it enforced, from a review of the nature of man, are to be considered as an appeal to each particular person's heart and natural conscience: as the external senses are appealed to for the proof of things cognizable by them. Since, then, our inward feelings, and the perceptions we receive from our external senses, are equally real ; to argue from the former to life and conduct, is as little liable to exception, as to argue from the latter to absolute speculative truth. A man can as little doubt whether his eyes were given him to see with, as he can doubt of the truth of the science of optics, deduced from ocular experiments. And allow- ing the inward feeling, shame; a man can as little doubt Avhether it was given him to pre- vent his doing shameful actions, as he can doubt whether his eyes were given him to guide his steps. And as to these inward feel- ings themselves; that they are real, that man has in his nature passions and affections, can no more be questioned, than that he has external senses. Neither can the former be wholly mis- taken, though to a certain degree liable to greater mistakes than the latter. [26] There can be no doubt but that seve- ral iDropensions or instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry him to society and ■ II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 59 to contribute to the happiness of it, in a sense and a manner in which no inward principle leads him to evil. These principles, propen- sions, or instincts, Avhich lead him to do good, are approved of by a certain faculty within, quite distinct from these propensions them- selves. x\ll this hath been fully made out in the foregoing discourse. [27] But it may be said, "What is all this, though true, to the purpose of virtue and religion? these require, not only that we do good to others when we are led this way, by benevolence or reflection happening to be stronger than other principles, passions, or appetites ; but lilvcwise, that the icliole charac- ter be formed upon thought and reflection ; that every action be directed by some deter- minate rule, some other rule than the strength and prevalency of any principle or passion. What sign is there in our nature (for the in- quiry is only about what is to be collected from thence) that this was intended by its Author? or how does so various and fickle a temper as that of man ax)pear adapted thereto ? " It may indeed be absurd and unnatural for men to act without any reflection ; nay, with- out regard to that particular kind of reflection which you call conscience; because this does belong to our nature. For, as there never 60 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. was a man but who approved one place, pros- pect, building, before another ; so it does not appear that there ever was a man who would not have approved an action of humanity rather than of cruelty; interest and passion being quite out of the case. ^'But interest and passion do come in, and are often too strong for, and prevail over, re- flection and conscience. Now, as brutes have various instincts, by which they are carried on to the end the Author of their nature in- tended them for; is not man in the same con- dition, with this difference only, that to his instincts {Le. appetites and j)assions) is added the principle of reflection or conscience ? And as brutes act agreeably to their nature, in fol- lowing that principle or particular instinct which for the present is strongest in them ; does not man likewise act agi'eeably to his nature, or obey the law of his creation, by follow- ing that principle, be it passion or conscience, which for the present happens to be strongest in him? " Thus, different men are by their particular nature hurried on to pursue honour, or riches, or i^leasure : there are also persons whose temper leads them in an uncommon degree to kindness, compassion, doing good to their fellow-creatures; as there are others who are given to suspend their judgment, to weigh and II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 61 consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection. "Let erery one then quietly follow his na- ture ; as passion, reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen to be strongest : but let not the man of virtue take upon him to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute; since these, equally with him, obey and follow their nature. Thus, as in some cases, we follow our nature in doing the works contained in the law, so in other cases we follow nature in doing the contrary." [28] Xow, all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a supposition, that men follow their nature in the same sense, in violating the known rules of justice and honesty for the sake of a present gratification, as they do in follo'>ving those rules when they have no temptation to the contrary. x\nd if this were true, that could not be so which St Paul asserts, that men are " by nature a law to themselves." If by following nature were meant only acting as we please, it Avould indeed be ridiculous to speak of nature as any guide in morals : nay, the very mention of deviating from nature would b-e absurd; and the mention of following it, when spoken by way of distinction, would absolutely have no meaning. For, did ever any one act otlierwise than as he pleased ? And yet the ancients speak of deviating from nattire, as vice ; and of follovr- 62 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. ing nature so much as a distinction, that, accord- ing to them, the perfection of virtue consists therein. So that language itself should teach people another sense to the words /o^Zoim?// na- ture, than barely acting as we j^lease. [29] Let it however be observed, that though the Avords human nature are to be explained, yet the real question of this discourse is not concerning the meaning of words, any other- wise than as the exi)lanation of them may be needful to make out and explain the assertion, that every man is naturally a laiv to Jiimself, that eveiy one may find within himself the rule of right, and obligations to follow it. This St Paul affirms in the words of the text, and this the foregoing objection really denies, by seeming to allow it. And the objection Avill be fully answered, and the text before us explained, by observing, that nature is considered in dif- ferent views, and the word used in different senses ; and by shewing in what view it is con- sidered, and in what sense the word is used, when intended to express and signify that which is the guide of life, that by which men are a law to themselves. I say, the explanation of the term will be sufficient, because from thence it will appear, that in some senses of the word, nature cannot be, but that in another sense it manifestly is, a law to us. [30] I. By nature is often meant no more II.] UPON HUMAN NATUEE. 63 tliaD some principle in man, without regard either to the kind or degi'ee of it. Thus, the passion of anger, and the affection of parents to their children, would be called equally na- tural. And as the same pei^on hath often con- trary principles, which at the same time draw contraiy ways, he may by the same action both follow and contradict his nature in this sense of the word; he may follow one passion, and contradict another. II. Xature is frequently spoken of as con- sisting in those passions which are strongest, and most influence the actions; which being vicious ones, mankind is in tliis sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature. Thus St Paul says of the Gentiles, icJio ivere dead in trespasses and sins, and vxdJced according to the spirit of disobedience, that tJiei/ ivere hy nature the chil- dren of wrath"^. They could be no other'^vise children of icrath by nature, than they were vicious by nature. Here, then, are two different senses of the word nature, in neither of which men can at all be said to be a law to themselves. They are mentioned only to be excluded ; to prevent their being confounded, as the latter is in the ob- jection, with another sense of it, which is now to be inquired after and explained. [31] III. The apostle asserts, that the Gen- * Eph. u. 3. 64 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. tiles do by nature the tilings contamed in the law. Nature is indeed here put by way of dis- tinction from revelation, but yet it is not a mere negative. He intends to. express more than that by which they did not, that by a\ hich they did the works of the law ; namely, by nature. It is plain the meaning of the word is not the same in this passage as in the former, where it is spo- ken of as evil ; for in this latter it is spoken of as good ; as that by which they acted, or might have acted virtuously. What that is in man by which lie is natnraUi/ a law to himself, is explained in the following words : — which shew the ivorh of the laio icritten in their hearts, their consciences also hearing witness, andj their thoughts the mean- while accusing or else excusing one another, [32] If there be a distinction to be made between the worh written in their hearts, and the ivitness of conscience; by the former must be meant, the natural disposition to kindness and compassion, to do what is of good report, to which this apostle often refers : that part of the nature of man, treated of in the foregoing discourse, which, with very little reflection and of course, leads him to society, and by means of which he naturally acts a just and good part in it, unless other passions or interest lead him astray. Yet since other passions, and regards to private interest, which lead us (though in- directly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves IT.] UPOX HUMAN XATUEE. 65 in a degree equally natural, and often most pre- valent ; and since we have no method of seeing the particular degrees in which one or the other is placed in us by nature, it is plain the former, considered merely as natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a law to us than the latter. [33] But there is a superior principle of reflection or conscience in every man, which dis- tinguishes between the internal principles of his heart, as well as his external actions; which passes judgment upon himself and them ; pro- nounces determinately some actions to be in themselves just, right, good; others to be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust; which without being consulted, without being advised with, magisterially exerts itself, and approves or con- demns him, the doer of them, accordingly : and which, if not forcibly stopped, naturally and al- ways of course goes on to anticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which shall here- after second and affirm its own. [But this part of the office of conscience is beyond my present design explicitly to consider.] It is by this fa- culty, natural to man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to himself: by this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely as a i)rinciple in his heart, which is to have some influence as well as others ; but considered as a faculty, 5 Q6 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEEM. in kind and in nature, supreme over all others, and which bears its own authority of being so. [34] This 2jrerogative, this natural supre- macy, of the faculty which surveys, approves or disapproves the several affections of our mind, and actions of our lives, being that by which men are a laio to themselves, their conformity or disobedience to which law of our nature renders their actions, in the highest and most proper sense, natural or unnatural; it is fit it be further explained to you : and I hope it will be so, if you will attend to the following re- flections. [35] Man may act according to that prin- ciple or inclination which for the present hap- pens to be strongest, and yet act in a way dis- proportionate to, and violate his real proper nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He plainly followed the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite : there is an entire correspondence between his whole nature and such an action: such action therefore is natural. But suppose a man, foreseeing the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into it for the sake of a present gratification; he, in this instance, would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute creature : but there Avould be as manifest a disproportion, between the nature II.] UPON HUMAX NATURE. 67 of a man and such an action, as between the meanest work of art and the skill of the greatest master in that art ; which disproportion arises, not from considering the action singly in itself, or in its consequences, but from compcirison of it with the nature of the agent. And since such an action is utterly disproportionate to the na- ture of man, it is in the strictest and most proper sense unnatural ; this word expressing that dis- proportion. Therefore, instead of the words disijroijortionate to his nature, the word unna- tural may now be put ; this being more familiar to us : but let it be observed, that it stands for the same thing precisely. [36] Xow, what is it which renders such a rash action unnatural? Is it that he went against the principle of reasonable and cool self- love, considered merely as a part of his nature? No: for if he had acted the contrary way, he would equally have gone against a principle, or part of his nature, namely, passion or appetite. But, to deny a present appetite, from foresight that the gratification of it would end in imme- diate ruin or extreme misery, is by no means an unnatural action: whereas, to contradict or go against cool self-love, for the sake of such grati- fication, is so in the instance before us. Such an action then being unnatural, and its being so not arising from a man's going against a prin- ciple or desire barely, nor in going against that 5—2 G8 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. principle or desire which happens for the pre- sent to be strongest ; it necessarily follows, that there must be some other difference, or distinc- tion, to be made between these two principles, passion and cool self-love, than what I have yet taken notice of And this difference, not being a difference in strength or degree, I call a differ- ence in nature and in Jdnd, And since, in the instance still before us, if passion prevails over self-love, the consequent action is unnatural ; but if self-love prevails over passion, the action is natural ; it is manifest, that self-love is in human nature a superior principle to passion. This may be contradicted without violating that nature, but the former cannot. So that, if we will act conformably to the economy of man's nature, reasonable self- love must govern. Thus, without particular considemtion of con- science, we may have a clear conception of the superior nature of one inward principle to ano- ther ; and see that there really is this natu- ral superiorit}", quite distinct from degrees of strength and prevalency. [37] Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as consisting partly of various appetites, passions, affections, and partly of the principle of reflection or conscience, leaving quite out all consideration of the different degrees of strength, in which either of them prevail ; and it will fur- II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 69 ther appear that there is this natural superiority of one inward i^rinciple to another, or that it is even part of the idea of reflection or con- science. Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency towards such and such objects, with- out distinction of the means by which they are to be obtained. Consequently, it mil often hap- pen there will be a desire of particular objects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without manifest injury to others. Reflection or con- science comes in, and disapproves the pursuit of them in these circumstances; but the desire remains. AMiich is to be obeyed, appetite or reflection? Cannot this question be answered, from the economy and constitution of himian nature merely, Avithout saying which is strongest ? or need this at all come into consideration? Would not the question be iMelUgibly and fully answered by saying, that the principle of reflec- tion or conscience being compared ^vith the various appetites, passions, and affections in men, the former is manifestly superior and chief, without regard to strength? And how often so- ever the latter happens to prevail, it is mere usurpation. The former remains in nature and in kind its superior ; and every instance of such prevalence of the latter, is an instance of break- ing in upon and violation of the constitution of man. 70 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. [38] All this is no more than the distinc- tion, which every body is acquainted with, be- tween mere 2^oiver and autliorlty: only, instead of being intended to express the difference between what is possible, and what is lawful in civil government; here it has been shewn ap- plicable to the several principles in the mind of man. Thus, that principle by Avhicli we sur- vey, and either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper and actions, is not only to be con- sidered as what is in its turn to have some influence ; which may be said of every passion, of the lowest appetites: but likewise as being superior ; as from its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all others: insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direc- tion, superintendency. This is a constituent part of tlie idea, that is, of the faculty itself : and to preside and govern, from the very eco- nomy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it strength, as it has right ; had it jiower, as it has manifest authority, it Avould absolutely govern the Avorld. [39] This gives us a further view of the nature of man; shews us what course of life we were made for ; not only that our real nature leads us to be influenced in some degree by reflection and conscience, but likewise in what degree we are to be influenced by it. if we will II.] rPON HUMAX NATURE. 71 fall in with, and act agreeably to, the constitu- tion of our nature : that this faculty was placed within to be our proper governor ; to direct and regulate all under principles, passions, and mo- tives of action. Tliis is its right and office : thus sacred is its authority. And how often soever men violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for supposed interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or for the sake of passion which they cannot otherwise gratify ; this makes no alteration as to the natural right and office of conscience. [40] Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and suppose there was no such thing at all as this natural supremacy of con- science ; that there was no distinction to be made between one iuAvard principle and ano- ther, but only that of strength; and see what would be tlie consequence. Consider, then, what is the latitude and com- pass of the actions of man with regard to him- self, his fellow-creatures, and the Supreme Being? \Miat are their bounds, besides that of our na- tural power? With respect to the two first, they are i)lainly no other than these: no man seeks misery as such for himself; and no one unprovoked does mischief to another for its own sake. For in every degree within these bounds, mankind kno^^lngly, from passion or wantonness, bring ruin and misery upon themselves and 72 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. others. And impiety and profaneness, I mean, what every one would call so who believes the being of God, have absolutely no bounds at all. Men blaspheme the Author of nature, formally I and in words renounce their allegiance to their Creator. Put an instance, then, with respect to any one of these three. Though Ave should suppose profane swearing, and in general that kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it implies wanton disregard and irreverence to- wards an infinite Being, our Creator ; and is this as suitable to the nature of man, as reverence and dutiful submission of heart towards that Almighty Being? Or suppose a man guilty of parricide, with all the circumstances of cruelty which such an action can admit of : this action is done in con- sequence of its principle being for the present strongest : and if there be no difference between inward principles, but only that of strength ; the strength being given, you have the whole nature of the man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The action plainly corresponds to the principle, the principle being in that degree of strength it was : it therefore coiTesponds to the whole nature of the man. Upon comparing the action and the whole nature, there arises no disproportion, there appears no unsuitableness between them. Thus the murder of a father II.] UPON HUMAX NATURE. 78 and the nature of man correspond to each other, as the same nature and an act of filial duty. If there be no difference between inward prin- ciples, but only that of strength, we can make no distinction between these two actions, con- sidered as the actions of such a creature; but in our coolest hours must approve or disap- prove them equally : than which nothing can be reduced to a greater absurdity. SEEMON III. [the subject continued.] [41] ^HE natural supremacy of reflection or J- conscience being thus established; we may from it form a distinct notion of wliat is meant by human nature, Avlien virtue is said to consist in following it, and vice in deviating from it. As the idea of a civil constitution implies in it united strength, various subordinations, un- der one direction, that of the supreme autho- rity; the different strength of each particular member of the society not coming into the idea ; whereas, if you leave out the subordination, the union, and the one direction, you destroy and lose it: so reason, several appetites, passions, and affections, prevailing in different degrees of strength, is not that idea or notion of human nature; but that nature consists in these seve- ral principles considered as having a natural respect to each other, in the several passions being naturally subordinate to the one superior principle of reflection or conscience. Every bias. SERM. III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 75 instinct, propension ^vithin, is a real part of our nature, but not the whole : add to these the superior faculty, Tvhose ofRce it is to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take in this its natural superiority, and you complete the idea of human nature. And as in civil government the constitution is broken in upon and violated, by poT\'er and strength prevailing over authority ; so the con- stitution of man is broken in upon and violated by the lower faculties or principles within pre- vailing over that which is in its nature supreme over them all. Thus, when it is said by ancient T\Titers, that tortures and death are not so contrary to human nature as injustice; by tliis, to be sure, is not meant, that the aversion to the former in mankind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion to the latter : but that the former is only contrary to our nature considered in a partial view, and which takes in only the low- est jiart of it, that which we have in common with the brutes ; whereas the latter is contrary to our nature, considered in a higher sense, as a svstem and constitution coutrarv to the whole economy of man*. * Every man, in his physical nature, is one individual single agent. He has likewise properties and principles, each of which may be considered separately, and without regard to the respects which they have to each other. Nei- ther of these are the nature we are taking a view of. But it is the inward frame of man, considered as a system or 76 UrON ITU^IAX NATURE. [8ER>r. [42] And from all these things put to- gether, nothing can be more evident, than constitution : whose several parts are united, not by a phy- sical principle of individuation, but by the respects they have to each other; the chief of which is the subjection which the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the one supreme principle of reflection or conscience. The system or constitution is formed by and consists in these respects and this subjection. [«] Thus, the body is a system or constitution : so is a tree : so is every machine. Consider all the several parts of a tree without tiie natural respects they have to each other, and you have not at all the idea of a tree ; but add these respects, and this gives you the idea. The body may be impaired by sickness, a tree may decay, a niaoliine be out of order, and yet the system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly somewhat which answers to all this in the moral constitution of man. AVhoever will consider his own nature, will see that the several appetites, passions, and particular afi"ections, have different respects amongst them- selves. They are restraints upon, and are in a proportion to, each other. [ft] This proportion is just and perfect, when all those under principles are perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as their nature permits, and, in all cases, under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or defect, the least alteration of the due proportions amongst them- selves, or of their coincidence with conscience, though not proceeding into action, is some degree of disorder in the moral constitution. But perfection, though plainly intelligible and suppos- able, was never attained by any man. If the higher princi- ple of reflection maintains its place, and, as much as it can, corrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out into action, this is all that can be expected in such a creature as man. And though the appetites and passions have not their exact due proportion to each other ; tiiough they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection; yet, since the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief respect which forms the constitution, so far as this superiority is maintained, the character, the man, is good, worthy, virtuous. III.] UPON HUMAN NATUnE. 77 that, exclusive of revelation, man cannot be considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at random, and live at large up to the extent of his natural power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen to carry him; which is the condition brute creatures are in : but that, from his maJie^ constitution, or nature, he is, In the strictest and most proper sense, a Icnv to himself. He hath the rule of right within : what is wanting is only that he honestly attend to it. [43] The inquiries which have been made by men of leisure after some general rule, the conformity to, or disagreement from which, should denominate our actions good or evil, are in many respects of great service. Yet let any plain, honest man, before he engages in any course of action, ask himself. Is this I am going about right, or is it wi'ong? Is it good, or is it evil? I do not in the least doubt, but that this question would be answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any fair man in almost any circumstance. Xeither do there appear any cases which look like exceptions to this, but those of superstition and of partiality to ourselves. Superstition may, i)erhaps, be somewhat of an exception : but partiality to ourselves is not ; this being itself dishonesty. For a man to judge that to be the equitable, the moderate, the right 78 UPON HUMAN NATUKE. [sERM. part for him to act, which he would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another ; this is j)lain vice, and can proceed only from great unfairness of mind. [44] But, allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within himself, yet it may be asked, "What obligations are we under to attend to and follow it?' I answer: it has been proved, that man by his nature is a law to himself, without the particular distinct con- sideration of the positive sanctions of that law; the rewards and punisliments which we feel, and those which from the light of reason we have ground to believe are annexed to it. The question then carries its own answer along with it. Your obligation to obey this law, is its being the law of your nature. That your conscience approves of and attests to such a course of action, is itself alone an obligation. Conscience does not only offer itself to shew us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its oa\ti authority with it, that it is our natural guide, the guide assigned us by the Author of our nature : it therefore belongs to our condition of being, it is our duty to walk in that path, and follow this guide, with- out looking about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them with impunity. [45] However, let us hear what is to be said against obeying this law of our nature. III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 79 And the siim is no more than this: "Why should we be concerned about any thing out of and beyond ourselves ? If we do find withiu ourselves regards to others, and restraints of we know not how many different kinds ; yet these being embarrassments, and hindering us from going the nearest Avay to our own good, why should we not endeavour to suppress and get over them ?" [46] Thus, people go on with words, which, when applied to human nature, and the con- dition in which it is placed in this world, have really no meaning. For does not all this kind of talk go upon supposition, that our happiness in this world consists in somewhat quite dis- tinct from regards to others, and that it is the privilege of vice to be without constraint or confinement? Whereas, on the contrary, the eujoyments, in a manner all the common en- joyments of life, even the pleasures of vice, depend upon these regards of one kind or another to our fellow-creatures. Throw ofi" all regards to others, and we should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honour : there could be no such thing at all as ambition, and scarce any such thing as covetousness ; for we should likewise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty, the several neglects and kinds of contempt which accompany this state ; and to the reputation of riches, the regard 80 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. and respect they usually procure. Neither is restraint by any means peculiar to one course of life ; but our very nature, exclusive of con- science and our condition, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. We cannot gain any end Avhatever without being confined to the proper means, which is often the most painful and uneasy confinement. And, [in numberless instances, a present appetite cannot be grati- fied without such apparent and immediate ruin and misery, that the most dissolute man in the world chooses to forego the pleasure, rather than endure the pain. [47] Is the meaning, then, to indulge those regards to our fellow-creatures and submit to those restraints, which, upon the whole, are at- tended with more satisfaction than uneasiness, and get over only those which bring more un- easiness and inconvenience than satisfaction? ^^ Doubtless this was our meaning." You have changed sides, then. Keep to this : be consist- ent with yourselves ; and you and the men of virtue are, in general, perfectly agreed. But let us take care, and avoid mistakes. Let it not be taken for granted, that the tem- per of envy, rage, resentment, yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness, compas- sion, and good-will : especially when it is ac- knowledged, that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves mere misery ; and the satisfac- III.] UPOX HUMAN NATUEE. 81 tion arising from the indulgence of them is little more than relief from that misery : where- as the temper of compassion and benevo- lence is itself delightful ; and the indulgence of it, by doing good, affords new positive de- light and enjoyment. Let it not be taken for granted, that the satisfaction arising from the reputation of riches and power, however ob- tained, and from the respect paid to them, is greater than the satisfaction arising from the reputation of justice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally acknowledged to be their due. And if it be doubtful which of these satis- factions is the greatest, as there are persons who think neither of them very considerable, yet there can be no doubt concerning ambi- tion and covetousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in themselves, and as leading to dif- ferent courses of life ; there can, I say, be no doubt, which temper and which course is at- tended with most peace and tranquillity of mind, which ^vith most perplexity, vexation, and in- convenience. And both the virtues and vices which have been now mentioned, do in a man- ner equally imply in them regards of one kind or another to our fellow-creatures. [48] And with resj)ect to restraint and confinement : whoever will consider the re- straints from fear and shame, the dissimula- 6 82 UPON HL'MAN NATURE. [SERM. tion, mean arts of coucealmeut, servile com- pliauces, one or other of which belong to almost every course of vice, will soon be convinced, that the man of virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage in this respect. How many instances are there, in which men feel, and own, and cry aloud under the chains of vice with which they are enthralled, and which yet they will not shake off! How many instances, in which persons manifestly go through more pains and self-denial to gratify a vicious pas- sion, than would have been necessary to the conquest of it ! [49] To this is to be added, that when virtue is become habitual, when the temper of it is acquired, what was before confinement ceases to be so, by becoming choice and delight. AMiatever restraint and guard upon ourselves may be needful to unlearn any unnatural dis- tortion or odd gesture ; yet, in all propriety of si)eech, natural behaviour must be the most easy and unrestrained. [50] It is manifest that, in the common course of life, there is seldom any inconsist- ency between our duty and v.hat is called interest: it is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between duty and what is really our present interest ; meaning by interest hap- piness and satisfaction. Self-love, then, though confined to the interest of the present world, III.] UPON HUMAN XATUr.E. 83 does in general perfectly coincide Tvith virtue; and leads us to one and the same course of life. But, whatever exceptions there are to this, which are much fewer than they are com- monly thought, all shall be set riglit at the final distribution of things. It is a manifest absurd- ity, to suppose evil prevailing finally over good, under the conduct and administration of a per- fect mind. [51] The whole argimient which I have been now insisting upon, may be thus summed up and given you in one view. The nature of man is adapted to some course of action or other. Upon comparing some actions Tvith this nature, they appear suitable and correspondent to it: from comparison of other actions with the same nature, there arises to our view some unsuit- ableness or disproportion. The corresj^ondence of actions to the nature of the agent renders them natural: their disproportion to it, unna- tural. That an action is correspondent to the nature of the agent, does not arise from its being agreeable to the principle which happens to be the strongest : for it may be so, and yet be quite disproportionate to the nature of the agent. The correspondence, therefore, or dis- proportion, arises from somewhat else. This can be nothing but a difference in nature and kind (altogether distinct from strength) between the inward princii)les. Some, then, are in nature 6—2 84 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. III. and kind superior to others. And tlie corre- spondence arises from the action being conform- able to the higher principle; and the unsuita- bleness from its being contrary to it. Reasonable self-love and conscience are the chief or supe- rior principles in the nature of man : because an action may be suitable to this nature, though all other principles be violated; but becomes unsuitable, if either of those are. Conscience and self-love, if we understand our true happi- ness, always lead us the same way. — Duty and interest are perfectly coincident; for the most part in this world, but entirely and in every instance, if we take in the future and the whole ; this being implied in the notion of a good and perfect administration of things. Thus, they who have been so wise in their generation, as to regard only their own supposed interest, at the expense and to the injury of others, shall at last find, that he who has given up all the advantages of the present world, rather than violate his conscience and the relations of life, has infinitely better provided for himself, and secured his OAvn interest and happiness. DISSERTATIOX OX VIRTUE. [52] rjlHAT which renders beings capable of JL moral government, is their having a moral nature, and moral faculties of perception and of action. Brute creatures are impressed and actuated by various instincts and propen- sions: so also are we. But additional to this, we have a capacity of reflecting upon actions and characters, and making them an object to our thouglit : and on our doing this, we naturally and unavoidably approve some actions, under the peculiar view of their being virtuous and of good desert; and disapprove others, as vicious and of ill desert. [53] That we have this moral approving and disapproving^^ faculty, is certain from our * This way of speaking is taken from Epictetus^, and is made use of as seeming the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral faculty may be understood to have these two epithets, doKifiacrriKT] and aTro8oKip.acrTL