The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Introduction
• Acknowledgments
• Abbreviations
• General Note
• Advertisement By the Translator.
• Juventuti Academicae Salutem.
• To the Students In Universities.
• Philosophiae Moralis Institutio Compendiaria With a Short Introduction to Moral Philosophy
• Philosophiae Moralis Institutio Compendiaria
• Liber I: Ethices Elementa.
• Caput I: De Hominis Natura Ejusque Partibus.
• Caput II: De Summo Bono Et Virtute.
• Caput III: De Variis Virtutum Divisionibus.
• Caput IV: De Virtutibus Et Officiis Erga Deum.
• Caput V: De Officiis Erga Alios Homines Exercendis.
• Caput VI: De Officiis Cujusque Erga Se, Et De Animi Cultura.
• 1 {caput VII: De Virtutis Studio Excitando Et Retinendo.
• Liber II: Jurisprudentiae Naturalis Elementa.
• Caput I: De Lege Naturali.
• Caput II: De Juris Natura Et Divisionibus.
• Caput III: De Virtutum Et Vitiorum Gradibus, Inter Se Comparatis{; Iisque Quae Speciem Moralem Afficiunt}.
• Caput IV: De Jure Privato Naturali.
• Caput V: De Jure Adventitio Reali, Et Rerum Dominio.
• Caput VI: De Dominii Acquirendi Rationibus.
• Caput VII: De Jure Derivato, Ejusque Causis.
• Caput VIII: De Dominii Transferendi Rationibus, Per Contractus, Successiones, Aut Testamenta.
• Caput IX: De Contractibus.
• Caput X: De Sermocinantium Officiis.
• Caput XI: De Jurejurando Et Votis.
• Caput XII: De Rerum Pretio.
• Caput XIII: De Variis Contractuum Generibus Post Pretia Rerum Constituta.
• Caput XIV: De Obligationibus Quasi Ex Contractu Ortis.
• Caput XV: Jura Ex Damno Dato, Atque Ex Aliorum Injuriis Orta. Jura Belli.
• Caput XVI: De Jure Extraordinario Ex Necessitate, Omniumque Jure Communi.
• Caput XVII: De Juris Interitu. De Litibus In Libertate Dirimendis, Et Interpretatione.
• Liber III: Oeconomices Et Politices Elementa.
• Caput I: De Conjugio.
• Caput II: De Parentum Et Liberorum Officiis.
• Caput III: De Herorum Et Servorum Jure.
• Caput IV: De Civitatum Origine Et Causis.
• Caput V: De Interna Civitatum Structura, Et Summi Imperii Partibus.
• Caput VI: De Variis Rerumpublicarum Formis.
• Caput VII: De Summi Imperii Jure, Ejusque Acquirendi Rationibus.
• Caput VIII: De Legibus Condendis, Et De Jurisdictione.
• Caput IX: De Jure Belli.
• Caput X: De Foederibus, Legatis, Et Civitatum Interitu [deletione].
• A Short Introduction to Moral Philosophy.
• Book I: The Elements of Ethicks.
• Chapter I: Of Human Nature and Its Parts.
• Chapter II: Concerning the Supreme Good.
• Chapter III: Concerning the Chief Divisions of Virtue.
• Chapter IV: Our Duties Toward God.
• Chapter V: Our Duties Toward Mankind.
• Chapter VI: Concerning Our Duties Toward Ourselves, and the Improvement of the Mind.
• Chapter VII: Some Practical Considerations to Excite and Preserve the Study of Virtue.
• Book II: Elements of the Law of Nature.
• Chapter I: Of the Law of Nature.
• Chapter II: Of the Nature of Rights, and Their Several Divisions.
• Chapter III: Concerning the Various Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and the Circumstances On Which They Depend.
• Chapter IV: Concerning the Natural Rights of Individuals.
• Chapter V: Of Real Adventitious Rights and Property.
• Chapter VI: The Methods of Acquiring Property.
• Chapter VII: Of Derived Property.
• Chapter VIII: The Methods of Transferring Property, Contracts, Succession, Testaments.
• Chapter IX: Of Contracts In General.
• Chapter X: Our Obligations In Speech.
• Chapter XI: Of Oaths and Vows.
• Chapter XII: Concerning the Values Or Prices of Goods.
• Chapter XIII: Of the Several Sorts of Contracts.
• Chapter XIV: * Obligations Resembling Those From Contracts.
• Chapter XV: Of Rights Arising From Damage Done, and the Rights of War.
• Chapter XVI: Extraordinary Rights In Cases of Necessity, and the Common Rights of Mankind.
• Chapter XVII: How Rights and Obligations Cease: How Controversies Are to Be Decided In Natural Liberty: and the Rules of Interpretation.
• Book III: The Principles of Oeconomicks and Politicks.
• Chapter I: Concerning Marriage.
• Chapter II: The Duties of Parents and Children.
• Chapter III: The Rights of Masters and Servants.
• Chapter IV: The Original of Civil Government.
• Chapter V: The Internal Structure of States: and the Several Parts of Supreme Power.
• Chapter VI: Of the Various Plans of Government.
• Chapter VII: The Rights of the Supreme Power: and the Methods of Acquiring It.
• Chapter VIII: Of Civil Laws and Their Execution.
• Chapter IX: The Laws of War.
• Chapter X: Of Treaties and Ambassadors, and the Entire Dissolution of States.
• Bibliography of Modern Literature

BOOK I

The Elements of Ethicks.

CHAPTER I

Of Human Nature and its Parts.

I. As all other arts <and sciences> have in view some <natural> good to be obtained, as their proper end, Moral Philosophy, which is the art of regulating the whole of life, must have in view the noblest end; since it undertakes, as far as human reason [powers] can go, to lead us into that course of life which is most according to the intention of nature, and most happy, to which end whatever we can obtain by other arts should be subservient. Moral Philosophy therefore must be one of these commanding arts which directs how far the other arts are to be pursued.1 <As, however, a common suggestion or natural judgment tells us that happiness, or the means to obtain it, consists in some affection or habit of the soul and in the consequent actions> [a]nd since all Philosophers, even of the most opposite schemes, agree in words at least, that “Happiness either consists in virtue and virtuous offices, or is to be obtained and secured by them”:2 The chief points to be enquired into in Morals [Moral Philosophy] must be, what course of life is according to the intention of nature? wherein consists happiness? and what is virtue?3

All such as believe that this universe, and human nature in particular, was formed by the wisdom and counsel of a Deity, must expect to find in our structure and frame some clear evidences, shewing the proper business of mankind, for what course of life, what offices we are furnished by the providence and wisdom of our Creator, and what <therefore> are the proper means of happiness. We must therefore search accurately into the constitution of our nature, to see what sort of creatures we are; for what purposes nature has formed us; what character God our Creator requires us to maintain. Now the intention of <God and> nature with respect to us, is best known by examining what these things are which our natural senses {or perceptive powers} recommend to us, and what the most excellent among them? and next, what are the aims of our several natural desires, and which of them are of greatest importance to our happiness? In this inquiry we shall lightly pass over such natural powers as are treated of in other arts [sciences], dwelling chiefly upon those which are of consequence in regulating our morals.

In this art, as in all others, we must proceed from the subjects more easily known, to those that are more obscure; and not follow the priority of nature, or the dignity of the subjects: and therefore don’t deduce our first notions of duty from the divine Will; but from the constitution of our nature, which is more immediately known; that from the full knowledge of it, we may discover the design, intention, and will of our Creator as to our conduct [affections and actions].4 Nor will we omit such obvious evidences of our duty as arise even from the considerations of our present secular interests; tho’ it will perhaps hereafter appear, that all true virtue must have some nobler spring than any desires of worldly pleasures or interests.

II. First then, Human nature consists of soul and body, each of which has its proper powers, parts, {or faculties}. The inquiry into the body is more easy, and belongs to the Physicians. We only transiently observe, that it is plainly of a more noble{* } structure than that of other animals. It has not only organs of sense and all parts requisite either for the preservation of the individual or of the species, but also such as are requisite for that endless variety of action and motion, which a rational and inventive spirit may intend, and these organs formed with exquisite art. One cannot omit the dignity of its erect form, so plainly fitted for {enlarged} contemplation; the easy and swift motions of the joints; the curious structure of the hand, that great instrument of all ingenious arts; the countenance, so easily variable as to exhibit to us all the affections of the soul; and the organs of voice, so nicely fitted for speech in all its various kinds, and the pleasure of harmony. These points are more fully explained by Anatomists.

This curious frame of the human body we all see to be fading and perishing; needing daily new recruits by food, and constant defence against innumerable dangers from without, by cloathing, shelter, and other conveniencies. The charge of it therefore is committed to a soul endued with forethought and sagacity, which is the other, and by far the nobler part in our constitution.

III. The parts or powers of the soul, which present us with a more glorious view, are of various kinds:† but they are all reducible to two classes, the Understanding and the Will.5 The former contains all the powers which aim at knowledge; the other all our desires {pursuing happiness and eschewing misery}.

We shall but briefly mention the several operations of the understanding, because they are sufficiently treated of in Logicks and Metaphysicks. The first in order are the senses: under which name we include every “constitution or power of the soul, by which certain {feelings,} ideas or perceptions are raised upon certain objects presented.” Senses are either external, or internal {and mental}. The external depend on certain organs of the body, so constituted that upon any impression made on them, or motion excited, whether by external impulses or internal forces in the body, a certain feeling [perception] or notion is raised in the soul. The feelings [perceptions] are generally either agreeable, or at least not uneasy, which ensue upon such impressions and changes as are useful or not hurtful to the body: but uneasy feelings ensue upon those which are destructive or hurtful.6

Tho’ bodily pleasure and pain affect the soul pretty vehemently, yet we see they <usually> are of short duration and fleeting; and {seldom} is <not> the bare remembrance of past bodily pleasures agreeable, <n>or the remembrance of past pain in it self uneasy{, when we apprehend no returns of them}.

By these senses we acquire the first notions of good and evil.7 Such things as excite grateful sensations of this kind, we call good; what excites painful or uneasy sensations, we call evil. Other objects also when perceived by some other kinds of senses, exciting also agreeable feelings, we likewise call good, and their contraries evil. Happiness in general, is “a state wherein there is plenty of such things as excite these grateful sensations of one kind or other, and we are free from pain.” Misery consists in “frequent and lasting sensations of the painful and disagreeable sorts, excluding all grateful sensations.”

There are also certain perceptions dependent on bodily organs, which are of a middle nature as to pleasure or pain, having a very small degree of either joined immediately with them: these are the perceptions by which we discern the primary qualities of external objects and any changes befalling them, their magnitude, figure, situation, motion or rest: all which are discerned chiefly by sight or touch, and give us neither pleasure nor pain of themselves; tho’ they frequently intimate to us such events as occasion desires or aversions, joys or sorrows.8

Bodily pleasures and pains, such as we have in common with the brutes, are of some importance to our happiness or misery. The other class of perceptions, which inform us of the qualities and states of things external to us, are of the highest use in all external action, in the acquiring of knowledge, in learning and practising the various arts of life.

Both these kinds of external perceptions may be called direct and antecedent, because they presuppose no previous ideas <or forms>. But there’s another class of perceptions employed about the objects of even the external senses, which for distinction we call reflex or subsequent, because they naturally ensue upon other ideas previously received: of these presently. So much for external sensation.

IV. Internal senses are those powers {or determinations} of the mind, by which it perceives or is conscious of all within itself, its actions, passions, judgments, wills, desires, joys, sorrows, purposes of action. This power some celebrated writers call consciousness or reflection, which has for its objects the qualities, actions or states of the mind itself, as the external senses have things external. These two classes of sensation, external and internal, furnish our whole store of ideas, the materials about which we exercise that noblest power of reasoning peculiar to the human species. This also deserves a fuller explication, but it belongs to Logick.9

’Tis by this power of reason, that the soul perceives the relations and connexions of things, and their consequences and causes; inferrs what is to ensue, or what preceded; can discern resemblances, consider in one view the present and the future, propose to itself a whole plan of life, and provide all things requisite for it.

By the exercise of reason it will easily appear, that this whole universe was at first framed by the contrivance and counsel of a most perfect intelligence, and is continually governed by the same; that it is to him mankind owe their preeminence above other animals in the power of reason, and in all these excellencies of mind or body, which clearly intimate to us the will of our munificent Creator and Preserver; and shew us what sort of offices, what course of life he requires of us as acceptable in his sight.

V. Since then every sort of good which is immediately of importance to happiness, must be perceived by some immediate power or sense, antecedent to any {opinions or} reasoning: (for ’tis the business of reasoning to compare the several sorts of good perceived by the several senses, and to find out the proper means for obtaining them:) we must therefore carefully inquire into the several sublimer perceptive powers or senses; since ’tis by them we discover what state or course of life best answers the intention of {God and} nature, and wherein true happiness consists. But we must premise some brief consideration of the Will, because the motions of the will, our affections, desires and purposes, are the objects of these more subtile senses, which perceive various qualities and important differences among them.

As soon as the mind has got any notion of good or evil by grateful or uneasy sensations of any kind, there naturally arise certain motions {of the Will}, distinct from all sensation; to wit, Desires of good, and Aversions to evil. For there constantly appears, in every rational being, a stable essential propensity to desire its own happiness, and whatever seems to tend to it, and to avoid the contraries which would make it miserable. And altho’ there are few who have seriously inquired what things are of greatest importance to happiness; yet all men naturally desire whatever appears to be of any consequence to this end, and shun the contrary: when several grateful objects occur, all which it cannot pursue together, the mind while it is calm, {and under no impulse of any blind appetite or passion,} pursues that one which seems of most importance. But if there should appear in any object a mixture of good and evil, the soul will pursue or avoid it, according as the good or the evil appears superior.

Beside these two calm primary motions of the Will, desire and aversion, there are other two commonly ascribed to it, to wit, Joy and Sorrow. But these two are rather to be called new states, or finer feelings or senses of the soul, than motions of the will naturally exciting to action. In this manner however we make up these four species mentioned by the antients, all <specially> referred to the Will, or rational appetite: when good to be obtained is in view, there arises Desire; when evil to be repelled, Aversion: when good is obtained or evil avoided, arises Joy; when good is lost, or evil befallen us, Sorrow.10

VI. But beside the calm motions or affections of the soul and the stable desire of happiness, which employ our reason for their conductor, there are also others of a very different nature; certain vehement turbulent Impulses, which upon certain occurrences naturally agitate the soul, and hurry it on with a blind inconsiderate force to certain actions, pursuits, or efforts to avoid, exerted about such things as we have never deliberately determined to be of consequence to happiness or misery. Any one may understand what we mean by these blind impetuous motions who reflects on what he has felt, what violent propensities hurried him on, when he was influenced by any of the keener passions of lust, ambition, anger, hatred, envy, love, pity, <delight> or fear; without any previous deliberate opinion about the tendency of these objects or occurrences which raised these several passions to his happiness or misery. These passions are so far from springing from the previous calm desire of happiness, that we find them often opposing it, and drawing the soul contrary ways.11

These several passions [violent motions of the soul] the antients reduce to two classes, to wit, the passionate Desires, and the correspondent Aversions; both which they teach to be quite distinct from the Will; the former aiming at the obtaining some pleasure or other, and the latter the warding off something uneasy. Both are by the schoolmen said to reside in the sensitive <or irrational> appetite; which they subdivide into the{* } concupiscible and irascible; and their impulses they call Passions. The sensitive appetite is not a very proper name for these determinations of the soul, unless the schoolmen would use the word senses in a more extensive signification, so as to include many perceptive powers of an higher sort than the bodily senses. For ’tis plain that many of the most turbulent passions arise upon certain occurrences which affect none of the external senses; such as ambition, congratulation, malicious joy, the keen passions toward glory and power, {and many others,} with the turbulent aversions to their contraries. The schoolmen however refer to this sensitive appetite all the vehement inconsiderate motions of the will, which are attended with confused uneasy sensations, whatever their occasions be.

Of these passions there are four general classes: such as pursue some apparent good are called {passionate Desires or} Cupidity; such as tend toward off evil are called Fears{, or Anger}; such as arise upon obtaining what was desired or the escaping evil, are turbulent Joys; and what arise upon the loss of good, or the befalling of evil, Sorrows. {[nor have we in our language words appropriated so as to distinguish between the several calm and passionate motions of the will.]}12 Of each class there are many subdivisions according to the variety of objects about which they are employed, which <have very familiar names and> will be further explained hereafter.

VII. There’s also another division of the motions of the will whether calm or passionate, according as the advantage or pleasure in view is for ourselves or others.13 That there is among men some disinterested goodness, without any views to interests of their own, but pursuing ultimately the interests of persons beloved, must be evident to such as examine well their own hearts, the motions of friendship or natural affection; and the love and zeal we have for worthy and eminent characters: or to such as observe accurately the cares, the earnest desires, of persons on their deathbeds, and their friendly offices to such as they love even with their last breath: or, in the more heroic characters, their great actions and designs, and their marching willingly and deliberately to certain death for their children, their friends, or their country.

The disinterested affections are either calm, or turbulent and passionate, even as the selfish in which one pursues what seems advantageous or pleasant to himself. And the several affections or passions, whether more simple or complicated, have a variety of names as their objects are various, as they regard one’s self, or regard others, and their characters, fortunes, endearments, and the several social bonds with us or with each other; or <on the contrary> the enmities or dissentions by which they are set at variance; or as their former conduct or designs have occasioned these events which excite our passions.

14 These particular kind passions are quite different from any calm general good-will to mankind, nor do they at all arise from it. They naturally arise, without premeditation or previous volition, as soon as that species or occasion occurs which is by nature adapted to raise them. We shall have a more proper place to explain them a little further after we have mentioned the more sublime perceptive powers; without the knowledge of which many motions of the will must remain unknown [unintelligible].

What any sense immediately relishes is desired for itself ultimately; and happiness must consist in the possession of all such objects, or of the most important and excellent ones. But when by the use of our reason we find that many things which of themselves give no pleasure to any sense, yet are the necessary means of obtaining what is immediately pleasant and desirable, all such proper means shall also be desired, on account of their ends. Of this class are, an extensive influence in society, riches, and power.

But as beside the several <natural> particular passions of the selfish kind15 there is deeply rooted in the soul a steddy propensity or impulse toward its own highest happiness, which every one upon a little reflection will find, by means whereof he can repress and govern all the particular selfish passions, when they are any way opposite to it; so whosoever in a calm hour takes a full view of human nature, considering the constitutions, tempers, and characters of others, will find a like general propension of soul to wish the universal prosperity and happiness of the whole system. And whosoever by frequent impartial meditation cultivates this extensive affection, which the inward sense of his soul constantly approves in the highest degree, may make it so strong that it will be able to restrain and govern all other affections, whether they regard his own happiness or that of any smaller system or party.16

VIII. Having given this summary view of the Will, we next consider these senses we called reflex or subsequent, by which certain new forms or perceptions are received, in consequence of others previously observed by our external or internal senses; and some of them ensuing upon observing the fortunes of others, or the events discovered by our reason, or the testimony of others. We shall only transiently mention such of them as are not of much importance in morals, that we may more fully explain those which are more necessary.

17 The external senses of Sight and Hearing we have in common with the Brutes: but there’s superadded to the human Eye and Ear a wonderful and ingenious Relish or Sense,18 by which we receive subtiler pleasures; in material forms gracefulness, beauty and proportion; in sounds concord and harmony; and are highly delighted with observing exact Imitation in the works of the more ingenious arts, Painting, Statuary and Sculpture, and in motion and Action; all which afford us far more manly pleasures than the external senses. These are the Pleasures to which many arts both mechanic and liberal are subservient; and men pursue them even in all that furniture, those utensils, which are otherways requisite for the conveniency of life. And the very grandeur and novelty of objects excite some grateful perceptions not unlike the former, which are naturally connected with and subservient to our desires of knowledge. Whatever is grateful to any of these perceptive powers is for it self desirable, and may on some occasions be to us an ultimate end. For, by the wise <and benevolent> contrivance of God, our senses and appetites are so constituted {for our happiness}, that what they immediately make grateful is generally on other accounts also useful, either to ourselves or to mankind.

Among these more humane pleasures, we must not omit that enjoyment most peculiarly suited to human nature, which arises from the discovery of Truth{, and the enlarging of our knowledge}; which is ultimately desirable to all; and is joyful and pleasant in proportion to the dignity of the subject, and the evidence or certainty of the discovery.19

IX. There are other still more noble senses and more useful: such is that sympathy or fellow-feeling,20 by which the state and fortunes of others affect us exceedingly, so that by the very power of nature, previous to any reasoning or meditation [purpose], we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and sorrow with them in their misfortunes; as we are disposed to mirth when we see others chearful, and to weep with those that weep, without any consideration of our own Interests. Hence it is that scarce any man can think himself sufficiently happy tho’ he has the fullest supplies of all things requisite for his own use or pleasure: he must also have some tolerable stores for such as are dear to him; since their misery or distresses will necessarily disturb his own happiness.

By means of this sympathy and of some disinterested affections, it happens, as by a sort of contagion or infection, that all our pleasures, even these of the lowest kind, are strangely increased by their being shared with others. There’s scarce any chearful or joyful commotion of mind which does not naturally require to be diffused and communicated. Whatever is agreeable, pleasant, witty, or jocose naturally burns forth, and breaks out among others, and must be imparted. Nor on the other hand is there any thing more uneasy or grievous to a man than to behold the distressing toils, pains, griefs, or misery of others, especially of such as have deserved a better Fate.

X. But further: that man was destined by nature for action plainly appears by that multitude of active instincts and desires natural to him; which is further confirmed by that deeply implanted sense {approving or condemning certain actions}. The soul naturally desires action; nor would one upon any terms consent to be cast into a perpetual state of sleep, tho’ he were assured of the sweetest dreams. If a sleep like that of {* } Endymion were to befal ourselves or any person dear to us, we would look upon it as little better than Death. Nature hath therefore constituted a certain sense or natural taste to attend and regulate each active power, approving that exercise of it which is most agreeable to nature and conducive to the general Interest. The very brute animals, tho’ they have none of these reflex senses we mentioned, yet by certain instincts, even previously to any experience or prospect of pleasure, are led, each according to its kind, to its natural actions, and finds in them its chief satisfactions or at least are subservient to their particular happiness. Human nature is full of like instincts; but being endued with reason and the power of reflecting on their own sentiments and conduct, they have also various reflex senses with a nice discernment {and relish} of many things which could not be observed by the grosser senses, especially of the exercise of their natural powers.21 By these senses that application of our natural powers is immediately approved which is most according to the intention of nature, and which is most beneficial either to the individual or to mankind; and all like application by others is in like manner approved, and thus made matter of joy and glorying. In the very posture and motion of the body, there is something which immediately pleases, whether in our own, or that of others: in the voice and gesture, and the various abilities of body or mind, in the ingenious arts of imitation <already mentioned>, in external actions and exercises, whether about serious business or recreations, we discern something graceful and manly, {and the contrary ungraceful and mean}, even without any appearance of moral virtue in the one, {or vice in the other}. But still it is chiefly in these abilities and exercises which are peculiar to mankind that grace and dignity appear; such as we have in common with beasts appear of less dignity. And among the human pursuits which yet are different from moral [voluntary]22 virtues, the pursuits of knowledge are the most venerable. We are all naturally inquisitive and vehemently allured by the discovery of truth. Superior knowledge we count very honourable; but to mistake, to err, to be ignorant, to be imposed upon, we count evil and shameful.

But to regulate the highest powers of our nature, our affections and deliberate designs of action in important affairs, there’s implanted by nature the noblest and most divine of all our senses, that Conscience [sense] by which we discern what is graceful, becoming, beautiful and honourable in the affections of the soul, in our conduct of life, our words and actions. By this sense, a certain turn of mind or temper, a certain course of action, and plan of life is plainly recommended to us by nature; and the mind finds the most joyful feelings in performing and reflecting upon such offices as this sense recommends; but is uneasy and ashamed in reflecting upon a contrary course. Upon observing the like honourable actions or designs in others, we naturally favour and praise them; and have an high esteem, and goodwill, and endearment toward all in whom we discern such excellent dispositions: and condemn and detest those who take a contrary course. What is approved by this sense we count right and beautiful, and call it virtue; what is condemned, we count base and deformed and vitious.

The Forms which move our approbation are, all kind affections and purposes of action; or such propensions, abilities, or habits of mind as naturally flow from a kind temper, or are connected with it; or shew an higher taste for the more refined enjoyments, with a low regard to the meaner pleasures, or to its own interests; or lastly such dispositions as plainly exclude a narrow contracted selfishness aiming solely at its own interests or sordid pleasures. The forms disapproved are either this immoderate selfishness; or a peevish, angry, envious or ill-natured temper, leading us naturally to hurt others; or a mean selfish sensuality.

That this sense is implanted by nature, is evident from this that in all ages and nations certain tempers and actions are universally approved and their contraries condemned, even by such as have in view no interest [utility] of their own. Many artful accounts of all this as flowing from views of interest have been given by ingenious men;23 but whosoever will examine these accounts, will find that they rather afford arguments to the contrary, and lead us at last to an immediate natural principle prior to all such views.24 The agent himself perhaps may be moved by a view of advantages of any sort [by a view of more open or more hidden utility] accruing only to himself, to approve his own artful conduct; but such advantages won’t engage the approbation of others <that do not gain any profit by it>: and advantages accruing to others, would never engage the agent, without a moral sense, to approve such actions. How much soever the agent may be moved by any views of his own interest [utility]; yet this when ’tis known plainly diminishes the beauty of the action, and sometimes quite destroys it. Men approve chiefly that beneficence which they deem gratuitous and disinterested; what is pretended, and yet only from views of private interest, they abhor. When the agent appears to have in view the more obvious interests of getting glory, popularity, or gainful returns, there appears little or nothing honourable. ’Tis well known that such advantages are attainable by external actions, and hypocritical shews, without any real inward goodness.

But further, does not every good action appear the more honourable and laudable the more toilsome, dangerous or expensive it was to the undertaker? ’Tis plain therefore that a virtuous course is not approved under that notion of its being profitable to the agent.25 Nor is it approved under the notion of profitable to those who approve it, for we all equally praise and admire any glorious actions of antient Heroes from which we derive no advantage, as the like done in our own times. We approve even the virtues of an enemy that are dreaded by us, and yet condemn the useful services of a Traytor, whom for our own interest we have bribed into perfidy. Nay the very Dissolute frequently dislike the vices of others which are subservient to their own.

Nor can it be alleged that the notion under which we approve actions is their tendency to obtain applause or rewards: for this consideration could recommend them only to the agent. And then, whoever expects praise must imagine that there is something in certain actions or affections, which in its own nature appears laudable or excellent both to himself and others: whoever expects rewards or returns of good offices, must acknowledge that goodness and beneficence naturally excite the love of others. None can hope for Rewards from God without owning that some actions are acceptable to God in their own nature; nor dread divine punishments except upon a supposition of a natural demerit in evil actions. When we praise the divine Laws as holy, just and good, ’tis plainly on this account, that we believe they require what is antecedently conceived as morally good, and prohibit the contrary, {otherwise these Epithets would import nothing laudable}.

That this sense is implanted by nature, and that thus affections and actions of themselves, and in their own nature, must appear to us right, honourable, beautiful and laudable, may appear from many of the most natural affections of the Will, both calm and passionate, which are naturally raised without any views of our own advantage, upon observing the conduct and characters and fortunes of others; and thus plainly evidence what Temper nature requires in us. Of these we shall speak presently. This {moral} sense diffuses it self through all conditions of life, and every part of it; and insinuates it self into all the more humane amusements and entertainments of mankind. Poetry and Rhetorick depend almost entirely upon it; as do in a great measure the arts of the Painter, Statuary, and Player. In the choice of friends, wives, comrades, it is all in all; and it even insinuates it self into our games and mirth. Whosoever weighs all these things fully will agree with Aristotle “That as the Horse is naturally fitted for swiftness, the Hound for the chace, and the Ox for the plough, so man, like a sort of mortal Deity, is fitted by nature for knowledge, and action.”

Nor need we apprehend, that according to this scheme which derives all our moral notions from a sense, implanted however in the soul and not dependent on the body, the dignity <and firmness> of virtue should be impaired. For the constitution of nature is ever stable and harmonious; nor need we fear that any change in our constitution should also change the nature of virtue, more than we should dread the dissolution of the Universe by a change of the great principle of Gravitation. Nor will it follow from this scheme, that all sorts of affections and actions were originally indifferent to the Deity, so that he could as well have made us approve the very contrary of what we now approve, by giving us senses of a contrary nature. For if God was originally omniscient, he must have foreseen, that by his implanting kind affections, in an active species capable of profiting or hurting each other, he would consult the general good of all; and that implanting contrary affections would necessarily have the contrary effect: in like manner by implanting a sense which approved all kindness and beneficence, he foresaw that all these actions would be made immediately agreeable to the agent, which also on other accounts were profitable to the system; whereas a contrary sense (whether possible or not we shall not determine,) would have made such conduct immediately pleasing, as must in other respects be hurtful both to the agent and the system. If God therefore was originally wise and good, he must necessarily have preferred the present constitution of our sense approving all kindness and beneficence, to any contrary one; and the nature of virtue is thus as immutable as the divine Wisdom and Goodness. Cast the consideration of these perfections of God out of this question, and indeed nothing would remain certain or immutable.26

XI. There are however very different degrees of approbation and condemnation, some species of virtues much more beautiful than others, and some kinds of vices much more deformed. {These maxims generally hold.} “Among the kind motions of the Will of equal extent, the calm and stable are more beautiful than the turbulent or passionate.” And when we compare calm affections among themselves, or the passionate among themselves, “the more extensive are the more amiable, and these most excellent which are most extensive, and pursue the greatest happiness of the whole system of sensitive nature.”27

It was already observed that our esteem of virtue in another, causes a warmer affection of good-will toward him: now as the soul can reflect on all its powers, dispositions, affections, desires, senses, and make them the objects of its contemplation; a very high relish for moral excellence, a strong desire of it, and a strong endearment of heart toward all in whom we discern eminent virtues, must it self be approved as a most virtuous disposition; nor is there any more lovely than the highest love towards the highest moral excellency.28 Since then God must appear to us as the Supreme excellence, and the inexhaustible fountain of all good, to whom mankind are indebted for innumerable benefits most gratuitously bestowed; no affection of soul can be more approved than the most ardent love and veneration toward the Deity, with a steddy purpose to obey him, since we can make no other returns, along with an humble submission and resignation of ourselves and all our interests to his will, with confidence in his goodness; and a constant purpose of imitating him as far as our weak nature is capable.

{The objects of our condemnation are in like manner of different degrees.} Ill-natured unkind affections and purposes are the more condemned the more stable and deliberate they are. Such as flow from any sudden passionate desire are less odious; and still more excusable are those which flow from some sudden fear or provocation. What we chiefly disapprove is that sordid selfishness which so engrosses the man as to exclude all human sentiments of kindness, and surmounts all kind affections; and disposes to any sort of injuries for one’s own interests.

We justly also reckon Impiety toward God to be the greatest depravation of mind, and most unworthy of a rational Being, whether it appears in a direct contempt of the Deity; or in an entire neglect of him, so that one has no thoughts about him, no veneration, no gratitude toward him. Nor is it of any avail either to abate the moral Excellence of Piety, or the deformity of impiety, to suggest that the one cannot profit him, nor the other hurt him. For what our [conscience or moral sense] [sense of what is right and honourable] chiefly regards are the affections of the heart, and not the external effects of them. That man must be deemed corrupt and detestable who has not a grateful heart toward his benefactor, even when he can make no returns: who does not love, praise and celebrate the virtues of even good men, tho’ perhaps he has it not in his power to serve or promote them. Where there is a good heart, it naturally discovers itself in such affections and expressions, whether one can profit those he esteems and loves or not. These points are manifest to the inward sense of every good man without any reasoning.

XII. This nobler sense which nature has designed to be the guide of life deserves the most careful consideration, since it is plainly the judge {of the whole of life,} of all the various powers, affections and designs, and naturally assumes a jurisdiction over them; pronouncing that most important sentence, that in the virtues themselves, and in a careful study of what is beautiful and honourable in manners, consists our true dignity, and natural excellence, and supreme happiness. Those who cultivate and improve this sense find that it can strengthen them to bear the greatest external evils, and voluntarily to forfeit external advantages, in adhering to their duty toward their friends, their country, or the general interest of all: and that in so doing alone it is that they can throughly approve themselves and their conduct. It likewise punishes with severe remorse and secret lashes such as disobey this natural government constituted in the soul, or omit through any fear, or any prospect of secular advantages, the Duties which it requires.

That this Divine Sense {or Conscience} naturally approving these more extensive affections should be the governing power in man, appears both immediately from its own nature, {as we immediately feel that it naturally assumes a right of judging, approving or condemning all the various motions of the soul; as also} from this that every good man applauds himself, approves entirely his own temper, and is then best pleased with himself when he restrains not only the lower sensual appetites, but even [as well as] the more sublime ones of a selfish kind [concerning his own pleasure and utility], or [but even] the more narrow and contracted affections of love toward kindred, or friends, or even his country, when they interfere with the more extensive interests of mankind, and the common prosperity of all. Our inward conscience of right and wrong [This sense] not only prefers the most diffusive goodness to all other affections of soul, whether of a selfish kind, or of narrower endearment: but also abundantly compensates all losses incurred, all pleasures sacrificed, or expences sustained on account of virtue, by a more joyful consciousness of our real goodness, and merited glory; since all these losses sustained increase the moral dignity and beauty of virtuous offices, and recommend them the more to our inward sense:{* } which is a circumstance peculiar to this case, nor is the like found in any other sense{, when it conquers another of less power than its own}. And further, whoever acts otherways cannot throughly approve himself if he examines well the inward sense of his soul: when we judge of the characters and conduct of others, we find the same sentiments of them: nay, this subordination of all to the most extensive interests is what we demand from them; nor do we ever fail in this case to condemn any contrary conduct; as in our judgments about others we are under no byass from our private passions and interests. And therefor altho’ every event, disposition, or action incident to men may in a certain sense be called natural; yet such conduct alone as is approved by this diviner faculty, which is plainly destined to command the rest, can be properly called agreeable or suited to our nature.29

XIII. With this moral sense is naturally connected that other {of Honour and Shame}, which makes the approbations, the gratitude, and esteem of others who approve our conduct, matter of high pleasure; and their censures, and condemnation, and infamy, matter of severe uneasiness; even altho’ we should have no hopes of any other advantages from their approbations, or fears of evil from their dislike. For by this sense these things are made good or evil immediately and in themselves: and hence it is that we see many solicitous about a surviving fame, without any notion [hope] that after death they shall have any sense of it{, or advantage by it}. Nor can it be said{* } that we delight in the praises of others only as they are a testimony to our virtue and confirm the good opinion we may have of our selves: for we find that the very best of mankind, who are abundantly conscious of their own virtues, and need no such confirmation, yet have pleasure in the praises they obtain.

That there’s a natural sense {of honour and fame30 }, founded indeed upon our moral sense, or presupposing it, but distinct from it and all other senses, seems manifest from that natural <motion of the soul that is called shame or> modesty, which discovers itself by the very countenance in blushing; which nature has plainly designed as a guardian not only to moral virtue, but to all decency in our whole deportment, and a watchful check upon all the motions of the lower appetites.31 And hence it is that this sense is of such importance in life, by frequently exciting men to what is honourable, and restraining them from every thing dishonourable, base, flagitious, or injurious.

In these two senses, of moral good and evil, and of honour and shame, mankind are more uniformly constituted than in the other senses; which will be manifest if the same immediate forms or species of actions be proposed to their judgment; that is, if they are considering the same affections of heart whether to be approved or condemned, they would universally agree. If indeed they have contrary opinions of happiness, or of the external means of promoting or preserving it, ’tis then no wonder, however uniform their moral senses be, that one should approve what another condemns <when they judge external actions>. Or if they have contrary opinions about the divine Laws, some believing that God requires what others think he forbids, or has left indifferent; while all agree that it is our duty to obey God: or lastly, if they entertain contrary opinions about the <natural dispositions, manners, and> characters of men {or parties}; some believing that sect or party to be honest, pious and good, which others take to be savage or wicked. On these accounts they may have the most opposite approbations and condemnations, tho’ the moral sense of them all were uniform, approving the same immediate object, to wit, the same tempers and affections.32

XIV. When by means of these senses, some objects must appear beautiful, graceful, honourable, or venerable, and others mean and shameful; should it happen that in any object there appeared a mixture of these opposite forms or qualities, there would appear also another sense, of the ridiculous [of those things that we call ridiculous or apt to excite laughter]. And whereas there’s a general presumption of some dignity, prudence and wisdom in the human species; such conduct of theirs will raise laughter as shews “some mean error or mistake, which yet is not attended with grievous pain or destruction to the person”: for all such events would rather move pity. Laughter is a grateful commotion of the mind; but to be the object of laughter or mockery is universally disagreeable, and what men from their natural desire of esteem carefully avoid.

Hence arises the importance of this sense or disposition, in refining the manners of mankind, and correcting their faults. Things too of a quite different nature from any human action may occasion laughter, by exhibiting at once some venerable appearance, along with something mean and despicable. From this sense there arise agreeable and sometimes useful entertainments, grateful seasoning to conversation, and innocent amusements amidst the graver business of life.33

XV.34 These various senses men are indued with constitute a great variety of things good or evil; all which may be reduced to these three classes, the goods of the soul, the goods of the body, and the goods of fortune or external ones. The goods of the soul are ingenuity and acuteness, a tenacious memory, the sciences and arts, prudence, and all the voluntary virtues{, or good dispositions of Will}. The goods of the body are, perfect organs of sense, strength, sound health, swiftness, agility, beauty. External goods are liberty, honours, power, wealth. Now as all objects grateful to any sense excite desire, and their contraries raise aversion; the affections of the will, whether calm or passionate, must be equally various. We already mentioned the four general classes [calm affections] to which they may be reduced, to wit, desire, aversion, joy and sorrow{: nor have we names settled to distinguish always the calm from the passionate, as there are in some other languages.} <and the four turbulent motions: lust, fear, delight, and distress>. But of each of these four there are many subdivisions, and very different kinds, according to the very different objects they have in view, and according as they are selfish or disinterested, respecting our own fortunes or those of others. And then among those which respect the fortunes of others there are great diversities, according to the different characters of the persons, their fortunes, and different attachments, friendships or enmities, and their various causes.

To pursue all these distinctions, and examine the several divisions made by the learned, would be tedious. We shall briefly mention the principal Passions, the names of which are also often used for the calm steddy affections of the will; {[nay the same name is often given to desires and joys, to aversions and sorrows.]}

1. The several species of desire of the selfish kind respecting one’s own body or fortune, are the natural appetites of food, whether plainer or more exquisite, lust, ambition, the desires of praise, of high offices, of wealth <that are called ambition and avarice>. Their contraries are repelled by the aversions of fear and anger, {and these of various kinds.}

The goods of the soul we pursue in our desires of knowledge, and of virtue, and in emulation of worthy characters. Their contraries we avoid by the aversions of shame and modesty; we are on this subject often at a loss for appropriated names.

2. The disinterested Desires respecting any sort of prosperity to others, are benevolence or good-will, parental affections, and those toward kinsmen. The affections of desire toward worthy characters, are favour or good wishes, zealous veneration, gratitude. The aversions raised by their misfortunes are fear, anger, compassion, indignation. The prosperity of bad characters moves the aversions of envy and indignation.

3. The several species of Joy respecting ones own prosperous fortunes, are delectation, pride, arrogance, <pertness,> ostentation. And yet a long possession of any advantages of the body or fortune often produces satiety and disgust. From the contrary Evils arise sorrow, vexation, despair. Anger indeed by the Antients is always made a species of desire, to wit, that of punishing such as we apprehend have been injurious.

From our possessing the goods of the soul, especially virtuous affections [voluntary virtues], arise the internal joyful applauses of conscience, an honourable pride and glorying. From the contrary evils arise shame, remorse, dejection, and brokenness of spirit, which are species of sorrow.

4. The virtues of others observed raise joyful love, and esteem, and veneration, and where there’s intimacy, the affections of Friendship. The vices of others move a sort of sorrowful hatred, contempt or detestation. The prosperity of the virtuous, or of our benefactors, raises a joyful congratulation; their adversities raise grief, pity, and indignation. The adversities of the vitious often raise joy and triumph, and their prosperity grief and indignation.

Whoever is curious to see large catalogues of the several motions of the Will may find them in Aristotle’s Ethicks, Cicero’s 4th Tuscul. and Andronicus <and others>.35 But from what is above mentioned ’tis manifest that there’s some natural sense of right and wrong, something in the temper and affections we naturally approve for it self, and count honourable and good; since ’tis from some such moral species or forms that many of the most natural passions arise; and opposite moral characters upon like external events raise the most opposite affections, without any regard to the private interests of the observer.

XVI. Some of these affections are so rooted in nature that no body is found without them. The appetites toward the preservation of the body are excited in every stage of life by the uneasy sensations of hunger, and thirst, and cold. The desire of offspring at a certain age, and parental affection is also universal; and in consequence of them the like affections toward kinsmen.36 The other affections when the objects are presented are equally natural, tho’ not so necessary <and continuous>. The appearance of virtue in another raises love, esteem, friendship: Honourable designs are followed with favour, kind wishes, and zeal: their successes move joyful congratulation, and their disappointment sorrow and indignation; and the contrary affections attend the prosperity of the vicious{, even tho’ we apprehend no advantage or danger to ourselves on either side}. Benefits received with a like natural force raise gratitude; and injuries, resentment and anger; and the sufferings of <others, specially of> the innocent, pity. We also justly count natural the desires of knowledge, of the several virtues, of <fame,> health, strength, beauty, pleasure, and of all such things as are grateful to any sense.37

XVII. There are some other Parts of our constitution not to be omitted, which equally relate to the understanding and will. Such as that natural disposition to associate or conjoin any ideas, or any affections, however disparate or unlike, which at once have made strong impressions on our mind; so that whensoever any occasion excites one of them, the others will also constantly attend it, and that instantly, previous to any desire. To this association is owing almost wholly our power of memory, or recalling of past events, and even the faculty of speech.38 But from such associations incautiously made {we sometimes are hurt in our tempers.} The meaner pleasures of sense, and the objects of our lower appetites, acquire great strength this way, when we conjoin with them some far nobler notions, tho’ not naturally or necessarily allied to them, so that they cannot easily be separated. Hence by some notions of elegance, ingenuity, or finer taste, of prudence, <even of> liberality and beneficence, the luxurious ways of living obtain a much greater reputation, and seem of much more importance to happiness than they really are. Hence ’tis of high consequence in what manner the young are educated, what persons they are intimate with, and what sort of conversation they are inured to; since by all these, strong associations of ideas are formed, and the tempers often either amended or depraved.39

Of a like nature to these are Habits, for such is the nature both of the soul and body that all our powers are increased and perfected by exercise. The long or frequent enjoyment of pleasures indeed abates the keenness of our sense; and in like manner custom abates the feelings of pain.40 But the want of such gratifications or pleasures as we have long been enured to is more uneasy, and our regret the keener. And hence men are more prone to any pleasures or agreeable courses of action they are accustomed to, and cannot so easily be restrained from them.

We have already shewed that whatever is ultimately desirable must be the object of some immediate sense. But as men are naturally endued with some acuteness, forethought, memory, reason, and wisdom, they shall also naturally desire whatever appears as the proper means of obtaining what is immediately desirable; such means are riches and power, which may be subservient to all our desires whether virtuous or vitious, benevolent or malitious; and hence it is that they are so universally desired.

To finish this structure of human Nature, indued with such powers of Reason, such sublime perceptive powers, such social bonds of affection, God has also superadded the powers of speech and eloquence, by which we are capable of obtaining information of what we were ignorant of, and of communicating to others what we know: by this power we exhort, by this we persuade, by this we comfort the afflicted, and inspire courage into the fearful; by this we restrain immoderate foolish transports, by this we repress the dissolute desires and passionate resentments; this power has conjoined us in the bonds of justice and law and civil polity, this power has reclaimed Mankind from a wild and savage life.

Altho’ all these several powers and faculties we have mentioned are so common to all mankind, that there are scarce any entirely deprived of any one of them; yet there is a wonderful variety of tempers: since in different persons different powers and dispositions so prevail that they determine the whole course of their lives. In many the sensual appetites prevail; in others there’s an high sense of the more humane and elegant pleasures; in some the keen pursuits of knowledge, in others either ambition or anxious avarice: in others the kind affections, and compassion toward the distressed, <benevolence> and beneficence, with their constant attendants and supporters, an high sense of moral excellence and love of virtue: others are more prone to anger, envy, and the ill-natured affections.41 In the present state of mankind which we plainly see is depraved and corrupt, sensuality and mean selfish pursuits are the most universal: and those enjoyments which the higher powers recommend, the generality are but little acquainted with, or are little employed in examining or pursuing them.

This diversity of Tempers, sometimes observable from the cradle, is strangely increased by different customs, methods of education, instruction, habits, and contrary examples; not to speak of the different bodily constitutions, which belong to the art of Medicine. The same causes often concur to corrupt the manners of men, tho’ our depravation in our present state cannot wholly be ascribed to them. For such is the present condition of mankind, that none seem to be born without some weaknesses or diseases of the soul, or one kind or other, tho’ in different degrees. Every one finds in himself the notion of a truly good man, to which no man ever comes up in his conduct. Nay the very best of mankind must acknowledge that in innumerable instances they come short of their duty{, and of that standard of moral goodness they find within them}. And altho’ nature has given us all some little sparks as it were to kindle up the several virtues; and sown as it were some seeds of them; yet {by our own bad conduct and foolish notions} we seldom suffer them to grow to maturity. <On the causes of these diseases of the soul, and on the origin of evil, various and not unlikely were the conjectures of philosophers.> But a full and certain account of the original of these disorders, and of the effectual remedies for them, {in all the different degrees in which they appear in different persons,} will never be given by any mortal without a divine revelation.42 And yet whosoever will set himself heartily to inquire into the true happiness of human nature, to discover the fallacious appearances of it, and to cultivate the nobler faculties of the soul, he will obtain a considerable power over the several turbulent passions, and amend or improve in a great degree his whole temper and disposition, whether it be what nature first gave him, or what his former conduct and circumstances have made it.

XVIII. The consideration of all that variety of Senses or tastes, by which such a variety of objects and actions are naturally recommended to mankind, and of a like multiplicity of natural desires; and all of them pretty inconstant and changeable, and often jarring with each other, some pursuing our own interests or pleasures of one or other of the various kinds mentioned, and some pursuing the good of others; as we have also a great many humane kind affections: This complex view, I say, must at first make human nature appear a strange chaos, or a confused combination of jarring principles, until we can discover by a closer attention, some natural connexion or order among them, some governing principles [principle] naturally fitted to regulate all the rest.43 To discover this is the main business of Moral Philosophy, and to shew how all these parts are to be ranged in order: and we shall find that with wonderful wisdom

Of this we may have some notion from what is above explained about that moral Power, that sense of what is becoming and honourable in our actions. Nor need we long dissertations and reasoning, since by inward reflection and examining the feelings of our hearts, we shall be convinced, that we have this moral power {or Conscience} distinguishing between right and wrong, plainly destined and fitted to regulate the whole of life; which clearly discovers to us that course and conduct, which alone we can entirely approve <and therefore which is most in accordance with the intention of nature>; to wit, that in which all kind affections are cultivated, and at the same time an extensive regard maintained toward the general happiness of all; so that we pursue our own interests, or those of our friends, or kinsmen, no further than the more extensive interests will allow; always maintaining sweetness of temper, kindness, and tender affections; and improving all our powers of body or mind with a view to serve God and mankind. This same moral sense also filling the soul with the most joyful satisfaction and inward applauses, and with the most cheering hopes, will strengthen it for all good offices, even tho’ attended with toil and dangers, and reward our efforts with the most glorious recompense.

Nay our reason too reviewing the evidence exhibited to us in the whole order of nature, will shew us that the same course of life which contributes to the general prosperity, procures also to the agent the most stable and most worthy felicity; and generally tends to procure that competency of external things which to a good mind is in its kind the most joyful. The same reason will shew us that the world is governed by the wisest and best Providence; and hence still greater and more joyful hopes will arise. We shall thence conclude that all these practical truths discovered from reflection on our own constitution and that of Nature, have the nature and force of divine Laws pointing out what God requires of us, what is pleasing to him, and by what conduct we may obtain his approbation and favour. Hence the hopes of future happiness after death, and a strength and firmness of soul in all honourable designs. Hence the soul shall be filled with the joys of Piety and Devotion; and every good mind shall expect every thing joyful and glorious under the protection of a good Providence, not only for itself but for all good men, and for the whole universe. And when one is persuaded of these Truths, then both our social and our selfish affections will harmoniously recommend to us one and the same course of life and conduct.

CHAPTER II

Concerning the Supreme Good.

I. Having in the former chapter premised a pretty full description of human Nature and its several powers, we proceed to inquire into <the ends of Goods and Evils, or> the Supreme Good or Evil{, and wherein the chief Happiness of mankind consists}, with the proper plan of life in order to obtain it.

We shall lightly pass over certain celebrated questions about the mutual powers of the understanding and will over each other, which properly belong to Pneumaticks {or Metaphysicks}. We only suggest in passing, 1. That what is wholly unknown cannot be the object of desire, and yet there are certain natural propensities {or instincts in each species} toward certain objects or actions, as soon as it obtains any notion of them, and aversions to their contraries. These the schoolmen call the first simple motions of Will. When these are so strong as to call off the mind from any other objects it may have been employed about, and surmount its sloth, {or any dispositions to rest,} it raises also a desire of searching out the proper means <and reasons> of obtaining the objects desired, and of discovering which of them are most eligible: and when this point is settled, then, according to the Stoicks, we are determined to execute these means, or there arises the effectual purpose of action [that steddy purpose of action that Schoolmen call effectual volition].1 Many [Some] of the Peripateticks deny that the Will is certainly determined to follow even the last practicaljudgments, tho’ it generally does so. They alledge that it has an inherent power, notwithstanding any judgments or desires about the proper ends or means, of determining it self to act or abstain; nay some add, that it can determine it self to either of the contraries, to pursue good, or to pursue evil even under that notion. Let Metaphysicians determine these points. This in general seems true that we cannot properly ascribe any active <ruling> power to the understanding, about our conduct in life. ’Tis its business only to discover Truth; whereas willing, ordering, commanding, purposing, are acts of Will.2

The will again seems to have no other power over the understanding than this, that a man may as he wills turn his understanding to consider all the evidence on either side, and where the highest evidence does not occur, he can suspend any {peremptory} assent, and resolve upon a further hearing of the cause. But wherever full, certain evidence appears, he cannot at pleasure withhold his assent, or assent to the other side. Nay where on one side he sees superior probabilities [better reasons], he cannot avoid judging that side to be more probable.

II. We also pass over some speculative questions about the general notions of Good, and Final Causes or Ends, and their divisions; as they are easy and belong to other sciences. These maxims seem evident. 1. The objects of desire are pursued either ultimately for themselves, or as means to something further, or on both accounts. 2. Whatever is ultimately desirable is either recommended by some immediate sense or some natural instinct or impulse, <and approbation> prior to all reasoning. ’Tis the business of reason to find out the means of obtaining what we desire: or if various objects of desire interfere, to inquire which of them is of most importance to happiness, and what the best means of obtaining such objects. 3. Things are recommended to our pursuit, under one or other of these three forms or notions, either as pleasant, profitable, or honourable. Under the notion of pleasure are such things pursued in which we have only in view some grateful sensation to ourselves; and yet moral writers seldom include under this branch of pleasant, either the moral virtues, or the sciences and ingenious arts. These things are called profitable which are desired as means of somewhat further. The honourable are the several virtues {either intellectual or moral,} which recommend themselves by their own peculiar dignity, {very different from the lower sorts of pleasures}. 4. The importance or moment of any good toward our felicity depends on its dignity and duration. There’s a great difference among the several sorts of good in point of dignity. When we compare together the goods corresponding to senses of the same order, such as those relating to the external senses [those pleasure of body that we have in common with beasts], the dignity is just the intenseness of the pleasure in the sensation. But the objects of the superior senses have their own peculiar excellence, {not to be compared with the lower pleasures,} appearing of it self, and raising the desires of such as know them; so that we approve and praise, and count the persons happy, and wise in their conduct, who despise all bodily pleasures in comparison with them. ’Tis thus we plainly judge of the man who prefers the joys <of refined arts,> of knowledge, and of virtue and virtuous action to all others, and devotes himself entirely to them{, in opposition to even the highest sensual enjoyments}.3

To a rational being therefor who is indued with forethought these must be the characters of his supreme Good: “It must be something ultimately desirable to which most other things are referable <while it is not a means to anything else>; which has the highest dignity, which is stable {or durable}, and sufficient to satisfy or make happy.”

III. In our enquiries after happiness, which must either consist in the full enjoyment of all sorts of good, or at least in that of the principal sorts, we must observe, that ’tis impossible for one to ensure to himself the full enjoyment of all sorts of pleasure, and an immunity from all evil. According to the uncertain fleeting nature of human affairs, all external enjoyments must be uncertain. The objects themselves are perishable; and our own tastes and relishes are changeable; our health of body on which many enjoyments depend is very unstable: external objects depend not on our power, but {as ’tis commonly said}, are the Gifts of Fortune, or more properly, depend upon the Divine Providence, which has ensured no man in the constant possession of them.

Need we also mention that there are many inconsistencies among the several enjoyments, so that one cannot vigorously pursue or enjoy them all: nay such is the dignity of the superior enjoyments, that they scorn such conjunction with the lower; their beauty and highest joy arises from our having despised and sacrificed to them the lower pleasures, and even resolutely exposed our selves to toils and distresses on their account.

Since then there’s no obtaining a full enjoyment of all sorts of good, or avoiding of all evil, we must carefully enquire which sorts of good are the most important to happiness, and what evils are the most grievous, and most eversive of tranquillity and happiness. We must therefor compare together the several goods which affect the various senses, and that both in respect to dignity and duration: and in like manner compare the several evils to discover which of them are most grievous and destructive.4

IV. We may here transiently notice, that tho’ we grant to Hieronymus of Rhodes, and some others of antiquity, that upon the mere removal of all pain there naturally ensues a state in it self grateful and pleasant: and that a stable sort of tranquillity and joy accompanies an intire immunity from uneasy sensations, so kind is the constitution of our nature, provided the mind is not disturbed by any keen desires or fears; so that their maxim is true, that wherever there’s freedom from all evil there must be the possession of some good: yet ’tis plain that beings endued with so many senses and active appetites and desires, cannot be made happy by mere indolence.5 This pleasure is but of a low kind, nor has it any dignity; much less can it have such force upon the soul as to be the spring of our actions and conduct in life. Happiness therefor must depend upon other sorts of goods suited to our perceptive powers.

In the first place ’tis plain that bodily pleasures have none of that dignity which is the object of praise. Were the sensations never so intense, yet they all are plainly mean, and many of them shameful: they are transient too and fleeting; nor does the remembrance of past enjoyments give any such pleasure, or yield any such matter of joy or glorying, which could allay any sorrows or distresses in life, or support us under them.

Nor can it be justly alledged, that the common sentiments of mankind seem to make these the highest of all, because we see the greater part of men much devoted to them alone. This is so far from truth, that there are few to be found, who, when the fervor of their passions is a little cooled, won’t own, that such pleasures are quite insufficient to happiness. The most worthless characters have some imperfect <and artificial> notions of virtues almost continually influencing them; some friendships, some kind offices towards such as either nature or acquaintance hath attached to them, and whom they rashly happen to esteem. Nor can any one deem himself happy in constant inactivity or sensual enjoyments: they must conjoin with them frequent actions and offices, which according to their notions are virtuous. But, how strong soever the lower appetites may be {in proportion to the nobler}, yet still that diviner faculty naturally destined to govern the rest, and from whose dictates we are chiefly to judge of the intention of God and nature, rather scorns and rejects sensual enjoyments, as below the dignity of the rational nature, and will not allow them to make a part of the true happiness.6

Need we further insist that sensual pleasures are almost continually recommended by some borrowed colours of a moral kind, of friendship, humanity, beneficence, or an elegant taste; otherways they would be despicable and shameful. Nay our {conscience or moral} sense <of what is right and honourable> seldom appears in opposition to them; since by the strange deceit of the passions, we generally persuade ourselves of their innocence.7 But on the other hand the virtues charm and make us happy by their own native beauty and dignity: nor are we to imagine that happiness is found only in mirth, gayety, lasciviousness or diversions, the amusements of weaker minds. There’s an higher happiness to the grave who are intent on serious business, from their own goodness, strength of mind, and steddiness.

There’s just cause too of appealing from the judgment of the voluptuous, who given up to sensuality, seldom experience the joys of a virtuous sort most becoming the rational nature, and never feel the pleasures of entire stable integrity and goodness. They are corrupt judges, having the nobler senses of the soul much stupified. But the external senses are never imagined to be any way impaired by the greatest dignity and steddiness of soul in all the moral virtues.8 The good man knows all the good in sensual pleasures, and despises it that he may adhere to virtue; finding upon full knowledge of both, that in virtue consists the supreme good.9 These honourable enjoyments are never blended with sensual pleasures, or recommended to us as the means of obtaining them; on the contrary, they are chiefly recommended by the labours, troubles and dangers incurred;

• Midst losses, deaths, deriving force
• And spirit from the hostile sword.

• Hor.

Nay we have in this cause frequent testimonies from the voluptuous themselves. How few are such abandoned wretches as not to be much more affected with the beauty of some virtues, than with any bodily pleasures? Who won’t sometimes in serving a friend, or maintaining their own moral characters, or refuting certain calumnies, expose themselves to toils and danger, and forego pleasures?10 ] How few are devoted to mere solitary sensuality without any social friendly affections and joys? The few who are so, the world looks upon as monsters, and detests them. And then how transient and fleeting are these pleasures, since they depend entirely upon the continuance of the appetite? when the natural craving is sated, all pleasure is gone; and there must be long, tedious and disagreeable intervals, unless they are filled up with more honourable pursuits.

A little reflection too will shew us, what is of high importance in this matter, that in a temperate <and restrained> course of life, filled up with the most virtuous pursuits, till the natural appetites recurr, there is generally that enjoyment of the lower pleasures which is both safest and most delightful; since moderation and abstinence heightens the enjoyment. With such goodness is our nature constituted {by God}, so gentle is the reign of virtue, that it restrains not its subjects from that enjoyment of bodily pleasures, which upon a right estimate will be found the sweetest: altho’ this she demands, that we should still preserve so lively a sense of the superior pleasures, as may be sufficient to controul the lower appetites, when they make any opposition.11 But on the other hand under the empire of sensuality there’s no admittance for the virtues; all the nobler joys from a conscious goodness, a sense of virtue, and deserving well of others, must be banished; and generally along with them even the rational manly pleasures of the ingenious arts.

V. Let us next consider that pleasure which arises from the elegance and grandeur of life: this no doubt is of a far superior kind to brutal sensuality, and yet is neither very great nor durable. Such things can give small alleviation to any of the important evils of life, such as bodily diseases, or those of the mind, which are often more severe, our own <fears,> anxieties, sollicitudes, sorrows. While these matters of ornament, elegance or grandeur are new to us, they are pretty agreeable; but being a short while enured to them puts an end to their pleasure: we are soon cloyed; and if the taste continues, we fall a hunting after something new, with a strange caprice and inconstancy; exposing ourselves to innumerable chagrins and sollicitudes, to obtain what again we shall presently be cloyed with and nauseate.

Need we insist further that all these things require also some friendly society: their principal charm is in some notions of liberality, kindness, good-will, and sharing of pleasures with others: by these chiefly they are made joyful to us and matter of glorying. And then such things may be enjoyed by the very worst and most wretched of mankind as well as by the most worthy.

Let us subjoin to these the pleasures of the ingenious arts, and that most truly manly sort which we enjoy in knowledge and the sciences: these the sense of every one who has any tolerable genius or gentlemanly taste, must indeed prefer far above any bodily pleasures; and they are also far more durable and stable. Whenever therefor we have leisure from the honourable offices of life, what study or pains we employ about them is truly laudable, and the remembrance of it will be agreeable. This is the natural food of the rational nature, and a pleasure suited to it; this is the proper exercise and improvement of that diviner part: these pleasures are of a purer kind, and more honourable and joyful, and friendly too to the voluntary virtues. And yet we may easily see that they alone are not sufficient to happiness: they are not absolutely the highest; and are plainly in their own nature destined for something further, even for these honourable offices by which we may serve our friends or our country.12 And hence it is that all men must approve one who would throw aside even the most delightful studies about the most important subjects, when he were called to succour his friends or his country, or to perform any kind or friendly office.

Let us imagine with our selves a person possessed of every ornament and elegance of life, along with all the means of bodily pleasures, and this by some miraculous providence [by a magic wand]; and that he were employed in the noblest contemplations with uninterrupted leisure, and yet void of all social affection, neither loving any nor beloved, without any opportunities of friendly offices: or imagine him retaining the natural affections toward others, but that all his kinsmen, all the objects of his love are {calamitous and} miserable: Is there any man so divested of humanity as to wish for such a lot to himself, or think it desirable?13 must not every one look upon it as miserable and detestable? Imagine further, that the morose unkind affections also arise, envy, hatred, suspicion, fear; passions which generally fill up the vacancy of the kind affections in our hearts, even when we live in the greatest affluence: surely this state of life must be deemed most miserable, void of all true pleasure, and more to be dreaded than even a painful death. And yet on the other hand, friendly society in life, mutual love and confidence, and virtuous offices, can make a laborious toilsome life, even amidst distresses, desirable and glorious.

VI. Let us proceed to another source of happiness or misery, our sympathy or social feelings with others, by which we derive joys or sorrows from their prosperity or adversity. And this all must allow to be of great importance <for our happiness or misery>. For, in the name of all that’s sacred! who would not prefer beyond all comparison the liberty, virtue, and felicity of his children, his kinsmen and friends, his countrymen, not only to sensual pleasures, but to the noblest pleasures {of a selfish sort} in the arts and sciences? who would not rather forego them all than behold all such as are dear to him in a condition either miserable or shameful? While there’s any life or vigour in the natural affections of the social kind, scarce any thing can more affect our happiness or misery than the fortunes of others. What powerful relief under our own misfortunes arises from seeing the prosperity of such as are dear to us! and how is all our enjoyment of life destroyed and beat to pieces by seeing their misery!

This social sympathy we naturally approve: to be touched deeply with the misfortunes of others is honourable; nor can we wish to be divested of this sense even when it occasions to us severe <even if not shameful> distresses and sorrows: and the contrary temper, the hard insensible heart, tho’ free from such cares and sorrows, we naturally detest, and deem it miserable because it is odious and base.

The joys or sorrows of this class may also be very lasting, according as the prosperity or adversity of the persons we love continues. Nay we have deep sorrow in reflecting upon the distresses or deaths of friends for a long time after these events: this duration of these sensations adds exceedingly to their importance.

What happiness we derive from this source is plainly independent of us, and is determined by Providence. No man can insure it to himself any more than external pleasures. Nor is it of consequence to prevent sympathetick pain, to think that men are generally the guilty causes of their own miseries <although no external good fails them>. Nay this very thing is chiefly deplorable and most pityable, that men are made miserable by their own faults, placing their hopes of happiness in such mean perishing objects. All who deem themselves miserable are truly so, even altho’ a change in their own tempers would, in the same external circumstances, make them happy.

There’s plainly no other refuge from these evils, no other foundation for tranquillity or stable joy to a kind heart, but a constant regard to the Deity and his wisdom and goodness governing this world; with a stable persuasion that all is ordered in the wisest and best manner for the universal felicity; and that all that variety of evil we behold is yet no more or greater than what is requisite <by the perfect wisdom of God> for the prosperity and perfection of the universe, and may at last also frequently tend to the real good of these very persons whose misfortunes we bewail.

VII. The next source of happiness or misery naturally connected with the former, is that {conscience or} sense of what is right and honourable, which is also of great importance in life. This any one may perceive who can recollect any offices he has done for others with vigour, friendliness, an high sense of duty, or fortitude; and observes with what joy the remembrance must fill his soul. What are our sentiments of others? with what endearment, what ardent good-will do we embrace such as are engaged in such offices? and how happy do we deem them even amidst their toils and dangers; nay when they are voluntarily exposing themselves to certain death for their friends, their country, or for the propagation of true religion? The very resveries of men at leisure, when they are imagining to themselves, or those they love, a whole plan of life of the greatest dignity and happiness they can conceive, sufficiently shew that they can have no notion of an happy course of life without a continued course of steddy virtue, display’d amidst toils and dangers. These sentiments appear rooted in our hearts from our childhood. The whole frame of our nature shews that we are destined for action, and that in virtuous action alone we can find the highest happiness, in comparison with which all sensual pleasures appear despicable.

And then, with what joy, with what tranquillity and confidence must a good man be filled, who endeavouring to resemble the Deity as far as he can, is persuaded that he has the Deity for his propitious kind Ruler, Father, and munificent Rewarder; who, being assured that all events are governed and disposed of by his Providence, willingly embraces whatever befals him, firmly trusting that it is ordered with perfect wisdom, and shall tend to his good: one who knows and loves the Supreme-excellence, and is frequently employed in the contemplation and imitation of it.

Add to all this, that these joys are the most stable and durable which arise from a consciousness of our good dispositions, and of having acted according to them. The honourable toils and troubles are soon over, and are succeeded by joyful and glorious reflections. The {taste is not changeable or inconstant; the} practice of virtue is never cloying; nay it rather whets anew our appetite for further good offices of the same or a nobler kind. To this are joined these further pleasures, when we congratulate with those we have served effectually; when we justly expect the approbation and praises of mankind; when we have the joyful hopes of obtaining from God and men whatever is requisite for our safety and felicity. Nor need any one fear the want of opportunities for exercising his virtues in good offices, if he is heartily set upon them, according to the condition of life allotted him. The indigent or weak may not be capable of important services to others in external things. But such a one, having most ardent wishes for the prosperity of mankind, and resolved to profit them at least by his example of piety, and by such mean offices as are in his power, may with an humble confidence and joy approve this goodness of his heart, these honourable affections to God the most equitable judge, and to the wisest of mankind, and expect their favour, approbation and protection.

VIII. What naturally ensues upon this sense, is that of honour and infamy, which is a very keen and lively one. Praise and glory when they are founded upon virtue, make no small accession to happiness; but without this foundation they are of little consequence. That must be an unfair and trifling mind which can be delighted with praises it knows not to be due to it. True glory like a lively tree spreads its roots deep, and diffuses its branches: but false glory like the blossoms, must soon fall. No man can be assured that groundless honours can remain with him even for a day. Such is the power of truth, that it frequently prevails beyond all expectation, either in the unmasking of ostentatious hypocrites or in vindicating the injured character, and rescuing virtue from calumnies. And since the true object of praise is virtue alone; that natural strong passion for praise should excite every wise man to regulate his whole life according to the rules of virtue, and employ himself continually in some truly honourable offices.

IX. That we may not quite omit another source of enjoyment tho’ of a lower kind; that which consists in mirth and gaiety, amidst sports, diversions and jesting; we shall only briefly suggest, that unless the nobler powers be much stupified, and we cast aside all manly thought and reflection, indulging a base negligence about the most important concerns, we can no other way than by virtue and a careful regard to the duties of life, promise to ourselves either tranquillity or chearfulness. For when the soul is galled and ulcered either with remorse, or with the ill-natured envious passions opposite to virtue, or with fears and suspicions, {constantly attendants of vices,} there can be no undisturbed enjoyment of any satisfaction. In this matter the common similitude holds, “whatever is poured into a sour cask must soon grow acid.” ’Tis then alone we can be truly easy and cheerful, fit to relish all manly pleasantries and mirth, when we are possessed of a courteous, humane, sweet temper, with a good conscience, and maintaining a friendly social intercourse with good men. Whatever therefore is valuable in gayety and mirth, should also excite us to cultivate all kinds of virtue, and persuade us to activity in discharge of all the duties of life.

X. As to wealth and power; whatever good is in them, should naturally lead a wise man into the same virtuous course: since it is by obtaining the favour and good-will of others, and maintaining credit in society, that wealth and power are easiest obtained and preserved: nor can the greatest wealth or power secure its possessor against a general hatred or resentment. But as wealth and power are not desired for themselves, but for further purposes; from what we have shewn to be the noblest pleasures of life, and our highest advantage and happiness, it must appear, that they alone reap the true fruits, and have the safest and sweetest and most honourable enjoyment of wealth or power, who employ them in liberality and beneficence.

But since one of the first and strongest principles in all animals is the desire of self-preservation, we must offer a few thoughts on this head. ’Tis plain this desire like most others may be too strong: nor is mere living so much the object of it, as an happy life: and ’tis certain that in some circumstances life ceases to be desirable: as for instance, when we cannot preserve it without great baseness, ignominy and remorse; or must continue it under grievous bodily pain. The most friendly heart would wish for the death of his friend, when he cannot otherways escape these evils. Death is a certain event to all, and no man knows how soon it may happen. It must therefor often be wise conduct for for one’s own interest to expose his life to the greatest dangers when any sacred duty requires it, that he may not for the preservation of life lose all that makes it worth retaining. We ought therefor to fortify our minds against the terrors of death: for one who dreads an evil always impendent{, and that may surprize us every moment}, can retain no tranquillity. And this strength of mind is to be obtained by deep meditation from our youth, that after death, if it destroys the mind as well as the body, ’tis impossible there can be any evil, or any uneasy sensation. But if our souls perish not in death, which we justly conclude both from the goodness of God and the divine powers of the soul it self; then all good men may hope for a joyful state, and that this <wretched14 and> fading mortal life shall be succeeded by a new life of a nobler kind, which alone deserves that name.

The whole former reasonings unite in this conclusion, that happiness consists in the virtues of the soul, and in the continued exercise of them in good offices: to the completion of which however some moderate advantages with respect to the body and fortune are requisite, at least that we enjoy health, and such a competence of external things as may satisfy the painful cravings of nature. From the possession of virtue alone life is to be counted happy: but to make it compleatly so there must be a moderate degree of external prosperity.

XI. The same conclusion is further confirmed by comparing the several evils contrary to the several sorts of good already compared. And here in the first place, ’tis plain that the strength and force of bodily pain is greater in proportion than that of bodily pleasures; and this wisely ordered, that we may be the more strongly excited to our own preservation: and yet they are not to be looked upon as the greatest of evils. Men are often led into this mistake by comparing some smaller kinds of moral turpitude, even when they are excused in some measure or alleviated by the greatness of the temptation [by the fear of some incumbent danger], with the highest bodily tortures. But some crimes are so detestable, and must occasion such self-abhorrence, and torturing remorse, and some sorrows and distresses occasioned by the misery of persons very dear to us are so deep, as to occasion misery superior to any bodily torments.

And then as to duration, the pain of the body, as well as its pleasures, can seldom be very durable. Such pain as is lasting must generally be of a lighter sort, or admit of frequent intervals of ease. The severer kinds must generally soon end in death: and the remembrance of past pain when we dread no returns of the like, has nothing uneasy in it, nay is sometimes sweet, and matter of glorying.15

The more elegant pleasures of the arts, from beauty, harmony, and ingenious imitation, and all these things which relate to the ornament or grandeur of life, have no proper pain opposite to them. These more sublime senses are the avenues of pleasure and not of pain. Where indeed men have indulged strong desires of such gratifications, or affect glory and eminence by them, it may be very uneasy to be disappointed, and we may regret much the want of them. But an absolute want of them is not a natural necessary cause of any misery. Nay we see that the greater part of men are abundantly easy without them, and therefor have no solicitude to procure them.

But ’tis of the highest use to observe, that virtue of it self has no natural tendency to expose us to any of these external losses or pains: nay it rather prevents or removes them. But if it should be our fortune to incurr such losses or pain, from which surely the vitious are no more secured than the virtuous; or if sometimes on account of virtue we should be exposed to such evils, which is sometimes the case, (tho’ men are much more frequently involved by their vices in such evils, and that in a more shameful base way) Virtue can teach us to bear such evils with resolution, or to conquer them; or will afford us a variety of strong consolations under them. Just reflection will shew us that such events are the proper matter of exercise for the most glorious virtues, the course in which they must run, and train themselves, acquiring daily new force: that it is by bearing them with patience that our resignation to God, our submission, and magnanimity must be display’d, strengthened, and at last gloriously rewarded.

The miseries of the sympathetick kind from the distresses of others are often more severe, nor can they be allayed by any sensual pleasures or any external objects. Such distresses are also very lasting: since all remembrance or reflection upon any grievous misfortune or infamy of any person dear to us must always be matter of great uneasiness. There is scarce any consolation under such distress except what must be derived from resignation and trust in the Deity; by which alone it is that good men can support their spirits in all events.16

But still the most grievous of all evils is the moral turpitude of a depraved heart conscious of its own baseness. This makes a man odious to himself; and makes his own temper, what’s most essential and intimate to him, appear base and shameful, nay ignominious and detestable. This evil too is of the most lasting nature; since the remembrance of our past crimes or impieties must ever be grievous and shameful. Nor can we shake off this uneasy tormenting feeling unless by an entire alteration of temper, and reparation of any injuries we have done; nor will this it self do it effectually. It’s common attendants too are solicitudes, fears, anxieties; and, as such persons have deserved ill of God and mankind, they must live in a perpetual dread that they shall be repaid according to their demerits.

Along with these inward causes of misery, comes also infamy; which when justly deserved gives severe and lasting torment, excludes all hopes of true friendship or favour with others, and of obtaining their faithful assistances for our advantage.

From all this we see that it was with the justest reason the old Academy and the Peripateticks placed happiness in “a constant activity according to the highest virtue in a prosperous course of life.” This the schoolmen call the supreme formal good. The same therefor is the summary notion of happiness and of virtue: to wit, “that we should love and reverence the Deity with all our soul, and have a stedfast goodwill toward mankind, and carefully improve all our powers of body and mind by which we can promote the common interest of all”; which is the life according to nature.

XII. But we ought always to keep this in our thoughts, that we entirely depend on God; that all the goods either of mind or body, all our virtues, have been derived from him, and must be preserved or increased by his gracious Providence: and since every good temper must always extend its views abroad, studiously pursuing the happiness of others, which also entirely depends on the will of God, and cannot be ensured by human power: there can be no other stable foundation of tranquillity and joy than a constant trust in the goodness, wisdom and power of God, by which we commit to him ourselves, our friends, and the whole universe, persuaded that he will order all things well. The schoolmen therefor justly call God the supreme object of happiness, or the supreme objective good,17 from the knowledge and love of whom, with the hopes of being favoured by him, our supreme happiness must arise.

CHAPTER III

Concerning the Chief Divisions of Virtue.

I. 1 Having shewn that our chief good consists in virtuous activity, our next Inquiry must be, what are the several virtues? and what actions flow from them? and toward what objects?

In explaining our natural {conscience or} sense of what is good and honourable, we shewed that the chief virtues of the soul are kind affections and beneficent purposes of action: and that of these the calm {and stedfast} are more excellent than the passionate, and that the most extensive are the most excellent. Amongst the most excellent too we placed an ardent love of moral excellence, <the highest delight of the soul in it,> an earnest desire of increasing it in ourselves, and an high esteem and love toward all who are possessed of it, with the highest love toward the supreme excellence. Whence appeared our duty of loving God with the highest veneration, and the sacred obligations we are under to cultivate such affections.2

In the middle or lower classes of virtues we placed these narrower affections which either nature or acquaintance have excited: of these the more lovely are such as arise in a virtuous heart upon observing in others the like virtuous dispositions: and hence such friendships as virtue has begot and nourished must appear very lovely.3 There’s also something very engaging in a general courtesy, and sweetness of deportment toward all we have any intercourse with.

We reckon also among the virtues all these habits {or dispositions}, which tend to improve the nobler powers of the soul, or are naturally joined with or subservient to generous affections; and all such too as tend to restrain the meaner sensual appetites, the ordinary obstacles to virtue, and gives us a power to controll them: all these we immediately esteem for themselves. For by the wise contrivance of our Creator, our natural taste [human mind] is so formed, that we immediately approve and esteem all such affections or powers, the more in proportion as they are of greater importance to the general good. And hence it is that we not only approve {and love} the kind affections of a more contracted kind, which are so necessary in the several relations of life, while they are not opposite to any more extensive interest; but we also immediately approve a sincere, ingenuous, candid temper; we praise abstinence or contempt of {wealth and} pleasure, and fortitude: as all these naturally evidence a mind possessed of an high taste for moral excellence, confirmed by an indifference about, or contempt of sensuality, and external advantages, or disadvantages. Nay we immediately relish such a state or motion in the body as carries natural indications of virtue; and all the contrary dispositions whether of mind or body appear disagreeable and offensive.4

Need we mention again some natural sense, different from the moral one, but not unlike it, by which we relish and value some powers of the mind and the body quite different from any of the voluntary virtues. To all the powers God has given us there’s conjoined some sort of sense or relish, recommending that exercise of them we call natural, which is also the most subservient to the general good. Hence we highly approve the pursuits of knowledge and the ingenious arts, a capacity of application, industry, and perseverance. Nay even in bodily exercises {and recreations}, we most approve these which either shew something of ingenuity or strength, or tend to encrease them.5 <On the contrary, the eager seeking after lower pleasures, the effeminate softness of body and soul, useless for honourable and industrious offices, and all those conveniences that foster that softness, are not worthy and suitable to human excellence.>

II. Having given this general {rude} draught of the virtues, ’tis proper to consider their several kinds, that each of them displaying its beauty to us, may more allure us to pursue them.6 Virtue in the largest acceptation, may denote any power or quality which is subservient to the happiness of any sensitive being. In its stricter acceptation it denotes any habit or disposition which perfects the powers of the soul; and thus virtues are divided into the intellectual, which include all improvements of the mind by ingenious arts and sciences; and moral, which are chiefly counted virtues, being perfections of the will {and affections}7; and these are the chief object of Ethicks.

And yet the intellectual virtues are not to be altogether omitted in Morals; not only because they afford a noble branch of happiness, pleasures exceedingly becoming our rational nature; to which whosoever is enured, and has got an high taste for them, is enabled to contemn the meaner enjoyments which lead to vice; whence the sciences have justly been deemed purifications of the soul:* but because they give a more direct aid to the moral virtues. For from a deeper enquiry into nature and the universe, the perfections of the great Creator are displayed, our dutiful veneration toward him increased, the mind led into a just contempt for the low worldly pursuits of mankind; and that humility, or deep consciousness of our own weakness and manifold imperfections, is obtained, which is a chief ornament and perfection in a good character. Nay, without a great deal of knowledge in the lower and ordinary affairs of life, we must be deficient in that practical prudence which is always necessary in our conduct. But these virtues or accomplishments belong principally to other branches of philosophy, or arts. This we suggest only in general, that in the pursuits of knowledge these two faults are to be cautiously avoided, the one that of rash precipitate assenting<, taking as known what is unknown>; and for this purpose we must both take time and make vigorous application, and bring along a mind free from prejudices and prepossessions, or any passionate attachments. The other fault is employing too much keeness upon subjects, perhaps <obscure and> difficult, but of small use or necessity in life.

As to the moral virtues seated in the will; the divisions given of them by different authors are very different. The followers of Aristotle, having this principally in view, that ’tis by immoderate ungoverned passions that we are led into vice, while yet all these passions have been wisely implanted in our nature by the Deity for necessary purposes, they define virtue, “a considerate habit of the soul preserving a mediocrity according to right reason”;8 as indeed it is a great part of the office of virtue to keep the several affections, which are frequently disorderly, from both the extremes of excess and defect. In this view, to explain the several virtues they go through the several natural passions, and their several degrees, when they are either too languid or too vehement; and shew that the middle degrees are the safest, the most advantageous, and the most graceful; and these they count virtuous. Now the several habits by which this mediocrity is preserved, according to a celebrated division among the Antients, they reduce to four classes, which are called the Cardinal Virtues; Prudence, Justice, Temperance and Fortitude: from which they derive all the several branches of virtue.9

III. Prudence they describe “a cautious habit of consideration and forethought, discerning what may be advantageous or hurtful in life”; which must be acquired and preserved by experience and frequent meditation. This habit no doubt is necessary in all the business of life. But one would think prudence were rather to be ranked among the intellectual than the moral virtues: and yet no man can attain to the true solid prudence, whose heart is not improved by the moral virtues, with an high sense of moral excellence; and who has not deeply imbibed the more generous sentiments of goodness. Others may have a sort of crafty sagacity in worldly affairs, which assumes to it self the title of Prudence and Wisdom, but yet is very remote from it. The vices opposite to this virtue are rashness, inconsiderateness, a foolish self-confidence, and craft.

Fortitude they define to be “that virtue which strengthens the soul against all toils or dangers we may be exposed to in discharge of our duty”:10 ’tis this virtue which represses all vain or excessive fears, and gives us a superiority to all the external accidents of our mortal state; grounded on a thorough knowledge of their nature, that no external advantages are to be compared in point of happiness with the possession of virtue, and gaining the approbation of our own hearts, and of God, to whom our tempers must be perfectly known; and that nothing ought so much to be dreaded <or shunned> as vice and the moral deformity of the soul: and consequently, since death must soon befal us in all events, that an early death with virtue and honour is highly preferable to the longest ignominious life. On such principles as these must be founded that true greatness and elevation of mind which is not to be disturbed by external accidents.11

This true grandeur of mind is discovered in these three things; in an high relish and love of moral excellence; in that superiority to and contempt of external accidents just now mentioned; and in a tranquillity free from passion.12 There is therefor no true fortitude in not dreading moral turpitude or just infamy: the truly brave and wise avoid these things above all; as they will also decline any dangers to which no virtuous offices call them. Now as our passionate motions are of two kinds; one, that of passionate desires, the other that of aversions, fears or anger;13 and fortitude regulates these latter, as Temperance does the former; among the branches of Fortitude, are reckoned beside Magnanimity, Constancy, Hardiness, and Patience, Lenity also of temper and Clemency; and, when the publick interest requires it, Rigour and Severity, with such just Resentment as is requisite to repell or restrain injuries.

The vices opposite to Fortitude on one hand, are Pusillanimity and Cowardice, and their common attendant Cruelty; on the other hand, furious boldness and Temerity, which is often attended with obstinacy and ambition, or too keen desires of eminence, inconsistent with that equality of right which should be maintained in every free state.

Temperance is that virtue which restrains and regulates the lower appetites toward sensual pleasures; as ’tis by them that men are most frequently ensnared into all manner of vices, and into a neglect of every thing honourable. In this virtue most remarkably appears the grace and beauty of manners [of words, actions and purposes], which is quite destroyed by sensuality [by the allurements of lower pleasures].

The several branches of Temperance are {Moderation of mind}, Modesty, Chastity, Frugality, a Contentment with, or Relish for plain simple fare, and a Severity of manners in opposition to all obscenity and lewdness. The opposite vices are Luxury, Gluttony, Drunkenness, Impudence, Wantoness, Obscenity, effeminate Softness, and Delicacy as to food and other cares about the body.

But Justice they make the sovereign virtue to which all the rest should be subservient: this they define “an habit constantly regarding the common interest, {and in subserviency to it,} giving or performing to each one whatever is due to him upon any natural claim.”14 Under it they include all the kind dispositions of heart by which a friendly intercourse is maintained among men, or which leads us to contribute any thing to the common interest. Such as Liberality, Beneficence, Friendliness, Gratitude, Magnificence, Courtesy, Humanity, Veracity, Fidelity, Hospitality, Love of our Country, Dutiful affection in the sacred relations of life, and principally Piety toward God, who is conceived as the Ruler and Father of that most venerable and sacred political Body, the Rational Creation, of which our several countries are but small parts. The nature of the three former cardinal virtues may be known from what was said above about the supreme Good, and the comparisons made of the several objects of our natural desires: and the nature of Justice will be more fully explained in the second Book,* where we treat of the several rights of mankind.

These {four} virtues they maintain to be naturally connected and inseparable not only in their highest degree, which they call the Heroic; but in the middle degree, called that of Temperance, {when the lower appetites are easily governed: altho’ they may be separated in the first weaker disposition called the degree of Continence.} And yet from each of them some peculiar duties are derived which they dilate upon very agreeably. But so far for this subject.

IV. There arises here a question of some little difficulty about the original of virtue, whether it arises from the very constitution of our nature, or from instruction and habit, or by some divine influence or power. On which subject we briefly suggest, that whatever flows from any natural principles is as much owing to God, {and we are as much indebted to him for it, as if it had in an extraordinary manner been effected by his power}. Nor ought our gratitude to be less for any benefit, on this account that the liberal Donor has diffused the like goodness amongst many, or that these benefits have been bestowed upon us in a certain regular method, according to some fixed laws, in consequence of a stable series of causes determined at first by the goodness and wisdom of the Author of nature; or because he has used other voluntary agents as his ministers and instruments, {whom he has inclined or excited to do us such good offices}. Any virtues therefor {which we find in ourselves} should be the chief matter of thanksgiving and praises to God. And yet there’s nothing incredible in this that the universal Governor of the world should also by his power inspire and excite men to whatever is glorious and honourable: nay ’tis rather improbable that he who had displayed such goodness in bestowing external advantages on us, should not also exert the same goodness and power in bestowing the more noble benefits. {* } <Nature has a great power, and providence much more, concerning the circumstances that depend on fortune. But instruction, education and discipline would advance the internal powers a great deal>. The concurrence of these {three} causes to be sure [must undoubtedly make men virtuous] [should be desiderable]. We sometimes see an happy natural disposition, with something like a divine impulse, produce great matters without much aid from instruction {or discipline}: but without some tolerable natural disposition, at least without a natural taste or capacity for virtue (which however scarce any one wants altogether) instruction {or custom} would be of little or no effect. {Of these two a good natural disposition seems of greater consequence, as nature is a more stable principle. And yet instruction and habit wonderfully improve the natural disposition;} and ’tis but seldom that without their aids we can expect to see any thing great and eminent.

We shall not dwell further upon that mediocrity insisted on {so much} by Aristotle: for tho’ it well deserves our consideration, yet ’tis plain that the primary notion of virtue does not consist in it. And however it may hold not only as to our lower appetites, and some of the more sublime ones by which we are pursuing more manly enjoyments of a selfish kind, but even in the more narrow affections of good-will, that a middle degree, equally removed from both the extremes of excess and defect, is the most laudable; yet there can be no excess in these affections in which virtue chiefly consists, to wit in the <reverence and> love of God, and in that extensive good-will toward all, or in the love of moral excellence, {provided we have just notions of it}.15

V. There’s another division more obvious and perhaps more natural, according to the several objects toward whom our virtues are to be exercised, into Piety toward God, and Good-will toward Men: to which a third branch may be added of such virtues {as immediately relate to ourselves}, by which a man immediately aims at his own perfection. And altho’ there be nothing morally lovely in mere self-love, and it must be some reference to our duty to God, or to that toward men, which must make a man’s duties toward himself appear venerable or amiable; yet this third branch must not be omitted, since it is by means of a proper self-culture that we must be <fit and> prepared for any honourable services to God or mankind{; and with this reference they are exceedingly amiable}.

In pursuit of this last division, we first explain the duties of Piety, both to shew their true nature, and their importance toward our happiness; next we consider our duties toward our fellows; and lastly that self-culture which is subservient to Piety and Humanity.

CHAPTER IV

Our Duties toward God.

I. Piety consists in these two essential parts, first in just opinions {and sentiments} concerning God, and then in {affections and} worship suited to them.1

The just opinions concerning God are taught in <that part of pneumatology that is called> natural Theology or Metaphysicks: to wit, that the Deity is the original independent Being, compleat in all possible perfection, of boundless power, wisdom and goodness, the Creator, Contriver and governor of this world, and the inexhaustible source of all Good. We take these principles as granted in treating of Morals, and inquire what affections of soul, what worship internal or external is suited to them.2

The inward sense {of the heart}3 must shew at once, that this preeminence and infinite grandeur of the original cause of all, ought to be entertained with the highest admiration and praise and submissive veneration of soul: and since there’s no desire more becoming the rational nature than that of knowledge, and of discovering the {natures and} causes of the greatest subjects, no occupation of the mind can be more honourable, or even delightful, than studying to know <God and reverently surveying> the divine perfections: nor indeed without ascending to the knowledge of the supreme Excellency, can these honourable intellectual powers we are endued with find a proper object fully to exercise and satisfy them.

II. As to the moral Attributes of God: that original and most gracious Power which by its boundless Force, Goodness, and Wisdom has formed this Universe <with the greatest skill>, granting to each being its proper nature, powers, senses, appetites, or reason, and even moral excellencies; and with a liberal hand supplying each one with all things conducive to such pleasure and happiness as their natures can receive; this Power, I say, should be acknowledged with the most grateful affections, with generous love, and the highest praises and thanksgiving; and with a joyful hope and confidence, purified from all {vanity,} pride, or arrogance, {since we are such dependent creatures, who owe to it all we enjoy}.

If we more fully consider the divine Goodness and moral Perfection; that the Deity must delight in all virtue and goodness; that he must approve and love all good men: this will suggest to all such still more joyful hopes, with an higher and more delightful confidence and trust, and more ardent love of virtue and of the Deity. Hence will arise a stable security and tranquillity of the soul, which can commit it self and all its concerns to the divine Providence. Hence also a constant endeavour to imitate the Deity, and cultivate in ourselves all such affections as make us resemble him; with a steddy purpose of exerting all our powers in acting well that part which God and nature has assigned us, whether in prosperity or adversity.

Such contemplations of the venerable and adorable Excellency and gratuitous Goodness of God, whom every good man regards as the witness and approver of his actions, will lead us to an ultimate resting in virtue: that highest purity of it, by which we look upon [conformity to the divine Will] [the imitation and love of God], the discharging the duty assigned us by him, and performing our part well, as [the chief good, the chief] [the whole or the most important and desirable] fruit of virtue. Nor without this knowledge of the Deity, and these affections, can a good benevolent heart find any sure ground of hope and security, either as to it self or the dearest objects of its affection, or as to the whole state of the universe. Nor can the virtuous mind, which extends its affectionate concerns to all mankind, or the love <and praise> of moral excellence it self, ever be satisfied and at rest, unless it be assured that there’s some excellent Being complete in every perfection, in the knowledge and love of which, with a prospect of being beloved by it, it can fully acquiesce, and commit it self and the dearest objects of its cares, and the whole of mankind to his gracious providence with full security.4

And altho’ there’s none of human race who are not involved in manifold weaknesses<, vices,> and disorders of soul, none who upon reflection won’t find themselves intangled in many errors and misapprehensions about matters of the greatest importance {to the true happiness of life}; and in the guilt of manifold crimes committed against God and our fellow-creatures; on account of which they may justly dread {the divine justice, and apprehend} some impendent punishments: yet such is the divine goodness and clemency; with such long-suffering and mercy has he continued for many ages to exercise his gracious providence about weak corrupted mortals, that such as sincerely love [worship] him, and desire, as far as human weakness can go, to serve him with duty {and gratitude}, need not entirely lose hopes of his favour. Nay they have some probable ground to expect, that God will be found propitious and placable to such as repent of their sins and are exerting their utmost endeavours in the pursuits of virtue; and that his infinite wisdom {and goodness} will find out some method of exercising his mercy toward a guilty world, so as not to impair the authority of his laws and the sanctity of his moral administration, {tho’ human wisdom should never particularly discover it}. And further, what is sufficient for our purpose in the present question can admit of no debate; that the perfection of virtue, must constitute our supreme felicity; and that the ardent desires, and sincere efforts to attain it, cannot fail of a most important effect, either in obtaining compleat felicity, {or at least some lower degree of it,} or a great alleviation of misery.5

The sublimer powers of the soul of their own nature lead us to the Deity: as they are derived from him, they powerfully draw us back to him again. Our high powers of reason, our benevolent affections of the more extensive kinds, and our natural sense and love of [moral excellence] [what is right and honourable], have all this natural tendency. By these bonds all rational beings are as it were connected with and affixed to the Deity, if they have any care to cultivate these higher powers. Nor is the spring of this divine love the mere prospect of our own felicity to be found in him: for from our natural sense and approbation of moral excellence, wheresoever it is discovered, there must arise a disinterested love and veneration, detached from all considerations of our own interests.

And further since all the more lively affections of the soul naturally display themselves in some natural expressions, and by this exercise are further strengthned; the good man must naturally incline to employ himself frequently and at stated times in some acts of devotion, contemplating and adoring the divine excellencys; giving thanks for his goodness; humbly imploring the pardon of his transgressions; expressing his submission, resignation, and trust in God’s Providence; and imploring his aid in the acquisition of virtue, and in reforming his temper, that he may be furnished for every good work. For the frequent meditation upon the supreme and perfect model of all goodness must powerfully kindle an ardent desire of the same {in every ingenuous heart}.

But here we must avoid any imaginations that our piety or worship can be of any advantage to the Deity, or that he requires it of us, for any interest of his own. ’Tis rather our own interest that is promoted by it, and ’tis for our sakes that God enjoins it; that we may obtain the truest felicity, and excellence, and the purest joys. By entertaining these sentiments concerning the worship of God, we shall be secured from both the extremes, of impiety on one hand, which consists in a neglect and contempt of all religious worship; and superstition on the other, which is an abject dread of a cruel or capricious Dæmon men form to themselves, which they conceive appaisable by savage or fantastick rites.6

III. Hitherto we have treated of internal worship. But our nature scarcely relishes any thing in solitude; all our affections naturally discover themselves before others, and infect them as with a contagion. This shews that God is not only to be worshipped in secret, but [openly] in publick; which also tends to increase our own devotion, and to raise like sentiments in others, and makes them thus partakers of this sublime enjoyment.7 This social worship {is not only the natural result of inward piety, but} is also recommended by the many advantages redounding from it; as it has a great influence in promoting a general piety: and from a general sense of religion prevailing in a society all its members are powerfully excited to a faithful discharge of every duty of life, and restrained from all injury or wickedness. And hence it is that mankind have always been persuaded, that religion was of the highest consequence to engage men to all social duties, and to preserve society in peace and safety.8

The external worship must be the natural expressions of the internal devotion of the soul; and must therefor consist in celebrating the praises of God, and displaying his perfections to others; in thanksgivings, and expressions of our trust in him; in acknowledging his power, his universal Providence and goodness, by prayers <in solemn assemblies> {for what we need}; in confessing our sins, and imploring his mercy <and forgiveness>; and finally in committing ourselves entirely to his conduct, government, and correction, with an absolute resignation.9

Where such devout sentiments [doctrines] are cherished, and affections suitable to them, there must be kindled an ardent desire of inquiring into all indications of the Divine will. And whatever discoveries we find made of it, whether in the very order of nature, or by any supernatural means, which some of the wisest of the Heathens [the best philosophers] seem to have expected, the good man will embrace them with joy.

CHAPTER V

Our Duties toward Mankind.

I. The <virtues and> duties to be performed toward others are in like manner pointed out to us by our natural sense of right and wrong [by the same sense of what is right and honourable]; and we have many natural affections exciting us to <to cherish and practise> them. There are many sorts of kind affections in the several relations of life, which are plainly implanted by nature. Thus nature has implanted in the two sexes a strong mutual affection, which has a wonderful power, and has in view not so much the low gratification common to us with brutes, as a friendly society for life, founded upon that endearment which arises from a mutual good opinion of each others moral characters, of which even beauty of form gives some evidence. There’s also implanted a strong desire of offspring, and <a special care and> a very tender peculiar affection toward them. In consequence of this, there are also natural affections among brothers, sisters, cousins, and remoter kindred, and even such as are allied by marriages.1

But there are still more subtile social bonds. Good men who know each other have a natural affection not unlike that among kinsmen. 2. Men are still further bound by an intercourse of mutual offices. 3. But benevolent affections still spread further, among acquaintance and neighbours, where there’s any measure even of the commonest virtues. 4. Nay they diffuse themselves even to all our Countrymen, members of the same polity, when multitudes are once united in a political body for their common interest. 5. And {in men of reflection} there’s a more extensive good-will embracing all mankind, or all [higher kinds of] intelligent natures <if there are any>. 6. Along with these, there’s a tender compassion toward any that are in distress, with a desire of succouring them; and a natural congratulation with the prosperous, unless there has interveened some cause of aversion or enmity.

These kind affections [motions] are immediately approved for themselves: every one feels a complacence in them, and applauds himself in indulging them as some way suited to his nature <and approves and honours like affections in others>: but the contrary affections [motions] which are occasionally incident to men, such as anger, hatred, envy, revenge, and malice, are of themselves uneasy; nor can any one applaud himself in remembring them, or approve like passions in others: they are often matter of shame and remorse; and even when they seem justifiable and necessary, yet they contain nothing joyful, nothing glorious.

II. We have abundantly shewn how much these kind affections with the suitable virtuous offices contribute to our happiness. All men who have not quite divested themselves of humanity, and taken up the temper of savage beasts, must feel that without mutual love, good-will and kind offices, we can enjoy no happiness: and that solitude, even in the greatest affluence of external things, must be miserable. We also shewed that the calm, steddy [that the more stable and more extensive] affections were more honourable {than the turbulent}. But we must still remember, that mere kind affection without action, or slothful wishes will never make us happy. Our chief joy consists in the exercise of our more honourable powers; and when kind affections are tolerably lively they must be the spring of vigorous efforts to do good.

This therefore is the sum of all social virtues, that with an extensive affection toward all, we exert our powers vigorously for the common interest, and at the same time cherish all the tender affections in the several narrower relations, which contribute toward <the utility and> the prosperity of individuals, as far as the common interest will allow it.

III. But as there are very few who have either abilities or opportunities of doing any thing which can directly and immediately affect the interests of all; and yet every one almost can contribute something toward the advantage of his kinsmen, his friends or his neighbours, and by so doing plainly promotes the general good; ’tis plainly our duty to employ our selves in these less extensive offices, while they obstruct no interest more extensive, and we have no opportunities of more important services. In doing so we follow nature and God {its author}, who by these stronger bonds has made some of mankind much dearer to us than others, and recommended them more peculiarly to our care <and benevolence>.

We must not therefor, {from any airy views of more heroic extensive offices,} check or weaken the tender natural affections, which are great sources of pleasure in life, and of the greatest necessity. Nay ’tis our duty rather to cherish and encrease them, in proportion to their importance to the common interest. But at the same time we should chiefly fortify the most extensive affections, the love of moral excellence, and the steddy purpose of conformity to the divine will. While these nobler affections have the controll of all the rest, the strengthning the tender affections in the several narrower attachments of life will rather tend to compleat the beauty of a moral character, and the harmony of life. The interest too of each individual should lead him to this cultivation of all kind affections; since, as we shall presently shew, so are we formed by nature that no man {in solitude}, without the aids of others and an intercourse of mutual offices, can preserve himself in safety or even in life, not to speak of any pleasure or happiness. Now ’tis plain, that ’tis only by kind offices and beneficence that we can procure the good-will of others, or engage their zeal to promote our interests: whereas by contrary dispositions, by a sordid selfishness, and much more by violence and injuries, we incur the hatred of others; wrath and discord must arise, and we must live in perpetual dread of the evils which the resentments of others may occasion to us. Nay further from such conduct there naturally arise in our own minds all the sullen, uneasy passions of suspicion, {jealousy,} and too well grounded fears: since not only the persons immediately injured, but all others who have any regard to the common interest, are roused {by a just indignation} to repell and revenge any injuries attempted against their neighbours.

Nor should we omit some other wonderful contrivances in nature to preserve a social life among men and avert injuries <and damages>. What a manifest accession of beauty is made to the countenance from friendly mirth, and cheerfulness, and an affectionate sympathy and congratulation with others? How much grace arises from a resolute conscious virtue, and the inward applauses of a good heart? What charms in the countenance, what gentle flames sparkle in the eyes of a friend, or of one who is full of gratitude for any kindness received. On the other hand, when an injury is received or apprehended, and there’s hope of {avenging and} repelling it, in what storms of countenance does resentment discover it self, and what wrathful flames flash from the eyes? But when there’s no hopes of repelling the injuries intended, with what powerful eloquence has nature instructed even the dumb animals, as well as mankind, under any oppressive sorrow or pain, or any great terror? How moving is that mournful wailing voice, that dejected countenance, weeping and downcast eyes, sighs, tears, groans? How powerfully do they move compassion in all, that they may <promptly> either give succour in distress, or desist from the intended injuries?2

IV. In this place we must not pass by the virtue of Friendship, which is so lovely and so useful in life. To alledge that this ardent affection of such admirable force, arises merely from a sense of our own {weakness and} indigence, that so what one cannot obtain by his own power, he may by the aids of others; is ascribing to it a mean and despicable original, and a very unstable foundation: since at this rate any change of interest, {so that we apprehended trouble or inconvenience by our friendlyness,} must at once destroy all affection or good-will: nay indeed there could be no real love, but a mere hypocritical profession of it, from such views of interest.

The true spring of friendship therefor must be that natural approbation and love of moral excellence already mentioned. For whensoever virtue appears in the manners of those with whom we are acquainted, there must arise immediately{, without views of interest,} an high esteem and love toward them. For the Good, as a sort of kindred souls naturally love and desire the society of each other. This love when it is strengthened by seeing each others friendly zeal, and by an intercourse of mutual services, becomes at last as strong as any tyes of blood; so that we have the same ultimate concern about our friends that we have about our selves.

But as vitious men are naturally inconstant and variable, with such opposite passions as hinder them from either pleasing themselves long, or being agreeable to others; stable friendship is only to be found among the Good: since it must both be produced and preserved by virtue. And hence flows the grand rule of friendship, that we neither ought to desire our friends concurrence in any thing vitious, nor concurr in it at his request; least we undermine its only foundation. Friendship therefor is “the affectionate union of minds resembling each other in virtuous manners.”3 Which whosoever enjoys, will find it the most agreeable companion in the road to virtue and happiness. What can be sweeter, what more useful than to have a wise worthy friend with whom we may converse as freely as with our own soul: what enjoyment could we have of prosperity without the society of one who as much rejoices in it as we do ourselves? and for adversity, ’tis hard to bear it without the Society of such as perhaps suffer more by sympathy than we do. In both fortunes we need exceedingly the wise counsel of friends: friendship which ever way we turn us will be a present aid; no station excludes it; ’tis never unseasonable or troublesome. ’Tis the chief ornament of prosperity, and exceedingly alleviates our adversities by bearing a share in them.

V. We may further observe in relation to the kind affections, that tho’ the most extensive good-will toward all can never be too great, nor can our love of God and virtue admit of any excess; yet all the more contracted affections, arising either from the tyes of blood, or acquaintance, however lovely of themselves, may sometimes be excessive, and beyond that proportion which a good man would approve. Love is often divided into that of benevolence or good-will, and that of complacence or esteem, by which we are pleased with the tempers of others and desire their society.4 In the former branch there’s less danger of exceeding the just bounds, provided we retain a just submission to, and trust in the divine Providence, and preserve the more extensive affections in their proper superiority, so as not to sacrifice the interest of our country, or of the larger societies, or of persons of superiour worth, to that of our friends, or favourites. But the love of complacence which comes nearer to friendship, stands on more slippery ground. We ought to be very cautious that this affection be not employed about unworthy objects; or allure us to any thing vitious; nor so engross the whole man, that if these beloved persons be removed from us, or be involved in any calamities, our souls should sink entirely, and become unfit for all offices of piety and humanity. The best preventive of these evils, is not a restraining and checking all the tender affections of a narrower kind; but rather the cultivating the highest love and veneration toward the Deity, placing our hope and confidence in his Providence; and enlarging our views and concerns with more equitable minds toward the rest of mankind, that we may also discern what real excellencies are among them, perhaps equalling or surpassing those we had with such fond admiration beheld in our peculiar favourites.

CHAPTER VI

Concerning our Duties toward Ourselves, and the Improvement of the Mind.

I. As {powerful} motives of private interest naturally excite us to our several Duties toward ourselves; to give them something venerable and laudable they must be {ultimately} referred either to the service of God, or some advantages to be procured to others. With this reference they become highly virtuous and honourable.1

The culture of our minds principally consists in forming just opinions about our duty; and in procuring a large store of valuable knowledge about the most important subjects: as indeed all branches of knowledge have some use, and contribute in some measure to happiness, either by the immediate pleasure, or by discovering more fully to us the divine perfections, or enabling us better to know and discharge our Duty; since the affections of the will naturally follow the judgments formed by the understanding. All therefor who have abilities and proper opportunities, ought to apply themselves to improve their minds with an extensive knowledge {of nature} in the sciences; and ’tis the duty of all to acquire by diligent meditation and observation that common prudence which should constantly govern our lives. We ought therefor to make just estimates of all things which naturally raise our desires, consider thoroughly their importance to happiness, and find out wherein consists our supreme good; the discovery of which must also discover the true plan of life. <As we observed before> We should therefor deeply impress this on our minds, that our chief good is placed in devout affections toward God, and good-will and beneficence toward mankind.

The divine nature therefor and its boundless exellencies should be matter of our most careful inquiry; especially those attributes which excite our pious veneration, love, and trust in him. And we are to extirpate all imaginations or suspicions, of any purposes in God which are inconsistent with the perfection of wisdom, goodness, and love to his creatures.

We ought also carefully to study our own nature and constitution; what sort of beings God requires we should be; what character* either more general, or more peculiar to each one, God requires he should support and act up to in life: that thus we may follow God and nature as the sure guide to happiness.

We ought therefor to enter deeply into human nature; observing both in ourselves and others the true principles of action, the true tempers and designs: least we rashly form worse notions of our fellows than just reason would suggest. By a thorough view of these things, we should often prevent or suppress many of the harsher and ill-natured passions, anger, hatred, and envy; and cherish humanity, compassion, lenity, forgiveness and clemency.2

II. This should also continually be in our thoughts, that all things fall out according to the divine counsel, either directly ordering them, or at least, permitting them with the most perfect purity, {for some excellent purposes}: and that consequently what appears to us harsh, injurious, or ignominious, may be designed to afford occasion for exercising and strengthening the most divine virtues of the Good; and in them consists their chief felicity.

The soul should be inured to a generous contempt of other things; and this we may acquire by looking thoroughly into them: by observing how mean, sordid, fading, and transitory are all bodily pleasures, all the objects that afford them, and our very bodies themselves! by observing how small these joys are and how little necessary, which arise from the external elegance and grandeur of life; and how uncertain they are; what cares they cost in acquiring and preserving; and how soon they cloy and give disgust! {as to speculative knowledge;} how uncertain and imperfect are many sciences, leading the embarassed mind into new obscurities and difficulties and anxious darkness; and discovering nothing more clearly than the blindness {and darkness}, or the small penetration of our understanding <into almost everything>. Again how poor an affair is glory {and applause}! which is ordinarily conferred by the ignorant, who cannot judge of real excellence; our enjoyment of which is confined within the short space of this life; which can be diffused through but a small part of this earth; and which must soon be swallowed up in eternal oblivion along with all the remembrance either of these who applaud or of the persons applauded. This [thought too of] [recollection and meditation on] the shortness of life, will equally enable the soul to bear or despise <hardness and> adversity; taking this also along, that the soul who bears it well, will obtain new and enlarged strength; and like a lively fire, which turns every thing cast upon it into its own nature, and breaks forth superiour with stronger heat, so may the good man make adverse events matter of new honour and of nobler virtues. To sum up all briefly, all things related to this mortal state are fleeting, unstable, corruptible; which must speedily perish, and be presently swallowed up in that boundless ocean of eternity. For what can be called lasting in human life? Days, months, and years are continually passing away; all must die, nor is any sure that death shall not surprise him this very day: and when that last hour overtakes him, all that’s past is lost for ever; nor can there remain to him any enjoyment, except of what he has acted virtuously; which may yield some joyful hope of an happy immortality. This hope alone can be the foundation of true fortitude[; this prospect alone can fully satisfy the mind as to] [and exalt] the justice and benignity of the divine administration.

But as in other arts, the mere knowledge of the precepts is of little consequence, nor can any thing laudable be obtained without practice and exercise; so in moral philosophy, which is the art of living well, the importance of the matter requires habit and continual exercise. Let our <Mind and> Reason therefor, and the other divine parts [powers] in our constitution, assume to themselves their just right of commanding the inferiour faculties [desires], and enure them to a constant subjection. And this in our present degenerate state must require almost continual <meditation,> attention and internal discipline; to the success of which it will contribute much that we be frequently employed in the offices of Piety {and Devotion} toward God, in adoration {of his perfections}, prayers, confession of sin, and pious {desires, and} vows of obedience.

III. To apprehend more fully the nature of virtue and vice, and to adorn the soul with every moral excellency, it may be of use to run over the several species of virtue, with their characteristicks, and established names; and observe the several opposite vices, whether in the excess or defect of some natural desire <whereas virtue preserves a middle degree between them>.3 The explication of the several Passions <or perturbations> belongs to [another branch of Philosophy] [pneumaticks]. To count them all over, and mark their several degrees whether laudable or censurable, with their several signs or characters, would require a very long discourse, with great variety of matter: but what’s of most importance to lead us to virtue, is the forming just estimates of all {human affairs, all} the objects of the natural desires; and by frequent meditation deeply infixing in our hearts just impressions of their values [them], and habituating the superior parts of the soul to a constant command over the inferior.

This however must be remembered concerning our natural desires and passions, that none of them can be pronounced absolutely evil in kind: none of them which may not sometimes be of great use in life, either to the person in whom they reside, or to others of mankind: in <preserving and> promoting either their Advantage, pleasure, or {even their} virtue. Superior orders of intelligence who have the superior powers more vigorous, may perhaps stand in no need of such violent motions or instigations; but to mankind they seem often necessary. And there is a moderate degree of each of them which is often advantageous, and often laudable. Such affections as don’t come up to this moderate degree are not sufficient for the purposes either of the individual, or those of society; and such as are too luxuriant and vehement, whether in pursuit of good or repelling of evil, and pass over the proper bounds, become uneasy and dishonourable to the person in whom they are, and are hurtful or pernicious to Society.4 The moderate degrees of several passions we justly deem not only innocent, but exceedingly subservient to virtue, as its guards or ministers; nay as the springs of many honourable actions, and as real virtues. By means of these better passions whether in pursuit of good or warding off of evil, we enjoy a more lively sense of life, the force of the soul is enlarged, and its activity invigorated: whence Plato calls these passions the wings or chariot-horses of the soul.5

Nature has given us the clearest indications of what she requires in this matter. For while these passions are kept moderate under just government, and directed by reason, the whole deportment is graceful and lovely. But when we are hurried away by any furious unbridled passion, we are utterly incapable of exercising our reason, or finding out what is wise and becoming us; we quite miss the very aim of the passion it self, and our whole deportment is disagreeable and deformed. Observe the very countenances of persons enraged, or of such as are transported with any ardent enflamed desire, or distracted with terror, or fluttering with joy. Their whole air [countenance and voices], the whole state and motion of the body becomes {deformed and} unnatural.

We therefor give the honourable titles of virtues to these moderate passions, equally confined from the two extremes; and call the extremes vices. But we have not appropriated names for the moderate and just degrees of several passions; and hence some have rashly imagined, that some of our natural passions are wholly and absolutely evil. And yet ’tis plain that there are also certain moderate degrees of these passions both innocent and necessary.

To illustrate all this by examples. A moderate desire of self-preservation is both necessary and easy. Where this is awanting, men shew a desperate audacious disposition without any caution. This temper is generally restless, turbulent, and destructive both to the person himself and to the society he lives in. Where this care of self-preservation is excessive, it appears in Timidity and cowardice; dispositions quite useless to the publick, and tormenting to the person, exposing him to all injuries and affronts <and dishonour>.

A moderate relish for sensual pleasures is useful, nay necessary <and easy>. An entire insensibility would deprive one of a great deal of innocent pleasure; but seldom meet we with any thing wrong on this side. Where the taste is too high, which we call luxury or intemperance, it generally excludes all the more manly enjoyments, neither consulting reputation nor honour; nor even health or fortune, or the preservation of life. This turn of mind too must frequently expose a man to continual chagrin and uneasiness.

About our estates or worldly goods two virtues are employed, frugality, which consists in a wise management of them family estates {for honourable purposes}, and liberality, which excites us to acts of kindness to others. The former is absolutely necessary to the exercise of the later: both are pleasant, advantageous, and honourable: the former more peculiarly subservient to our advantage, and the latter to our honour. The excess of frugality and defect of liberality is avarice, which is among the most deformed and most uneasy vices, pursuing stores quite unnecessary, and which it never intends to use; stores that must be obtained with much toil and uneasiness, and need rather more <trouble and anxiety> to preserve them. The defect of frugality and excess of liberality is prodigality, destructive to our fortunes, little subservient to the pleasure or safety of life, or even to fame, which it seems chiefly to have in view.

The highest pitch of liberality is called magnificence, where great expences are wisely employed for some honourable purposes. The defect of this is seen in an affectation or shew of magnificence with an unwilling narrow heart. The excess is sometimes seen in the inelegant boundless profusion of persons who have no just notion of decency and elegance.

The highest pitch of fortitude is in like manner called magnanimity; or an elevation and firmness of soul, which no circumstances of fortune can move, aiming solely at moral excellence in all its conduct. The extreme in excess often appears in a desperate audacious ambition, stopping at no dangers<, and arrogance>. Such a temper must be dangerous and uneasy to the possessor, and inconsistent with his safety, as well as that of others; as also destructive of the liberty and dignity of all around. The other extreme is pusillanimity or cowardice, rendering a man useless and miserable.

The like holds as to the desire of power and promotion in the world: a moderate degree is useful and sits easy on a good man: when it grows excessive, ’tis both uneasy and restless, and very vitious, and dangerous to it self and all around. Where it is too faint and weak even when just occasions offer, men abandon the proper station or opportunities of virtue and honour.

So also a moderate desire of fame is manifestly of great use, if we have yet higher desires of virtue. The excess of this desire is restless and uneasy, and often defiles and debases the true beauty of virtuous actions. Where men want this desire, or have it very languid, they want a very potent incitement to all virtuous offices.

Nor can all anger or resentment be condemned, altho’ there’s little lovely in any degree of it. An entire insensibility of all injuries, of which there are but few instances, would be a very inconvenient disposition; exposing a man to the contumelies and petulance of others; nor well consistent with his own character, or the safety of such as he is bound to protect. Excessive anger on the other hand is a most tormenting passion, and often destructive to the person in whom it is found; nor is there any passion more dangerous to society.

There’s a certain just indignation, becoming a good man, when the worthless are promoted to power or dignity. One void of such sentiments would be too little solicitous about the interests either of his friends or his country. But where this passion is excessive, or rises without just cause (which we call envy, the common spring of inveterate malice) it is the most destructive poison [rust] to the soul, tormenting to the breast where it resides, and extremely vitious, leading into the most horrid crimes.

This is to be observed of all the unkind passions which partake of anger, that they should be indulged no further than is plainly necessary for our own preservation or that of our friends [and country] [or concern for common interest]. If we could without these passions ensure their safety, there would be nothing desireable or laudable in them: nay on the other hand, nothing is more lovely <or honourable> than lenity, mercy, placability and clemency.

Among the virtues of social conversation, the first and chief is veracity and candour, of which we shall treat more fully in* another place. The opposite vices are all as it were defects: lyes, deceit, fraud, crafty hypocrisy and dissimulation.

In the same class are some other virtues tending to give pleasure to and oblige all we converse with; such as courtesy, good-manners, complaisance, sweetness, pleasantry, wit: all which are laudable and graceful, and promote friendliness and good-will in society. There are opposite vices on both hands: on the one, a servile fawning, and flattery, and scurrility; having no other view than insinuating by any sort of pleasure into the favour of those it makes court to, and stooping into the most ungentlemanly or obscene jests: on the other, a troublesome, unmannerly rusticity and roughness, shewing no respect or deference to company, but pleasing it self with a shew of liberty and boldness. ’Tis needless to dwell upon the inconveniences arising from these vices, as they are always mean and indecent, and often lead to the greatest mischiefs. The true preservative against both extremes is first to take care to attain a truly virtuous temper; and then, to maintain both a real good-will and a respect for those with whom we live in society.

As to modesty {and bashfulness}, ’tis worth our notice that this passion plainly arises from a lively sense and solicitude about what is decent [right] and honourable, and hence gives in our youth hopeful prognosticks of a fine genius, well formed by nature for every thing virtuous. But where it is excessive in maturer years it often retards or withholds men from acting an honourable part: where this sense is very weak or wholly awanting, men want a powerful guardian to every virtue.

A more copious explication of all this subject may be found in Aristotle and his followers:<* > we may however suggest {before we quit it}, that since such fatal dangers threaten virtue as it were on both hands, we should certainly apply the greatest care and attention and self-discipline, in governing our several passions, in maintaining a lively and vigorous sense of moral excellence, and cultivating our rational powers [right reason] and the nobler and more extensive calm affections, [whether toward our own true interests or those of mankind] [that look at our own or at the common happiness of mankind].

IV. There’s also some care to be taken of our bodies. Strength and health is to be acquired or preserved chiefly by temperance and exercise; that so our bodies may be enabled to obey the commands of the soul, in enduring all toils we may incurr in discharge of our duty.

And since men can do little service to society who have not in their younger years been trained to some useful art or occupation: every one should timeously choose some one, suited to his genius, lawful in its nature, and of use to mankind.6 Nor ought such as are born to estates, who therefor need not for their own support any lucrative profession, think themselves exempted from any such obligation. For it seems more peculiarly incumbent on them{, as Providence exempts them from other cares,} to contribute to the publick interest, by acquiring a compleat knowledge of the rights of mankind, of laws, and civil polity; or at least such acquaintance with all the common business of mankind, that they may be able either by superiour wisdom, or by their interest<, favour,> and influence, to serve {their country or} their neighbours; and not be useless loads of the earth, serving only to consume its products.7

As to the several professions or occupations [arts], we deem them reputable on these two accounts, as they either require a finer genius and greater wisdom, or as they are of greater use in society. On both accounts the occupation of teaching others the grand principles of piety and virtue, {or even the more ingenious arts,} is reputed honourable; so are also the professions of law, medicine, and war, and some others of the more elegant arts. The more extensive merchandise, and even some mechanick arts, are justly reputable both on account of their great utility, and the considerable abilities of mind requisite in them. {Agriculture has been the chief delight of the finest spirits, as} no manner of life is more innocent, none affording sweeter amusements, none more becoming a rational creature, or a person of genteel taste in life <than agriculture>.

In the choice of our occupation or profession for life, our chief regard should be to our natural genius. But as our success in any occupation depends in the first place upon our genius, and next to it upon favourable circumstances of fortune, regard is to be had to both, but chiefly to our natural genius: for nature is a much surer and steddier principle.8

CHAPTER VII

Some Practical Considerations to Excite and Preserve the Study of Virtue.

I. We need not now spend many words in shewing the necessity of <strenuously> pursuing virtue. For if we are sufficiently persuaded that in it consists our chief felicity, and that all other things are uncertain, weak, fading and perishing, nor sufficiently adapted to the dignity of the rational nature, we must deem it necessary to enter upon that course of life which our {conscience or} inmost sense, as well as {right} reason recommends, as most suited to our nature, and which leads to the peculiar happiness of rational beings: by which means also we exercise and improve these powers which are supreme and most God-like in our constitution, and discharge the office imposed upon us by God {and nature}.1

With what other view has God given us souls so well fitted for the knowledge and practice of so many virtues? To what purpose so many noble powers, such furniture of soul for most excellent arts {and offices}; the powers of reason and speech, {the powers of invention,} the desires of knowledge, an almost boundless retention and memory of things past, a provident sagacity about futurity resembling divination, a sense of what is honourable and shameful as the controller of our lower appetites; so many kind affections consulting the good [interests] of others, a {conscience or} sense distinguishing the right from the wrong, the honourable part from the vitious and base: along with a strength and grandeur of mind for enduring dangerous toils? To what purpose that penetration into nature which reaches even to the heavens, discovers the Deity presiding in the universe, discerns his infinite perfections, and raises us to the hopes of immortality after the dissolution of the body?

Do we speak only about Philosophers? what nation or clan is there where there has not always prevailed an universal and firm persuasion, that there is a Deity, that he enjoins certain duties upon mankind, appoints them a certain moral character they must maintain; and that their future state after death shall be happy or miserable according to their conduct in this world. These therefor are the dictates of nature, sentiments adapted to our frame, and supported by obvious reasons, which continue coeval with mankind; whereas the credit of ill-founded <and vain> fictions by length of time has always decayed, and at length vanished away.

Metaphysicians suggest many other arguments for the immortality of the soul; we only suggest here, that as the ingenious and artificial structure of the universe affords the strongest arguments for the existence of artificial intelligence, [the Creator][, the forever mover and ruler] of this material frame, so arguments exactly parallel to them{, from the structure of our souls,} shew that God has also a regard to the moral qualities, the virtues and vices {of rational creatures}; and that he exercises a just moral government over them, under which happiness must be secured at last to the virtuous, and misery alloted to the vitious. And since we see that this does not hold universally in the present state of this world, we may reasonably expect another display or unfolding of the divine administration in a future state, in every respect worthy of God. This too is confirmed by the very nature of the soul it self. For that wonderful life and activity of our minds, that extensive remembrance, that sagacious foresight, those noble powers and virtues, those ingenious arts and sciences and inventions, make it incredible that substances [natures] containing such excellencies can perish {along with these despicable bodies}. Now such prospects of immortality must suggest the most potent motives to all virtue, and the strongest dissuasives from vice.

II. And that we may with greater resolution endeavour to cultivate all virtue, let us have always at hand these thoughts; (1.) That where there’s an hearty inclination to what is honourable and good, we seldom want strength in execution, and have ground to hope for the divine assistance. {We even see in the ordinary course of things, that} by vigilance, activity, and wise deliberation, all matters generally succeed prosperously: men daily increase in ability; their superiour powers acquire new strength and command over the lower appetites; and what at first appeared hard and difficult, by custom is made easy and even delightful. The toil and trouble of any honourable offices will soon be past and gone, but the remembrance of them will remain perpetual matter of joy.

(2.) But least the keen desires of the external advantages, and the alluring pleasures of this life should abate our virtuous pursuits; we should frequently consider with the deepest attention what stable and solid joys and hopes accompany virtue: we should consider also the nature of all worldly enjoyments, and obtain that just contempt of them we often mentioned; and ever keep in view the shortness of this life, and that death must soon overtake us all.

(3.) And yet since there’s a certain measure of external pleasures and enjoyments natural and necessary, we must have some regard to them; provided we still remember that there are others much more important. That we may not therefore seem obliged as it were to declare war against all the conveniences or pleasures of this life, let us run over the several virtues, and see how much each of them generally contributes to our present prosperity and pleasure.2

Prudence which restrains the inconsiderate foolish impulses of the passions, must be alike necessary in every course of life whatsoever, that we may effectually pursue any end we propose, and not blinded by lust run headlong into the objects of our strongest aversions.

The several branches of Justice are of the greatest consequence to maintain peace, to avoid offending {and provoking} others, to obtain safety, favour, reputation, credit, wealth, extensive influence, and friends, which are the surest defences against all dangers in life. These virtues in their own nature preserve the soul easy and calm, and yield a joyful hope that we shall always obtain such things as are [naturally necessary and desirable] [desired by a uncorrupted nature]. On the other hand, where designs of violence and injustice possess the heart, as they are turbulent and uneasy in their own nature, so they devour the breast with perpetual suspicions, solicitudes, and fears. Need we speak of {the highest branch of justice,} Piety towards God? this secures to us the favour of the supreme Governour of the world, the sovereign Arbiter of our fortunes, who will always provide for the virtuous, if not the things at present most pleasurable, yet such as are truly fittest for them, and most advantageous and pleasant at last. And from piety will arise the hope of immortality which can always support the soul {in every circumstance of fortune}.

The several parts of Temperance, as they faithfully cherish all other virtues, so they tend to preserve and improve our health, strength, and even the beauty and grace of our persons; as the tranquillity and inward ease of the soul shews it self in the countenance. And frugality, a sparing simple way of living, diligence, and industry, are plainly subservient to wealth and affluence: which luxury and intemperance tend to destroy; as they also impair our health, strength, and beauty, and expose us to infamy and contempt; stupifying the nobler parts of the soul, and making all the lower appetites outragious and intractable.

Fortitude and all its parts are a safeguard to ourselves and our friends. Whereas by cowardice <and timidity> we not only quit our station of honour and virtue, but often involve ourselves in such dangers as we might easily have escaped by fortitude and presence of mind. The person void of this virtue must be in the power of others to make him what they please, by the threats of evil; even to involve him in the most impious and basest vices; which is a state of miserable servitude. If any good man is threatned with great dangers, or exposed to them even on account of his virtues; as on such occasions he is entering on the most difficult combat, encountering with our most capital adversary, pain; ’tis his business to rouse up all the forces of fortitude and patience and resignation, to recollect the sacred laws of these virtues, which prohibit any effeminate weakness, prohibit our sinking or losing spirit, or crouching under this load. Let him think with himself, now he’s ingaged in the most honourable combat, more glorious than the Olympicks; God presides the witness, judge, and rewarder; ’tis cowardly and foolish when the prize is so glorious, to spare a life that must soon perish however, and perhaps in a more tormenting manner, <without honour,> by the force of some disease; a life too that does not extinguish the soul, but shall return to us again. ’Tis by {such representations made to ourselves of the honourable forms of} virtue, {fortitude,} magnanimity, duty to God, and patient resignation, that such pains are abated, and the terrors of death in some measure taken away.

III. It was formerly observed that ’tis from God we have derived all our virtues.3 The Philosophers therefor{, as well as Divines,} teach us to have recourse frequently to God by ardent prayers, that, while we are exerting ourselves vigorously, he would also adorn us with these virtues, and supply us with new strength. They taught that no man ever attained true grandeur of mind without some inspiration from God. Need we add, that the very contemplation of the divine perfections, with that deep veneration which they excite, thanksgivings, praises, confessions of our sins, and prayers, not only increase <and cherish> our devotion and piety, but strengthen all goodness of temper and integrity. We ought therefor to have recourse to the Deity in all difficulties, trusting in his aid, with firm purposes of acting that part which is most honourable; and recall to our thoughts, what virtues this emergence gives opportunity to exercise, what furniture or armour has God and nature given us for encountering with such dangers? how joyful shall the remembrance be of our conquering such temptations, and discharging our duty well? and how shameful to be conquered by the allurements of some trifling pleasure, or the terrors of a little pain, and thus debase ourselves by a vitious and ignominious behaviour.

’Tis not our present purpose to unfold at length all the precepts and motives to virtue. They may be found in the Greek and Roman Philosophers and [modern authors] [and others that managed this subject more plentifully): {in perusing whom} it may be proper to collect and keep ready for our use all the more lively and affecting sentiments which occurr: “and let us form and settle in our minds a lively notion of the grandeur and excellence of the several virtues, so that we mayn’t question but that such as are possessed of them” {must be the truly wise and completely happy characters}.* “Such a man must be satisfied with himself, neither pining and fretting under troubles, nor broken with any terrours, nor tormented with any impatient ardent desires, nor dissolved in trifling pleasures and joys: to him no accidents of this mortal state appear so intolerable as to sink his spirits, nor so joyful as to give him high transports. And what is there in the pursuits of this world, and in this short transitory life, that can appear of great consequence to a truly wise man, whose soul is so constantly upon the watch, that nothing happens to him unforeseen or surprizing, nothing unexpected, nothing new.”

IV. Now as ’tis the grand view of the good man, that according to the intention of nature he should always be employed in contributing something to the general interest and happiness, which plainly requires that large numbers of mankind should be joined in an amicable society; he ought also carefully to enquire into all the rules or dictates of right reason, by which every part of life is to be regulated, and by observing which he may on his part preserve this social union among mankind: and these precepts or conclusions of right reason collected together make what we call the Law of Nature; which is the next branch of Moral Philosophy, of great use in the conduct of life.

[1. ]This beginning on the supremacy of moral philosophy is similar to Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics (1094a) and Cicero, De finibus V.16.

[2. ]This is what Cicero maintains in De Finibus V and stresses in Tusc. disp. V.

[3. ]See Tusc. disp. V.19. Cicero says that, whereas for the Stoics happiness and virtue are coincident, the Stoics have different books on virtue and on the highest happiness, for logical and rhetorical reasons. Hutcheson, as well as Cicero, follows the Stoics: Hutcheson in the first two chapters of the present work, Cicero, in the fourth and fifth books of De finibus and Tusc. disp. Adding the third question: “what does it mean to follow nature” in the second edition, Hutcheson stresses his teleological and providential perspective here, as well as in many other additions. Compare the skeptical answer by Hume in his letter to Hutcheson of Sept. 17th, 1739.

[4. ]This Aristotelian epistemic argument is used by Hutcheson against the legalistic perspective in ethics, that is, against those (Pufendorf, Locke and Carmichael) who base natural law on God’s will or decrees.

[* ]{See this explained by Dr. Cumberland, de Lege Naturae.} [This added note shows the competence of the anonymous translator. The long chapter 2 of Cumberland’s De legibus naturae is dedicated to vindicate the supremacy of man over the other animals, against Hobbes, using observations from a number of contemporary anatomists and physicians (art. 22 and ff.). Both Hutcheson and Cumberland (art. 29) drew from Cicero’s remarks in De natura deorum and De legibus on the dignity of the human body.]

[† ]Concerning human nature, beside Aristotle’s moral writings <and his books on the soul>, Nemesius de homine, Locke, and Malebranch; many excellent observations are made in Cicero’s 5th book de finibus, Arrian, and Lord Shaftesbury’s Inquiry, and Rhapsody. [Hutcheson refers to Locke’s Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Malebranche’s Recherche de la Verité, Arrian’s The Encheiridion (“Manual”) of Epictetus, and Shaftesbury’s Inquiry Concerning Virtue or Merit and The Moralists. Nemesius, bishop of Emesa in Syria at the end of the fourth century ad, is the author of De natura homine, a treatise of Christian anthropology that explains the middle position of man in the scale of beings, describes in detail the powers of the soul, and criticizes Stoic fatalism.]

[5. ]See Hutcheson, Synopsis 2.1.2, p. 47.

[6. ]Cf. Hutcheson, Synopsis 2.1.3, pp. 48–49.

[7. ]Cf. Hutcheson, Synopsis 2.1.3, p. 51.

[8. ]On pleasant, painful, or neutral sensations see Hutcheson, Synopsis 2.1.3, p. 49.

[9. ]This paragraph refers to Locke, An Essay concerning Human Understanding, 2.1.3–5. Locke’s distinction between external and internal sensations is different from Hutcheson’s direct or antecedent and reflex or subsequent perceptions mentioned above, even if Hutcheson pretended them to be the same. Locke was mainly interested in the operations of the understanding, while Hutcheson wanted to expand on his theory of finer perceptive powers of the soul.

[10. ]Cf. Hutcheson, Essay on Passions 2.1, pp. 27–28, and System 1.1.5, vol. I, pp. 8–9 and note, where Hutcheson himself refers the division to Cicero, Tusc. disp., books iii and iv.

[11. ]This distinction between calm affections of the soul and vehement passions was criticized by Hume in his letter of Jan. 10th, 1743 (The letters of David Hume, edited by J. Y. T. Greig, Oxford, 1932, p. 46). Hume considered the division “vulgar and specious” (A Treatise of Human Nature, 2.1.1, p. 276 and 2.3.3), as “a calm ambition, a calm Anger . . . [which] may likewise be very strong, & have the absolute Command over the Mind” (Letters,ibidem). Hutcheson, here as well as in the Essay on Passions, follows the Cartesian, Malebranchean, and Stoic tradition.

[* ]{ἐπιθυμία και θυμός} [Aristotle distinguishes three kinds of appetitions in the soul: in its rational part, volition (’βούλησις), in its irrational part, desire (ἐπιθυμία) and impulsiveness (θυμός) (De anima 432 b 5; Nichomachean ethics III 1111, b5ff.). Accordingly the schoolmen subdivide the irrational part in concupiscible and irascibile.

[12. ]This sentence, added by the translator, is in square brackets in the original text. Here Hutcheson follows the Ciceronian division of the passions (Tusc. disp. IV.11–14). See also Hutcheson, Synopsis 2.1.4, p. 68, and System 1.1.5, vol. I, pp. 7–8.

[13. ]Cf. An Essay on Passions 1.3, p. 13, and System 1.1.5, vol. I, p. 8.

[14. ]Not a new paragraph in the Institutio, but added in the second edition.

[15. ]Latin text says: “But as beside those passions or violent motions by which our self-love looks for the things which are recommended to us by a law of nature. . . .” With “particular” and “of selfish kind” the translator succeeds in making the sentence easier, but we miss the idea that particular passions are natural.

[16. ]The reference to the “whole system” and to the “smaller system or party” is not in the Latin text, but is truly Hutchesonian. (See System 1.1.6, vol. I, p. 10.) In this paragraph of the Institutio Hutcheson appears to emphasize that the desire of universal happiness is as ultimate in our nature as the desire of our own happiness. This goes against Butler’s idea that virtue is coincident with calm self-love (e.g., Fifteen Sermons preached at Rolls Chapel, ii. 8. Compare System 1.7.12, vol. I, p. 139). A more polemic paragraph against Butler is found in System 1.4.12, vol. I, p. 75.

[17. ]Not a new paragraph in the Institutio.

[18. ]The Latin text has “judicium.” But the translator is true to Hutcheson with his “relish or sense.”

[19. ]In the Institutio this paragraph is before “Whatever is grateful . . . to mankind.”

[20. ]The Institutio has “sensus communis”; see the essay Sensus communis 2.3.1 and note in Shaftesbury, Characteristiks, pp. 48–49.

[* ]{Who in the old fable continued to live, but never awoke out of a sleep he was cast into by Diana.} [See note 8 in the Institutio.]

[21. ]Compare System 1.4.4, vol. I, pp. 58–59.

[22. ]For the distinction between natural or involuntary virtues, like quick apprehension or memory, and voluntary or moral virtues see Cicero, De finibus, V.36. Hutcheson emphasizes the difference between natural abilities and virtues. Here, while he owns that we are naturally prompted to cultivate natural abilities and especially knowledge, as a subject fit for a book written for young students, he avoids Hume’s attempt to play down the distinction in Treatise III.3.4–6. This paragraph is a precursor to the “sense of decency or dignity” described in System 1.2.7, vol. I, pp. 27–28. See below, note 34.

[23. ]Literally: “Some not unlearned men want, often cunningly, these utilities to be considered or slyly forge them as the causes of our approbation and condemnation.”

[24. ]The English repeatedly uses the word “interest” for the Latin “utilitas” or “utilitates.”

[25. ]This and the following four sentences were added in 1745. The arguments are as old as the Inquiry on Virtue.

[26. ]These last two paragraphs were added in 1745. The subjects of the last paragraph had been debated by Hutcheson in his Letters to Gilbert Burnet and resumed in his Illustrations I, pp. 233–44.

[27. ]Cf. System 1.4.10, vol. I, pp. 68–69.

[28. ]This sentence was criticized by Hume in his letter to Hutcheson of Jan. 10th, 1743 (pp. 46–47). Quoting from Les caractères of La Bruyère, Hume suggests that talents of body and mind are much more admired than benevolence. Again, as in his letter to Hutcheson of Sept. 17th, 1739 (p. 34), he states that Hutcheson has “limited too much” his “Ideas of Virtue” and presents this criticism as an opinion he has in common with many appraisers of his thought. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why Hutcheson repeatedly presents his catalogue of virtues in his Institutio and adds two sections.

[* ]{What the Author here intends is obvious, and of such importance as deserves a fuller explication. In a voluptuous life the more a man has impaired his health, his fortune, his character, or the more he has obstructed his progress in knowledge, or in the more elegant pleasures, the more also he must condemn and be dissatisfied with his own temper and conduct, and so must every observer. In the pursuits of honours and power, or the splendor of life; the more one has impaired his fortune or health, and the more of his natural pleasures and enjoyments he has sacrificed to these purposes, the more he must be dissatisfied with his own measures, and be disapproved by others. But in following the dictates of conscience, in adhering to his duty and the practice of virtue, the greater sacrifice he has made of all other enjoyments, the more he himself and all others approve his conduct and temper, and he answers the more compleatly the wishes and expectations of all who love and esteem him.}

[29. ]This sentence was added in 1745.

[* ]{This is suggested by Aristotle Ethic. ad Nicom. L. i. c. 5.} [1095b, 26–30. This sentence was added in the second edition. A parallel criticism of Aristotle and the same note is found in System, vol. I, p. 26. As the note is added by the translator of the Institutio, this is evidence that he had access to a manuscript copy of the posthumous System, circulating among Hutcheson’s friends since 1737.]

[30. ]In this case “shame” would be a more consistent addition by the translator.

[31. ]Also this sentence was added in 1745. That “pudor,” or modesty, is a natural principle connected with the sense of honour and shame is what Hutcheson debated also in System 1.5.3, vol. I, pp. 83–85.

[32. ]See Inquiry on Virtue, IV, 3–5 and System 1.5.7, vol. I, pp. 92–97.

[33. ]See Hutcheson, “Reflections upon Laughter,” The Dublin Weekly Journal, 5, 12, and 19 June 1725, now in Hutcheson’s Collected Works, vol. 7 (New York: Garland, 1971).

[34. ]This and the following section were added in the second edition. On the reasons for this addition, see the Introduction (p. ;lb;lb). This account of particular passions is different from the account given in his Essay on Passions and, in a way, new. Hutcheson bases his catalogue on the division of Cicero’s four chief passions (desire and fear, joy and sorrow) (Tusc. disp. IV. 16 and ff.), but he intersects the first criterion with the division between selfish and disinterested passions and the traditional distinction between body, soul, and external goods.

[35. ]Andronicus of Rhodes (First century bc) was head of the Peripatetic School and editor of Aristotle’s works. A little treatise on the passions (Περι παθων) was attributed to him.

[36. ]Literally: “Some of these motions arise with so natural an impulse that few are found without experience of them in some stage of life. The appetites for food, clothes, and other convenience are excited by the uneasy sensations of hunger, thirst, cold and heat. Common to every animal, at a certain age, are the desire of coupling and procreation, and a certain continuing care for the offspring.”

[37. ]This second added section is more connected with the Essay on Passions 3.3–6. In this case particular passions are secondary to or dependent on the perceptions of the reflected senses.

[38. ]See Synopsis 2.1.6, p. 57.

[39. ]This sentence was added in 1745. If we assume that at the time Hutcheson was opposing Hume’s candidature to the chair of moral philosophy in Edinburgh, the addition on the subject of the association of ideas has a certain irony since it was dangerous in Hutcheson (see Essay on Passions 4.3 and ff.), but was positively treated by Hume.

[40. ]See Synopsis 2.1.8, pp. 58–59.

[41. ]See System 1.7.2, vol. I, p. 119.

[42. ]The last seven sentences (from “The same cause often concur . . .), which were added in 1745, strengthen the moral pessimism of these paragraphs, an attitude rather unusual in Hutcheson.

[43. ]Also, this paragraph was criticized by Hume in his letter to Hutcheson of Jan. 10th, 1743: he argued that Hutcheson had embraced “Dr Butler’s opinion in his Sermons on Human nature; that our moral Sense has an Authority distinct from its Force and Durableness, & that because we always think it ought to prevail” (Letters, p. 47). The word ἡγεμονικὸν (the governing self or principle) suggests the influence of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, whose Meditations Hutcheson translated in 1742.

[1. ]See Synopsis 2.2.2, pp. 62–63.

[2. ]Here and in section II, second maxim, below, Hutcheson emphasizes that reason or understanding does not have the power to determine us to action; this is aimed at his rationalist adversaries. Compare Essay on Passions 2.2, pp. 30–31n., and Illustrations, I, pp. 219–20.

[3. ]See System 1.7.[1], vol. I, p. 117.

[4. ]There is a chapter on the supreme good or happiness in Hutcheson’s Inquiry on Virtue (chap. VI), as well as in Essay on Passions (chap. V), and in his System (chap. VII). Whereas the present chapter of the Institutio and chap. VII of the System are similar, with parallel consideration of the order of the pleasures, the details of each section are rather different.

[5. ]Hieronymus of Rhodes (III century bc) is often cited in Cicero’s De finibus (e.g., II.19.7).

[6. ]See System 1.7.4, vol. I, p. 126.

[7. ]See System 1.7.4, vol. I, p. 125.

[8. ]See System 1.7.2, vol. I, p. 121.

[9. ]See Shaftesbury, An Inquiry concerning Virtue or Merit, II.II.I; Characteristicks, pp. 202 and 211.

[10. ]See Essay on Passions 5.2, p. 131.

[11. ]See System 1.7.4, vol. I, p. 127.

[12. ]Literally: “and every skill in arts or sciences naturally serves the interests of something more important and excellent arising from virtue, honourable offices and profiting our friends or mankind.”

[13. ]See Essay on Passions 5.4, pp. 138–39.

[14. ]Hume observes rightly in his letter to Hutcheson of Jan. 10, 1743, “I fancy you employ the Epithet aerumnosam more from Custom than your settled Opinion” (Letters, I, p. 47).

[15. ]See Essay on Passions 5.11, p. 163.

[16. ]See System 1.7.15, vol. I, p. 145.

[17. ]On the distinction between formal and objective good or end, see Synopsis, 2.2.2, p. 63.

[1. ]In the first edition of the Institutio, the first five paragraphs of this chapter were located before the last paragraph of chapter II, section 11. The fact that this catalogue of virtues was part of the chapter entitled “De summo bono et virtute” suggests that the present chapter was a late addition to the first edition. See Introduction, p. xiv.

[2. ]See above, I.11, pp. 21–22.

[3. ]See above, I.12, p. 24; Hutcheson is more explicit on different kinds of benevolence and their degree of moral excellence in the Inquiry on Virtue, III.6, pp. 177–78.

[4. ]See System 1.4.9, vol. I, pp. 66–68.

[5. ]See above I.10, pp. 15–16.

[6. ]This sentence was added in 1745.

[7. ]The division between intellectual and moral virtues is in Aristotle’s ethics and in Cicero’s De finibus V.36.

[* ]Pythagoras and Plato called them καθάρματα ψυχῦς.

[8. ]This definition is from Aristotle. See note 4 in the Latin text.

[9. ]This division is introduced by Plato in Respublica IV and generally resumed afterward in ethics.

[10. ]See Latin text, note 6.

[11. ]See Latin text, note 7.

[12. ]See Latin text, note 8.

[13. ]See above, I.6, p. 9, note *.

[14. ]See Latin text, note 11.

[* ]See book ii, Chap. 2 and Chap. 4.

[* ]{This cannot appear strange to those who ascribe to the constant operation of God those forces in the material world by which its frame is preferred. See Antoninus B.I, c. 17 and B. ix. c. 48.} [The translator refers to the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, but there is not a chapter 48 in book IX.]

[15. ]Added by the translator, but present in the 1742 edition.

[1. ]Cf. Pufendorf, De officio 1.4.1.

[2. ]For a detailed account of God’s attributes, see Synopsis 3.2–4, pp. 97–114 and System 1.9, vol. I, pp. 168–208.

[3. ]This sense is the internal sense explored in the Inquiry on beauty (V. 18–21).

[4. ]See System 1.10.4, vol. I, pp. 215–16.

[5. ]This paragraph was added in 1745 and bears witness to Hutcheson’s rather anticalvinistic attitude toward grace and election.

[6. ]This paragraph was added in 1745. See System 1.10.5, vol. I, p. 218.

[7. ]See System 1.10.4, vol. I, pp. 217–18.

[8. ]This short paragraph is a substitute for Pufendorf’s long discussion on the absolute necessity of religion for the security of the state.

[9. ]See System 1.10.4, vol. I, p. 218.

[1. ]Cf. Cicero, De officiis, I.54. This chapter is parallel to Pufendorf, De officio I.8, and, as Carmichael suggests in his Notes on Puf., p. 76, Hutcheson follows Cicero’s De officiis I, 42–60, and Lelius, de amicitia.

[2. ]See Nicolas Malebranche, De la recherche de la verité, V.III.

[3. ]Cf. Cicero, Lelius, de amicitia 20.7. See the Latin text, notes 3–6.

[4. ]Cf. Hutcheson, An Inquiry on Virtue II.2, pp. 134–36.

[1. ]See System 1.4.8, vol. I, p. 65.

[* ]{See a full explication of these characters, the general including all integrity and probity of manners, and the particular, suited to each one’s genius, explained in Cicero de Offic. B. i. 30, 31, 32, &c.} [De officiis, I. 105–21].

[2. ]Cf. Essay on Passions 6.4, pp. 191–93.

[3. ]This paragraph follows Aristoteles, Nichomachean Ethics II, 1107a, 28–1108b, 10.

[4. ]On the necessity of passions, see Essay on Passions 2.6, pp. 48–55. Hutcheson refers to Simplicius’s commentary on Epictetus’s Manual (Simplicius, Commentaire sur le Manuel d’Épictéte, critical edition by I. Hadot, Leiden: Brill, 1996), chapter 35, and to William King’s De Origine Mali (London, 1702), III.4.

[5. ]See Henry More, Enchiridion Ethicum, I.VI.11, p. 27, and Plato, Phaedrus, 246a–d.

[* ]Book ii. c.10.

[* ]<Very useful observations have been collected by Henry More, a most virtuous man, in his Enchiridion Etichum, and by the Earl of Shaftesbury, a man not less noble in capacity than in birth, in his Inquiry on Virtue and in his Philosophical Rhapsody.> [Neither Henry More, nor Shaftesbury were exactly “followers of Aristotle”; More, however quotes extensively from Aristotle’s Nichomachean Ethics. On virtue as a middle between opposite vices, see Enchiridion Ethicum, II.9, pp. 59–62].

[6. ]Cf. Pufendorf, De officio V.2. But Pufendorf’s chapter on duty to oneself is mostly concerned with the rights of self-defence.

[7. ]See Carmichael’s Notes on Puf., pp. 66–67.

[8. ]See in the Latin text, notes 11–14.

[1. ]The whole of chapter VII was added to the second edition of the Institutio. The first section might be seen as an answer to Hume’s question in his letter to Hutcheson of Sept. 19th, 1739: “For pray, which is the End of Man?” Hutcheson’s answer increases the quotations from Cicero’s philosophical works. See the notes of the Latin text.

[2. ]Hutcheson returns to the cardinal virtue, as in Chapter III, and in the Conclusion to the book on ethics in System. But here the point of view is different and considers the contribution of these virtues to the pleasures of life; it is the same in Cicero’s De finibus V (especially 65 and ff.).

[3. ]See above, IV.2, p. 75.

[* ]Cicero’s Tuscul. Questionae, Book IV. [See notes 13 and 14 in the Latin text.]