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Human Nature. BOOK III. FT + 06 Roa RAL . -%,

PART = © Of Firtue and Vice in general. „

8 E C T. I. Moral Diftintions not deriv'd from Raab "4

HERE is an inconvenience $ ECT. which attends all abſtruſe rea- I. ales ſoning , that it may filence,

238 Sore without convincing an antago-

niſt, and 8 ſame Intenſe Aude 40. Vor. II. a make

2 "" £ Fred iſe of Human Wature.

ParT. — 5 us ſenſible of its force, that was at

I. firſt requiſite for its invention. When we

—— pi Of virtue leave our cloſet, and engage in the common and vice

rug Set affairs of life, its concluſions ſeem to vaniſh, like the phantoms of the night on the ap- pearance of the morning; and tis difficult

for us to retain even that conviction, which

we had attain'd with difficulty. This is-

ftill more conſpicuous in a long chain of reaſoning, where we muſt preſerve to the

end the evidence of the firſt propoſitions,

and where we often loſe fight of all the

molt receiv'd maxims, either of philoſophy

or common life. Iam not, however, with-

out hopes, that the preſent ſyſtem of phi- | loſophy will acquire new force as it ad- vances ; and that our reaſonings concerning

morals will corroborate whatever has been

faid concerning the underſtanding and the paſſions. Morality is a ſubject that intereſts

us above all others: We fancy the peace of

| ſociety to be at ſtake in every deciſion con- cerning it; and tis evident, that this concern

muſt make our ſpeculations appear more real and folid, than where the ſubject is, in a „ meaſure, indifferent to us. What affects us, we conclude can nevet be a chi- mera; and as our paſſion is engag d on the

one ſide or the” other, we tiaturally 3

*

Book III. \ | | that the queſtion lies within human compre- S ECT.

Dy 07 5 Morals. * 5 Y

henſion ; which, in other caſes of this na-

ture, we are apt to entertain ſome doubt of. Moral ao Without this advantage I never ſhould have ,, ventur'd upon a third volume of ſuch ab- 2 rea-

ſtruſe philoſophy, in an age, wherein the /**

greateſt part of men ſeem agreed to convert

reading into an amuſement, and to reject every thing that requires any conſiderable degree of attention to be comprehended. *

Ir has been obſery'd, that nothing is ever preſent to the mind but its perceptions; and that all the actions of ſeeing, hearing, judg- ing, loving, hating, and thinking, fall under this denomination. The mind can nevet exert itſelf in any action, which we may . not comprehend under the term of perception; and conſequently that term is no leſs appli- cable to thoſe judgments, by which we

_ diſtinguiſh moral good and evil, than to

every other operation of the mind. To 17. prove of one character, to condemn ano- ther, are only ſo many different perceptions. Now as perceptions reſolve theinſelves into two kinds, viz. impreſfions and ideuis, this diſtinction gives riſe to a queſtion, with which we ſhall open up our preſent enquiry 5 Whether tis by means of

B2 our

7 A Treatiſe of Human Mature.

PART our ideas or impreſſions abe diſtinguiſb * I. twixt vice and virtue, and pronounce an

Of wireee action blameable or praiſe-worthy ? This will

au vi immediately cut off all looſe difcourſes and

gene,, qeclamations, and reduce us to ſomething pteciſe and exact on the preſent ſubject. Tuosk who affirm that virtue is nothing but a conformity to reaſon ; that there are | eternal fitneſſes and unfitneſſes of things, which are the ſame to every rational being that conſiders them; that the immutable meaſures of right and wrong impoſe an ob- ligation, not only on human creatures, but alſo on the Deity himſelf : All theſe ſyſtems concur in the opinion, that morality, like truth, is diſcern'd merely by ideas, and by their juxta-poſition and compariſon, In or- der, therefore, to judge of theſe ſyſtems, we need only conſider, whether it be poſſible, from reaſon. alone, to diſtinguiſh betwixt moral good and evil, or whether there muſt concur ſome other principles to enable us to make that diſtinction. Ir morality had naturally no influncs.4 on human paſſions and actions, twere in vain to take ſuch pains to inculcate it; and no- thing wou d be more fruitleſs than that mul- titude of rules and precepts, with which all moraliſts abound. * is commonly 0 divided

c

1 8

Trg 58

often

cluſions of our reaſon.

of this inference; nor is there any other

Bock III. of Morals. 5 42

divided into ec and lips and as SECT, morality is always comprehended under the I. latter diviſion, tis ſuppoſed to influence our — paſſions and actions, and to go beyond the finZion | calm and indolent judgments of the under- from rea- ſtanding, And this is confirm'd by common experience, which informs us, that men are govern'd by their duties, and are de- | ter'd from ſome actions by the opinion of ö injuſtice, and impell'd to others by that of obligation. SINCE morals, bir have an in- fluence on the actions and affections, it fol- lows, that they cannot be deri d from reaq- ſon; and that becauſe reaſon alone, as we have already prov'd, can never have any ſuch | influence. "Morals excite paſſions, and pro- duce or prevent actions. Reaſon of itſelf is utterly impotent in this particular. The rules of morality, therefore, are not con-

Neo one, I believe, will deny . jultnel

means of evading it, than by denying that principle, on which it is founded. As long as it is allow d, that reaſon has no influence on our paſſions and actions tis in vain to pretend, that morality is diſcover d only by a 666 of reaſon. An active principle

B 3 can

\

6 A Treatiſe of Human Nature. PART can never be founded on an inactive; and I. if reaſon be inactive in itſelf, it muſt remain Of ain | ſo in all its ſhapes and appearances, whether and vice it exerts itfelf in natural or moral ſubjects, general Yhether it conſiders the powers of external bodies, or the actions of rational beings. Ir would be tedious to tepeat all * arguments, by which I have prov'd, * that reaſon is perfectly inert, and can never either prevent or produce any action or affection. "Twill be eaſy to recollect what has been ſaid upon that ſubject. I ſhall only recal on this occaſion one of theſe arguments, which I ſhall endeavour. to render ſtill more ; concluſive, and more ab to the * ſent ſubject. en 7 REASON is the 8 of 5 or falſhood. Truth or falſhood conſiſts io an agreement or diſagreement either to the real relations of ideas, or to real exiſtence and matter of fact. Whatever, therefore, is not ſuſceptible of this argeement or diſagreement, is incapable of being true or. falſe, and can never be an object of our reaſon. Nom tis evident our paſſions, vplitions, and actions, are not ſuſceptible. of any ſuch agreement or « diſagreement ; ; being original facts and reali- ties, com . in themſelves, and hes ler © * Book II. Part III. Sect. 3. *

5 1

1 . . 4 ; wy | L | 59

Bock III. O/ Moral. 7

PIN eee volition? and 8 E CT.

actions. Tis impoſſible, therefore, they can =

be pronounced either true or falſe, and be af

— — J Hine — Tus argument is of double advantage to from rea-

our preſent purpoſe. For it proves direct iy, Hos.

that actions do not derive their merit from a

conformity to reaſon, nor their blame from

a contrariety to it; and it proves the fame

truth more indirefly, by ſhewing us, that

as reaſon can never immediately prevent or

produce any action by contradicting or ap-

| proving of it, it cannot be the ſource off, He Ame moral good and evil, which are found to {erm +

have that influence. Actions may be lauda-

ble or blameable ; but they cannot be reaſon-

able or unreaſonable : Laudable or blameable,

therefore, are not the ſame with reaſonable

or unreaſonable. The merit and demerit of £

actions frequently contradict, and ſometimes

controul our natural propenſities. But rea- ſon has no ſuch influence. Moral diſtinctions,

therefore, are not the offspring of reaſon. Reaſon is wholly inactive, and can never be — a6 EP ſcience, or a ſenſe of morals,

Bur perhaps it may be ſaid; that tho no will or action can be immediately contra- | mn : | B 4 contradiction

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$ A Treatiſe of Human Mate: Pax x contradiction in ſome of the attendants of I 9 the action, that is, in its cauſes: or effects. 5 N. The action may cauſe a judgment, or may par be obliquely caus d by one, when the judg- 5 ment concurs with a paſſion; and by an abuſive way of 3 which philoſophy will ſcarees allow of, the ſame contrariety may, upon that. account, be aſcrib'd to the action. Ho far this truth or fal may be the ſource of morals, "twill now 1 . to conſider. = eln n cl; t a is; n | vie and philoſophical ſenſe, can have: an influence on our conduct only after two ways: Either when it excites a paſſion by informing us of the exiſtence of ſomething which is a proper object of it; or when it diſcovers the connexion of cauſes and effects, ſo as to afford us means of -exerting any paſſion, Theſe. are the only kinds of judg- ment, which can accompany our actions, or can be ſaid to produce them in any manner; and it muſt be allow'd, that theſe judgments. may often be falſe and erroneous. A perſon may be affected with paſſion, by ſuppoſing a pain or pleaſure to lie in an object, which has no tendency to produce either of theſe ſenſations, or which produces the contrary fo what is imagin d, A perſon may =

27

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Beek n of "Morals:

* 1 N F 4 & —

take falſe meaſures for —

which are connetted wick chem, and n be ſaid to render them unteaſonable, in a

But tho this be acknowledg d, tis eaſy to obſerve, that theſe errors are ſo far from be-

| ing the ſource of all immorality, that they

are commonly very innocent, and draw no

manner of guilt upon the perſon ho is o

unfortunate as to fall into them. They ex- tend not beyond a miſtake of fact, which

nal, as being perfectly involuntary. | I am more to be lamented than blam'd, if I am

jects in producing pain or pleaſure, or if I know not the proper means of ſatisfying my deſires. No one can ever regard ſuch errors as a defect in my moral character. A fruit;

for inſtance, that is really difagreeable, my | pears to me at a diſtance, andithro? miſtake I fancy it to be pleaſant and delicious. Here

is one error. I chooſe: certain means of reaching this fruit, which are not proper for . IR Here ig a cond error; nor is there

any

figurative and improper way of | ſpeaking, ·

and may retard by his foolifhi.condu8, n- I.

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A Treatiſeof Human Natur. ©

55 Pax v any third one, which can ever poſſibhly enter 8 *

into our reaſonings concerning actions. I

Of virtue ak, therefore, if a man, in this ſituation,

2 VICE in general,

and guilty of theſe two errors, is to be re- garded as vicious and criminal, however un- avoidable they might have been? Or if it be poſſible to imagine, that ſuch errors _— ſources of all immorality? Bre 3 It Ap here tidy: bi-peaperido-'oliferrs; that if moral diſtinctions be deriv'd from the

truth or falſhood of: thoſe judgments, they muſt take place wherever we form the judg-

ments; nor will there be any difference, whe-

ther the queſtion be concerning an apple or a kingdom, or whether the error be avoid- able or unavoidable- For as the very eſ- ſence of morality is ſuppos d to conſiſt in an agreement or diſagreement to reaſon, the other circumſtances are entirely arbitrary, and can never either beſtow on any action the character of virtuous or vicious, or deprive it of that character. To which we may add,

that this agreement or diſagreement, not ad- e of degrees, all virtues and vices wou'd of courſe be equal. le

\Strov'D: it be pretended, that tho a mi- ſtake of fact be not criminal, yet a miſtake of r:ght often is; and chat this may be the ſource: of immorality: I would anſwer, that Nas ; p 'tis

% 7 *.

Bock m. Of Moral. mo" n * SECT | original ſource of immorality, fince it ſuppoſes BD 0 areal right and wrong; that is, a real di- N ſtinction in morals, independent of - theſe ie | judgments. A miſtake, therefore, of -right Bs aa. ä may become a ſpecies of immorality; but . i „ ry ee ſome other, antecedent to it. As to thoſe judgments which are > the ef- fetts of our actions, and which, when falſe, give occaſion' to pronounce” the actions con- trary to truth and reaſon; we may obſerve, that our actions never cauſe any judgment, | either true or falſe; in ourſelves, and that tis only on others they have ſuch an influence. - 'Tis certain, that an action, on many occa- ſions, may give riſe to falſe. concluſions in ; others; and that a perſon, who thro a win- - dow ſees any lewd behaviour of mine with | my neighbour's wife, may be ſo ſimple as to imagine ſhe is certainly my own. In this re- ſpect my action reſembles ſome what a lye or falſhood ;- only with this difference, which is material, that I perform not the action with any intention of giving riſe to a falſe judg - ment in another, but merely to ſatisfy my luſt and paſſion. It cauſes, however, a mi- ſtake and falſe judgment by accident; and * of its s effects * be aſcribed,

by.

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12 A Treatiſe of Human Mature.

Pax T by ſome odd figurative way of ſpeaking, to

I. the action itſelf. But ſtill I can fee no pre- obs tert of reaſon for aſſerting, that the tenden- and vice cy to cauſe ſuch an error is the firſt ſpring or

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original ſource of all immorality * _ Tu vs upon the whole, tis impoſſible, that the diſtinction betwixt moral good and evil, : - WED Eats | N 8 nene

2 One might think it were entirely ſuperfluous to prove this, if {Ra Gathor: who has had — good fortune to ob- tain ſome reputation, had not ſeriouſly affirmed, that ſuch a falſhood is the foundation of all guilt and moral deformity. That we may diſcover the fallacy of his hypotheſis, we need only conſider, that a falſe concluſion ſis drawn from an action, only by means of an obſcurity of natural principles, which bro foe akes a cauſe be ſecretly interrupted in its operation, by con- trary cauſes, and renders the connection betwixt two obj uneertain and variable. Now, as a like uncertainty and va- riety of cauſes take place, even in natural objects, and pr duce a like error in our judgment, if that tendency to produce error were the very eſſence of vice and immorality, it ſhou'd allows that even inanimate objects might be vicious and im- moral. | | . £6 - 'Tis in vain to urge, that inanimate objects act without li- berty and choice. For as liberty and choice are not neceſſary to make an action produce in us an erroneous conclaſton, they can be, in no reſpect, eſſential to morality '; and I do not readily perceive, upon this ſyſtem, how they can ever come to be regarded by it. If the tendency to cauſe error be the origin of immorality, that tendency and immorality wou'd in every caſe be inſeparable. Ee ns

Add to this, that if I had uſed the of hy | the windows, while I indulg'd myſelf in thoſe liberties wi my neighbour's wife, 1 ſhould have been guilty of no immo- rality ; and that becauſe my action, being perfectly conceal'd, wou'd have had no tendency to produce any falſe concluſion. For the ſame reaſon, a thief, who ſteals in by a ladder at a window, and takes all imaginable care to cauſe no diſturbance, is in no reſpect criminal. For either he will not be perceiv'd, or if he be, tis impoſſible he can produce any error, nor will any one, from theſe circumſtances, take him to be other than what he really is. | Tis

4

Bock III. Of Sed oY ot. can be made by reaſon ; ſince that diſtinetion 8 x e has an influence upon our actions, of which I. reaſon alone is incapable. Reaſon and judg- 22 ment may, indeed, be the mediate cauſe of rien,

| 5 1 not deri an action, by prompting, or by directing 1 rea-

"Tis well known, that thoſe who are ſquint-ſighted, do very readily cauſe miſtakes in others, and 3 ſa- lute or are talking to one perſon, while they ad ves to another. Are they therefore, upon that account, immoral ? Beſides, we may eaſily obſerve, that in all thoſe —— there is an evident reaſoning in a circle. A perſon who takes poſſeſſion of another's goods, and uſes them as his own, in a manner declares them to be his own ; and this falſhood is the ſource of the immorality of injuſtice. But is property, or right, or obligation, intelligible, without an antecedent mora- lity ?

A man that is ungrateful to his benefator, in a manner af- firms, that he never received any favours from him. But in what manner? Is it becauſe tis his duty to be grateful ? But this ſuppoſes, that there is ſome an t rule of duty and morals. 1s it becauſe human nature is generally grateful, and makes us conclude, that a man who does any harm. never re- ceived any fayour from the perſon he harm'd ? But human na- ture is not ſo generally grateful, as to juſtify ſuch a concluſion. Or if it were, is an exception to a general rule in every caſe

criminal, for no other reaſon than becauſe it is an exception?

But what may ſuffice entirely to deſtroy this whimſical ſyſtem is, that it leaves us under the ſame difficulty to give a reaſon why truth is virtuous and falſhood vicious, as to account for the merit or turpitude of any other action. I ſhall allow, if you |

leaſe, that all immorality is derived from this ſuppoſed falſe-

| in action, provided you can give me any plauſible rea-

ſon, why ſuch a falſhood is immoral. If you conſider rightly of the matter, you will find yourſelf in the ſame difficulty as at the beginning. 5 PEPE Ht e

This laſt argument is very conclufive ; becauſe, if there be not an evident merit or turpitude annex'd to this ſpecies of truth or falſhood, it can never have any influence upon our actions. For, who ever thought of forbearing any action, be- cauſe others might poſſibly draw falſe concluſions from it? Or,

| who ever perform'd any, that he might give riſe 'to true con- ufions ? ne |

. | paſſion :

5 &m BFS 88

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* 8 29

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= 14 A Treatiſe: of Human Wature.

| PART paſſion: Bat it is not pretended, that a judg-

I. ment of this kind, either in its truth or F falhood," is attended with virtue or vice.

and vice And as to the judgments, which are cauſed in — eneral.

by our judgments, they can ſtill leſs beſtow thoſe moral qualities on the actions, which are .

8 Bur to be more particular, and to ſhew, that thoſe eternal immutable fitneſſes and unfitneſſes of things cannot be defended by ſound philoſophy, we may weigh the fol-

_ lowing conſiderations,

I,x the thought and underſtanding were alone capable of fixing the boundaries of right and wrong, the character of virtuous and vicious either muſt lie in ſome relations of objects, or muſt be a matter of fact, which is diſcovered by our reaſoning. This conſequence is evident. As the operations of human underſtanding divide themſelves

into two kinds, the comparing of ideas, and the inferring of matter of fact; were virtue diſcover'd by the pnderfianding; ; it muſt be an object of one of theſe operations, nor is there any third operation of the underſtand- ing, which can diſcover it. There has been an opinion very induſtriouſly propagated by certain philoſophers, that morality is ſuſcep- tible of demonſtration ; and tho no one has ANTE? ever

r * * - — 1 189. = ——

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Book III. f Moral. 125 ever been able to advance a fingle ſtep in 8 2 Cr. thoſe demonſtrations; yet 'tis taken for gran- I. ted, that this ſcience may be brought to an 37,2; I. equal certainty with geometry or algebra. ,, Upon this ſuppoſition, vice and virtue muſt from v. conſiſt in ſome relations; fince tis allow d on all hands, that no matter of fact is capa- ble of being demonſtrated. Let us, therefore, | begin with examining this hypotheſis, and | endeavour, if poſſible, to fix thoſe moral

qualities, which have been fo long the ob- jects of our fruitleſs reſearches. Point out

- diſtinctly the relations, which conſtitute f morality or obligation, - that we may know 8 wherein they conſiſt, and after what man- 8 ner we muſt judge of them.

A Ir you aſſert, that vice and virtue conſiſt is in relations ſuſceptible of certainty and de- 8 monſtration, you muſt confine yourſelf to 88 thoſe four relations, which alone admit of d that degree of evidence; and in that caſe you Ie run into abſurdities, from which you will be never be able to extricate yourſelf, For as is you make the very eſſence of morality to lie d- in the relations, and as there is no one of en theſe relations but what is applicable, not by only to an irrational, but alſo to an inanimate

p- object; it follows, that even ſuch objects as _— de ſuſceptible of merit or demerit.

ver 5 hd Reſem-

71 * * 8 N 9 9 "PF" 6. PAW * —_— * Pug Cn ole Ie ed ² oe un 1 i TE 3 2 > oF TORI SY * W 14

16 A Treatiſe of Human Mature.

PART Reſemblance, contrariety, degrees. in quality, I. and- proportions in quantity. and number; all 50555 theſe relations belong as properly to matter,

end wice a8 to our actions, paſſions, and volitions. e pig unqueſtionable, therefore, that morality les not in any of theſe relations, nor the ſenſe of it in their diſcorery . |

. -Sxov'D it be aſſerted, that the ſenſe of morality conſiſts in the diſcovery of ſome relation, diſtin& from theſe, and that our | enumeration was not compleat, when we comprehended all demonſtrable relations un- der four general heads: To this I know not what to reply, till ſome one be ſo good as to point out. to me this new relation. "Tis impoſſible to refute a ſyſtem, which has ne-

b As a, proof, how confus'd our way of thinking on this ſubject commonly is, we may obſerve, that thoſe who aſſert, that morality is demonſtrable, do not ſay,” that morality lies in the relations, and that the relations are diſtinguiſhable by reaſon. They only fay, that reaſon can diſcover ſuch an ac- tion, in ſuch relations, to be virtuous, and ſuch another vi- cious. It ſeems they thought it ſufficient, if they cou'd bring the word, Relation, into the propoſition, without i 795 ves whether it was to the 4 ot not. But here, think, is plain argument. Demonſtrative reaſon diſcovers only relations. But that reaſon, according to this hypothe- ſis, diſcovers alſo vice and virtue. Theſe moral qualities, therefore, muſt be relations. When we blame an ation, in any ſituation, the whole complicated object, of action and f1- tuation, muſt form certain relations, wherein the eſſence of vice conſiſts. This hypotheſis is not otherwiſe intelligible. For what reaſon diſcover, when it pronounces any action vicious? Does it diſcover 'a relation or a mitter of fact ? Theſe queſtions are deciſive, and muſt not be elud ec.

4

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where the enemy is not: preſent. a

ſuſceptible of moral beauty and deſormity. Now it ſeems difficult to Imagine, that any

LEY betwixt our 2

Book III. 07 Beru. ver yer. been explain'd. In . of fighting in the dark, a man loſes his "= blows'in the air, and often places them Moral

I mvsrT, therefore, on this occaſion, reſt „ contented with requiring the two following“ - I conditions of any one that wou'd undertake 1 to clear up this ſyſtem. Firſt, As moral good and evil belong only to the actions of the mind, and are deri d from our ſituatibii with regard to external objects, the rela- tions, from which theſe moral diſtinctions ariſe, muſt lie only betwixt internal actions, and external objefts, and muſt not be appli- cable either to internal actions, compared

among themſelves, or to external objects, when placed in oppoſition to other external objects. For as morality is ſuppoſed to at- = tend certain relations, if theſe relations cou'd — 8 belong to internal actions conſider d ſingly, 5 it wou'd follow, that we might be guilty of crimes in ourſelves, and independent of i our ſituation, with reſpe& to the univerſe 2 —A

And in like manner, if theſe moral relations — cou d be apply d to external objects, it w e follow, that even inanimate beings wou'd be —

1 1 4

18

A Treatiſe of 1 555 Mature.

4 RT fions, volitions and actions, compared to ex-

3

e

al,

| ternal objects, which relation might not be- SL > long either to theſe paſſions and volitions, or to theſe external objects, compar d among

themſelves.

Bot u will be fill mere Gedi no kl. fil the ſecond condition, requiſite to juſtify this ſyſtem. According to the principles of thoſe who maintain an abſtract rational dif-

ference betwixt moral good and evil, nad <1

natural fitneſs and unfitneſs of things, not only ſuppos d, — —

eternal and immutable, are the ſame, when conſider'd by every rational creature, but

their geht are Ag lappeiit'2o be uscedüy the ſame ;' and tis concluded they have no

lefs, or rather a greater, influence in direct- ing the will of the deity, than in governing

the rational and virtuous of our own ſpe-

cies. Theſe two particulars are evidently diſtinct. Tis one thing to know virtue, and

another to conform the will to it. In order,

| therefore, to prove, that the [meaſures of

right and wrong are eternal laws, | oblagatory on every rational mind, tis not fufficient to

ſhew the relations upon which they are

founded: We muſt alſo point out the con-

nexion betwixt the relation and the will;

2 neceſſary,

Book HI. , Moral. 19

neceſſary, that in every well-diſpoſed mind, 8 E C.

it muſt take place and have its influence; I. tho the difference betwixt theſe minds be in 16,77 7 other reſpects immenſe and infinite. Now fad, beſides what I have already prov d, hit een from row: in human nature no telation can ever alone “ produce any action; beſides this, I ſay, it

has been ſhewn, in treating of the under-

je” that there is no connexion of cauſe

and effect, ſuch as this is ſuppos d to be, 55 which is is diſcoyerable otherwiſe than by ex and of which we can pretend to have any ſecurity by the ſimple conſideration

of the objects. All beings in the univerſe, — in themſelves, appear entirely looſe and independent of each other. Tis only by experience we learn their influence and connexion; and this influence we 'ouglt never to extend beyond experience.

Tavs it will be impoſlible'to fulfil the

nal rational meaſures of right and wrong; becauſe it is impoſlible to ſhew thoſe rela- tions, upon which ſuch a diſtinction may be founded: And tis as impoſſible to fulfil the ſecond condition; ; becauſe we cannot prove 4 priori, that theſe relations, W really exiſted and were perceiv d, wor'd be, „

bs

| .

—

- Of wirtue *© | dvi wherein this 1 e

N the more flagrant inſtances of wounds and death. - This is acknowledg d by all man-

the queſtion only ariſes among philoſophers,

c. Treatiſe of Human Mature. . Bor to make theſe. general reflections

more clear and convincing, we may illu- WY ſtrate, them by ſome particular inſtances,

character of moral good or evil is the moſt univerſally. acknowledged.

»* Of all crimes. that human creatures are ca-

pable of committing, the moſt horrid and unnatural i is i ingratitude, eſpecially* when it is committed againſt parents, and — in

kind, philoſophers as well as the people;

vhather. the guilt or moral deformity of this en be liſover'd by demonſtrative reaſon-

ing, or be felt by an internal ſenſe, and by

means of ſome ſentiment, which the reflect- ing on ſuch an action naturally | occaſions, This queſtion will ſoon be decided againſt the formes opinion, if we can ſhew the ſame relations in other objects. without the notion

5 of any guilt or iniquity attending them.

Reaſon or ſcience is nothing but the com-

paring of ideas, and the diſcovery of their

: lations ;\.and if the ſame relations have different characters, it muſt evidently follow, that thoſe characters are not diſcover d merely

n To put the affair, therefore, to

. den chok en inanimate objec, 9 7 *

Book III. Of Moral. N 21 ſuch as an oak or elm; and let us ſuppoſe, SECT: that by the dropping of its ſeed, it produces 1 ,2 ſapling below it, which ſpringing up by rx degrees, at laſt overtops and deſtroys" the Hie, parent tree: I aſk, if in this inſtance there 5," — 4 be wanting any relation, which is dion. able in parricide or ingratitude? Is not the N

one tree the cauſe of the other's exiſtence a the latter the cauſe of the deſtruction » of the former, in the ſame manner as when a child murders his parent? Tis not ſuffi-

cient to reply, that a choice or will is want- ing. For in the {caſe of parricide, a will does not give riſe to any diſferent relations, but is only the cauſe; from which the action is FRM: d and conſequently; produces the ante, relations, that: in the oak or elm ariſe

from ſome other principles. Pis a will or

choice, that determines a man to kill his

patent; and they are the laws of matter and motion, that determine a ſapling to deſtroy

the oak, from which it ſprung. Here then

the: fame. relations have different cauſes; but

fill. the relations are the fame And as th-*

diſoovery i is not in both caſes attende# ith

2 notion of immorality, it folſo-s, that

that e e ariſe „ e . |

coneny.:: mad ar e eee,

only 0 vina N e i n

. 11

+ oh

I

A Treatiſe of Human Nature. *

ParxT Bur to chuſe an inſtance, ſtill more re-

ſembling ; ; I would fain aſk any one, why

G ** Wk = inceſt. in the human ſpecies 1 1s criminal, and and A) why the very fame action, and the fame

in gener

Sie praiſe and blame to human creatures,

ſeparate being in theſe moral tint

relations in animals have not the ſmalleſt

moral turpitude and deformity ? If it be

anſwer d, that this action is innocent in ani-

mals, becauſe they have not reaſon ſufficient

to diſcover its turpitude; but that man, be- ing endow'd with that faculty, which cage to reſtrain him to his duty, the ſame action inſtantly becomes criminal to him; ſhould this be ſaid, I would reply, that this 3 is evi- dently arguing in a circle. For before rea- ſon can perceive this turpitude, the turpitude muſt exiſt; and conſequently is independent of the deciſions of our reaſon, and is theit

object more properly than their effect. Ac-

cording to this ſyſtems; then, every animal, that has ſenſe, and uppetite, and will; chat is, every animal muſt be ſſceptible of all tze ſame! virtues and vices,” for which we

eu the difference is, that our fuperjor real to diſcover the vice: or virtue, and

” * 7

— aun des diſcovery

ſuppoſes « a

808 # bring, wich depends only on the 5

c

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=O EST TESPETEECrT SO

W d

r

N action allow d to be vicious: Wil

Book III. 0 Meral. a3 will and appetite, and which, both in thought 8 E e r. and reality, may be diftinguiſh'd from the I. reaſon, Animals are ſuſceptible of the ſame ja Moral di relations, with reſpe& to each other, as the Aer, — human ſpecies, and therefore wou'd alſo be hun rea- ſaſceptible of the ſame morality, if the /. eſſence of morality conſiſted in theſe rela- tions. Their want of a ſafficient degree of reaſon may hinder them from perceiving the duties and obligations of morality, but can never hinder theſe duties from exiſting ; ſince they muſt antecedently exiſt, in order to their being perceiv'd. Reaſon. muſt find them, and can never produce them. This argument deſerves to be weigh'd, as being, in my opinion, entirely deciſive.

Nox does this reaſoning only prove, that morality conliſts not in any relations, that are the. of ſcience; but if examin d, will prove with equal certainty, that it conſiſts not in any matter of fads, which can be diſcover'd by the underſtanding. This

is the Fond part of our argument; and if

it can be made evident, we may conclude, that morality is not an object of reaſon. But can there be any difficulty in proving, that vice and virtue are not matters of fact, whoſe exiſtenet we can infer by ales

MN | ful

Gu © ” 1 * ” . 1 1 | *

and vice in ”"—

f : ""S

1 Rar e ee us n

A Treatiſe of Fluman Nature.

PAR x ful murder, for inſtance. Examine it in all

lights, and ſee if you can find that matter

Fo of fact, or real exiſtence, which you call

vice. In which- ever way you take it, you find only certain paſſions, motives, volitions and thoughts. There is no other matter of fact in the caſe. The. vice entirely eſcapes you, as long as you conſider the object. Vou never can find it, till you turn your reflection into your on breaſt, and find a ſentiment of diſapprobation, which ariſes in

you, towards this action. Here is a matter

of fact; but tis the object of feeling, not of reaſon. It lies in yourſelf, not in the object.

So that when you pronounce any action or

character to be vicious, you mean nothing, but that from the cotſtitaticn : of your na-

ture you have a; feeling or ſentiment af

blame from the contemplation of it. Vice and virtue, therefore, may be compar'd to ſounds, colours, heat and cold, which, ac-

cording to modern philoſophy, are not qua- | lities i in objects, but perceptions in the mind:

And this diſcovery in morals, like that other in phyſics, is to be regarded as à con-

ſiderable advancement of the ſpeculative

ſciences; tho; like that too; it has little or no influence an practice. Nothing can be | ms : than our

—

Bock JF. ::-Qf Mot. 25 1 own: > + An of pleaſure. and uneaſineſs ; S E CT. r and if theſe be favourable to virtue, and un- g ll favourable to vice, no more can be requiſite Na u to the regulation of our conduct and be- 8 haviour. q #. from rea- f I cannot forbear adding to theſe reaſonings *

8 an-. obſervation, which may, perhaps, be

t. found of ſome importance. In every ſyſtem.

Ty of morality, which J have hitherto met with,

A I have. always remark'd, that the author

n proceeds for ſome time in the ordinary way

er of reaſoning, and eſtabliſhes the being of a

of | God, or makes obſervations concerning hu-

. man affairs; when of a ſudden I am ſur-

or priz'd. to find, that inſtead. of the uſual

g. copulations of propoſitions, is, and is not,

I meet with no propoſition. that is not con-

nected with an ought, or an ought not. This

change 1s imperceptible ; but is, however, - of the laſt conſequence. For as this ought,

or ought not, expreſſes ſome new relation or affirmation, tis neceſſary that it ſhou'd be

obſerv d and explain d; and at the ſame time

that a reaſon ſhould be given, for what ſeems

altogether inconceivable, ho this new rela-

tion can be a deduction from others, which

are entirely different from it. But as authors

do not cœmmonly uſe this precaution, I ſhall

9 to end 4p the readers;

an :

BEES A A 88 8

A Treatiſe of Human Nature. |

Pax and am perfiaded, that this ſmall attention

wou'd ſubvert all the vulgar ſyſtems of

> -72. ag morality, and let ns ſee, that the diſtinction

end vice of yice and virtne is not founded merely on

aches the relations of Ny nor is we? on ＋

44.

and virtue are not diſcoverable

the excluſion of the one is 4 argument for the other. Morality, there-

reaſon. |

s E C . =

Moral difinSfios deriv'd from a moral ſenſe. |

HUS the courſe of ths "nie: leads us to conclude, that fince vice merely by reaſon, or the compariſon of ideas, it muſt be by means of fome impreffion or ſenti-

ment they occaſion, that we are able to

mark the difference betwixt them, Our

| decifions concerning moral rectitude and de-

pravity are evidently perceptions; and as all perceptions are either impreſſions or ideas,

fore, is more properly felt than judg d of; tho' this feeling or ſentiment is commonly fo ſoft and gentle, that we are apt to con-

— it with an ie, according to out com-

mon

\

Book HI. Of Mn, 27 mon cuſtom of taking all things for the ſame, SECT. which" have any near reſemblance to esch II.

ee

other. V. Tus next an 25 Of what nature ate Jovi |

ax

theſe impreffions, and after what manner r they operate upon us? Here we cannot re- . main long in ſuſpenſe, but muſt pronounes | the impreffion ariſing from virtue, to be agreeable, and that proceding from vice to a 4 be uneuſy. Every moment's experience muſt eonvince us 2 this. There is no ſpectacle

ſo fait and beautiful as à noble and generous

action; nor any which gives us mort abhor-

renes Abun one that is ctuel and trexcherous. |

Ne enjoyment equals! the fatisfackion we re-

ceive' from” the company of thoſe we love

and eſteem ; as the grenteſt of all puniſti-

ments is to be oblig'd to paſs our lives with

thoſe we hate or chte mn. A very play or

tomanee may afford us inftances of this plea- | ſure; which virtue cb h to us; e

which afiſes from vite.

Now fine the diſtinguiſhing irapllois by which moral good or evil is known, are nothing but purfreviay pains or pleafures;” it follows, 'that it! all enquiries concerning theſe mora} diſtinitiots, it will be fufficient to ſhew the principles, "which maler us feel 4 fatiſ. eke. es uncaftneſs fon the Wrvey of an

chg-

ess

8

„ 1. E *

WAN Of wirtze and uice

e

A — Rider Mature 8 in order to ſatisfy us why the cha-

racter is laudable or blameable. An action, or ſentiment, or character is virtuous or vicious; why? becauſe its view cauſes a pleaſure, ,or, uncalineſs: of a particular kind. In giving a reaſon; therefore, for the plea-

ſure ot uneaſineſs, we ſufficiently explain the vice or virtue. To have the ſenſe of virtue,

is; nothing but to feel a ſatisfaction of a par-

ticular kind from the contemplation of a character. The very feeling conſtitutes our praiſe IX -admiration.. . We. go no farther; nor do we enquire into the cauſe of the ſa-

Viesfsctibge We do not; infer a character to

bo vittugus, becauſe, it pleaſes: But in feeling chat it pleaſes aſter ſuch a particular man- ner, we in effect ſeel that it is virtuous, The caſe; is the ſame as in our judgments con- cerning all kinds of beauty, and taſtes, and ſenſations. Our appropation is imply d in ien pleaſure they gonvey 70 ue.

I avs objected to the ſyſtem, which eſtabliſhes cternal rational meaſures of tight and wrong, that 'tis impoſſible to ſhew, in

the actions of reaſonable creatures, any rela-

tions,.. which are not found in external ob- jects; and therefore, if morality alxrays at · tended. theſe, relations, txrere paſſible for gts utter 41 Reede virtnons or vi.

4 Rca 8 Cious.

Bock III. Of "Mora

rr *. 29 1 cious. Now it mey, in like manner; be ch. 8 = 7.

jected to the preſent ſyſtem, that if virtue II.

and vice be determin d by pleaſure and pain, Wo zz theſe qualities muſt, in every caſe, ariſe from {3 whether animate or inanimate, rational or ir- GC. rational, might become morally good or evil, provided it can excite a ſatisfaction or un- eaſineſs. But tho this objection ſeems to be the very ſame, it has by no means the ſame force, in the one caſe as in the other. For, firſt, tis evident, that under the term plea- ſure, we comprehend ſenſations, which are

very different from each other, and which have only ſuch a diſtant reſemblance, as is

requiſite to make them be exprefs'd by the ſame abſtract term. A good compoſition of muſic and a bottle of good wine equally produce pleaſure; and what is more, their goodneſs is determin'd merely by the plea-

ſure. But ſhall we ſay upon that account, that the wine is harmonious; or the muſic of

a good flavour? In like manner an inani- mate object, and the character or ſentiments of any perſon may, both of them, give ſa- tisfaction; but as the ſatisfaction is different, this keeps our ſentiments concerning them from being confounded, and makes us aſcribe virtue to the one, and not to the other.

1 Nor

47

30 1.

Of virtue ' condemn. | The good qualities of an enemy

and wice exe general.

A Treatiſe of Human Nature. PART Nor is every ſentiment: of pleaſure or pain,

which ariſes from characters and actions, of that peculiar kind, which makes us praiſe or

are hurtful to us; but may ſtill command our eſteem and reſpect. Tis only when a

character is conſidered in general, without

reference to our particular. intereſt, that jt

cauſes ſuch a feeling or ſentiment, as deno-

voice of an enemy is agreeable, or to allow

ſelves, diſtinct; and a man of temper and

minates it morally or eyil. Tis true,

thoſe ſentiments, from intereſt and morals, are

apt to be confounded, and naturally run in- to one another, It ſeldom happens, that we do not think an enemy vicious, and can diſtin- guiſh betwixt his oppoſition to our intereſt and real villainy or baſeneſs. But this hinders not, but that the ſentiments are, in them-

judgment may preſerve himſelf from theſe illuſions. In like manner, tho' *tis certain a muſical voice is nothing but one that natu- rally gives a particular kind of pleaſure yet tis difficult for a man to be ſenſible, that the

it to be muſical, But a perſon of a fine ear,

who has the command of himſelf, can ſe-

parate theſe feelings, and give praiſe to what deſerves it.

a 22

Book III. O Moral.. 31

Secondly, We may call to remembrance 8 E 7, the preceding ſyſtem of the paſſions, in ar- II. der to remark a Rill more confiderable dif- N. I. ference among our pains and pleaſures. Pride find and humility, love and hatred are excited, frow « me when there · is any thing preſented to us, that i. both bears a relation to the obje& of the paſ- fion, and produces a ſeparate ſenſation rela- ted to the 1enſation of the paſſion. Now. virtue and vice are attended with theſe cir- cumſtances. They muſt neceſſarily be plac'd either in ourſelves or others, and excite ei- ther pleaſure or uneaſineſs; and therefore muſt give riſe to one of theſe four paſſions ; which clearly diſtinguiſhes them from the pleaſure and pain arifing from inanimate ob- jects, that often bear no relation to us: And this is, perhaps, the moſt confiderable effect that virtue and Vice ave upon the human mind,

IT may now be ask d in general, con- cerning this pain or pleaſure, that diſtin- guiſhes moral good and evil, From what principles is it derived, and whence does it eriſe in the human mind? To this I reply, firſt, that tis abſurd to imagine, that in every particular inſtance, theſe ſentiments are produc'd by an original quality and pri- may * For as the number of our

32 A Treatiſe of Human Maart

E

P Ny our duties is, in a manner, infinite, Wim n I. poſſible that our original inſtincts ſhould ex- k Gf oirne tend to each of them, and from our very | ard vice firſt infancy impreſs on the human mind all a erden that multitude of precepts, which are con- * tain d in the compleateſt ſyſtem of ethics. *

Such a method of proceeding is not con- 5 formable to the uſual maxims, by which na- t

ture is conducted, where a few principles f.

: produce all that variety we obſerve in. the i © univerſe, | and every thing is carry'd on in *

the eaſieſt and moſt ſimple manner. Tis p: neceſſary, therefore, to abridge theſe primary d impulſes, and find ſome more general prin- a ciples, upon nien all our nalen A mo- af

rals are founded.” rr * Bor in the c W ſhould it be ack'd, th

* Whether we ought" to ſearch for theſe prin- " ciples in nature, or whether we muſt look =»

for them in ſome other origin? I wou' d re- 1

+ ply, that our answer to this queſtion depend I . upon the definition of the word, Nature, 4

than which there is none more ambiguous A

and equivocal. If nature be oppos d to mi- racles, not only the diſtinction betwixt vice * and virtue is natural, but alſo every event, which has ever happen'd in the world, ex- cepting thoſe miracles, on which! our religion fe by 8 In _ then, that ws ſenti-

ment 75

; _

Bock III Of Meran. ments of * virtue are natural f in „ | ſenſe, we make no very extraordinary diſcovery. Bur nature may alſo be oppoſed to rare ar and unuſual; and in this ſenſe of the word

which is the common. one, there may often om 4 n.

ariſe diſputes concerning what is natural or bars arch

unnatural ; and one may in general affirm, that we are not poſſeſs d of any very preciſe ſtandard, by which theſe diſputes can be de-

cided. Frequent and rare depend upon the

number of examples we have obſerv'd ; and as this number may gradually encreaſe or

diminiſh, twill be impoſſible to fix any ex- act boundaries betwixt them. We may only

affirm on this head, that if ever there was

any thing, which.cou'd be call'd natural in this ſenſe, the ſentiments of morality cer-

tainly may ; fince there never was any nation of the world, nor any fingle perſon in any nation, who was utterly depriv'd of them, and who never, in any inſtance, ſhew'd the leaſt approbation or diſlike of manners. Theſe ſentiments are fo rooted in our con- ſtitution and temper, that without entirely confounding the human mind by diſeaſe or

madneſs, tis impoſſible to extirpate and de-

ſtroy them. -

Bur nature may alſo be oppoſed to arti- fice, as well as to what is rare and unu-

„ ſual;

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3 — of Human Nature.

on Pax ſual; and in this ſenſe it may be diſputed,

I. whether the notions of virtue be natural or

Gs not. We readily forget, that the deſigns, and

and vice projects, and views of men are principles as in general. 8 . . |

neceſſary in their operation as heat and cold,

moiſt and dry : But taking them to. be free

and entirely our own, tis uſual for us to ſet 1

them in oppoſition to the other principles of h

n

ti

nature. Shou'd it, therefore, be demanded, whether the ſenſe of virtue be natural or ar- tificial, J am of opinion, that tis impoffible for me at preſent to give any preciſe anſwer to this queſtion. Perhaps it will appear af- P terwards, that our ſenſe of ſome virtues is ar- tificial, and that of others natural. The diſcuſſion of this queſtion will be more pro- per, when we enter upon an exact detail of b each particular vice and virtue | | MAN while it may not be amiſs to ob- ſerve from theſe definitions of natural and | unnatural, that nothing can be more unpht-

loſophical than thoſe ſyſtems, which aſſert, | © that virtue is the ſame with what is natural, Je and vice with what is unnatural. For in the bY firſt ſenſe of the word, Nature, as oppoſed to 45

miracles, both vice and virtue are equally na- for tural ; and in the ſecond ſenſe, as oppos'd to *

fine In the followi ing diſcourſe natural is alſo oppoſed ſome- ral times to civil, ſometimes to moral. The oppoſition will al-

weng diſcover the Tenſe, in which it is taken. for what

Book III. Of Moral. 33 what is unuſual, perhaps virtue will be found 8 E C. to be the moſt unnatural. At leaſt it muſt II. be own'd, that heroic virtne, being as un- gf. uſual, is as little natural as the moſt brutal , barbarity. As to the third ſenſe of the word, fun 4 no- tis Certain, that both vice and virtue are ee equally artificial, and out of nature. For however it may be diſputed, whether the notion of a merit or demerit in certain ac- tions be natural or artificial, tis evident, that the actions themſelves are artificial, and are perform'd with a certain deſign and intention; otherwiſe they cou d never be rank d under any of theſe denominations. Tis impoſſible, therefore, that the character of natural and unnatural can ever, in any gg mark the boundaries of vice and virtue. Tu us we are ſtill brought dai to our firſt poſition, that virtue is diſtinguiſhed by the pleaſure, and vice by the pain, that any action, ſentiment or character gives us by the mere view and contemplation, This deciſion is very commodious ; becauſe it re- duces us to this fimple queſtion, Y by any action or Sentiment upon the general view or | Jurvey, gives à certain ſatisfattion or unea- fineſs, in order to ſhew the origin of its mo- ral rectitude or depravity, without looking for any incomprehenſible relations and qua- at D 2 lities,

36 A Treatiſe of Human Mature. Pax x lities, which never did exiſt in nature, nor I. even in our imagination, by any clear and

Of virtue diſtinct conception. I flatter myſelf I have.

_ and wn, executed a great part of my preſent deſign

rai by a ſtate of the queſtion, which appears to me ſo free from ambiguity and bt.

e ©

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PART u. | Of juſtice and injuſtice.

Jos = fag ts I

values, whether a natural or ert.

Ar virtue 11 |

a 9 808 = HAVE already hinted, that our $ x C T. > 15 19 ſenſe of every kind of virtue is I. not natural; but that there are WWW pe 9 ſome virtues, that produce plea- fare and 23 by means of an ar- tiſice or contrivance, which ariſes from the circumſtances and neceflity,, of mankind. .y Of this kind I aſſert juſtice to be; and ſhall endeavour to defend this opinion by a ſhort, and, I hope, convincing argument, before I examine the nature of the artifice, from which the ſenſe of that virtue js derived.

D 3 | Tis

38

2

A Treatiſe of Human Mature.

Pax r 'Tis evident, that when we praiſe any

II.

actions, we regard only the - motives that

Of juftice produced them, and conſider the actions as

and i inju- fice.

ſigns; and the ultimate object of our praiſe

ſigns or indications of certain principles in the mind and temper, The external per- formance has no merit. We muſt look

within to find the moral quality, This we

cannot do directly; and therefore fix our attention on actions, as on external ſigns,

But theſe, actions are ſtill conſidered as

and approbation is ſho motive, that produc d them.

Ar TRR the fame CE when we. re-

quire any action, or blame a perſqn for -”

performing it, we always ſuppoſe, in that ſituation ſhou'd be influenc'd by _

proper motive of that action, and we eſteem

it vicious in him to be regardleſs of it. If

ve find, upon enquiry, that the virtuous

motive was ſtill powerful over his breaſt, tho check d in its operation by ſome cir-

cumſtances unknown to us, we retract our

blame, and have the ſame eſteem for him, as if he had actually * the aRtion, which we require of bm

Ix appears, therefore, that all virtwous

actions derive their merit only from virtuous

MAHves, and are confider'd merely as ſigns of

Y 2 „s,. 0 —— "WY ” Y

Book III. Of Morals. of choſe motives. From this principle I con- clude, that the firſt virtuous motive, which beſtows a merit on any action, can never be a regard to the virtue of that action, but muſt be ſome other natural motive or prin- ciple. To ſuppoſe, that the mere regard to the virtue of the action, may be the firſt motive, which produc'd the aQtion, and render'd it virtuous, is to reaſon in a circle. Before we can have ſuch a regard, the ac-

39 SECT, I.

— Fu * 3

artificial virtus P

tion muſt be really virtuous ; and this virtue

muſt be deriv'd from ſome virtuous motive : Afd conſequently the virtuous motive muſt be different from the ard to the virtue of the action. A virtuous motive is requiſite to render an action virtuous, An action muſt be virtuous, before we can have a regard to its virtue. Some virtuous motive, therefore, muſt be antecedent to that regard.

Non is this merely a metaphyſical ſubtil-

ty.; but enters into all our reaſonings in common life, tho' perhaps we may not be able to place it in ſuch diſtinct philoſophical terms. We blame a father for neglecting his

child. Why? becauſe it ſhews a want of

natural affection, which is the duty of every parent. Were not natural affection a duty, the care of children cou'd not be a duty;

and TWINE impoſſible we cou d have the duty | D 4 in

40 A Treatiſe of Human Nature. PART in our eye in the attention we give to our + 5 In this caſe, therefore, all men Gp, 57545 ſuppoſe a motive to the achop. diſtin from — & ſenſe of duty.

HFxxRx is a man, that does x many benevo-

the afflited, and extends his bounty even to the greateſt ſtrangers. No character can be more amiable and virtuous, We regard theſe actions as proofs of the greateſt humanity. This humanity beſtows a merit on the ac- tions. A regard to this merit is, therefore, a ſecondary conſideration, and deriv d from the _ "antecedent principlq of humanity, which is meritorious and laudable. Is ſhort, it may be eſtabliſh'd as an un- | ' doubted maxim, that no action can be vir- tuous, or morally good, unleſs there be in bu- man nature ſome motive to produce it, diſtinct from the ſenſe of its morality. BuT may not the ſenſe of morality or duty produce an action, A any other motive? I anſwer, It may: But this is no objection to the preſent doctrine. When any virtuous motive or principle is common in human nature, a perſon, who feels his 1 * 4 heart devoid of that motive, may. hate him- : ſelf upon that account, and Wy perform te action * the ITE, from a Cer- _ faln

lent actions; relieves the diſtreſs'd, comforts

TT

*

WY III. _ Of Moran. +l

praQtice, that virtuous principle, or. at leaſt, I. to diſguiſe to himſelf, as much as poſſible, 5,,; 5 his want of it. A man that really feels no ae, gratitude in his temper, is ſtill pleas d to artificial perform grateful actions, and thinks he has, * by that means, fulfill d his duty. Actions are at firſt only confider'd as figns of mo- tives: But tis uſual, in this caſe, as in all others, to fix our attention on the ſigns, and neglect, in ſome meaſure, the thing ſigni- | y d. But tho, on ſomę occaſſions, a Ry may perform an action merely out of r to its moral obligation, yet ſtill this ſu — in human nature ſome diſtinct principles, which are capable of producing the action, and whoſe moral beauty renders the action meritorious.

No to apply all this to 72 preſent caſe; 3 1 ſuppoſe a perſon to have lent me a ſum of money, on condition that it be reſtor d in a few days; and alſo ſuppoſe, that after the N of the term agreed on, he de-

= have 110 * — the money ? It will, Perhaps, be fad, that my regard. to Jaltice, and abborrence « of * and knavery, are ſufficient reaſons, for me, if 1 haye the leaſt Fan of . or ſenſe of duty and obli-

* gation.

tain ſenſe of duty, in order to acquire bySzc T. |

/

42 A Treatiſe of Human Mature. PART gation. And this anſwer, no doubt, is juſt II. and fatisfatory to man in his civiliz'd ſtate; Ha and when train d up according to a certain | þ mug je diſcipline" and education. But in his rude ict

and more natural condition, if you are pleas d to call ſuch a condition natural, this anſwer wou'd be rejected as perfectly unin- telligible and ſophiſtical. For one in that fituation wou'd immediately ask you, Where-

.in confiſts this bonefly and juſtice, which you

find in refloring a han, and abſtaining from

the Property of others? It does not ſurely

lie in the external action. It muſt, there-

fore be 'plac'd in the motive, from which

the external action is deriv d. This motive

can never be a regard to the honeſty of the action. For tis a plain fallacy to ſay, that a virtuous motive is requiſite, to render an ac-

tion honeſt, and at the ſame time that a re-

gard to the honeſty is the motive of the ac- tion. We can never have a regard to the virtue of an action, unleſs the action be an- tecedenth virtuous. No action can be vir-

tuous, but ſo far as it proceeds from a virtuous motiye. A virtuous motive, therefore, muſt

the regard to the virtue; and tis

impoſſible, that the virtuous motive and the

; eee W

* ei dige 0111 | "Tis

Book III. O Moral. 43

IT Is requiſite, then, to find Ges b (6:80 of juſtice:and honeſty, diſtin from . our regard to the honeſty; 3 the great difficulty. For ſhou'd we ſay, that —— — a concern for our private intereſt or repu ; artificial tation is the legitimate motive to all honeſt actions; it wou'd follow, that wherever that concern ceaſes, honeſty can no longer have place. But 'tis certain, that ſelf- love, when it acts at its liberty, inſtead of engaging us to honeſt actions, is the ſource of all inju- ſtice and violence; nor can a man ever cor- rect thoſe vices, without correcting and re- ſtraining the natural movements of that ap- Bur ſhou'd it be affirm'd, that the rea- ſon or motive of ſuch actions is the regard to publick intereſt, to which nothing is more contrary than examples of injuſtice and diſ- honeſty ; ſhou' d this be ſaid, I wou'd pro- poſe — three following conſiderations, as r attention. Fir, public in- i not mani attach d to the obſer- vation of the rules of juſtice ; but is only connected with it, after an artificial conven- tion for the eſtabliſhment of theſe rules, as ſhall be ſhewn more at large hereafter. Sx- 'condly,” if we ſuppoſe, that the loan was ſe- ker and that it is neceſſary for che intereſt of

the

4 4 Treati iſe of Haden Mature.

Pax r the perſon, that the money be reſtor d in the . ame manner (as when the lender wou d

— and * public 3 is no ow intereſted oy in the actions of the borrower ; tho I. ſup- 2 — — who will affirm, that the duty and obligation ceaſes. Thirdh, experience ſufficiently proves, that men, in the ordinary conduct of life, look not ſo far as the public intereſt, when they pay their creditors, perform their promiſes, and ab- - ſtain from theft, and robbery, and injuſtice of every kind. That is a motive too remote and too ſublime to affect the generality of mankind, and operate with any force in ac- tions ſo contrary to private intereſt as are frequently thoſe of n 1 n n ho- e. 1 IN general, it may be fem d, that there | is no ſüch paſſion in human minds, as the love of mankind, merely as ſuch, indepen- dent of perſonal qualities, of ſervices, or of | relation to ourſelf. Tis true, there is no AT 'human, and indeed no ſenſible, Creature, | whoſe happineſs or miſery does not, in ſome meaſure, affect us, when brought near to us, and repreſented in lively colours; But this proceeds merely from ſympathy, and is no | BI of ſuch an ee affection to man- | 4 kind,

*

Bock III. of Meral, N. kind, fince this concern extends itſelf beyond 8 x OT. our own ſpecies. An affection bet wixt the L ſexes is a paſſion evidently implanted in hu- 79

man nature ; and this paſſion not only ap. ir ws pears in its peculiar ſymptoms, but alſo in e inflaming every other principle of affection, and raiſing a ſtronger love from beauty, wit, kindneſs, than what wou d otherwiſe flow from them. - Were there an univerſal love among all human creatures, it wou'd appear after the ſame manner. Any degree of a good quality wou'd cauſe a ſtronger affection than the ſame degree of a bad quality wou'd cauſe hatred ; contrary to what we find by experience, Men's tempers are different, and ſome have a propenſity to the tender, and others to the rougher, affeQions : But in the main, we may affirm, that man in general, or human nature, is nothing but the object both of love and hatred, and re- quires ſome other cauſe, which by a double relation of impreflions and :ideas, may ex- Cite theſe paſſions, In vain wou'd we en- deavour to elude this hypotheſis. There are no phenomena that point out any fuch kind affection to men, independent of their merit, and every. other circumſtance. We love company in general; but tis as we love 1 other 2 An Engliſhman in

ab AA Treatiſeof Hamas Nature.”

Pan” Hah is a friend © A Burepwan in Chine'

and perhaps a'man wou'd be belov'd as ſuch,

Of jaftice. Were we to meet him in the moon. But this

— proceeds only from the relation to ourſelves ;

which in theſe caſes gathers force by me

cConfined to a few perſons.

Ir public benevolence, therefore, or a regard to the intereſts of mankind, cannot be the original motive to juſtice, much leſs can private benevolence, or a regard to the in-

tereſts of the party concern d, be this mo-

tive. For what if he be my enemy, and has given me juſt cauſe to hate him? What if he be a vicious man, and deſerves the ha- tred of all mankind? What if he be a mi- ſer, and can make no uſe of what I wou'd

_ deprive him of? What if he be a-profli-

gate debauchee, and wou'd rather receive harm than benefit from large poſſeſſions? What if I be in neceſſity, and have urgent motives to acquire ſomething to my family:? In all theſe caſes, the original motive to juſtice wou'd fail ; and conſequently the Juſtice itſelf, and along with it all property, right, and obligation.

A Rick man lies under a moral obliga- tion to communicate to thoſe in neceſſity a

* ſhare of his ſuperfluities. Were private be-

nevolence the original motive to juſtice, a

Book III. 07 Morals.

man wou'd not be oblig'd to oy . in 8 off

the — er aug than he is oblig'd to I. give them. At. leaſt the difference wou'd Toſi

be very inconſiderable. Men generally 2 2 their affections more on what they are poſ-

ſeſs d of, than on what they never enjoy d: virtue ? For this reaſon, it wou d be greater cruelty

to diſpoſſeſs a man of any thing, than not to give it him. But who will aſſert, that this is the only foundation of juſtice? - Bes1DEs, we muſt conſider, that the 1 reaſon, why men attach themſelves ſo much to their poſſeſſions is, that they conſider them as their property, and as ſecur' d to them inviolably by the laws of ſociety. But this is a ſecondary conſideration, and depen- dent on the Wann notions of juſtice and A MAN'S property is ſuppos'd to be fenc'd againſt every mortal, in every poſſible caſe.

But private benevolence is, and ought to be,, Ci e he weaker in ſome perſons, than in others: 974/91 0/2

And in many, or indeed in moſt perſons, muſt abſolutely fail. Private benevolence, therefore, is not the original motive of ju- Nice.

| From all this it follows, that we have e,

no real or univerſal motive for obſerving the laws of equity, but the very equity and me- 5 4 | it

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b A Treatiſe of Human Mature. PART rit of that obſervance; and as no action can II. be equitable or meritorious, where it cannot Fee ariſe from ſome ſeparate motive, there is and ½ here an evident ſophiſtry and reaſoning in a Vis, circle, Unleſs, therefore, we will allow, Almat nature has eſtabliſh'd a ſophiſtry, and \ _render'd it neceſſary and unavoidable, we muſt allow, . that the ſenſe of juſtice and-in- juſtice is not deriv'd from nature, but ariſes artificially, tho neceſſarily from education,

and human conventions.

:T $HALL add, as a N to this rea- ſoning, that ſince no action can he laudable

or blameable, without ſome motives or im- pelling paſſions, diſtinct from the ſenſe of morals, theſe diſtinct paſſions muſt have a

3 great influence on that ſenſe. Tis accord-

ing to their general force in human nature,

that we blame or praiſe. In judging of the beauty of animal bodies, we always carry in our eye the ceconomy of a certain ſpecies;

ſpecies, we pronounce them handſome and

beautiful. In like manner we always conſi-

der the natural and uſual force of the paſ-

ions, when we determine concerning vice

and virtue; and if the paſſions depart very — ho the common meaſures on either .

and where the limbs and features obſerve that proportion, which is common to the

3 1 | (of ies. ad} a 1 : "I 86 | | 4 Book III. O Moral. 49 "i

| fide, they are always diſapprov'd as vicious. S E r. Wh A man naturally loves his children better than I. —_ | his nephews, his nephews better than his T Jui 1 couſins, his couſins better than ſtrangers, . 5 is | where every thing elſe is equal. Hence ariſe arrifcia! =

our common meaſures of duty, in preferring — 4 the one to the other. Our ſenſe of duty al- 3 ways follows the common and natural ane * of our paſſions. b |

To avoid giving offence, I muſt 1 a

— ————— —— . - Y

ſerve, that when I deny juſtice: to be a na- ; tural virtue, I make uſe of the word, natu- | ral, only as l to e In ano- _ Waben ia is more ed 3 a "hab 11

of virtue; ſo no virtue is more natural than juſtice. Mankind is an inventive ſpecies; and where an invention is obvious and abſo- lutely neceſſary, it may as properly be ſaid to be natural as any thing that proceeds im- mediately from original principles, without the intervention of thought or reflection. Tho the rules of juſtice be artiſcial, they are not arbitrary. Nor is the expreſſion improper to call them Laus of Nature; 8 by natural we underſtand what is common to any ſpecies, or even if we confine. it to mean What is e n he ene

ii 0

er m. x sz.

20 4 ugg of Human Nature.

8 C r. 1

| of the "origi 7 ics * n oper: *

E now to eee two que- ſtions, viz. concerning the manner,

WYV in which the rules. of juſtice are eftabliſÞ'd by

the artifice of min; and concerning the rea- fons, which determine us to attribute to the obſervance or neglect of theſe rules a moral beauty and deformity. Theſe queſtions will appear afterwards to be un We ſhell te. 0,04 anger dy *;

Or all us animals, "oY which this '#lobe 2 W there is none towards whom na- ture ſeems, at firſt fight, to have exercis'd mote cruelty than towards man, in the numberleſs wants and nbeeſſities, with which ſſme has loaded him, and in the ſſender means, which the affords to the relieving theſe ne- ceſſities. In other creatures theſe two par- ticulars generally compenſate each other. If we conſider the lion as à voracious and carnivorons animal, we hall eafily diſcover him to be very neceflitous ; but if we turn TREES R Your

-

”- C2 *

Bock III. of Men our eye to his make and temper, ark: Iz cr. his courage, his arms, and his force, we III.

ſhall find, that his advantages hold pro- 55"

portion with his wants. The ſheep and ox 2”

are deprivd of all theſe advantages; but rg.

their appetites are moderate, and their food is of eaſy purchaſe. In man alone, this un- natural conjunction of infirmity, and of neceffity, may be obſerv'd in its greateſt per- fection. Not only the food, which is re- ird for his ſuſtenance, flies his ſearch and

be produc'd, but he muſt be poſleſs'd of cloaths and lodging, to defend him againſt the injuries of the weather; tho to conſider

him only in himſelf, he is provided ided neither with arms, nor force, nor other natural

abilities, which are in any mW anſwerable to ſo many neceſſities. *

Tus by ſociety Abus he ic ale t6 fapply his defects, and raiſe himſelf up to an equa- lity with his fellow-creatures, and even ac- quire a ſuperiority above them. By ſociety all his infitmities are compenſited; and tho in that fituation his wants multiply every moment upon him, yet bis abilities are ſtill

more angmented, and leave him in every | reſpect more ſatisfied and happy, than us

b for ben 8 |

E 2: | condition,

ach, or at leaſt requires his labour to

II. GEO 7

ice.

Pit condition, ever to become. When every in-

A 4 Treatfe of Fine Maiure.

dividual perſon labours a- part, and only for | himſelf, his force is too ſmall to execute any

conſiderable work; his labour being em-

ploy'd in ſupplying all his different neceſſi-

ties, he never attains a perfection in any par- ticular art; and as his force and ſucceſs are not at all times equal, the leaſt failure in either of theſe particulars muſt be attended with inevitable ruin and miſery. Society provides a remedy for theſe three incon- veniences. - By the conjunction of forces,

our power is augmented: By the partition

of employments, our ability encreaſes: And

by mutual ſuccour we are leſs expos'd to

medies are remote and obſcure, another

fortune and accidents. Tis by this addi-

tional force, ability, and ſecurity, * ſo- : ciety becomes advantageous.

Bur in order to form ſociety, tis re- quiſite not only that it be advantageous, but

» alſo that men be ſenſible of theſa advantages;

and tis impoſſible, in their wild uncultivated ſtate, that lhe ſtudy and reflection alone, they ſhould ever be able to attain this know- ledge. Moſt fortunately, therefore, there is conjoind to thoſe. neceſſities, Whoſe re-

neceſſity, Adds having a preſent and more obwiees . may * be * tne

Bock III. 0 Moran. 583

the firſt and * principle of human SECT. ſociety. This neceſſity is no other than that III. \ natutal appetite -betwixt the ſexes, which G the + unites them together, and Preſerves their origin of

uftice and union, till a new tye, takes place in their vues.

concern for their common: offspring. This 0 new concern becomes alſo a principle of . mi union betwixt the parents and offspring, and '

forms a more numerous ſociety; where the SOBRE 1 parents govern by the advantage of their _ n

ſuperior ſtrength and | wiſdom, and at the | ſame time are reſirain'd in the exerciſe of | their authority by that natural affection, |

which they bear their children. . In a little _—_— | time, . cuſtom and habit operating on the 4

tender minds of the children, makes them ſenſible of the advantages, which they may

reap from ſociety, as well as faſhions them

by degrees for it, by rubbing off thoſe rough 8 161

corners and untoward affections, * pre- it

vent their coalition, Bi

| Fon it muſt. be confeſt, that W 1

8 of human nature may render 170

an union neceſſary, and however thoſe 1 { | 5 paſſions of luſt and natural affection may i |

I ſeem to render it unavoidable; yet there are | 1

. other particulars in our natural temper, and 1

. in our outward circumſtances, which are very i

a incommodious, and are even contrary to the li

| (

'S 9 requiſite

34 A Treatiſe of Human Maturs. PART requiſite. conjunction. Among the former, I. we may juſtly eſteem our ſeIfſbneſs to be = the moſt conſiderable. I am ſenſible, that, «n47s- generally ſpeaking, the repreſentations of * this quality have been carried much too far; and that the deſcriptions, which certain phi- loſophers delight ſo much to form of man- kind in this particular, are as wide of na- ture as any. accounts' of monſters, which we meet with in fables and romances. So far from thinking, that men have no affection for any thing beyond themſelves, I am of opinion, that tho it be rare to meet wih one, who loves any fingle perſon better than himſelf; yet tis as rare to meet with one, in whom all the kind affections, taken to- gether, do not over- balance all the ſelfiſh, Conſult common experience: Do you not ſe, that tho the whole expence of the fa- mily be generally under the direction of the . maſter of it, yet there are few that do not beſtow the largeſt part of their fortunes on the pleaſures of their wives, and the educa- tion of their children, reſerving the ſmalleſt portion for their own proper uſe and enter- tainment, This is what we may obſerve concerning ſuch as have thoſe endearing ties; and may preſume, that the caſe would

Bock III Of Mori. =

dee ev wth other, wan they pl inSneT, # like fituation, © +. I Bor tho this generoſity muſt be acknow- FS, jedg'd to the benour of human nature, we gi" e, may at the ſame time remark, that ſo noble reg an affection, inſtead of fitting men for large ſocieties, is almoſt as contrary to them, as the j moſt narrow ſelfiſhneſs, For while each | I perſon loves himſelf better than any other | mi | fingle perſon, and in his love to others bears the greateſt affection to his relations and ac- quaintance, this muſt neceſſarily produce an oppoſition of paſſions, and a conſequent oppoſition of actions; which cannot but be dangerous to the new-eſtabliſh'd union. *'Tis however worth while to remark, that this contrariety of paſſions wou d be attended with but ſmall danger, did it not concur with a peculiarity in our outward cir- cumſtances, which affords it an opportunity of exerting itſelf, There are three different ſpecies of goods, which we ate poſleſs'd of; the internal ſatisfaction of our mind, the external advantages of our body, and the enjoyment of ſuch poſſeſſions as we have acquir'd by our induſtry and good fortune, We are perfectly ſecure in the enjoyment of the firſt. The, ſecond may be raviſh'd from _ but can be of no advantage to him who | E 4 deprives

— a _ — 2 ——

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f

56 A Treatiſe of Human Maura, Pax x deptives us of them. The We II. expos d to the violence of others, and may os be transferr'd. without ſuffering any loſs or Hh. ia: alteration; while at the, ſame time, there is not a ſufficient quantity of them to ſupply every one's deſires and neceſſities. As the improvement, therefore, of theſe goods is

the chief advantage of ſociety, ſo the inſta-

bility of their poſſeſſion, along with their

Nau i is the chief impediment.

Ix vain ſhou'd we expect to find, in un-

Cultivated nature, a remedy to this inconve- nience; or hope: for any inartificial principle

of the haman mind, which might controul

thoſe partial affections, and make us over-

come the temptations ariſing from our cir- cumſtances. The idea of juſtice: can never

| ſerve. to this purpoſe, or be taken for a na-

-tural principle, capable of inſpiring men with an equitable conduct towards each

| other, That virtue, as it is now underſtood,

rude and ſavage men, For the notion of in-

Jury or injuſtice implies an immorality or

yice committed againſt ſome other perſon:

And as every immorality is deriv'd from ſome

defect or unſoundneſs of the paſſions, and as

this defect muſt be judg d of, in a great mea- ſure, from the ordinary courſe of nature in

f an * 37

Book III.

to know, whether we be guilty of any im- morality, with regard to others, by conſider- of IN ing the natural, and uſual force of thoſe 4 veral affections, which are directed . proven them. Now it appears, that in the original frame of our mind, our ſtrongeſt attention is confin'd to ourſelves; z our next is extended

to our relations and acquaintance ; and tis only the weakeſt which reaches to ſtrapgers

and indifferent perſons... This - partiality, - then, and unequal affection, muſt not only have an influence on our behaviour and con- duct in ſociety, but even on our ideas of vice and virtue; ſo as to make us regard any remarkable tranſgreſſion of ſuch a de- gree of partiality, either by too great an en-

4 largement, or contraction of the affections,

as vicious and immoral. This we may ob- ſer ve in our common judgments CAncerne ing actions, where we blame a perſon, who either centers all his affections in his fami-

ly, or is ſo. regardleſs of them, as, in any oppoſition of intereſt, to give the preference

to a ſtranger, or mere chance acquaintance. From all which it follows, that our natural uncultivated ideas of morality, inſtead. of proyiding a remedy for the partiality of our affections, do rather conform themſelyes to that

ik | 433. 4 f

ho confines e cath beeay 8 r.

A Naas of Bases —

.

8 influence.

Tur remedy, then, is not deriv'd from * nature, but from artifice or more properly gon nature provides a remedy in the

Judgment and underſtanding, for what is and incommodious in the affec-

tions. For when men, from their early e- dacation in ſociety, have become ſenſible of the infinite advantages that reſult from it, and have beſides acquir'd a new affection to company and converſation ;\ and when they

have obſeryd, that the principal diſturbance in ſociety ariſes from thoſe goods, which we call external, and from their looſeneſs and eafy tranfition from one perſon to another ;

they muſt ' ſeek for a remedy, by putting goods, as far as poſſible, on the ſame

rheſe footing with the fix'd and conſtant advan- tages of the mind and body. This can be done after no other manner, than by a con- vention enter'd into by all the members of the ſociety to beſtow ſtability on the poſſeſ- fron of thoſe external goods, and leave every one in the peaceable enjoyment of what he may acquite by his fortune and in- duſtry. By this means, every one knows What he may ſafely poſſeſs; and the paſſions

are reſtrain d in their partial and contradi- cory

} J 7

and behaviour. ©

Bock I \ v Of Arn

trary to theſe paſſions; for if ſo, it cou d

never be enter d into, nor maintain'd; but QL. ras om oye oy woman petuous' movement. Inſtead of depatting vg.

eee

— Abe, we cannot better exaſalt both "theſe intereſts, than by ſach a conven». tion; becauſe ĩt ĩs by that means we maintain neceſſary to their well- being and ſubſiſtence, as well as to our own. Tus convention is not of the nature of

ſociety, which is ſo

4 promiſe: For even promiſes themſelves, as

we ſhall ſee - afterwards, ariſe from human

conventions. It is only à general ſenſe of

ad Hicks induces them to regulate. their conduct by certain rules. I obſerve, that it will be for my intereſt to leave another in the

poſſeffion of his goods, provided he will act

in the fame manner with regard to me. He is ſenſible of a like intereſt in the

of his conduct. When this common ſenſe

of intereſt is mutually expreſs'd, and is known to both, it produce a fuitable reſolution

And * this may property *

39

Rory motions. Nor ny WOK.

II.

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60 i I

I Treatife of Hujan Nativre! PART betwixt us, tho without the in

of

a promiſe; ſince the actions — of us

Ge have a reference to thoſe of the other, and

ö 1

are perform d upon the ſuppoſition, that

A ſomething i is to be perform d on the other part. Two men, who pull the oars of a

boat, do it by an agreement or convention, tho they have never given promiſes to each other. Nor is the rule concerning the ſta- man conventions, that it-ariſes gradually, and

our fellows, and gives us a confidence of the

our repeated experience of the inconveni-

ences of tranſgreſſing it. On the _ *

this. experience aſſures us Kill more, that ſenſe of intereſt has become common to all

future regularity of their conduct: And 'tis only on the expectation, of this, that our moderation and abſtinence are founded. In like manner are languages gradually eſta-

bliſh d by human conventions without any

promiſe, 1n like manner do gold and filver become the common meaſures of exchange,

and are eſteem d ſufficient payment for mar

is of a hundred times their value

_ AFTER, this convention, concerning "4

ſtinence from ty; ene! AE. — is — £4

AS . 2 19 el

WS we . min e MM & i

A Bock III. * „een wry Gr a ſtability in his poſſeffions, there — ately ariſe the ideas of juſtice and inju- ſtice 3 as alſo choſe of (property, right, and NY nh. obligation. The latter are altogether unin- 2 25 * telligible without firſt underſtanding the property. former. / Our property is nothing but thoſe goods, whole conſtant — is eſtabliſh'd by the laws of ſociety; that is, by the laws of juſtice; +Thoſe, therefore, ho make uſe of::the-wordy property, ot right, or ob ga- tion, before they have explain'd the - ori- = gin of juſtioe, or een make uſe of vygin that explication, are guilty of a very Pr? | fallacy, and; can never reaſon upon àny ſos lid foundation. A man's property is ſome object related to him. This relation is not natural, but moral, and founded on juſtice: Tis very prepoſterous, thetefore, to ima- gine, that we can have any idea of property, without fully comprehending the nature of juſtice, and ſhewing its origin in the artifice and:contrivance of men. The origin af ju- Nice:qxplains that of property, The ſame artiflce: gives riſe to both. As out firſt and moſt naturab ſentiment of morals i is founded on the nature: of our paſſions, and -giyes the Preference to ourſelves and friends, above ſtrangers ; tis impoſſible; there can be natu- 3 thing as a-fix'd- right or pro- dh | | perty,

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ies. 5 P * 5 0 2 * ad .

62 A the oppoſite paſſions of men

e e eee cord. All the other paſſions, beſid this of | Intereſt, are either eaffly reſtraimd, or are

A Treatiſe of Haan nan Nature

impel them in contrary directions, and are

5 285 nor reſtrain's by any-convention or ee A LU * 5

No ene n babe) that cl. for the diſtinction of property, and for the

ability of poſſeſſion, is of all circumſtances the moſt neceſſary to the eſtabliſhment of human ſociety, and that after the a nt for the fixing and obſerving I chis rule, there remains little or nothing to be done

not of ſuch pernicious conſequenoe, when

indulg d. Vanity is rather to be eſteem da

men. Pic and he are to be'qorifider'd in the fame light. And as to ey and revenge, tho! pernicious, they operate oüly by inter- . yals, and are directed againſt particular per- ſons, whom we confider as our fuperiors'or enemies. This avidity alone, of acquiring neareſt friends, is inſatiable, perpetual, uni- vertal, and directly deſtructivr of ſociety. There ſcarce is any one, who is not actuated

un; and n who has not

—

4 meg | any

|

dock Mor 2 N

any reſtraint, * gives way to its fil andSzc Ty

moſt natural movements. So that upon the

wbl. we are to eſteem the difficulties in C2 e- e IO to be greater on Foe leſs, according to thoſe we encounter. Wn It grey ©

gulating and reſtraining this paſſion. Tis certain, hea e of tha bus man mind has both a ſufficient force, and a

proper direction to counter-balance the love -

of gain, and render men fit members of ſociety, by making them abſtain from the poſſeſſions of others. Benevalence to ſtrꝶn - gers is too weak for this purpaſe; and 88 to the other; paſſions, they rather inflame this avidity, when we obſerve, that the larger our poſſeſſions are, the more ability we have of gratifying all our appetites. There is no paſſion, therefore, capable of controlling the intereſted affection, but the very affection it ſelf, by an alteration of its direction. Now

this alteration muſt neceſſarily take place up- on the leaſt reflection; ſince tis evident, that

i wh much eee N

the ſolitary and forlorn condition; which muſt follow upon violence and an univerſal e „ III. ing

vances in 22 . chan 4,6

— * —

1 | |

nnen my 4 ö

1

64 A Tres of Human mb Pax r ing the ickednelF or goodneſs of * II. nature, enters not in the leaſt into that other Seen de on of ſ E — any hag: to — orgh Me... 3 the degrees of men's ſagacity Or folly. For whether the paſſion of ſelf-intereſt be eſteem- _ ed vicious or virtuous, tis all a caſe; fince itſelf alone reſtrains it: So that if it be vir- tuous, men become ſocial by e virtue; | if vicious, | their vice has the ſame effect. No as tis by eſtabliſhing the rule for un bl of poſſeſſion, that this paſſion reſtrains itſelf; if that rule be very abſtruſe, and of difficult invention; ſociety muſt be effect of many ages. But if it be found, that nothing can be more ſimple and obvi- ous than that rule; that every parent, in order to pteſerve peace among his children, muſt 3 it; and that theſe: firſt rudiments f jaſtice muſt every day be impro d, as " the ſociety enlarges: If all this appear cvi- dent, as it certainly: muſt, we: may. conclude, thats utterly impoſſible for men to remain N any conſderable time in that ſavage condi- e 0-445nip , which precedes. ſociety; but that his —_— very-firſt. ſtate and ſituation may juſtly be 'eſtoem'd ſocial. This, however, hinders not, but-hat philoſophers. g, if they leſs

—_——

— P 6 i ITO Tor fi, on DEE ART ER TO EY

rh.

= 65. &. &-

re of te [06] in to ab gi

9

Dock l f Mn, Of extend their Riſotiing to te appr feof tature ; provided they allow it to be a mere philoſophicat fiction, which never had, and A never cou'd have any reality. Human £7 * nature being composed of two principal vg parts, which are requiſite in all its actions; the affections and underſtanding; ; 'tis cer- tain, that the blind motions of the former, without the direction of the latter, ihcapa- citate men for ſociety: And it may be al- low/d ns to conffder ſeparately the effects, that reſult from the ſeparate operations of theſe two component parts of the mind. The ſame liberty may be permitted to mo- ral, which is allow'd to natural philoſophers ; and *tis very uſual with the latter to conſider ay motion as compounded and conſiſting of two parts ſeparate from each other, the? at the fame time they acknowledge it to be in Itſelf uncompounded and inſeparable: Tu 18 fate of nature, therefore, is to be regarded as a mere fiction, not bullke that of the golden age, which pots” Rave inyen- ted; only with this diffctence, that the for- cher is deferib d' as full of war, violence and imuſtice; whereas the latter is' painted out to us, as the moſt charming and moſt peace- able condition, chat can dei be ima- ein d. "THe Bibs, in that Ak age of na- Vor. III. F ture,

66

A Naas of Human Nature.

Pant tare, were ſo temperate, _ if we may believe the. poets, that there was no neceſſity for men Of juſtice to provide themſelves with cloaths and

= *7*- houſes as a ſecurity againſt the violence of

heat and cold. The rivers flow'd with wine

and milk: The oaks yielded honey ; and

nature ſpontaneouſly produc'd her greateſt delicacies. | Nor were theſe the chief advan-

tages of that happy age. The ſtorms and

tempeſts were not alone. remov'd from na- ture ; but thoſe more furious tempeſts were unknown to human. breaſts, - which now cauſe ſuch uproar, and engender ſuch confu- ſion. Avarice, ambition, cruelty, ſelfiſhneſs, were never heard of: Cordial affection, compaſſion, ſympathy, were the only move- ments, with which the human mind was yet acquainted. Even the diſtinction of mine

and Yhine was baniſh'd from that happy race

of mortals, and carry'd with them the very

| Notions of 25167 and obligation, juſtice

and injuſtice.

Tu Is, no doubt, is to be regarded as an idle fiction; but yet deſerves our attention, becauſe nothing can more evidently ſhew 2 origin of thoſe virtues, which are the

ſubjects of our preſent enquiry. I have al- ready obſery d, that juſtice takeg its riſe from human conventions ; and that theſe are in-

| | / tended

„ *

Book III. / Moral.

57

tended as a a to ſome CE

which proceed from the concurrence of cer-

II.

tain qualities of the human mind with the &

ſituation of external objects. The qualities f

of the mind are ſelfiſbneſt and limited gene- —

rofity : And the ſituation of external objects

is their eaſy change, join'd to their ſcarcity

in compariſon of the wants and deſires of men. But however philoſophers may have been be wilder d in thoſe ſpeculations, - poets have been guided more infallibly, by a cer- tain taſte or common inſtinct, which in moſt kinds of reaſoning goes farther than any of that art and philoſophy, with which we have been yet acquainted. perceiv'd, if every man had a tender re- gard for another, or if nature ſupplied abun- dantly all our wants and deſires, that the jealouſy of intereſt, which juſtice ſuppoſes, could no longer have place; nor would there be any occaſion. for thoſe diſtinctions and limits of property and poſſeſſion, which at preſent: are in uſe among mankind. En- creaſe to a ſufficient degree the benevolence of men, or the bounty of nature, and you render juſtice uſeleſs, by ſupplying its place with much nobler virtues, and more valuable bleflings. The ſelfiſnneſs of men is animated VA the iow: poſſeſſions we have, in propon-

* ie

They eaſily

ice —

68

A Treatiſe of Human Nature.

PA R I tion to our wants; and tis to reſtrain this

II.

2 felfiſhneſs, that men have been oblig'd to

| Of uf Sund ſeparate themſelves from the community,

five. and thoſe of others,

%. and to diftinguiſh betwixt their own hoods

No need we have recourſe to the chien

of poets to learn this; but beſide the reaſon _of the thing, may diſcover the fame truth

by common experience and obſervation. "Tis eaſy' to remark, that a cordial affecton ren- ders all things common among friends; and that married people in particulaf mutually loſe their property, and are unacquainted with the mine and thine, which are ſo neceſ- fary, and yet cauſe ſuch diſturbance in hu-

man ſociety, The ſame effect ariſes from any alteration in the circumſtances of man-

kind; as when there is ſuch a plenty of any ching as faticies all the defires of men: In which caſe the diſtinction of property is en-

tirely loft; and every thing remains in com- mon. This we may obſerve with regard to air and water, tho the moſt valuable of all

external objects; and may eaſily conclude, that if men were ſupplied with every thing im the ſame abundance, or if every one had

_ the ſame affection and tender regard for every one as for himſelf; juſtice and injuſtice would

je mea unknown * mankind. HRE

Book 1 III. _ * 69

\

rn then 4 is a We which, 18x67. think, may be regarded as certain, that 'tis ., only from the ſelfiſhneſs and conſin d genervſty & th © 'Of — of men, along with the ſcanty proviſion nature . ff , 8 bas made for his wants, that juſtice derives property

its origin, If we look backward 'we ſhall

find, that this propoſition beſtows' an addi-

tional force on ſome of thoſe obſervations, which we have already N on bn fubjed.

Firſt, we may: cole Kon M, that * road to public intereſt, or a ſtrong exten- five benevolence, is not our firſt and original motive for the obſervation of the rules of

>; fince tis allow'd, that if men were — with ſuch a benevolence, theſe rules

| | eh — never have been dreamt of.

| - | Secondly, we may*conclude from the ſame principle, that the ſenſe of juſtice is not

; founded on reaſon, or on the diſcovery of ) certain connexions and relations of ideas, 1 which are eternal, immutable, and univer-

, ſally obligatory. For fince it is confeſt, that p ſuch an alteration as that above-mention'd, d in the temper and circumſtances of mankind, y wou'd entirely alter our duties and obligations; d tis neceſſary upon the comtnon ſyſtern, that the

bd virtue it deriv'd from reaſon,” to ſhew E 3997 F 3 . the

70 A Treatiſe of Human Mature. PART the change which this muſt produce in the I- AT. relations and ideas. But tis evident, that 2 juſtice Gr rhe the only cauſe, why the extenſive generoſity ents (ee of man, and the perfect abundance of every thing, wou d deſtroy the very idea of ju- ſtice, is becauſe they render it uſeleſs; and that, on the other hand, his confin d bene- volence, and his neceſſitous condition, give riſe to that virtue, only by making it requi- ſite; to the publick intereſt, and to that of every individual. Twas therefore a concern for our own, and the publick intereſt, which made us eſtabliſh the laws of juſtice; and nothing can be more certain, than that it is not any relation of ideas, which gives us this concern, but our impreſſions and ſentiments, without which every thing in nature is per- fectly indifferent to us, and can never in the leaſt affect us. The ſenſe of juſtice, there- fore, is not founded on our ideas, but on our impreſſions. 3 : Thirdly, we may farther. 3 the, - ag going propoſition, that thoſe impreſſions, which give riſe to, this ſenſe of Juſtice, are | not na- tural to the mind of man, but ariſe from: ar- tifice and human conventions,, For ſince any conſiderable alteration of temper and cir- cumſtances deſtroys equally juſtice and inju- Rice ; ; and Ance. ſuch an; alteration * effect

Book . 0 Morals, by 71 effect only by changing our own and the 88 T. publick intereſt; it follows, that the firſt * eſtabliſhment of the rules of juſtice depends &.. Ge.

on theſe different intereſts. But if men pur- 97 ſu' d the publick intereſt naturally, and with preperq. a hearty affection, they wou'd never have dream'd of reſtraining each other by theſe rules; and if they purſu'd their own inte- reſt, without any precaution; they wou'd run head- long into every kind of injuſtice; and violence. Theſe rules, therefore, are ar- tificial, and ſeek their end in an oblique and indirect manner; nor is the intereſt, which gives riſe to them, of a kind that cou'd be purſu'd by the natural and 8 — paſſions of men.

To 8 this more © evident, aller; that tho' the rules of juſtice are eſtabliſh'd merely by intereſt, - their connexion with intereſt is ſomewhat ſingular, and is different from

what may be obſerv'd on other occaſions. A ſingle act of juſtice is frequently contrary to public intereſt; and were it to ſtand alone, without being follow'd by other acts, may, in itſelf, be very prejudicial to ſociety, When a man of merit, of a beneficent- diſpoſition, reſtores a great fortune to a miſer, or a ſedi- tious bigot, he has ated juſtly and laudably,

T F 4 | every

72 +” *

ad 0%

A Treatiſe o Human Mau,

een fingle a8: of julie, onder abe, more conducive to private intereſt, than to e public; and tis eaſily conceiy'd how a man may impoveriſh himſelf by a ſignal inſtance af integrity, and have reaſon to wiſh, that with regard to that ſingle act, the laws of juſtice were for a moment ſuſpended in the univerſe. But however ſingle acts of ju- ſtice may be contrary, either to public or private intereſt, tis certain, that the hole plan or ſcheme is highly conducive, or in- deed abſolutely requiſite, both to the. ſyppart of ſociety, and the well-being of every in- dividual. Tis impoſſible to ſeparate the good from the ill. Property muſt be ſtable, and muſt be fix d by general rules. Tho in one inſtance the public be a ſufferer, this momentary ill is amply compenſated by the ſteady proſecution of. the rule, and by the peace and order, which it eſtabliſhes in ſo- ciety. And even every individual perſon muſt find himſelf a gainer, on ballancing the account; ſince, without juſtice, ſociety

muſt immediately diſſolve, and every one

muſt fall into that ſavage and ſolitary con- dition, which is infinitely worſe than the

in ſociety, | When therefore men have had

„

worſt ſituation that can poſſibly be ſuppos d

experience enough to obſerve, that whatever E * may

2

Bock Ill.

may be the conſequence of any — |

juſtice, perform'd by a ſingle perſon, yet

the whole ſyſtem of actions, concurr'd in by G. WY

the whole ſociety, is infinitely advantagoous £7 9.7%. to the whole, and to every part; 1

long before juſtice. and property take place.

Eyery member of ſociety is ſenſible of this

intereſt : Every one expreſſes this ſenſe. to his fellows, along with the reſolution he. has taken of — his actions by it, on con- dition that others will do the ſame. No more is requiſite to induce any one of them to perform an act of juſtice, who has the firſt opportunity. This becomes an example to others. And thus juſtice eſtabliſhes it - ſelf by a kind of convention or agreement; that is, by a ſenſe of intereſt, ſuppos d to be common to all, and where every ſingle act is perform'd in expectation that others are

to perform the like. Without ſuch a con-

vention, no one wou'd ever have dream d,

that there was ſuch a virtue as juſtico, oÞ |

have been induc'd to conform his actions to it. Taking any ſingle act, my juſtice way

be pernicious in every reſpe& ; and tie only: -

upon the ſuppoſition, that others are 10 imitate my example, that I can be induc'd to em-

Y - or

4 Treati ” of W Mature.

od r or afford me any motives to conform - * Sie

1 its rates.

. WI come now to the ſecond queſtion we = An 'vis. Why we annex the idea of vir- tue to juſtice, and of vice to injuſtice. This queſtion will not detain us long after the principles, which we have already eſtabliſh'd. All we can fay of it at preſent will be diſ- patch'd'in a few words: And for farther ſa- tisfaction, the reader muſt wait till we come to the third part of this book. The natural obligation to Juſtice, vig. intereſt, has been fully explain'd; but as to the ura! obli- gation, or the ſentiment of right and wrong, 'twill firſt be requiſite to examine the natu- ral virtues, before we can give a Full and * aun account of it. 2 OF |

AFTER men have found eyes that their ſelfiſhneſs and confin'd generolity, K acting at their liberty, totally incapacitate them for ſociety; and at the ſame time have obſerv'd, that ſociety's neceſſary to to the ſa- tisfaction of thoſe very paſſions, they are na- turally induc'd; to lay themſelves under the reſtraint of ſuch rules, as may render their commerce more ſafe and commodious. To the impoſition then, and obſervance of theſe * both in general, and in every particu-

lar

Book III. Of: Morals:

lar inſtance, pats are at - firſt; — lanov'd by a regard to intereſt; and this motive, on II..

the firſt formation of ſociety, is ſufficiently N ſtrong and forcible. But when ſociety Wage — become numerous, and has encreas d to a projery.

tribe or nation, this intereſt is more remote;

nor do men ſo readily perceive,” that diſor-

der and confuſion follow upon every breach of theſe rules, as in a more narrow and con-

we may frequently loſe ſight of that in-

tereſt, which we have in maintaining or-

der, and may follow a leſſer and more pre- ſent intereſt, we never fail to obſerve the prejudice we receive, either mediately or im-

mediately, from the injuſtice of others; as

not being in that caſe either blinded by paſ- ſion, or byaſs d by any contrary: temptation. Nay when the injuſtice is ſo diſtant from us, as no way to affect our intereſt, it ſtill diſ-

pleaſes us; becauſe we conſider it as preju- dicial to human ſociety, and pernicious to every one that approaches the petſon guilty. + of it. We partake of their uneaſineſs by. - -

ſympathy; and as every thing, which gives un- eaſineſs in human actions, upon the general

ſurvey, is calbd Vice, and whatever produces

ſatisfaction, in the ſame manner, is denomi- nated Virtue; this is the reaſon hy the ſenſe of moral g ſtice and: injuſtice. And tho this ſenſe, 2

tracted ſociety, But tho' in our own actions

good and evil follows upon ju-

| [ 1 1

75 A Treatiſe of Human Mature. Pax x. the preſent caſe, be deriv d ouly from con- II. templating the actions of others, yet we fail e not to extend it even to out on actions. . The general rule reaches beyond thoſe in-

| _ Nances, from which it aroſe z while at tho ſame time we naturally /mpathize with others in the ſentiments they entertain of us. Thus. falf-intereſt is the original motive to the eſtabliſhment of juflice a but a-ſyrapathy with public nn probation, hinab attend thut virtue. : © Tuo this progreſs of the Satiments be

— whop in order to govern men; re: eaſily, and preſerve! peace! in human -en, c. pry have endeavout d to produce an 1 kee, oſteerm for juſtice, and an abhortence of in- | We - This, no doubt, muſt have its ef-

ſect; but nothing can be mote evident, than | that the matter has been carry'd too far by 94e co ie * certain writers on morals, who ſceim to have E, employ d their wamoſt efforts ts ectirpate alt ame ſenſe of virtue from among mankind. Any — artifce-of politicians may aſſiſt nature in the 1 producing of thoſe ſentimemts, which ſhe ſuggeſts to us, and may even on ſome o fions, produce alone an approbatſon or eſteem far any perticular actiom; but tis napoflible it Mouid be the-ſote quis of the Kclinetion we make betwixt view dnl$'vireue,

For

"0 ace, 83

Bock III.

f Ira

For if natute did not aid us in 3

culat, twou'd be in vain for politicians. to

talk of honourable of diſbonouruble, praiſi- wy or

worthy or blameable, Theſe words wou d 8* 95s.

be perfectly unintelligible, and . wou'd no more have any idea annex d to them, than if they were of a tongue perfectly unknown

to us. The utmoſt politicians can perform, is, to extend the natural ſentiments beyond their original bounds; but ſtill nature muſt farniſh the materials, and give us ſome no- tion of moral diſtinctions.

As publick praiſe and blame encreaſe our eſteem for juſtice ; ſo private education and inſtruction contribute to the fame effect. For as parents eaſily obſerve, that a man is the more uſeful, both to himſelf and others, the greater degree of probity and honour he is endow'd with; and that thoſe principles have greater force, when cuſtom and edu- _ cation aſſiſt intereſt and reflection: For theſe reaſons they are induc'd to inculcate on their children, from their carlieft infancy, the principles of probity, and teach them to ro- gard the obſervance of thoſe rules, by which ſociety is maintain'd, as worthy and honour- able, and their violation as baſe and infa- mons. By this means the ſentiments of

flick at property.

78

4 Treatife of Human Nile

PART and acquire ſuch firmneſs and ſolidity, that

I.

they may fall little ſhort of thoſe principles,

| Of; Ne e Which are the moſt eſſential to our natures,

2 ice.

and the moſt deeply radicated i in our inter- ; wal conſtitution, -

- Wrar farther contributes to encreaſe heir ſolidity, i is the intereſt of our reputation, after the opinion, that a merit or demerit at- tends juſtice or injuſtice, is once firmly eſta- bliſh'd among mankind. There is nothing,

which touches us more nearly than our re-

putation, and nothing on which our reputa- tion more depends than our conduct, with

relation to the property of others. For this

reaſon, every one, who has any regard to his character, or who intends to live on good terms with mankind, muſt fix an inviolable law to himſelf, never, by any temptation, to be induc'd to violate thoſe principles, which are eſſential ro a man of probity and honour,

I sHALL make only one obſervation be- fore I leave this ſubject, viz. that tho' I aſ-

ſert, that in the fate of nature, or that ima- - ginary ſtate, which preceded ſociety, there

be neither juſtice nor injuſtice, yet I aſſert not, that it was allowable, in ſuch a ſtate, to violate the property of others. I only main-

tain, that there was no ſuch thing as pro- —_— and conſequently cow'd-be no ſuch

thing

as *

Book III. Of Moral. 9 thing as juſtice, or injuſtice. I ſhall have oc- S Er. caſion to make a ſimilar reflection with re- II. gard to promiſes, when I come to treat of L them; and I hope this reflection, when duly gin oj weigh'd,- will ſuffice to remove all odium + 3

from the foregoing opinions, with n to juſtice and injuſtice.

0 B D % of the - rules, which determine

WP a9 4-7

TH O' the eſtabliſhment of the EAR SECT. x concerning the ſtability of poſſeſſion, III. be not only uſeful, but even abſolutely! ne-]. ceſſary to human ſociety, it can never ſerve

to any purpoſe, while it remains in ſuch ge-

neral terms. Some method muſt be ſhewn,

by which we may diſtinguiſh what particular goods are to be aſſign d to each particular per-

ſon, while the reſt of mankind are excluded

from their poſſeſſion and enjoyment. Our

next buſineſs, then, muſt be to diſcover the reaſons which modify this general rule, and

fit it to the common uſe and nn of _ world. |

+ Ta ens 3 hole ee not

deri d from any utility or advantage, which

either

80

A Treatiſe of Human Mature.

PAR I either the particulur perſon or the public

may reap from his enjoyment of any purti-

Gch . culur goods, beyond what wou' d teſult from

Als.

2 * the poſſeſſion of them by any other perſon.

Tete better, no doubt, that every one were poſſeſsd of what is moſt ſuitable to him, and proper for his uſe : Bat beſides, that this relation of fitneſs may be common to ſeve- ral at once, tis liable to ſo many contro-

verſies, and men are ſo partial and paſſionate in judging of theſ$ controverſies, that ſach

a looſe and uncertain rule wou'd be abſo- lutely incompatible with the peace of hu- man ſociety. The convention concerning

| the ſtability of poſſeſſion is enter'd into, in

order to cut off all occafions of diſcord and contention; and this end wou'd never be at- tain'd, were we allow'd to apply this rule

differently in evety particular caſe, according

to every particular utility, which might be

diſcover'd in ſuch an application. Juſtice,

in her decifions, never regards the firneſs or

usifitnels of objects to particular perſons, but condudts horſelf by more extenſive views.

Whether a man be generous, or a miſer, he is equally well receiv'd. by her, and obtaitis

with the fame facility a deciſion in his f- vours, even for what is: bag TITS to * ; |

Ir

Bock III. "Of Morals.

Jr . $

I follows; therefore, that the m— rule, that 500 Nun mut be fable, is not ap- III. ply d b by particular judgments, but by other 7

e rules, which muſt extend to the

rules, which de-

W focity, and be inflexible either by min. | : ſpite ot favour; To illuſtrate this, 1 propoſe Nerd

the following inſtance. I firſt conſider men in their ſavage and ſolitary condition; and ſuppoſe, that being ſenfible of the miſery of that 15 and foreſceing advantages that wou 'd reſult from ſociety, they ſeek each other's J company, and make an offer of mu- tual protection and affiſtance. I alſo fup- poſe, that they are endow'd with ſuch ſaga- city as immediately to perceiye, that the chief impediment to this project of ſociety and partnerſhip lies in the avidity an nd ſelfiſhneſs of their natural temper ; to remedy which, they enter into a convention for the ſtability of poſſeſſion, and for mu tual reſtraint and forbearance. I am ſenſible, that this me- thod of proceeding is not altogether natural ; but beſides that I here only ſuppoſe tho reflections to be form d atonce, which in fat ariſe inſenfibly and by degrees ; beſides this, I fay, tis very pole, that ſeveral perſons, being by different accidents ' ſeparated from the ſocieties, to which they formerly be- long d, may be oblig d to form a new ſociety Vor. III. G among

82 "IL.

and i *

PIE Of juſtice

A Treatiſe of Human Mature.

Parr among themſelves; in which caſe they wa

entirely in the ſituation above- mention d.

'Tis evident, then, that their firſt diffi- culty, in this tuation, after the general convention for the eſtabliſhment. of ſociety,

and for the conſtancy of poſſeſſion, is, how

to ſeparate their poſſeſſions, and aſſign to

each his particular portion, which he muſt for the future inalterably enjoy. This diffi- culty will not detain them long; but it muſt immediately occur te- hem as the moſt natural expedient, that every one continue to enjoy what he is at preſent maſter of, and that property or conſtent poſſeſſion be con-

join'd to the immediate poſſeſſion. Such is

the effect of cuſtom, that it not only recon- ciles us to any thing we have long enjoy d, but even gives us an affection for it, and makes us prefer it to other objects, which may be more valuable, but are leſs known

to us. What has long lain under our eye,

and has often been employ'd to our advan- tage, that we are always the moſt unwil- ling to part with; but can eaſily live with- out poſſeſſions, which we never have en- Joy'd, and are not accuſtom'd to. Tis evi- dent, therefore, that men wou'd eaſily ac-

quieſce i in this expedient, that every one con-

Tinue to enjoy what be is at preſets ke ob of ;

Book III. Of Morals, 83

and this is the reaſon, why they wou'd ſo SET.

naturally agree in preferring it *. 24 518 INF Bur we may obſerve, that tho the rule FY

of the aſſignment of property to the preſerit'rale, 1 8 natural, and A that means uſe 'wwhich de-

termine

82 PIT en B+ ful, Ln.

1 rn n than w a number of cauſes pi by rem for the ſame — menon, to determine which is the principal and predominant. There ſeldom is any very preciſe argument to fix our choice, and men muſt be content 5 D , ariſing from analogy, a compariſon ilar in- — Thus, in the preſent caſe, —— no doubt, mo- tives of public intereſt for moſt of the rules, which determine roperty z but ſtill I ſuſpect, that theſe rules are prin- cipally fix d by the imagination, or the more frivolous pro- perties of our thought and conception. I ſhall continue to explain theſe cauſes, leaving it to the reader's choice, whether he will prefer thoſe deriv'd from publick utility, or thoſe de- riv'd from the imagination. We ſhall n the right of the yur” th ſſeſſor. 6 08 aq which (a) I — already obſery'd in 1 — two objects in a cloſe relation to each — the mind is — to a — to them any additional relation, in order to compleat the union; and this inclination is ſo ſtrong, as often to make us run into errors (ſuch as that of the conjunRion of thought and matter) if we find that they can ſerve to that purpoſe. Many of our impreſſions are in- capable of place or local poſition 3 and yet thoſe very im- preſſions we ſuppoſe 0 have a local conjunction with the im- preſſions of ſight — touch, merely becauſe they are con- joigd by cauſation, and are already united in the imagina- | tion. Since, therefore, we can feign a new. relation, and * even an abſurd, one, in order to compleat any union, will eaſily be imagin'd, that if there be any relations, which de- — on the mind, *twill readily conjoin them to any pre, ceding relation, and unite, by a new. bond, ſuch objects as have already an union in the fancy. Thus for inſtance, we never fail, in our arrangement of bodies, to place Bote which are * in contiguity to each other, or at leaſt in, cor:

reſpondent (a) BookT. Part IV. Se. 5, *

84. 2 Treatiſe of. Human Mature. PART ful, yet its utility extends not beyond the

II.

firſt formation of ſociety ; nor wou'd any

n thing be more pernicious, than the. conſtant end . obſervance of it; by which reſtitution. wou d

ice.

be excluded; and every injuſtice-wou'd be

authoriz d and rewarded. We muſt, there-

fore, ſeek for ſome other cirexibitce, that

may give riſe to property after ſociety is once

eſtabliſh'd ; and of this kind, I find four moſt conſiderable, viz. Occupation, Preſcrip- tion, Acceſſion, and Succeffion. We ſhall

reſpondent aſus cf views: twins we bel a -CitiafaQtion in joining the relation'of contiguity to that of - reſemblance, or

the reſemblance of ſituation to that of qualities. Aud this 1 eaſily accounted for from the known properties of human nature. When the mind is determin'd > Join certain objects, but-undetermin'd- in its choice of the particular objects, it na- turally turns its exe to ſuch as are related together. They ate already united in the mind: They preſent themſelves at the ſame time to the conception; and inſtead of requiring any

new reaſon for their conjunction, it 'wou'd require a very

ful reaſon to make us over- look this natural wn we ſhall have occaſion to explain more fully ,

| wh we come to treat of beauty, In the mean time, we

may content "ourſelves with obſerving, that the ſame love of order and uniformity, which arranges the books in a library, and the chairs in a parlour, contribute to the formation of ſociety, and to the well-being of mankind, by modifying the neral rule concerning the ſtability of poſſeſſion. — perty forms à relation betwixt a W and — tis natural to found it on ſome preceding relation; 57 25 is nothing but a conſtant po ln, ſecur'd by the laws vciety?”'rv natural 10 add it 10 che prefent n, —— ddr that reſembles it. For this has its

- Influence, If it be natural to conjoin all ſorts of relations, "tis more ſo, N eee and

an a related: briefly

—

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Bock III. Of Meral. By briefly examine each of theſe, tegnning $507 with Occupation. III. Tun poſſeſſion of all external goods is LV changeable and uncertain; which is one of ras, 4 the moſt conſiderable impediments to the zrmine eſtabliſhment of ſociety, and is the reaſon N why, by univerſal agreement, expreſs or ta- cite, men reſtrain themſelves by what we now call the rules of juſtice and equity. The miſery of the condition, which precedes this reſtraint, is the cauſe why we ſubmit to that remedy as quickly as poſſible; and this affords ws an eaſy reaſon, why we an- nex the idea of property to the firſt pofſeſ- ſion, or to occupation. Men are unwilling to leave property in ſuſpence, even for the ſhorteſt time, or open the leaſt door to vio- lence and diſorder. To which we may add, that the firſt poſſeſſion always engages the —_— moſt ; and did we neglect it, there

ou'd be no colour of reaſon for affigning prope to any ſucceeding poſſeſſion b.

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>a ce ths as * by ſaying, this, ovary one has a geg th bene | bour ; and when he joins that labour to any thing, it gives him the property of the whole: But, 1. There are ſeveral | of occupation, where we cannot be faid to join our | labour to the object we acquire: As when we poſſeſs a mea- dow by grazing our cattle upon it. 2. This accounts for matter by means of acce/fon ; which is taking a needleſs: euit, 2 We cannot be ſaid to join our labour to iy wn

86 A Treatiſe. of Human Mature. Pa RT TERRE remains nothing, but to deter- II. mine exactly, what is meant by poſſeſſion; 2 and this is not ſo eaſy as may at firſt ſight 4, be imagin d. We are ſaid to be in poſſeſſion 3 any thing, not only when we immediate- ly touch it, but alſo when we are ſo fitua-

ted with reſpect to it, as to have it in our

power to uſe it; and may move, alter, or

deſtroy it, according to our preſent pleaſure

| or adyantage. This relation, then, is a ſpe- | | cies of cauſe and effect; and as property is

1 nothing but a ſtable poſſeſſion, deriv'd from the rules of juſtice, or the conventions of men, tis to he conſider'd as the ſame ſpe-

4 | cies of relation. But here we may obſerve, = that as the power of uſing any object be- comes more or leſs certain, according as the interruptions we may meet with are more or leſs probable ; and as this probability may in- creaſe by inſenſible degrees; tis in many caſes impoſſible to determine when poſſeſſion begins or ends; nor is there any certain ſtandard, by which we can decide ſuch controverſies. A wild boar, that falls into our ils Þ s deem'd to be in our | Poſſeſſion, if

in a "IOW ease Properly ſpeaking, we only make harp a gn on it by our labour. This forms a relation be- twixt us and the object; and thence ariſes the Ty ac

8 to the preceding Fefe wal ;

Bock III. / Mirai.

it be impoſſible for him to eſcape. But 8 ECT. what do we mean by impoſſible? How do III. we ſeparate this impoſſibility from an impro- & 34

bability ? And how diſtinguiſh that exactly

ſtandard, by which we may decide all diſ- putes that may ariſe, and, as we find by ex- perience, frequently do ariſe upon this ſub- ject © G 4 Bur

If we ſeck a ſolution of theſe difficulties in reaſon and

3 never ſhall find — Ag if we r it in the imagination, tis evident, that the qualities, which operate upon that fac dually into each other, that ti) impoſſible to give them any preciſe bounds or termination. The difficulties on this head muſt encreaſe, when we conſider, that our judgment alters very ſenſibly, according to the ſubjet, and that the ſame power and proximity will be deem'd poſſeſſion in one caſe, which is not eſteem'd ſuch in another. A perſon, who has hunted a hare to the laſt degree of wearineſs, wou'd look upon it as an injuſtice for another to ruſh in before him, and ſeize his prey. But the ſame perſon, advancing to pluck an apple, that hangs within his redeh, has no reaſon to com- plain, if another, more alert, paſſes him, and takes poſſeſ- fon. What is the reaſon of this difference, but that immo- bility, not being natural to the hare, but the effect of in- duſtry, forms in chat caſe a ſtrong relation with the hunter, which is wanting in the other ?

Here then it appears, that a certain and infallible power of enjoyment, without touch or ſome other ſenſible relation, of-

ten produces not pro : And I farther obſerve, that a ſendble relation, N an r, is ſometimes

y preſent = e ſufficient to give a title to any object. 'The fight of a thing

is ſeldom a conſiderable relation, and is only regarded as ſuch, when the object is hidden, or very obſcure; in which caſe we find, that the view alone conveys a property; according to that maxim, that even a whole continent belongs to the na- tion, which fin diſcover'd it. Tis however —

| which 8 from à probability? Mark the preciſe limits zer-

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A Treatiſe f Human Mature.

PART Bur ſuch diſputes may not only ariſe con-

II.

cerning the real exiſtence of property and

Of juſtice poſſeſſion, but alſo concerning their extent;

and in- juſtice.

and theſe diſputes are often ſuſceptible of no deciſion, or can be decided by no other fa- culty than the imagination. A perſon, who lands on the ſhore of a ſmall- iſland, that is deſart and uncultivated, is deem'd its poſſeſ- ſor from the very firſt moment, and acquires

PU the

that both in the caſe of diſcovery and that of poſſeſſion, the firſt diſcoverer and poſſeſſor muſt join to the pelation an in- tention of rendering himſelf proprietor, otherwiſe the rela- tion will not have its effect; and that becauſe the connexion in our fancy betwixt the property and the relation is not ſo great, but that it requires to be help'd by ſuch an intention. From all theſe circumſtances, tis eaſy to ſee how perplex'd many queſtions may become concerning the . acquiſition of property by occupation; and the leaſt effort of thought may preſent us with inſtances, which are nat ſuſcepti pf 0a are ,

reaſonable deciſion. If we prefer examples, whi

to ſuch as are feign'd, we may conſider the following one, which is to be met with in almoſt every writer, that has trea- ted of the laws of nature.} Two Grecian colonies, —_— their native country, in ſearch of new; ſeats, were inform

that a city near them was deſerted. by its inhabitants. To know the truth of this report, they! diſpatch'd .at once two meſſengers, one from each colony; who finding on their ap- proach, that their information was true, begun a race toge- ther with an intention to take poſſeſſion of the city, each of them for his countrymen. One of theſe rs, finding that he was not an equal match for the other, launch'd his ſpear at the gates of the city, and was ſo fortunate as to fix

it there before the arrival of his companion, This produc'd

a diſpute betwixt the two. colonies, which of them was the Proprietor of the empty city; and this diſpute {till ſubſiſts among philoſophers. For my part I find the diſpute impoſ ſible to be ed, and that becauſe the whole queſtion hangs upon the fancy, which in this caſe is not poſlefs'd of any preciſe or determinate ſtandard, upon which it can give ſen-

Book III. Of Moral. 89

the property of the whole ; becanſe the ob- SR Or. ject is there bounded and circumſcribd in III. the fancy, and at the ſame time is propor- 571% * tion d to the new poſſeſſor. The fame per- — FE ſon. landing on a deſart iſland, as large as termine Great Britain, extends his property no far- “ NY. ther than his immediate poſſeſſion; tho a numerous colony are eſteem'd the proprietors of the whole from the inſtant of their de- barkment. Bur it often happens, that hs title of firſt poſſeſſion becomes obſcure thro' time; and that tis impoſſible to determine many controverſies, which may ariſe concerning it. In that caſe long poſſeſſion or preſcription na- turally takes place, and gives a perſon a ſuf- ficient property in any thing he n The

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tence. ¶ To make this evident, let us conſider, chat if theſe two perſons had been ſimply, members of the colonies, and not —— or deputies, their actions wou'd not have been of any conſequence ; ſince in that caſe their relation to the colonies wou'd have been but feeble and imperfect. Add to this, that nothing determin d them to run to the gates rather than the walls, or any other part of the city, but that the gates, being the moſt obvious and remarkable part, ſatisfy the fancy beſt © king them for the whole ; as we find by the poets, who gen draw their images and metaphors from them. Beſides, we may conſider, that the touch or contact of the one meſſenger is not pro perly poſſeſſion, no more than the piercing the gates with a ſpear ; but only forms a rela- tion ; and. there is a relation, in the other caſe, equally ob- vious, tho not, perhaps, of equal force. Which of theſe relations, then, conveys a right and property, or whether any of them be ſufficient for that ee, I AAP 2 as are wiſer than myſelf. lh 0

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90 PART II. Of juſtice and inju-

ice.

A Treatiſe of Human Mature. nature of human ſociety admits not of any great accuracy; nor can we always remount to the firſt origin of things, in order to de- termine their preſent condition. Any con- fiderable ſpace of time ſets objects at ſuch a diſtance, that they ſeem, in a manner, to loſe their reality, and have as little influence on the mind, as if they never had been in

being. A man's title, that is clear and cer-

tain at preſent, will ſeem obſcure and doubt- ful fifty years hence, even tho the facts, on which it is founded, ſhou'd be prov'd with the greateſt evidence and certainty. The ſame facts have not the ſame influence after ſo long an interval of time. And this may be receiv'd as a convincing argument for our preceding doctrine with regard to property and juſtice, Poſſeſſion during a long tract of time conveys a title to any object. But as tis certain, that, however every thing be pro-

duc'd in time, there is nothing real, that is

produc'd by time; it follows, that property being produc'd. by time, is not any thing real

in the objects, but is the offspring of the ſen-

timents, on which alone time is found to have any influence. 5; e FG

4 Preſent poſſeſſion is plainly a relation betwixt a perſon and an object; but is not ſufficient to counter-ballance the relation of firſt poſſeſſion, unleſs the former be long and uninterrup ted: In which caſe the relation is encreas'd on the fide =

51 —

5 ; F 4h 8 0 e T , S a "I" o i #3 Id Sd » a -

Wx acquire the property of objects by ac- S ECD. ceſſion, when they are connected in an inti- III. mate manner with objects that are already of . our property, and at the ſame time are infe- 14% rior to them. Thus the fruits of our garden, termine the offspring of our cattle, and the work of T

our ſlaves, are all of them eſteem'd our pro- perty, eyen before poſſeſſion. Where ob- jects are connected together in the imagina- tion, they are apt to be put on the ſame footing, and are commonly ſuppos d to be endow'd with the ſame qualities. We readily paſs from one to the other, and make no

difference in our judgments concerning them;

preſent poſſeſſion, by the extent of time, and diminiſh'd on that of firſt poſſeſſion, by the diſtance. This change in the relation produces a conſequent change in the property.

This ſource of property can never be explain'd but from the imaginations ; and one may affirm, that the cauſes are here unmix'd. We ſhall proceed to explain them more par- ticularly, and illuſtrate them by examples from common life and experience. | | |

It has been obſerv'd above, that the mind has a natural ar qa x4 to join relations, eſpecially reſembling ones, and a kind of fitneſs and uniformity in ſuch an union. From

this propenſity are deriv'd theſe laws of nature, that upon the firfl formation of faciety, property always follows the preſent fofſeſfron ; and afterwards, that it ariſes from firſt or from long poſſeſſian. Naw we may eaſily obſerve, that relation is not confin'd. merely to one degree; but that from an object, that is related to us, we acquire a relation to every other ob- 2 which is related to it, and ſo on, till the thought loſes

e chain by too long a progreſs. However the relation may

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91

92

A Treatiſe of Human Nature.

Parr Tux right of ſucceſſion is a very natural

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one, from the preſum d conſent of the pa- rent or near relation, and from the general

weaken by each remove, tis not immediately deſtroy d; but frequently connects two objects by means of an intermediate one, which is related to both. And this principle is of ſuch force as to give riſe to the right of — and cauſes us to acquire the rpg of ſuch objects as we are immediately poſſels'd of, but allo of ſuch as are cloſely con- need with them. * eee

Suppoſe a German, a Frenchman, and a Spaniard to com>

into a room, where there are plac'd upon the table three

bottles of wine, Rheniſh, Burgundy and Port; and ſuppoſe they ſhou'd fall a quarrelling about the diviſion of them; a on, who was choſen for umpire, wou'd naturally, to ſhew

is ĩmpartiality, give every one the product of his own coun- try: And this from a principle, which, in ſome meaſure, is the ſource of thoſe laws of nature, that aſcribe property to occupation, preſcription and acceſſion part] In all theſe caſes, and particularly that of acceſſion, there is firſt a natural union betwixt the idea of the perſon and that of the object, and afterwards a new and moral union produc'd by that right or property, which we aſcribe to the perſon. But here — occurs a difficulty, ron merits our N and may afford us an opportunity of putting to t fin- gular . — of aun. which has bin whe heb on the preſent ſubject. I have already obſery'd, that the imagina- tion paſſes with greater facility from little to great, than from t to little, and that the tranfition of ideas is always ea-

er and ſmoother in the former caſe than in the latter. Now as the right of acceſſion ariſes from the eaſy tranſition of ideas, by which related objects are connected together, it ſhou'd na- turally be imagin'd, that the right of acceſſion muſt encreaſe in ſtrength, in proportion as the tranfition of ideas is per- form'd with greater facility. It may, therefore, be thought, that when we have acquir'd the property of any ſmall object, we ſhall readily confider any great obje& related to it as an acceſſion, and as belonging to the proprietor of the ſmall one; fince the tranſition is in that caſe very eaſy from the ſmall ob- je& to the great one, and ſhou'd connect them together in the cloſeſt manner. But in fact the caſe: is always *

| * — - ” Eq > 1 „ 4. vu » 0 Wa, *% Þ@ 7 e ware ABEL <0 ra MINI \

| > _ 99 men's poſſeſſions ſhou d paſs to thoſe, who 8 Br. are deareſt to them, in order to render them III. more induſtrious and frugal. Perhaps theſe 8 cauſes are ſeconded by the influence of reia- rules, _

. © which de-

be otherwiſe. The empire of Great Britain ſeems to draw with it the domimon of the Orineys, the Hebrides, the iſle of Man, and the iſle of Fight ; but the authority over thoſe leſſer iſlands does not naturally imply any title to Great Britain. In ſhort, a ſmall object naturally follows a great one-as its acceſſion ; a to be- long to the proprietor of a ſmall one related to it, merely on account of that property and relation. Vet in this latter caſe the tranſition of ideas is ſmoother from the proprietor to the ſmall object, which is his property, and from the ſmall ob- ject to the great one, than in the former caſe from the pro- E to the great object, and from the great one to the all. It may therefore be thought, that theſe phænomena are objections to the foregoing 2 that the aſcribing of property to acceſſion is nothing an affet. of the relations of ideas, and of the ſmooth tranſition of the imagination. "Twill be eaſy to ſolve this objection, if we conſider the agility and unſteadineſs of the imagination, with the dif- ferent views, in, which it is. continually placing its objects. When we attribute to a perſon a property in two objects, we do not always paſs from the perſon to one object, and from that to the other related to it. The objects being here to be conſider d as the property of the perſon, we are apt to join them together, and place them in the ſame light. Suppoſe, therefore, a great and a ſmall object to be related together ; if a perſon be ſtrongl related to the great object, he will likewiſe be ſtrongly related to both the objects, conſiderd to- woes becauſe he is related to the moſt - conſiderable part. the contrary, if he be only related to the {mall object, he will not be ſtrongly related to both, confider'd together, fince his relation lies only with the moſt trivial part, which is not apt to ſtrike us in any great degree, when we conſider the whole. And this is the reaſon, why ſmall objects be- come acceſſions to great ones, and not great to ſmall. Tiis the general opinion of philoſophers and civilians, that the ſea is incapable of becoming the property of any nation: and that becauſe tis impoſſible to take poſſeſſion of it, or form any ſuch. diſtin, relation with it, as may be the foundation of n | property.

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94 MA Treatiſe of Human Nature.

PART ion, or the aſſociation of ideas, by which we

II. are naturally directed to conſider the ſon af-

of te ter the parent's deceaſe, and' aſcribe to him a

= oo” title to his'father's poſſeſſions. Thoſe =o v mu

property. Where this reaſon ceaſes, property immediately The place. 'Thus the moſt ſtrenuous advocates for the liberty of the ſeas univerſally allow, that friths and bays naturally belong as an acceſſion to the proprietors of the ſurroundin continent. Theſe have properly no more bond or union wi the land, than the pacific ocean wou'd have; but having an union in the fancy, and being at the ſame time inferior, they are of courſe regarded as an acceſſioon. oe The property of rivers, by the laws of moſt nations, and by the natural turn of our thought, is attributed to the pro- prietors of their banks, excepting ſuch + vaſt rivers as the Rhine or the Danube, which ſeem too large to the imagina- tion to follow as an acceflion the property of the neighbour- ing fields. Yet even theſe rivers are conſider'd as the property of that nation, thro' whoſe dominions they run; the idea of a nation being of a ſuitable bulk to correſpond with them, and bear them ſuch a relation in the fancy. c The acceſſions, which are made to lands bordering upon a Frans rivers, follow the land, ſay the civilians, ided it be made — by what they call a/luvion, that is, inſenſibly and impercepti- a bly ; which are circumſtances that mightily aſſiſt the imagina- tion in the conjunction. Where there is any conſiderable ion torn at once from one bank, and join'd to another, it —— not his property, whoſe land it falls on, till it unite with the land, and till the trees or plants have ſpread their roots into both. Before that, the imagination does not ſuf- ficiently join them. | Ste ; There are other caſes, which ſomewhat reſemble this of acceſſion, but which, at the bottom, are confiderably differ- ent, and merit our attention. Of this kind is the conjunction of the properties of different perſons, after ſuch a manner as not to admit of ſeparation. The queſtion is, to whom the united maſs muſt belong. 7 24U4 . Where this conjunction is of ſuch a nature as to admit of diviſion, but not of ſeparation, the deciſion is natural and eaſy, The whole maſs muſt be ſuppos'd' to be common be- twixt the proprietors of the ſeveral parts, and afterwards muſt be divided according to the proportions of theſe parts. = * ere

Book II. . Of Morals...

muſt become the property of ſome body : Szc T.

But of whom is the queſtion. Here tis evi- III.

dent the perſons Ha naturally preſent 57X.YY Of the them- rules,

121

Hits e e ene notice of a remarkable ſubtil

of the Roman law, in diſtinguiſhing betwixt confuffon and — te

mixtion.” Confufion is an union of two bodies, ſuch as differ- ent liquors, where the parts become entirely undiſtinguiſha- ble. Commixtion is the blending of two bodies, ſuch as two buſhels of corn, where the parts remain ſeparate in an obvious and viſible manner. As in the latter caſe the imagination dif- covers not ſo entire an union as in the former, but is able to trace and preſerye a diſtinc̃t idea of the property of each ; this is the reaſon, why the civil law, tho? it eſtabliſl'd an entire community in the caſe of confuſion, and after that a - tional diviſion, yet in the caſe of commrxtion, ſupple tack of 2 rietors to: maintain — right; however ne- at laſt force them to ſubmit to the ſame diviſion. 3 Titii frumento tuo miſtum fuerit : faui- a ex of tw te veſtra, commune eft : quia fingula corpora, id eft, fingula grana, que cujuſque propria fuerunt, ex conſenſu veſtro communicata ſunt, Quo ſi caſu id miſtum fuerit, vel Titius id miſcuerit fine tua voluntate, non videtur id commune M; quia fingula corpora in ſua ſubſtantia durunt. Sed nec magis iſtis caſibus — fit frumentum quam grex intelligi- tur ofſe communis, ft pecora Titii tui, pecoribus miſſa fwerine. Sed-fi ab alterutro veflrim totum id frumentum retineatur, in rem quidem attio pro modo frumenti cujuſque competit. Arbi-

trio autem judicis, ut ipſe æſtimet quale cujuſque frumentum fuerit. Inſt. Lib. II. Tit. 1. 6. 28.

Where the properties of two perſons are united aſter ſuch a manner as neither to admit of diviſon nor Separation, 2s when one builds a houſe on another's ground, in that caſe, the whole muſt belong to one of the proprietors : : And here I aſſert, that ĩt naturally is conceiv'd to belong to the proprietor of the moſt conſiderable part. For however the compound object may have a relation to two different perſons, and carry . 2 of them, yet as _— conſider- able OPM Ven our attention, the ſtrict

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A Treatiſe of Human dualer,

Pax themſelves to the mind; and being

E 4

„ nee to thoſe poſlſſions _ means "of

This quality depends on —— different KO" 20S

which have little connexion with each other. One

of a compound object may become more conſiderable

another, either becauſe it is more conſtant a hy en

becauſe it is of greater value; becauſe it is more. obyi- ous and remarkable; — 2 or be- will

| 8

the proprietor of the metal, betauſe it can be —

4

vally ballanc' d, that tis 3 ive any ſatiſ- e ee Here then is the proper Es of muni- cipal laws, to fix what the principles. ot, pros va left undetermin'd,.

The ſuperſicies yields to the. ſoil, fays the civil uw: The writing to the pa The canvas to the picture. Theſe de- ciſions do not agree together, and are a proof of the con-

trariety of thoſe. principles, from which they are deriv d.

But of all —— of this kind the moſt cutiom bs that, which for ſo many ages divided the diſciples of Proculus and N Suppoſe a perſon ſhou'd make a _ from the metal of another, or a ſhip from his wood, and ſuppoſe. the proprietor. of the metal or wood: ſhon'd demand his goods, the queſtion is. Whether he acquires a title to the cup or ſhip. Sabinus. maintain'd the affirmative, and aſſerted that the ſub- ſtance or matter is the foundation of all the qualities; that it is incorruptible and immortal, and therefore ſuperior to the form, which is caſual and dependent. On the other hand, Proculus obſerv id, that the form is the moſt obvious and re- markable part, and that from it bodies are denominated of this or that particular ſpecies. To which he might have ad- ded, that the matter or ſubſtance is in moſt bodies ſo fluctua-

ting and uncertain, that tis utterly impoſſible to trace it in all

its changes. For my part, I know not from chat. princi ſuch a controverſy can be certainly determin'd. I ſhall there - fore content my ſelf with obſerving, that the deciſion of Fre- bonian ſeems to me pretty i that the cup belongs to

to its, firſt form: Bar thae the — form for a contrary reaſon. But however ingenious this . ' On

be 2 -

their deceas d parent, we are apt to connect 8 E cr. them ſtill farther by the relation of property. III. Of this there are many parallel inſtances .

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SO ie Of the rules

hich de- ſon may ſeem, it y „which by | the — — 2 D , . a connexion e relation betwixt a cup and the „ * o where the a ſubſtance is more _ and unalterable. In examining the different titles to authority in govern- ment, we - ſhall meet with many reaſons to convince us, that be of ſucceſſion depends, in a great, meaſure on the imagination. Lern contented with ob- , which belongs to the preſent ſubject. E a on die without children, and that a diſpute ariſes * among his relations concerning his inheritance ; 3 *tis evident, that if Ks riches be der partly from his fer y from his mother, the moſt natural way of determi uch a diſpute, is, to divide his poſſeſſions, and aſſign part to the family, from whence it is deriv'd. NoT = the perſon is ſuppos'd to have been once the full and entire pro- prietor of thoſe goods; I aſk, what is it makes us find a | certain equity and natural reaſon in this partition, except it En His affection to theſe families does not depend upon his poſſeſſions; for which reaſon his conſent can

1 1 T *

never 3 245 preciſely for ſuch a partition. And as to the public intereſt, it ſeems not to be in the leaſt concern'd on the one fide or the other.

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gs Treatiſe 15 Human Nature. SECT. W.

of the transference of property ”

conſent.

'Srcr. OWEVER uſeful, or eyen neceſſary,

IV. the ſtability of poſſeſſion may be to —YY human fociety, tis attended with very con- ſiderable inconveniences. The relation of | fitneſs or ſuitableneſs ought never to enter into conſideration, in diſtributing the pro- perties of mankind ; but we muſt govern ourſelves by rules, which are more general in their application, and more. free from doubt and uncertainty, Of this kind is preſent poſſeſſion upon the firſt eſtabliſhment of ſociety; and afterwards occupation, pre- ſeription, acceſſion, and ſucceſſion. As theſe depend very much on chance, they muſt frequently prove contradictory both to men's wants and deſires; and perſons and poſ- ſeſſions muſt often be very ill adjuſted. This is a grand inconvenience, which calls for a remedy. To apply one directly, and allow every man to ſeize by violence what he Judges to be fit for him, wou'd deſtroy ſociety 3 and therefore the rules of juſtice ſeek

Book III. Of Morals. 99 ſeek ſome medium betwixt a rigid ſtability, S Er. and this changeable and uncertain adjuſt- IV. ment. But there is no medium better than 55 1h, © that obvious one, that poſſeſſion and pro- ” cas [Hl perty ſhou'd always be ſtable, except when er

the proprietor, eenſents to beſtow them on M. eee ſome other perſon. This rule can have no ill conſequence, in occafioning wars and diſſentions; ſince the proprietor's conſent, who alone is concern'd, is taken along in the alienation; And it may ſerve to many good purpoſes in adjuſting property to per- ſons. Different parts of the earth produce different commodities ; and not only fo, but different men both are by nature fitted for different employments, and attain to greater perfection in any one, when they confine themſelves to it alone. All this requires a mutual exchange and commerce ; for which reaſon the tranſlation of property by conſent is founded on a law of nature, as well as its ſtability without ſuch a conſent.

So far is determin'd by a plain utility and intereſt, But perhaps 'tis from more trivial reaſons, that delivery, or a ſenſible tranſ- ference of the object is commonly requir'd by civil laws, and alſo by the laws of na- ture, according to moſt authors, as a requi- lite 6 in the tranſlation of pro-

4 perty.

: Sp ot taken for ſomething real, without any re-

ice.

10 A Treatiſe of Human Mature. PAR r perty. The property of an object, when

Gale r ference to morality, or the ſentiments of the and ij. mind, is a quality perfectly inſenſible, and even inconceivable; nor can we form diſtinct notion, either of its ſtability or tranſlation. This imperfection of our ideas is leſs ſenſibly felt with regard to its ſtability, as it engages leſs our attention, and is eaſily paſt over by the mind, without any ſcru- pulous examination, But as the tranſlation of property from one perſon to another is a more remarkable event, the defect of our ideas becomes more ſenſible on that occa- ſion, and obliges us to turn ourſelves on every fide in ſearch of ſome remedy. Now as nothing more enlivens any idea than a preſent impreſſion, and a relation betwixt that impreſſion and the idea ; 'tis natural for us to feek ſome falſe light from this quarter. In order to aid the imagination in conceiving the transference of property, we take the ſenſible object, and actually transfer its poſ- ſeſſion to the perſon, on whom we wou d beſtow the property. The ſuppos d reſem- blance of the actions, and the preſence of this ſenſible delivery, deceive the mind, and make it fancy, that it conceives the myſte- rious tranſition of the property. And 1

Book III. Of Morals. ror this explication of the matter is juſt, appears $ E . l hence, that men have invented a hmbolicat IV

; delivery, to fatisfy the fancy, where the 55 3,”

: real one is impraktieable. Thus the giving arr the keys of a granary is underſtood to be jerry

7 the delivery of the corn contain'd in it: .

1 The giving of ſtone and earth repreſents the

2 delivery of a mannor. This is a kind of

« ſuperſtitious practice in civil laws, and in the

J laws of nature, reſembling the Roman catho-

” lic ſaperſtitions in religion. As the Roman

10 catholics repreſent the inconceivable myſteries

M of the Chriſtian religion, and render them

15 more preſent to the mind, by a taper, or

* habit, or grimace, which is ſuppos d to re-

00s ſemble them; ſo lawyers and moralifts have

* run into like inventions for the ſame reaſon,

N and have endeavour d by thoſe means to

* ſatisfy themſelves concerning the transference

wn of property by conſent.

n

a # A i "Wl.

of-

u'd Of the obligation of promiſes.

m- \

of HAT the rule of morality, which

4 enjoins the performance of promiſes,

hs is not natural, will ſufficiently appear from

his H 3 *

102 A Treatiſe of Human Mature.

PART theſe two propoſitions, which I proceed to II. prove, viz. that a promiſe wwou'd not be in-

Haas, telligible, before human conventions bad eftab-

and inju- liſh d it; and that. even if it were intelli-

* gible, it uod not be attended with any moral obligation.

I say, firſt, that a promiſe i is not t intell. gible naturaliy, nor antecedent to human con- ventions; and that a man, unacquainted with ſociety, could never enter into any engagements with another, even tho they could perceive each other's thoughts by in- tuition. If promiſes be natural and intelli-

gible, there muſt be ſome act of the mind attending theſe words, I promiſe; and on this act of the mind muſt the obligation de- pend. Let us, therefore, run over all the faculties of the ſoul, and ſee which of them is exerted in our promiſes.

Tu act of the mind, expreſt by a pro- miſe, is not a reſolution to perform any thing: For that alone never impoſes any ob- ligation. Nor is it a defire of ſuch a per- formance: For we may bind ourſelves with- out ſuch a deſire, or even with an averſion, declar'd and avow'd. Neither is it the will- ing of that action, which we promiſe. to perform: For a promiſe always regards ſome future time, and the will has an influence

I only

—

1

Book III. C/ Morals. * 103 ) only on preſent actions. It follows, there- Sx c T. . — that ſince the act of the mind, which V. a enters into a promiſe, and produces its obli- 2 N gation, is neither the reſolving, deſiring, nor 4 — f { willing any particular performance, it muſt neceſſarily be the willing of that obligation, . which ariſes from the promiſe. Nor is this

only a concluſion of philoſophy ; but is en- tirely conformable to our common ways of thinking and of expreſſing ourſelves, when we ſay that we are bound by our own con- ſent, and that the obligation ariſes from our mere will and pleaſure, The only queſtion, then, is, whether there be not a manifeſt abſurdity in ſuppoſing this act of the mind, and ſuch an abſurdity as no man cou'd fall

into, whoſe ideas are not confounded, avith- , +

| prejudice and the fallacious uſe of language. : AL - morality depends upon our ſenti- ments; and when any action, or quality of the mind, pleaſes us after a certain man- ner, we ſay it is virtuous; and when the neglect, or non- performance of it, diſpleaſes us after a hke manner, we ſay that we lie under an obligation to perform it. A change of the obligation ſuppoſes a change of the ſentiment ; and a creation of a new obliga- tion ſuppoſes ſome new ſentiment to ariſe. Bot tis certain we can naturally no more | H 4 changs

104 A Treatiſe of Human Mature. PART change our own ſentiments, than the mo- II. tions of the heavens; nor by a fingle act Of juice of our will, that is, by a promiſe, render 2 e any action agreeable. or diſagreeable, moral F or immoral ; which, without that act, wou'd have produc'd contrary impreſſions, or have been endow'd with different qualities. It ( wage be abſutd, therefore, to will any new obligation, that is, any new ſentiment of pain or pleaſure; nor is it poſſible, that men cou'd naturally fall into fo groſs an ab- ſurdity. A promiſe, therefore, is naturally ſomething altogether unintelligible, nor is thete any act of the mind belonging to it. e | t Bu r

Were morality diſcoverable by reaſon, and not by ſenti- ment, twou'd be ſtill more evident, that promiſes cou d make no alteration upon it. Morality is ſappos'd to conſiſt in relation. Every new impoſition of morality, therefore, mult ariſe from ſome new relation of objects; and conſe- quently the will cou'd not produce immediately any change in morals, but cou'd have that effect only by producing a change upon the objects. But as the moral obli Len ur froth e is the pure effect of the will, without the leaſt change in any part of the univerſe; it follows, that promiſes have no natural obligation. |

Shou d it be faid, that this act of the will being in effect

8 a new object, produces new relations and new duties; I

f wou'd anſwer, that this is a pure ſophiſm, which may be detected by a very moderate ſhare of accuracy and exactneſs. To will a new obligation, is to will a new relation of objects; and therefore, if this new relation of objects were form'd b the volition itſelf, we ſhou'd in effeft will the volition; whic is plainly abſurd and impoſſible. The will has here no object to which it cou'd tend; but muſt return upon itſelf in in: Fnitum. The new obligation depends ppon new 0 |

Book III. Of Moral 0g Bur, ſecondly, if there was any act of SECT.

the mind belonging to it, it could not na- V. turally produce any obligation. This ap- Nel pears evidently from the foregoing reaſoning. ie of A promiſe creates a new obligation. A new? obligation ſuppoſes new ſentiments to ariſe. The will never creates new ſentiments. There could not naturally, therefore, ariſe any obligation from a promiſe, even ſup- poſing the mind could fall into the abſur- dity of willing that obligation,

Tun fame truth may be prov'd ſtill more evidently by that reaſoning, which prov'd juſtice in general to be an artificial virtue. No action can be requir'd of us as our duty, unleſs there be implanted in human nature ſome actuating paſſion or motive, capable of producing the action. This motive cannot be the ſenſe of duty. A ſenſe of duty ſup- poſes an antecedent obligation : And where an action is not requir'd by any natural paſſion, it cannot be requir'd by any natural obligation ; fince it may be omitted without

proving

The new relations n a new volition. The new volition has for obje&t a new obligation, and —_— new relations, and conſequently a new' volition z which voli- tion again has in view a new obligation, relation and volition, without any termination. *Tis impoſſible, therefore, we cou'd ever will a new obligation ; and conſequently tis im- poſſible the will cou'd ever accompany a promiſe, or produce - $ new obligation of morality,

106 A Treatiſe of Hokies Wature/

PAR r proving any defect or imperfection in the * mind and temper, and conſequently without Y Of jaftice any vice. Now tis evident we have no 20795 inju- motive e us to the performance of | a, promiſes, diſtinct from a ſenſe of duty. If we thought, that promiſes had no moral obligation, we never ſhou'd feel any incli- nation to obſerve them. This is not the | caſe: with the natural virtues. Tho' there | was no obligation to relieve the miſera- ble, our humanity wou'd lead us to it; and when we omit that duty, the immorality of the omiſſion ariſes from its being a. proof, that we want the natural ſentiments of hu- | manity. A father knows it to be his duty 3 to take care of his children: But he ...5 7 alſo a natural inclination to it. And if no | human creature had that inclination, no one cou'd lie under any ſuch obligation. But |