Читать книгу Principles of Equity - Henry Home Lord Kames - Страница 10

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PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE BEING An Investigation of the Moral Laws of Society. ^*

The science of morality hath for its subject, human actions, with their effects; and its end or purpose is, to regulate these actions.

To act by instinct signifies, to act by blind impulse, without having any end in view. The brute creatures act generally by instinct: the instinct of hunger prompts them to eat, and of cold to take shelter, without considering what these actions may produce. The same must be the condition of infants: for infants are not capable of any consideration: they apply to the nipple, without foreseeing that this action will relieve them from hunger; and they cry when pained, without having any view of procuring relief. But as soon as our ripened faculties unfold to us the connection between our actions and their effects, then it is that we begin to act with an intention to produce certain effects; and our actions, in that case, are means employed to bring about the effects intended.

Intention and will, though generally reckoned synonymous terms, signify different operations of the mind: will is relative to the external action; for we never act without a will to act: intention is relative to the effect; for we act in order to bring about the effect intended. It is my intention, for example, to relieve a certain person from distress by giving money: as soon as I see that person, it is my will to deliver the money: the external act of delivery follows: and the person is relieved; which is the effect intended. <2>

Some effects proceed necessarily from the action. A wound is an effect

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necessarily connected with the action of stabbing a man with a sharp weapon: death is the necessary effect of throwing a person downward from the battlements of a high tower. Some effects are probable only: I labour, for example, in order to provide for my family; fight for my country, in order to repel its enemies; take physic, in order to restore my health. In such cases, the event intended does not necessarily nor always follow.

A man, when he wills to act, must at the same time intend to produce the effect that he knows to be necessarily connected with the action. But where the effect is probable only, a man may proceed to act without intending to produce the effect that follows. For example, a stone I throw at random into the market-place, may wound a man without my intending that effect.

Instinctive actions, from their very definition, exclude intention: actions that necessarily produce their effects, must imply intention: effects that are probable only, not necessary, are sometimes intended, sometimes not.

A right and a wrong, in such actions as are done intentionally to produce some effect, are universally acknowledged; and yet philosophers have been much difficulted to assign the cause of this eminent distinction. The various opinions that have been entertained about it, would be a delicate historical morsel; but come not within the compass of this short inquiry. I shall only observe, negatively, that the science of morals cannot be founded on any truths that may be discovered by reasoning: which will thus appear. As the faculty of reason is confined to the investigation of unknown truths by means of truths that are known, it is clear, that in no science can we even begin to reason, till we be provided with some data to found our reasonings upon: even in mathematics, there are certain principles or axioms perceived intuitively to be true, upon which all its demonstrations are founded. Reason is indeed of great use in morality, as well as in other sciences; but morality, like mathematics, is and must be provided with certain axioms or intuitive propositions, without which we cannot make a single step in our reasonings upon that subject; and to trace these with care and caution is the chief purpose of the present inquiry. <3>

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CHAPTER I

The Moral Sense.

When we reflect upon the different branches of science, it might seem, that of all subjects human nature should be the best understood; because every man has daily opportunities to study it in his own passions, and in his own actions. But human nature, an interesting subject, is seldom left to the cool investigations of philosophy. Writers of a sweet disposition, inflamed with a warm imagination, compose man mostly or wholly of benevolent principles: others, of a cold temperament and narrow views, bring him down to be an animal entirely selfish. These systems are equally distant from truth: man is of a complex nature, endued with various principles, some selfish some social; and it is highly expedient that man should be so framed, in order to act the part that is allotted him in this life. The unhappy progress of selfishness, especially among commercial nations, is a favourite topic of declamation; and facts are accumulated without end to inforce that topic. It would be no difficult task to produce instances, not less numerous, of benevolence, generosity, and disinterestedness. In the midst of these opposite instances, what can any sensible person fairly conclude, but that the social and selfish principles are, by divine wisdom, so blended as to fit man for his present state? But supposing selfishness to prevail in action, it certainly prevails not in sentiment, nor in affection: all men equally conspire to put a high estimation upon generosity, benevolence, and other social qualities; while even the most selfish are disgusted with selfishness in others, and can scarce be reconciled to it in themselves. Another fact, equally worthy of attention, proceeds from the same cause with the former. Laying aside particular prejudices arising from love or hatred, good fortune happening to any one is agreeable to all, and bad fortune happening to any one is disagreeable to all. Hence effects or events, whether produced by the operation of the laws of matter, or by the actions of self-motive beings, may be distinguished into three kinds, viz. agreeable, disagreeable, and indifferent. Beneficial effects or events are agreeable: hurtful effects or events are disagreeable: and those that are neither beneficial nor hurtful, are indifferent.

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These preliminaries lead directly to the true foundation of morality, <4> which foundation is discovered upon taking under consideration effects or events produced by human actions. An agreeable effect or event produced intentionally by acting, is perceived by all to be good:^* a disagreeable effect or event produced intentionally by acting, is perceived by all to be ill: and an indifferent effect or event is not in our perception either good or ill. These perceptions of good and of ill are the primary moral perceptions, with which, as will be seen afterward, every other moral perception is intimately connected.

In an attempt to investigate the true foundation of morality, an effect or event, being the end for which we act, presents itself first to the mind as its capital object: an action is only a mean employ’d to produce some effect or event, and means are always subordinate to the end. For this reason, I thought it necessary to vary from other writers upon moral philosophy, who begin with actions as the capital object, without giving due attention to the ends for which we act.

Good and ill, like agreeable and disagreeable, bitter and sweet, hard and soft, are simple qualities, incapable of a definition; and, like these, and all other qualities, are objects of perception, independent of consequences, and independent of reasoning or reflection. I illustrate this doctrine by the following examples: We require no argument to prove, that children of the poor bred to useful employments by means of a charitable endowment, an infant rescued from the jaws of a lion, a sick person restored to health, the hungry fed, and the naked clothed, are good effects; they are perceived to be such intuitively: an argument is as little necessary to prove, that an old man abandoned to poverty by his favourite son in opulent circumstances, a virtuous young woman corrupted by artifice, are ill effects; and that breach of engagement, and harm done to one who dreads

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no harm from us, are equally so: these effects are perceived intuitively to be ill.

Next as to actions considered as means productive of effects. To the qualities of good and ill in effects, correspond the qualities of right and wrong in actions: An agreeable effect produced intentionally, is perceived to be good; and the action by which it is produced, is perceived to be right: a disagreeable effect produced intentionally <5> is perceived to be ill; and the action by which it is produced, is perceived to be wrong.^* And as it will be seen afterward, that some effects are perceived to be ill without being intended; it will also be seen, that the actions by which such effects are produced, are perceived to be wrong.

An action is perceived to be right or wrong according to the effect intended, whether the effect follow or not. Thus, if to save my friend from being drowned, I plunge into a river, the action is right though I come too late: and if I aim a stroke at a man behind his back, the action is wrong though I happen not to touch him.

It holds in actions as in effects: good effects are a species of agreeable effects, and right actions a species of agreeable actions: ill effects are a species of disagreeable effects, and wrong actions a species of disagreeable actions.

Thus, right and wrong, like good and ill, and all other qualities, are objects of perception or intuition; and supposing them hid from our perception, an attempt to discover them by reasoning would be absurd; not less so, than such an attempt with respect to beauty or colour, or with respect to the external objects to which these qualities belong.

For the sake of perspicuity, the foregoing observations are confined to the simplest case, that of an effect or event produced intentionally. When we afterward descend to particulars, there will be occasion to show, first, That if in acting we foresee the probability of a disagreeable effect, though

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without intending it, the effect in that case is perceived to be ill, and the action to be wrong; but not in such a degree as when intended: and, next, That if the disagreeable effect, though not foreseen, might have been foreseen, it is also perceived to be ill, and the action wrong, though in a still lower degree.

As instinctive actions are caused by blind instinct, without the least view to consequences, they are not perceived to be right or <6> wrong, but indifferent: and the effects produced by them may be agreeable or disagreeable; but they are not perceived to be good or ill; they are also indifferent.

Right actions are distinguishable into two kinds, viz. what ought to be done, and what may be done or left undone. Wrong actions are all of one sort, viz. what ought not to be done. Right actions that may be done or left undone, are, from our very conception of them, a matter of choice: they are right when done; but it is not a wrong to leave them undone. Thus, to remit a just debt for the sake of a growing family; to yield a subject in controversy, rather than go to law with a neighbour; generously to return good for ill, are right actions, universally approved: yet every man is sensible, that such actions are left to his free will, and that he is not bound to perform any of them.

Actions that ought to be done, as well as actions that ought not to be done, merit peculiar attention; because they give occasion to the moral terms duty and obligation; which come next in order. To say that an action ought to be done, means that we have no liberty nor choice, but are necessarily tied or obliged to perform: and to say that an action ought not to be done, means that we are necessarily restrained from doing it. Though this necessity be moral only, not physical; yet we conceive ourselves deprived by it of liberty and choice, and bound to act, or to forbear acting, in opposition to every other motive. The necessity here described is termed duty: the abstaining from harming the innocent is a proper example; which the moral sense makes an indispensable duty, without leaving a single article of it to our own free will.

If I be bound in duty to perform or to forbear any particular action, there must be a title or right in some person to exact that duty from me; and accordingly a duty or obligation necessarily implies a title or right.

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Thus, the duty of abstaining from mischief implies a right in others to be secured against mischief: the man who does an injury, perceives that he has done wrong by violating the right of the person injured; and that person hath a perception of suffering wrong by having his right violated.

Our duty is two-fold; duty to others, and duty to ourselves. With respect to others, an action that we ought to do is termed just; an action that we ought not to do is termed unjust; and the omission of what we ought to do is also termed unjust. With respect to ourselves, an action that we ought to do is termed proper; and an action that <7> we ought not to do, as well as the omission of what we ought to do, are termed improper.

Thus, right, signifying a quality of certain actions, is a genus, of which just and proper are species: and wrong, signifying a quality of other actions, is a genus, of which unjust and improper are species.

The sense by which we perceive the qualities of good and ill in effects, of right and wrong in actions, and the other moral qualities mentioned and to be mentioned, is termed the MORAL SENSE or CONSCIENCE.^*

There is no cause for doubting the existence of the moral sense, more than for doubting the existence of the sense of beauty, of the sense of seeing, of hearing, or of any other sense. In fact, the perception of right and wrong as qualities of actions, is not less distinct and clear than that of beauty, of colour, or of any other quality; and as every perception is an act of sense, the sense of beauty is not with greater certainty evinced from the perception of beauty, than the moral sense is from the perception of right and wrong.

This is the corner-stone of morality: for, abstracting from the moral sense, the qualities of good and ill in effects, and of right and wrong in

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actions, would be altogether inexplicable. We find this sense distributed among individuals in different degrees of perfection: but there perhaps never existed any one above the condition of an idiot, who possessed it not in some degree; and were any man entirely destitute of it, the terms right and wrong would to him be not less unintelligible than the term colour is to one born blind.

That every individual is endued with a sense of right and wrong, more or less distinct, will readily be granted; but whether there be among men what may be termed a COMMON SENSE of right and wrong, producing uniformity of opinion as to what actions are right and what wrong, is not so evident. There appears nothing absurd in supposing the opinions of men about right and wrong to be as various as their faces; and the history of mankind leads us to suspect, that this supposition is not destitute of foundation. For from <8> that history it appears, that among different nations, and even in the same nation at different periods, the opinions publicly espoused with regard to right and wrong are extremely various; that among some nations it was held lawful for a man to sell his children as slaves, and in their infancy to abandon them to wild beasts; that it was held equally lawful to punish children, even capitally, for the crime of their parent; that the murdering an enemy in cold blood, was once a common practice; that human sacrifices, impious not less than immoral according to our notions, were of old universal; that even in later times, it has been held meritorious to inflict cruel torments for the slightest deviations from the religious creed of the plurality; and that among the most enlightened nations, there are considerable differences with respect to the rules of morality.

These facts, however well founded, tend not to disprove the reality of a common sense as to morals: they only evince, that the moral sense has not been equally perfect at all times, and in all countries: which is not surprising, being the case of all our more refined senses and faculties; witness, in particular, the sense of beauty, of elegance, of propriety. And with regard to this point, the following observation may give satisfaction. In the order of Providence, the progress of our species toward perfection resembles that of an individual: we may observe an infancy in both; and in both a gradual progress toward maturity: nor is the resemblance the

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less perfect, that certain tribes, like certain individuals, ripen faster than others. The savage state is the infancy of man; during which the more delicate senses lie dormant, abandoning nations to the authority of custom, of imitation, and of passion, without any just taste of morals more than of the fine arts. But nations, like individuals, ripen gradually, and acquire in time a refined taste in morals, as well as in the fine arts; after which we find great uniformity of opinion about the rules of right and wrong, with few exceptions but what may proceed from imbecillity, or corrupted education. There may be found, it is true, even in the most enlightened ages, some men who have singular notions upon some points of morality; and there may be found the like singularity upon many other subjects: which affords no argument against a common sense or standard of right and wrong, more than a monster doth against the standard that regulates our external form, nor more than an exception doth against the truth of a general proposition.

That there is in mankind a common sense of what is right and wrong, and an uniformity of opinion, is a matter of fact, of which <9> the only infallible proof is observation and experience: and to that proof I appeal; entering only one caveat, That, for the reason above given, the inquiry be confined to nations of polished manners. In the mean time I take the liberty to suggest an argument from analogy, That if there be great uniformity among the different tribes of men in seeing and hearing, in truth and falsehood, in pleasure and pain, &c. what cause can we have for suspecting that right and wrong are an exception from the general rule? Whatever minute differences there may be to distinguish one person from another; yet in the general principles that constitute our nature, internal and external, there is wonderful uniformity.

That man is by nature a social being, is evident from many of his principles and faculties, calculated chiefly or solely to qualify him for the social state. This is eminently the case of the moral sense; the very purpose of which is, to regulate our conduct in society. That the uniformity of this sense among the different tribes of men, intitling it to be termed the common sense of mankind, must be calculated for the further improvement of society, is highly probable; and yet does not appear altogether so clear at first view. For may it not be urged, that we are bound notwithstanding

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to regulate our conduct by our own sense or private conviction; and that to act otherwise would be to act against conscience? This argument is at least plausible; and if it hold true, society, it must be yielded, cannot be benefited by a standard that is not calculated to regulate any branch of our conduct. But the Almighty leaves no imperfection in his works: he intended man for society; he endued him with a sense of right and wrong; he made the perceptions of that sense uniform in all men; and to complete us for society, he has moulded our nature so admirably, as that even the man who has the most correct sense of morals, is not better qualified for society, than they are who deviate the farthest from it. The contrivance, simple and beautiful, is, to bind us by a law in our nature to regulate our conduct by the common sense of mankind, even in opposition to what otherwise would be our own sense or private conviction. And that this truly is the system of nature, I endeavour to make out as follows.

We have an innate sense or conviction of a common nature, not only in our own species, but in every species of animals: and our conviction is verified by experience; for there appears a remarkable uniformity among creatures of the same kind, and a disformity, not less remarkable, among creatures of different kinds. This common <10> nature is conceived to be a model or standard for each individual of the kind. Hence it is a matter of wonder, to find an individual deviating from the common nature of the species, whether in its internal or external structure: a child born with aversion to its mother’s milk, is a wonder, not less than if born without a mouth, or with more than one.

Secondly, With respect to the common nature of man in particular, we have an innate conviction, that it is invariable not less than universal; that it will be the same hereafter as at present, and as it was in time past; the same among all nations, and in all corners of the earth. Nor are we deceived; because giving allowance for the difference of culture, and gradual refinement of manners, the fact corresponds to our conviction.

Thirdly, We have an innate conviction, that this common nature or standard is PERFECT and RIGHT; and that every individual OUGHT to be framed according to it. Every remarkable deviation from the standard, makes an impression upon us of imperfection, irregularity, or disorder;

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and raises a painful emotion: monstrous births, exciting the curiosity of a philosopher, fail not at the same time to excite aversion in a high degree.

This conviction of perfection in the common nature of man, reaches every branch of his nature; and particularly his sense of the morality and immorality of actions, termed the moral sense. This sense accordingly, considered as a branch of the common nature of man, is admitted by all to be perfect; and, consequently, to be the ultimate and unerring standard of morals; to which all are bound to submit, even in opposition to their own private sense of right and wrong. At the same time, as this standard, through infirmity or prejudice, is not conspicuous to every individual, we find instances, not few in number, of persons deluded into erroneous moral opinions, by mistaking a false standard for that of nature. And hence, with respect to individuals, a distinction between a right and a wrong sense in morals; a distinction which, from the conviction of a moral standard, is obvious to the meanest capacity; but of which distinction we could not otherwise have the slightest conception.

The final cause of this branch of our constitution is illustrious. Were there no standard of right and wrong for determining our endless controversies about matters of interest, the strong would have recourse to open violence; the weak to cunning, deceit, and treachery; and society would be altogether intolerable. Courts of law could afford no resource: for without a standard of morals, their decisions <11> must be arbitrary, and consequently have no authority nor influence.

Happy it is for men, that in all their disputes about right and wrong, they have this standard to appeal to: it is necessary, that in society the actions of individuals be uniform with respect to right and wrong; and in order to uniformity of action, it is necessary that their perceptions of right and wrong be uniform: to produce such uniformity, a standard of morals is indispensable; which is daily applied by judges with great success.

To complete this theory, it must be added, that, independent of the author’s opinion, it is the goodness or illness of the effect intended which qualifies an action to be right or wrong. Thus, when a man impelled by friendship or pity, rescues from the flames one condemned to be burnt for heresy, the action is right, even though the man, convinced that heretics ought to be destroy’d, be of opinion that the action is wrong.

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But with respect to the author of the action, nature leads us to judge of him by a different rule. He is approved, and held to be INNOCENT, when he does what he himself thinks right: he is disapproved, and held to be GUILTY, when he does what he himself thinks wrong. Thus, to assassinate an Atheist for the sake of religion, is a wrong action: and yet the enthusiast who commits that wrong may be innocent: and one is guilty who, contrary to conscience, eats meat in Lent, though the action is not wrong. Upon the whole, an action is perceived to be right or wrong independent of the author’s own opinion: but he is approved or disapproved, held to be innocent or guilty, according to his own opinion.

We learn from experience, as above, that every right action is agreeable, and every wrong action disagreeable. But the author appears to us in a different light: he is agreeable when he acts according to conscience, though the action be wrong; and disagreeable when he acts against conscience, though the action be right. He is, however, more agreeable, when he does a right action according to conscience; and more disagreeable, when he does a wrong action against conscience: in which light he must always appear to himself; for when he acts according to conscience, he must think the action right; and when he acts against conscience, he must think the action wrong. <12>

CHAPTER II

Laws of Nature that regulate our conduct in Society.

Having thus established a standard for morals, which lays a solid foundation for the science of morality, the regular progress is, to investigate the laws that are derived from this standard: and these laws may be shortly defined, “Rules of conduct that are declared to be such by the common sense of mankind, which is the moral standard.”

When we endeavour to investigate the laws of nature, those regularly take the lead that concern our duty: and as duty is of two kinds, duty to others, and duty to ourselves, we begin with the former. Of the duties we owe to others, some tend to action, some to restraint; and before entering into particulars, it may be proper to present them in a general view.

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There is one duty so general as to comprehend all mankind for its object, all at least that are innocent; and that is the duty of forbearing to hurt others, whether externally or internally. A man may be hurt externally in his goods, in his person and relations, and in his reputation. Hence the laws, Thou must not steal, Thou must not defraud others, Thou must not kill nor wound, Thou must not be guilty of defamation.

A man may be hurt internally by an action that occasions to him distress of mind; and he may be hurt internally by receiving false notions of men and things. Therefore in dealing or conversing with others, conscience dictates that we ought not to treat them disrespectfully; that we ought not causelessly to alienate their affections from others, nor the affections of others from them; and, in general, that we ought to forbear whatever may tend to break their peace of mind, or tend to unqualify them for being good men and good citizens.

Our active duties regard particular persons, such as our relations, our friends, our benefactors, our masters, our servants, &c.; and these duties are more or less extensive, in proportion to the degree connection. We ought to honour and obey our parents; be affectionate to our children, and endeavour to establish them in the world with all advantages, internal and external: we ought to be faithful to our friends, grateful to our benefactors, submissive to our masters, and kind to our servants: and, according to our ability, <13> we ought to relieve the distresses of each of them. To be obliged to do good to others beyond these bounds, must depend on positive engagement: for, as will appear afterward, universal benevolence is a virtue only, not a duty.

Being prepared for particulars by this general sketch, the first duty that comes in view, is that which restrains us from harming the innocent; and to it corresponds a right in the innocent to be safe from harm. This is the great law preparatory to society; because without it society could never have existed. In this duty, the inflexibility of the moral sense is peculiarly remarkable; for it dictates, that we ought to submit to any distress, even death itself, rather than procure our own safety by laying violent hands upon an innocent person. And we are under the same restraint with respect to the property of another; for robbery and theft are never upon any pretext indulged. It is true, that a man in extreme hunger may lawfully

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take food where he can find it; and may freely lay hold of his neighbour’s horse, to carry him from an enemy who threatens death. But the reason is, that the proprietor’s consent may justly be presumed in such cases, upon our submitting to make up the loss: it is the duty of the proprietor, as a fellow-creature, to assist me in distress; and I may lawfully take what he ought to offer, and what I reasonably presume he would offer were he present. For the same reason, if in a storm my ship be drove among the anchor-ropes of another ship, which ropes I am forced to cut in order to get free, the act is lawful, provided I be willing to pay the value. This provision is equitable: for if, on the one hand, my neighbour be bound to aid me in distress, reason and conscience bind me, on the other, to make up his loss, as far as in my power.^* <14>

The prohibition of hurting others internally, is perhaps not essential to the formation of societies, because the transgression of that law doth not much alarm plain people: but among people of manners and refined sentiments,

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the mind is susceptible of more grievous wounds than the body; and therefore without that law a polished society could have no long endurance.

By adultery mischief is done both external and internal. Each sex is so constituted as to require strict fidelity and attachment in their mates; and the breach of this fidelity is the greatest external mischief that can befal them. It is also a hurt internally, by breaking their peace of mind. It has indeed been urged, That this hurt will be avoided if the adultery be kept secret; and therefore that there can be no crime where there is no discovery. But they who reason thus do not advert, that to declare secret adultery to be lawful is in effect to overturn every foundation of mutual trust and fidelity in the married state.^*

Veracity is commonly ranked among the active duties: but erroneously; for if a man be not bound to speak, he cannot be bound to speak truth. It is therefore only a restraining duty, importing that we ought not to deceive others by affirming what is not true. Among the many corresponding principles in the human mind, a principle of veracity,^† and a principle that leads us to believe what is said to us, are two: without the latter, the former would be an useless principle; and without the former, the latter would be a dangerous one, laying us open to fraud and deceit. The moral sense accordingly dictates, that we ought to adhere strictly to truth, without regard to consequences.

From this it must not be inferred, that we are bound to explain our thoughts when the truth is demanded from us by unlawful force. Words uttered voluntarily are naturally relied on as expressing the speaker’s mind;

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and if he falsify their meaning, he tells a lie, <15> and is guilty of deceit. But words drawn from a man by unlawful force, are no evidence of his mind; and therefore, to save his life in such circumstances, it is no infringement of duty to utter whatever words may be agreeable, however alien from his thoughts: there is no reason to presume, in this case, any correspondence between his words and his mind; and if the author of the unlawful violence suffer himself to be deceived, he must blame himself, not the speaker.

It need scarce be mentioned, that the duty of veracity excludes not fable, nor any liberty of speech intended for amusement, and not to be a voucher of truth.

The first active duty I shall mention in particular, is that which subsists between parents and children. The relation of parent and child, being one of the strongest that can exist among individuals, makes mutual benevolence between these persons an indispensable duty. Benevolence among other blood-relations is also a duty; though inferior in degree, for it wears away gradually as the relation becomes more distant.

Gratitude is a duty directed to a particular object; and the object of gratitude is one whose kindness and good offices require suitable returns. But though gratitude is strictly a duty, the measure of performance, and the kind, are left mostly to our own choice. It is scarce necessary to add, that the active duties now mentioned are acknowledged by all to be absolutely inflexible; perhaps more so than the restraining duties: many find excuses for doing harm; but no one hears with patience an excuse for deviating from friendship or gratitude.

Distress tends vigorously to convert the virtue of benevolence into a duty. But distress alone is not sufficient, without other concurring circumstances; for to relieve the distressed in general, would be a duty far beyond the reach of the most powerful prince that ever existed. Our relations in distress claim this duty from us, and even our neighbours; but distant distress, where there is no particular connection, scarce rouses our sympathy, and never is an object of duty. Many other connections, too numerous for this short essay, extend the duty of relieving others from distress; and these naturally make a large branch in every treatise upon equity.

One great advantage of society is, the co-operation of many to accomplish

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some useful end, for which a single hand would be insufficient. All the arts, manufactures, and commercial dealings, require many hands, which cannot be depended on if there be no engagement <16>; and therefore the performance of promises and covenants is in society a capital duty. In their original occupations of hunting and fishing, men, living scattered and dispersed, had seldom opportunity to aid and benefit each other; and in that situation covenants, being of little use, were little regarded. But husbandry, being favourable to population, and requiring the co-operation of many hands, drew men together for mutual assistance; and then covenants began to make a figure: arts and commerce made them more and more necessary; and by the improvement of man’s nature in society, the utmost regard at present is had to them.

But contracts and promises are not confined to commercial dealings: they serve also to make benevolence a duty, independent of any pecuniary interest. They are even extended so far, as to connect the living with the dead. A man would die with regret, if he thought his friends were not bound by the promises they make to fulfil his will after his death: and to quiet the minds of men with respect to futurity, the moral sense makes the performing such promises our duty. Thus, if I promise to my friend to erect a monument for him after his death, conscience binds me, even though no person alive be intitled to demand performance: every one holds this to be my duty; and I must lay my account to suffer reproach and blame, if I neglect my engagement.

To fulfil a rational promise or covenant deliberately made, is a duty not less inflexible than those duties are which arise independent of consent. But as man is fallible, liable to fraud and imposition, and to be misled by ignorance or error, his case would be deplorable, were he compelled by the moral sense to fulfil every engagement, however imprudent or irrational. Here the moral sense, bending to circumstances, is accommodated to the fallible nature of man: it relieves him from deceit, from imposition, from ignorance, and from error; and binds him to no engagement but what fairly answers the end proposed by it.

The other branch of duties, comprehending those we owe to ourselves, may be discussed in a few words. The sense of propriety, a branch of the moral sense, regulates our conduct with respect to ourselves; as the sense

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of justice, another branch of the moral sense, regulates our conduct with respect to others. The sense of propriety dictates, that we ought to act suitably to the dignity of our nature, and to the station allotted us by Providence; and, in particular, that temperance, prudence, modesty, and regularity of conduct, are self-duties. These duties contribute greatly to private happiness, by <17> preserving health, peace of mind, and a justly founded self-esteem; which are great blessings: they contribute not less to happiness in society, by procuring love and esteem, and consequently aid and support in time of need.

Upon reviewing the foregoing duties respecting others, we find them more or less extensive; but none of them so extensive as to have for their object the good of mankind in general. The most extensive duty is that of restraint, prohibiting us to harm others: but even this duty suffers an exception respecting those who merit punishment. The active duties of doing good are circumscribed within much narrower bounds; requiring an intimate relation for their object, such as what we bear to our parents, our children, our friends, our benefactors. The slighter relations are not an object, unless with the addition of peculiar circumstances: neighbourhood, for example, does not alone make benevolence a duty; but supposing a neighbour to be in distress, we become bound to relieve him in proportion to our ability. For it is remarkable in human nature, that though we always sympathise with our relations, and with those under our eye, the distress of persons remote and unknown affects us very little. Pactions and agreements become necessary, where the purpose is to extend the duty of benevolence, in any particular, beyond the bounds mentioned. Men, it is true, are sometimes capable of doing more good than is prescribed to them as a duty; but every such good must be voluntary.

And this leads to moral acts that are left to our own will to be done or left undone; which is the second general branch of moral actions mentioned above. Writers differ strangely about the benevolence of man. Some hold him to be merely a selfish being, incapable of any motive to action but what ultimately respects himself: this is too bold an assertion, being contradictory to the experience of all ages, which affords the clearest conviction, that men frequently act for the good of others, without regard to their own good, and sometimes in direct opposition to it. Other writers,

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running to the opposite extreme, advance benevolence to be a duty, maintaining that every one of the human race is intitled to all the good we can possibly do them: which banishes every consideration of self-interest, other than what we owe to ourselves as a part of the general society of men. This doctrine is not less contradictory to experience than the former: for we find that men generally are disposed to prefer their own interest before that of those with whom they have no particular <18> connection: nor do we find such bias controlled by the moral sense.

With respect to the actions that belong to the present branch, the moral sense imposes no laws upon us, leaving us at freedom to act or not according to our own inclination. Taking, accordingly, under consideration any single benevolent act by itself, it is approved when done, but not condemned when left undone. But considering the whole of our conduct, the moral sense appears to vary a little. As the nature of man is complex, partly social, partly selfish, reason dictates that our conduct ought to be conformable to our nature; and that, in advancing our own interest, we ought not altogether to neglect that of others. The man accordingly who confines his whole time and thoughts within his own little sphere, is condemned by all the world as guilty of wrong conduct; and the man himself, if his moral perceptions be not blunted by selfishness, must be sensible that he deserves to be condemned. On the other hand, it is possible that voluntary benevolence may be extended beyond proper bounds. The true balance of the mind consists in a subordination of benevolence to self-love; and therefore, where that balance is so varied as to give superior weight to the former, a man thus constituted will be excessive in his benevolence: he will sacrifice a great interest of his own to a small interest of others; and the moral sense dictates that such conduct is wrong.

With respect to the subject of this chapter in general, we have reason to presume from the uniformity of our moral perceptions, that there must be some general character distinguishing right actions, and their good effects, from wrong actions, and their ill effects. And from the deduction above given it will appear, that the general tendency of the former is, to promote the good of society; and of the latter, to obstruct that good. Universal benevolence, as a duty, is indeed not required of man; for an evident reason, that the performance is beyond the reach of his utmost abilities: but for

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promoting the general good, every duty is required of him that he can accomplish; which will appear from the slightest review of the foregoing duties. The prohibition of harming others is an easy task, and therefore is made universal. Our active duties are in a very different condition: man is circumscribed both in his capacity and powers; he cannot do good but in a slow succession; and therefore it is wisely ordered, that the obligation he is under to do good should be confined to his relations, his friends, his benefactors. Even distress cannot make benevolence a general duty: all a man can readily do, and <19> all he is bound to do, is to relieve those at hand; and accordingly we hear of distant misfortunes with very little or no concern.

At the same time, let us not misapprehend the moral system, as if it were our duty, or even lawful, to prosecute what, upon the whole, we reckon the most beneficial to society, balancing ill with good. In the moral system, it is not permitted to violate the most trivial right of any one, however beneficial it may be to others. For example, a man in low circumstances, by denying a debt he owes to a rich miser, saves himself and a hopeful family from ruin. In this case the good effect far outweighs the ill: but the moral sense admits no balancing between good and ill, and gives no quarter to injustice, whatever benefit it may produce. And hence a maxim in which all moralists agree, That we must not do evil even to bring about good. This doctrine, at the same time, is nicely correspondent to the nature of man: were it a rule in society, That a greater benefit to others would make it just to deprive me of my life, of my reputation, or of my effects, I should follow the advice of a celebrated philosopher, renounce society, and take refuge among the savages.¹

CHAPTER III

Principles of Duty and of Benevolence.

Having thus shortly delineated the laws of nature, we proceed to a very important article; which is, to inquire into the means provided by the author of our nature for compelling obedience to these laws. The moral

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sense is an excellent guide; but the most expert guide will avail nothing to those who are not disposed to follow him. Intuitive knowledge of what is right, cannot of itself be a motive to act righteously, more than intuitive knowledge of what is wrong can be a motive to act unrighteously. From this single consideration, it must be evident, that, to complete the moral system, there ought to be some principle or propensity in our nature, some impelling power, to be a motive for acting when the moral sense says we ought to act, and to restrain us from acting when the moral sense says we ought not to act.

The author of our nature leaves none of his works imperfect. In order to render us obsequious to the moral sense, as our guide, he hath implanted in our nature the three great principles, of duty, of voluntary benevolence, and of rewards and punishments. <20>

It may possibly be thought that rewards and punishments, of which afterward, are sufficient of themselves to enforce the laws of our nature, without necessity of any other principle. Human laws, it is true, are inforc’d by these means, because no higher sanction is under the command of a terrestrial legislator: but the celestial legislator, with power that knows no control, and benevolence that knows no limits, has inforc’d his laws by means not less remarkable for their mildness than for their efficacy: he employs no external compulsion; but in order to engage our will on the side of moral conduct, has in the breast of every individual established the principles mentioned, which efficaciously excite us to obey the dictates of the moral sense. Other principles may solicit and allure; but the principle of duty assumes authority, commands, and must be obey’d.

As one great advantage of society is, the furnishing opportunities without end of mutual aid and assistance, beyond what is strictly our duty; nature hath disposed us to do good by the principle of benevolence, which is a powerful incitement to be kindly, beneficent, and generous. Nor is this principle, as will afterward appear, too sparingly distributed: its strength is so nicely proportioned to our situation in this world, as better to answer its destination, than if it were an over-match for self-interest, and for every other principle.

Thus, moral actions are divided into two classes: the first regards our duty, containing actions that ought to be done, and actions that ought not

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to be done: the other regards actions left to ourselves, containing actions that are right when done, but not wrong when left undone. It will appear afterward, that the well-being of society depends more on the first class than on the second; that society is indeed promoted by the latter; but that it can scarce subsist unless the former be made our duty. Hence it is, that actions only of the first class are made indispensable, actions of the second class being left to our own free will. And hence also it is, that the various principles or propensities that dispose us to actions of the first sort, are distinguished by the name of primary virtues, giving the name of secondary virtues to those principles or propensities which dispose us to actions of the other sort.^* <21>

CHAPTER IV

Rewards and Punishments.

Reflecting upon the moral branch of our nature qualifying us for society in the most perfect manner, we cannot overlook the hand of our maker; for means so finely prepared to accomplish an important end, never happen by chance. At the same time it must be acknowledged, that in many men the principle of duty has not vigour nor authority sufficient to stem every tide of unruly passion: by the vigilance of some passions we are taken unprepared, deluded by the sly insinuations of others, or overwhelmed with the stormy impetuosity of a third sort. Moral evil thus gains ground, and much wrong is done. This new scene makes it evident, that there must be some article wanting to complete the present undertaking. The means provided for directing us in the road of duty are indeed explained; but as in deviating from the road wrongs are committed, there is hitherto nothing said of redressing these wrongs, nor of preventing the reiteration of them. To accomplish these valuable ends, there are added to the moral system the principle of rewards and punishments, and that of reparation; of which in their order.

Such animals as are governed entirely by instinct, may be qualified for

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society; which, among quadrupeds, is the case of the beavers; and, among winged animals, of the bees, of the crows, and of some other kinds. But very few of the human actions are instinctive: they are generally prompted by passions, of which there is an endless variety, social and selfish, benevolent and malevolent: and were every passion equally intitled to gratification, man would be utterly incapable of society; he would be a ship without a rudder, obedient to every wind, and moving at random, without any destination. The faculty of reason would make no opposition; for were there no sense of wrong, it would be reasonable to gratify every desire that harms not ourselves: and to talk of punishment would be absurd; for the very idea of punishment implies some wrong that ought to be repressed. Hence the necessity of the moral sense to qualify us for society, and to make us accountable beings: by teaching us what is our duty, it renders us accountable for our actions, and makes us fit objects of rewards and punishments. The moral sense fulfils another valuable purpose: it <22> forms in our minds an unerring standard, directing the application and the measure of rewards and punishments.

But to complete the system of rewards and punishments, it is necessary, that not only power, but also inclination, be conferred upon one, or upon many, to reward and to punish. The author of our nature has provided amply for the first, by intitling every individual to exercise that power as his native privilege. And he has equally provided for the other, by a noted principle implanted in our nature, prompting us to reward the virtuous, and to punish the vicious. Every act of duty is rewarded with our approbation: a benevolent act is rewarded with our esteem: a generous act commands our affection. These, and other virtuous actions, have a still reward; which is, the consciousness of merit in the author himself.

As to punishment, it would be inconsistent to punish any defect in benevolence, considered as a virtue left to our own free will. But an action done intentionally to produce mischief is criminal, and merits punishment: such an action being disagreeable, raises any resentment, even though I have no connection with the person injured; and being impelled, by the principle under consideration, to punish vice, as well as to reward virtue, I must chastise the delinquent by indignation, at least, and hatred. An injury done to myself raises my resentment to a higher pitch: I am not

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satisfied with so slight a punishment as indignation or hatred; the author must by my hand suffer mischief as great as he has done me.

Even the most secret crime escapes not punishment; for, though hid from others, it cannot be hid from the delinquent himself. It raises in him the painful passion of remorse: this passion, in its stronger fits, makes him wish to be punished; and, in extreme, frequently impels him to be his own executioner. There cannot be imagined a contrivance more effectual to deter us from vice; for remorse is itself a severe punishment. But this is not the whole of self-punishment: every criminal, sensible that he ought to be punished, dreads punishment from others; and this painful feeling, however smothered during prosperity, becomes extremely severe in adversity, or in any depression of mind. Then it is that his crime stares him in the face, and that every accidental misfortune is, in his disturbed imagination, converted into a real punishment: “And they said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us; and we would not hear: therefore is this distress come upon us. And Reuben answered them, saying, Spake I not unto you, saying, <23> Do not sin against the child; and ye would not hear? therefore behold also his blood is required”; Genesis, xlii, 21, 22.

No transgression of the duty we owe to ourselves escapes punishment, more than the transgression of the duty we owe to others. The punishments, though not the same are nearly allied; and differ in degree more than in kind. Injustice is punished by the delinquent himself with remorse; impropriety with shame, which is remorse in a lower degree. Injustice raises indignation in the beholder, and so doth every flagrant impropriety: slighter improprieties receive a milder punishment, being rebuked with some degree of contempt, and frequently with derision.

So far have we been carried in a beaten track: but in attempting to proceed, we are intangled in several intricacies and obstructions. Doth an action well intended, though it fall short of its aim, intitle the author to a reward; or an action ill-intended, though it happen to produce no mischief, subject him to punishment? The moral sense, in some individuals, is known to be so perverted, as to differ, perhaps widely, from the common sense of mankind; must the former or the latter be the rule for punishing or rewarding such persons? At first there will be little hesitation in affirming,

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that the common sense of mankind must be the standard for rewards and punishments, as well as for civil claims: but these questions suggest some doubts, which, after due examination, lead to an important discovery, That rewards and punishments are regulated by a different standard.

It is the common sense of mankind that determines actions to be right or wrong, just or unjust, proper or improper. By this standard, all pecuniary claims are judged, all claims of property, and, in a word, every demand founded upon interest; not excepting reparation, as will afterward appear. But with respect to the moral characters of men, and with respect to rewards and punishments, a standard is established far less rigid; which is, the opinion that men form of their own actions: and accordingly, as mentioned above, a man is held to be innocent when he does what he himself thinks right; and is held to be guilty when he does what he himself thinks wrong. Thus we are led, by a natural principle, to judge of others as we believe they judge of themselves; and by that rule we pronounce them virtuous or vicious, innocent or guilty; and we approve or disapprove, praise or blame them accordingly.^* Some, <24> it is true, are so perverted by bad education, or by superstition, as to espouse numberless absurd tenets, flatly contradicting the common standard of right and wrong; and yet even these make no exception from the rule: if they act according to conscience, they are innocent, however wrong the action may be; and if they act against conscience, they are guilty, however right the action may be. Here then is a conspicuous standard for rewards and punishments: it is a man’s own conscience that declares him innocent or guilty, and consequently fit to be rewarded or punished; for it is abhorrent to every natural perception, that a guilty person be rewarded, or an innocent person punished. Further, in order that personal merit and demerit may not in any measure depend upon chance, we are so constituted as to place innocence and guilt, not on the event, but on the intention of doing right or wrong; and accordingly, whatever be the event, a man will be praised for an action well intended, and condemned for an action ill intended.

But what if a man intending a wrong, happen by accident to do a

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wrong he did not intend; as, for example, intending to rob a warren by shooting the rabbits, he accidentally wound a child unseen behind a bush? The delinquent ought to be punished for intending to rob; and he is also subjected to repair the hurt done to the child: but he cannot be punished for this accidental wound; because the law of nature regulates punishment by the intention, and not by the event.^* <25>

The transgression of the primary virtues is attended with severe and never-failing punishments, which are much more effectual than any that have been invented to inforce municipal laws: on the other hand, there is very little merit ascribed even to the strictest observance of them. The secondary virtues are directly opposite, with respect to their rewards and punishments: the neglect of them is not attended with any punishment;

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but the practice of them is attended with the highest degree of approbation. Offices of undeserved kindness, returns of good for evil, generous toils and sufferings for our friends, or for our country, come under this class: to perform actions of this kind, there is no motive that, in a proper sense, can be termed a law; but there are the strongest motives that can consist with freedom, the performance being rewarded with a consciousness of self-merit, and with universal praise and admiration, the highest rewards human nature is susceptible of.

From what is said, the following observation will occur: The pain of transgressing justice, fidelity, or any primary virtue, is much greater than the pleasure of performance; but the pain of neglecting a generous action, or any secondary virtue, is as nothing, compared with the pleasure of performance. Among the vices opposite to the primary virtues, the most striking moral deformity is found: among the secondary virtues, the most striking moral beauty.

CHAPTER V

Reparation.

Reparation, a capital part of the moral system, promotes two ends of great importance: it represses wrongs that are not criminal; and it also makes up the loss sustained by wrongs of whatever kind. With respect to the former, reparation is a species of punishment; and with respect to the latter, it is a branch of justice. These ends will be better understood, after ascertaining the nature and true foundation of reparation. Every claim for reparation supposes a wrong action done by one, and loss or mischief thereby occasioned to another: And hence, 1mo, There can be no claim for reparation <26> if the action was innocent, whatever be the mischief; 2do, Nor can there be any claim unless mischief have happened, however wrong, or even criminal, the action may be. That the reparation to be awarded must correspond to the extent of the loss or mischief, is self-evident. The single difficulty is, to separate, by precise boundaries, actions that are wrong from those that are innocent. In order to explain the qualities of right and wrong, it was sufficient at first to lay down in general, That an action done

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intentionally to produce an agreeable effect, is right; and done intentionally to produce a disagreeable effect, is wrong. But upon examining this subject more narrowly, certain actions are discovered to be wrong, though the mischief they have produced was not intended; and certain actions are discovered to be innocent, though they have produced mischief. And these I shall endeavour to explain, as follows.

The moral sense dictates, that in acting we ought carefully to avoid doing mischief: the only difficulty is, to determine what degree of care is requisite. An action may produce mischief that was foreseen, but not intended; and it may produce mischief that was neither intended nor foreseen. The former is not criminal; because no action has that character, without an intention to produce mischief: but it is CULPABLE or FAULTY, because the moral sense prohibits every action that may probably do mischief; and if we do mischief by transgressing that prohibition, we are blamed by others, and even by ourselves. Thus, a man who throws a large stone into the marketplace among a crowd of people, is highly culpable; because he foresaw that mischief would probably ensue, though he had no intention to hurt any person. With respect to the latter, though the mischief was neither intended nor foreseen, yet if it might have been foreseen, the action so far is rash or incautious, and consequently culpable or faulty in some degree. Thus, if a man, in pulling down an old house adjacent to a frequented place, happen to wound a passenger, without calling aloud that people may keep out of the way, the action is in some degree culpable, because the mischief might have been foreseen. But though harm ensue, an action is not culpable or faulty, if all reasonable precaution have been adhibited: the moral sense declares the author to be innocent: the effect is perceived to be accidental; and the action may be termed unlucky or unfortunate, but cannot be said to be either right or wrong.^* <27>

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With respect to rash or incautious actions, where the mischief might have been foreseen, though neither intended nor actually foreseen, it is not sufficient to escape blame, that a man naturally rash or inattentive acts according to his character: a degree of precaution is required of him, both by himself and by others, such as is natural to the generality of men. The author, in particular, perceives, that he might and ought to have acted more cautiously; and his conscience reproaches him for his inattention, not less than if he were naturally more cool and attentive. Thus the circumspection natural to man in general, is applied as a standard to every individual; and if they fall short of that standard, they are culpable and blameable, however unforeseen by them the mischief may have been. This rule is distinctly laid down in the Roman law: “Culpam autem esse, quod, cum a diligente provideri poterit, non esset provisum.”^* Here the person’s ordinary diligence is not referred to as the standard, but the ordinary diligence of mankind. Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, has evidently the same rule in view: “Reason teacheth us to distinguish between an injury and a fault, and between a fault and a mere accident. A mere accident can neither be foreseen nor prevented: a fault is where the mischief might have been foreseen, but where the action was done without evil intention: an injury is that which is done with an evil intention.”²

What is said upon culpable actions is equally applicable to culpable omissions; for by these also mischief may be occasioned, intitling the sufferer to reparation. If we forbear to do our duty with an intention to occasion mischief, the forbearance is criminal. The only nice point is, how far forbearance without such intention is culpable. If the probability of mischief was foreseen, though not intended, the omission is highly culpable; and though neither intended nor foreseen, yet the omission is culpable, in

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a lower degree, if there have been less care and attention than are proper for performing the duty required. But supposing all due care, the omission of extreme care and diligence is not culpable.

Upon ascertaining what acts and omissions are culpable or faulty, every intricacy with respect to reparation vanishes; for it may be laid down as a rule, without an exception, That every culpable act, and every culpable omission, binds us in conscience to repair the mischief <28> occasioned by it. The moral sense binds us no farther; for it loads not with reparation the man who is innocent, though he have done harm: the harm is accidental; and we are so constituted as not to be responsible in conscience for what happens by accident. But here it is requisite that the man be in every respect innocent; for if he intend harm of any sort, he will find himself bound in conscience to repair the harm he has done, even accidentally: as, for example, when aiming a blow unjustly at one in the dark, he happens to wound another whom he did not suspect to be there. And hence it is a rule in all municipal laws, That one versans in illicito³ is liable for every consequence. That these particulars are wisely ordered by the author of our nature for the good of society, will appear afterward.

We are now prepared for a more particular inspection of the two ends of reparation above mentioned, viz. the repressing wrongs that are not criminal, and the making up what loss is sustained by wrongs of whatever kind. With respect to the first, it is clear, that punishment, in its proper sense, cannot be inflicted for a wrong that is culpable only; and if nature did not provide some means for repressing such wrongs, society would scarce be a comfortable state: without a pecuniary reparation, there would be no compulsion, other than that of conscience merely, to prevent culpable omissions: and with respect to culpable commissions, the necessity of reparation is still more apparent; for conscience alone, without the sanction of reparation, would seldom have authority sufficient to restrain us from acting rashly or incautiously, even where the possibility of mischief is foreseen, and far less where it is not foreseen.

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With respect to the second end of reparation, my conscience dictates to me, that if a man suffer by my fault, whether the mischief was foreseen or not foreseen, it is my duty to make up his loss; and I perceive intuitively, that the loss ought to rest ultimately upon me, and not upon the sufferer, who has done no wrong.

In every case where the mischief done can be estimated by a pecuniary compensation, the two ends of reparation coincide. The sum is taken from the one as a sort of punishment for his fault, and is bestowed on the other to relieve him from the loss he has sustained. But there are numberless instances, where the mischief done admits not an equivalent in money; and in such instances, there is no place for reparation except with relation to its first end. Defamation, contemptuous treatment, personal restraint, the breaking one’s peace of mind, are injuries that cannot be repaired by money; and <29> the pecuniary reparation that the wrong-doer is decreed to make, can only be as a sort of punishment, in order to deter him from a reiteration of such injuries: the sum, it is true, is awarded to the person injured; but this cannot be to make up his loss, which money cannot do, but only as a solatium⁴ for what he has suffered.

Hitherto it is supposed, that the man who intends an ill effect is at the same time conscious of its being ill. But a man may intend an ill effect, thinking, erroneously, that it is good; or a good effect, thinking, erroneously, that it is ill: and the question is, What should be the consequence of such error with respect to reparation? The latter case is clear: if the effect be good, the action that produced it is right, whatever be the author’s opinion; and no person who occasionally suffers loss by a right action is intitled to complain. On the other hand, if the effect be ill, and the action consequently wrong, the innocence of the author, for which he is indebted to an error in judgment, will not relieve him from reparation. When he is made sensible of his error, he perceives himself bound in conscience to repair the harm he has done by a wrong action: and all others, sensible from the beginning of his error, perceive that he is so bound; for to them it must appear obvious, that a man’s errors ought ultimately to affect

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himself only, and not the person who has not erred. Hence, in general, reparation always follows wrong or injustice; and is not in the least affected by an erroneous opinion of a right action being wrong, or a wrong action right.

But this doctrine suffers an exception with respect to a man who, having undertaken a trust, is bound in duty to act: as where an officer of the revenue, upon a doubtful clause in a statute, makes a seizure of goods, as forfeited to the crown, which afterward in the proper court are found not to be seizable. The officer, in this case, ought not to be subjected to reparation, if he have acted to the best of his judgment. This rule, however, must be taken with a limitation: a gross error will not excuse a public officer, who ought to know better.

It is scarce necessary to observe, that a man is not accountable for any harm he does by an involuntary act. A mason, for example, tumbling from a scaffold, happens in falling to wound one below: his conscience blames him not for what he could not help; and there is nothing in his conduct to lay hold of, for subjecting him to reparation. But it is not sufficient that one of several connected actions be involuntary; for reparation may be claimed, though the immediate act be involuntary, provided it be connected with a preceding <30> voluntary act. Example: “If A ride an unruly horse in Lincolns-inn-fields to tame him, and the horse breaking from A run over B, and grievously hurt him; B shall have an action against A. For though the mischief was done against the will of A, yet since it was his fault to bring a wild horse into a frequented place where mischief might ensue, he must answer for the consequences.”⁵ Gaius seems to carry this rule still further, holding in general, that if a horse, by the weakness or unskilfulness of the rider, break away and do mischief, the rider is liable.^* But Gaius probably had in his eye a frequented place, where the mischief might have been foreseen. Thus, in general, a man is made liable for the mischief occasioned

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by his voluntary act, though the immediate cause of the mischief be involuntary.

CHAPTER V[I]⁶ The Laws of Society considered with respect to their final causes.

By our senses, external and internal, we are made acquainted with objects external and internal, and with their qualities: knowledge so acquired is termed intuitive, because we acquire more knowledge by sight or intuition than by any other of our senses. The reasoning faculty investigates truth by a regular progress from premises to consequences; and, upon that account, knowledge so acquired may be termed discursive. Thus certain properties of a triangle, and of a square, are laid open to us by reasoning; and the knowledge we thereby acquire is discursive. Of the different degrees of conviction, the very highest belongs to intuitive knowledge: and it ought to be so, because this species of knowledge is acquired by perception alone; which is not only a single mental act, but is also complete in itself, having no dependence on any thing antecedent: whereas discursive knowledge requires, not only a plurality of mental acts, but also one or more intuitive propositions to found upon. We accordingly rely more upon intuitive knowledge than upon the strictest reasoning: witness external objects, of whose existence we have a more solid conviction than of any proposition in Euclid. The application of this doctrine to morality, will be obvious at first view. <31>

By perception alone, without reasoning, we acquire the knowledge of right and of wrong, of what we may do, of what we ought to do, and of what we ought to abstain from: and considering that we have thus a greater certainty of the moral laws than of any proposition discovered by reasoning, man may well be deemed the favourite of Heaven, when such wisdom is employ’d in qualifying him to act a right part in life: the moral sense or conscience may well be held the voice of God within us,

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constantly admonishing us of our duty; and requiring on our part no exercise of our faculties but attention merely. The celebrated Locke ventured what he thought a bold conjecture, that the moral duties may be capable of demonstration:⁷ how great his surprise to have been told, that they are capable of much higher evidence!

It would be losing time to indicate the final cause of establishing morality upon intuitive knowledge. Let us only consider what must have been our condition, had we been left to the glimmering light of reason. This faculty is distributed among men in portions so unequal, as to bar all hopes from it of uniformity, either in opinion or in action. Reason, it is true, aided by experience, may support morality, by convincing us that we cannot be happy if we abandon our duty for any other interest: but reason, even with experience, seldom weighs much against passion; and to restrain its impetuosity, nothing less is requisite than the vigorous and commanding principle of duty, directed by the shining light of intuition.

A second final cause respecting also morality in general, results from the connection above mentioned between right and agreeable in human actions, and between wrong and disagreeable. Were our duty disagreeable, man would be an inconsistent being; for his inclination would be constantly in opposition to his duty. To mislead us from our duty, even though agreeable, there are so many temptations, that it is no easy task to keep the straight road: would we persevere in it if our duty were disagreeable?

As the moral duties above mentioned are obviously calculated for the good of society, it might be thought, that, instead of particular duties, all should be reduced to a single general rule, that of doing every thing in our power for the good of society. But I shall endeavour to evince, that this imagined system, however plausible, is neither suited to the end proposed by it, nor to the nature of man; and in the course of the argument it will be seen, with what superior wisdom the true system of morality is contrived, which will set its final cause in a conspicuous light. It has been shown how essential intuitive <32> knowledge is to the performance of our duty: and I begin with examining what place there might be for intuitive

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knowledge in the proposed system. As the general good of mankind results from many and various circumstances intricately combined, that good may be a subject for reasoning, but never can be an object of intuitive knowledge. But reason employ’d in weighing an endless number and variety of circumstances, seldom affords any solid conviction; and upon the proposed system we would be often left in the dark about our duty, however upright our intentions might be. At the same time, we would in vain expect from such faint conviction, authority sufficient to counterbalance the influence of passion: our duty would vanish from our sight in a maze of subtilties; and self-partiality would always suggest plausible reasons, for slight transgressions at first, and afterward for the very boldest. It is therefore ordered with consummate wisdom, even for the general good, that, avoiding general and complex objects, the moral sense should be directed to certain particular acts, and their effects; which, being plain and simple, can be made our duty by intuitive perception.

In the next place, to make universal benevolence our duty, without distinction of persons or circumstances, would in effect subject us to the absurd and impracticable duty, of serving at the same instant an endless number and variety of persons; which, instead of promoting the general good, would evidently be detrimental, by unqualifying us to perform any part.

The true system of morality, that which is display’d above, is better suited to the limited powers of man; and yet is contrived in the most perfect manner for promoting the general good. There is no occasion to lose time in demonstrating, that a man entirely selfish is ill fitted for society; and we have seen, that universal benevolence, considered as a duty, would contribute to the general good perhaps less than absolute selfishness. Man is much better fitted for society, by having in his constitution the principles of self-love and of benevolence duly proportioned. Benevolence, as far as a duty, takes place of self-love; which is wisely ordered, because so far it is essential to the very constitution of society. Benevolence, again, as a virtue not a duty, gives place to self-love; which is ordered with equal wisdom, because every man has more power, knowledge, and opportunity, to promote his own good, than that of others: by which means more good is actually produced, than if we were entirely surrendered to benevolence. At the same time, the principle of benevolence is as extensive as can consist

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with the limited capacity <33> of man: the chief objects of his affection are his relations, his friends, his benefactors, to serve whom he is bound in duty: some share of benevolence is reserved for his neighbours, and even for those he is barely acquainted with; and to make benevolence more extensive, would be entirely fruitless, because here are objects in plenty to fill the most capacious mind. But though there is not room for a greater variety of particular objects, yet the faculty we have of uniting numberless individuals into one complex object, enlarges greatly the sphere of our benevolence: for by this power, our country, our religion, our constitution, become objects of the most vigorous affection and public spirit. The individuals that compose the group, considered apart, may be too minute, or too distant, for our benevolence; but when comprehended under one view, they become a complex object that warms and dilates the heart. By that wonderful faculty, the limited capacity of our nature is remedied; distant objects, otherwise invisible, are rendered conspicuous; accumulation makes them great; greatness brings them near the eye; and affection, preserved entire, is bestow’d upon a complex object, as upon one that is single and visible; but with much greater force in proportion to its superior importance.

We now proceed to particulars; and the first that meets us is the great law of restraint. Man is evidently framed for society; and because there can be no society among creatures who prey upon each other, it was necessary, in the first place, to provide against mutual injuries; which is effectually done by this law. Its necessity with respect to personal security is self-evident; and its necessity with respect to matters of property, will be evident from what follows. There is in the nature of man a propensity to hoard or store up the means of subsistence; a propensity essential to our well-being, by prompting us to provide for ourselves, and for those who depend on us. But this natural propensity would be rendered ineffectual, were we not secured in the possession of what we thus store up; for a man will never toil to accumulate what he cannot securely possess. This security is afforded by the moral sense; which dictates to all men, that goods stored up by individuals are their property, and that property ought to be inviolable. Thus, by the great law of restraint, men have a protection for their goods, as well as for their persons or reputation; and have not less

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security in society than if they were separated from each other by impregnable fortresses.

If the law of restraint be essential to the existence of society, several other duties are not less so. Mutual trust and confidence, without <34> which there can be no society, enter into the character of the human species; corresponding to which are the duties of veracity and fidelity: the latter would be of no significancy without the former; and the former without the latter would be hurtful, by laying men open to fraud and deceit.

With respect to veracity, in particular, such is our situation in this world, as to be indebted to the information of others for almost every thing that can benefit or hurt us; and if we could not depend upon information, society would be very little beneficial. Further, it is wisely ordered, that we should adhere strictly to truth, even where we perceive no harm in transgressing that duty; for it is sufficient that harm may possibly ensue, though not foreseen. At the same time, falsehood always does mischief; for if it happen not to injure us externally in our reputation, or in our goods, it never fails to injure us internally; which will thus appear. Men were made for society; and one great blessing of that state is a candid intercourse of hearts in conversation, in communication of sentiments, of opinions, of desires, and of wishes; and to admit any falsehood or deceit into such intercourse, would poison the most refined pleasures of life.

Because man, is the weakest of all animals separately, and the very strongest in society, mutual assistance is one great end in the social state; to which end it is necessary that covenants and promises be binding, and that favours received be thankfully repaid.

The final cause of the law of propriety, which enforces the duty we owe to ourselves, comes next in order. In a discourse upon those laws of nature which concern society, we have no occasion to mention any self-duty but what is connected with society; such as prudence, temperance, industry, firmness of mind, &c. And that these should be made our duty, is wisely ordered in a double respect; first as qualifying us to act our part in society; and next as intitling us to the good-will of others. It is the interest, no doubt, of every man to suit his behaviour to the dignity of his nature, and to the station allotted him by Providence; for such rational conduct contributes to happiness, by preserving health, by procuring plenty, by

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gaining the esteem of others, and, which of all is the greatest blessing, by gaining a justly founded self-esteem. But here even self-interest is not relied on: the powerful authority of duty is superadded to the motive of interest, that in a matter of the utmost importance both to ourselves and to the society we live in, our conduct may be steady and regular. These duties tend not only to make a man happy in <35> himself, but also, by gaining the good-will and esteem of others, to command their help and assistance in time of need.

I proceed to the final causes of natural rewards and punishments. And what at first will occur to every one is, that right and wrong ought to be the rule for distributing rewards and punishments, as well as for determining civil claims; for does it not seem rational that a right action should be rewarded, and a wrong action punished? But, upon more mature reflection, we are forced to abandon that opinion. All civil claims, and all controversies about things, must be adjusted by the standard of right and wrong; for where parties differ about meum et tuum,⁸ the plaintiff’s opinion cannot be the rule, and as little the defendant’s: there must be an appeal to a judge; and what rule has a judge for determining the controversy, other than the common sense of mankind about right and wrong? But to bring rewards and punishments under the same standard, without regarding private conscience, would be a system unworthy of our maker; it being extremely clear, that to reward one who is not conscious of merit, or to punish one who is not conscious of guilt, can never answer any good end; and, in particular, cannot tend either to improvement, or reformation of manners. How much more like the Deity is the plan of nature; which rewards no man who is not conscious that he ought to be rewarded, and punishes no man who is not conscious that he ought to be punished! By these means, and by these only, rewards and punishments attain every good end that can be proposed by them. Here is a final cause most illustrious!

The rewards and punishments that attend the primary and secondary virtues, are finely adjusted for supporting the distinction between them set forth above. Punishment must be confined to the transgression of primary

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virtues, it being the intention of nature that the secondary virtues should be entirely voluntary. On the other hand, the secondary virtues are more highly rewarded than the primary: generosity, for example, makes a greater figure than justice; and undaunted courage, magnanimity, heroism, rise still higher in our esteem. One would imagine at first view, that the primary virtues, being more essential, should be intitled to the first place in our esteem, and be more amply rewarded than the secondary; and yet nature, in elevating the latter above the former, hath taken her measures with peculiar wisdom and foresight. Punishment is reserved to inforce the primary virtues; and if these virtues were also accompanied with the higher rewards, the secondary virtues, brought down <36> to a lower rank, would lose entirely that warm enthusiastic admiration which is their chief support: self-interest would universally prevail over benevolence, and sap the very foundation of those numberless favours we receive from each other in society; favours, not only beneficial in point of interest, but a solid foundation for affection and friendship.

In our progress through final causes, we come at last to reparation, one of the principles destined by Providence, for redressing wrongs committed, and for preventing the reiteration of them. The final cause of the principle of reparation, when the mischief arises from intention, is self-evident: for, to afford security to individuals in society, it is not sufficient that the man who does intentional mischief be punished; it is necessary that he also be bound to repair the mischief. Secondly, Where the act is wrong or unjust, though not understood by the author to be so, it is wisely ordered that reparation should follow; and, in general, that no error, whether in law or in fact, should avail against this claim; which will thus appear. Considering the fallibility of man, it would be too severe to permit advantage to be taken of error in every case. On the other hand, to make it a law in our nature, never to take advantage of error in any case, would be giving too much indulgence to indolence and remission of mind, tending to make us neglect the improvement of our rational faculties. Our nature is so happily framed as to avoid these extremes, by distinguishing between gain and loss. No man is conscious of wrong, when he takes advantage of an error committed by another to save himself from loss: if there must be a loss, common sense dictates, that it ought to rest upon the person

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who has erred, however innocently, rather than upon him who has not erred. Thus, in a competition among creditors about the estate of their bankrupt debtor, every one is at liberty to avail himself of even the slightest defects in the titles of his competitors, in order to save himself from loss. But, in lucro captando,⁹ the moral sense teacheth a different lesson; which is, that no man ought to take advantage of another’s error to make gain by it. Thus, an heir finding a brute diamond in the repositories of his ancestor, sells the same for a trifle, mistaking it for a common pebble: the purchaser is, in conscience and in equity, bound to restore the same, or to pay a just price. Thirdly, The following considerations tend to unfold a final cause, not less beautiful than the foregoing, of what the moral sense dictates with respect to mischief done without intention. Society could not subsist in any tolerable manner, were full scope given to rashness and negligence, <37> and to every action that is not strictly criminal: whence it is a maxim, founded not less upon utility than upon justice, That men living in society ought to be extremely circumspect as to every action that may possibly do harm. On the other hand, it is also a maxim, That as the prosperity and happiness of man depend on action, activity ought to be encouraged, instead of being discouraged by the dread of consequences. These maxims, seemingly in opposition, have natural limits that prevent their incroaching upon each other; which limits, at the same time, produce the most good to society of all that can be contrived by the most consummate lawgiver. There is a certain degree of attention and circumspection that men generally bestow upon affairs, proportioned to their importance: if that degree were not sufficient to defend against a claim of reparation, individuals would be too much cramped in action; which would lead to indolence instead of activity: if a less degree were sufficient, there would be too great scope for rash or remiss conduct; which would prove the bane of society. These remarks concerning the good of society, coincide entirely with what the moral sense dictates, as above mentioned, that the man who acts with foresight of the probability of mischief, or acts rashly and incautiously without such foresight, ought to be liable for the consequences; but that the man who acts cautiously, without foreseeing

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or suspecting that any mischief will ensue, and who therefore is entirely innocent, ought not to be liable for the consequences.

And upon this subject I add the final cause of what is explained above, viz. That the moral sense requires from every man, not his own degree of vigilance and attention, which may be very small, but that which belongs to the common nature of the species. That this is a wise regulation, will appear upon considering, that were reparation to depend upon personal circumstances, there would be a necessity of inquiring into the characters of men, their education, their manner of living, and the extent of their understanding; which would render judges arbitrary, and such law-suits inextricable. But by assuming the common nature of the species as a standard, by which every man in conscience judges of his own actions, law-suits about reparation are rendered easy and expeditious.

NOTANDUM BENE¹⁰

Among the many divisions of human actions in the preliminary discourse, there is one all along supposed, but not brought out into a clear light. It is what follows: 1. Actions that we are bound to perform. 2. Actions that we perform in prosecution of our rights or privileges. 3. Actions that are entirely voluntary or arbitrary; such as are done for amusement, or from an impulse to act without having any end in view. Thus one leaps, runs, throws stone, merely to exert strength or activity; which therefore are in the strictest sense voluntary.

In the preliminary discourse, p. <lxii>. we have the following proposition, That the moral sense prohibits every action that may probably do mischief; and therefore, that if the probability of mischief be foreseen, or may be foreseen, the action is culpable or faulty. In stating this proposition no actions were in view but the last in the foregoing division; and it was an omission not to confine the proposition to these; for it holds not with respect to actions done in prosecution of our rights or privileges. Such actions are governed by a different principle, mentioned p. <41>, That the

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probability of mischief, even foreseen, prohibits me not from following out my rights or privileges. And it is happily so ordered by nature. When we act merely for amusement, it is a salutary and just regulation, that we should be answerable for what harm we do that either is foreseen or may be foreseen. But our rights and privileges would be very little beneficial to us, were we put under the same restraint in making these effectual. What actions may be lawfully done in prosecuting our rights and privileges, are handled in book 1. part 1. chap 1. sect 1. What actions may be lawfully done without having in view to prosecute any right or privilege, are handled in the section immediately subsequent.