virtues. The ancient moralists, both Greek and Roman, under the cardinal virtue of justice, included beneficence; and in this extensive sense it is often used in common language. The like may be said of right, which, in a sense not uncommon, is extended to every proper claim of humanity and charity, as well as to the claims of strict justice. But, as it is proper to distinguish these two kinds of claims by different names, writers in natural jurisprudence have given the name of perfect rights to the claims of strict justice, and that of imperfect rights to the claims of charity and humanity. Thus, all the duties of humanity have imperfect rights corresponding to them, as those of strict justice have perfect rights.

Another objection may be, That there is still a class of duties to which no right, perfect or imperfect, corresponds.

We are bound in duty to pay due respect, not only to what is truly the right of another, but to what, through ignorance or mistake, we believe to be his right. Thus, if my neighbour is possessed of a horse which he stole, and to which he has no right; while I believe the horse to be really his, and am ignorant of the theft, it is my duty to pay the same respect to this conceived right as if it were real. Here, then, is a moral obligation on one party, without any corresponding right on the other.

To supply this defect in the system of rights, so as to make right and duty correspond in every instance, writers in jurisprudence have had recourse to something like what is called a fiction of law. They give the name of right to the claim which even the thief hath to the goods he has stolen, while the theft is unknown, and to all similar claims grounded on the ignorance or mistake of the parties concerned. And to distinguish this kind of right from genuine rights, perfect or imperfect, they call it an external right.

Thus it appears, That although a system of the perfect rights of men, or the rights of strict justice, would be a lame substitute for a system of human duty; yet when we add to it the imperfect and the external rights, it comprehends the whole duty we owe to our fellow-men.

But it may be asked, Why should men be taught their duty in this indirect way, by reflection, as it were, from the rights of other men?

Perhaps it may be thought, that this indirect way may be more agreeable to the pride of man, as we see that men of rank like better to hear of obligations of honour than of obligations of duty, (although the dictates of true honour and of duty be the same), for this reason, that honour puts a man in mind of what he owes to himself, whereas duty is a more humiliating idea. For a like reason, men may attend more willingly to their rights, which put them in mind of their dignity, than to their duties, which suggest their dependence. And we see that men may give great attention to their rights who give but little to their duty.

Whatever truth there may be in this, I believe better reasons can be given why systems of natural jurisprudence have been contrived and put in the place of systems of morals.

Systems of civil law were invented many ages before we had any system of natural jurisprudence; and the former seem to have suggested the idea of the latter.

Such is the weakness of human understanding, that no large body of knowledge can be easily apprehended and remembered, unless it be arranged and methodised, that is, reduced into a system. When the laws of the Roman people were multiplied to a great degree, and the study of them became an honourable and lucrative profession, it became necessary that hey should be methodised into a system. And the most natural and

obvious way of methodising law was found to be according to the divisions and subdivisions of men's rights, which it is the intention of law to protect. The study of law produced not only systems of law, but a language proper for expressing them. Every art has its terms of art, for expressing the conceptions that belong to it; and the civilian must have terms for expressing accurately the divisions and subdivisions of rights, and the various ways whereby they may be acquired, transferred, or extinguished, in the various transactions of civil society. He must have terms accurately defined for the various crimes by which men's rights are violated, not to speak of the terms which express the different forms of action at law, and the various steps of the procedure of judicatories.

Those who have been bred to any profession are very prone to use the terms of their profession in speaking or writing on subjects that have any analogy to it. And they may do so with advantage, as terms of art are commonly more precise in their signification, and better defined, than the words of common language. To such persons it is also very natural to model and arrange other subjects, as far as their nature admits, into a method similar to that of the system which fills their minds.

It might, therefore, be expected, that a civilian, intending to give a detailed system of morals, would use many of the terms of civil law, and mould it, as far as it can be done, into the form of a system of law, or of the rights of mankind.

The necessary and close relation of right to duty, which we before observed, justified this: and moral duty had long been considered as a law of nature; a law, not wrote on tables of stone or brass, but on the heart of man; a law of greater antiquity and higher authority than the laws of particular states; a law which is binding upon all men of all nations, and therefore is called by Cicero the law of nature and of nations.

The idea of a system of this law was worthy of the genius of the immortal Hugo Grotius, and he was the first who executed it in such a manner, as to draw the attention of the learned in all the European nations; and to give occasion to several princes and states to establish public professions for the teaching of this law.

The multitude of commentators and annotators upon this work of Grotius, and the public establishments to which it gave occasion, are sufficient vouchers of its merit.

It is, indeed, a work so well designed, and so skilfully executed; so free from the scholastic jargon which infected the learned at that time, so much addressed to the common sense and moral judgment of mankind, and so agreeably illustrated by examples from ancient history, and authorities from the sentiments of ancient authors, Heathen and Christian, that it must always be esteemed as the capital work of a great genius upon a most important subject.

The utility of a just system of natural jurisprudence appears, 1. As it is a system of the moral duty we owe to men, which, by the aid they have taken from the terms and divisions of the civil law, has been given more in detail and more systematically by writers in natural jurisprudence than it was formerly. 2. As it is the best preparation for the study of law, being, as it were, cast in the mould, and using and explaining many of the terms of the civil law, on which the law of most of the European nations is grounded. 3. It is of use to lawyers, who ought to make their laws as agreeable as possible to the laws of nature. And as laws made by men, like all human works, must be imperfect, it points out the errors and imperfections of human laws. 4. To judges and interpreters of the law is

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is of use, because that interpretation ought to be preferred which is founded in the law of nature. 5. It is of use in civil controversies between states, or between individuals who have no common superior. In such controversies, the appeal must be made to the law of nature; and the standard systems of it, particularly that of Grotius, have great authority. And 6, to say no more upon this point, it is of great use to sovereigns and states, who are above all human laws, to be solemnly admonished of the conduct they are bound to observe to their own subjects, to the subjects of other states, and to one another in peace and in war. The better and the more generally the law of nature is understood, the greater dishonour, in public estimation, will follow every violation of it.

Some authors have imagined, that systems of natural jurisprudence ought to be confined to the perfect rights of men, because the duties which correspond to the imperfect rights, the duties of charity and humanity, cannot be enforced by human laws, but must be left to the judgment and conscience of men, free from compulsion. But the systems which have had the greatest applause of the public have not followed this plan, and, I conceive, for good reasons. First, Because a system of perfect rights could by no means serve the purpose of a system of morals, which surely is an important purpose. Secondly, Because, in many cases, it is hardly possible to fix the precise limit between justice and humanity, between perfect and imperfect right. Like the colours in a prismatic image, they run into each other, so that the best eye cannot fix the precise boundary between them. Thirdly, As wise legislators and magistrates ought to have it as their end to make the citizens good, as well as just, we find, in all civilized nations, laws that are intended to encourage the duties of humanity. Where human laws cannot enforce them by punishments, they may encourage them by rewards. Of this the wisest legislators have given examples; and how far this branch of legisla tion may be carried, no man can foresee.

The substance of the four following chapters was wrote long ago, and read in a literary society, with a view to justify some points of morals from metaphysical objections urged against them in the writings of David Hume, Esq. If they answer that end, and, at the same time, serve to illustrate the account I have given of our moral powers, it is hoped that the reader will not think them improperly placed here; and that he will forgive some repetitions, and perhaps anachronisms, occasioned by their being wrote at different times, and on different occasions.

CHAPTER IV.

WHETHER AN ACTION DESERVING MORAL APPROBATION MUST BE DONE WITH THE BELIEF OF ITS BEING MORALLY GOOD.

THERE is no part of philosophy more subtile and intricate than that which is called The Theory of Morals. Nor is there any more plain and level to the apprehension of man than the practical part of morals.

In the former, the Epicurean, the Peripatetic, and the Stoic, had each his different system of old; and almost every modern author of reputation has a system of his own. At the same time, there is no branch of human knowledge in which there is so general an agreement among ancients and moderns, learned and unlearned, as in the practical rules of morals.

From this discord in the theory, and harmony in the practical part, we

may judge, that the rules of morality stand upon another and a firmer foundation than the theory. And of this it is easy to perceive the reason.

For, in order to know what is right and what is wrong in human conduct, we need only listen to the dictates of our conscience, when the mind is calm and unruffled, or attend to the judgment we form of others in like circumstances. But, to judge of the various theories of morals, we must be able to analyse and dissect, as it were, the active powers of the human mind, and especially to analyse accurately that conscience or moral power by which we discern right from wrong.

eye

The conscience may be compared to the eye in this, as in many other respects. The learned and the unlearned see objects with equal distinctness. The former have no title to dictate to the latter, as far as the is judge, nor is there any disagreement about such matters. But, to dissect the eye, and to explain the theory of vision, is a difficult point, wherein the most skilful have differed.

From this remarkable disparity between our decisions in the theory of morals and in the rules of morality, we may, I think, draw this conclusion, That wherever we find any disagreement between the practical rules of morality, which have been received in all ages, and the principles of any of the theories advanced upon this subject, the practical rules ought to be the standard by which the theory is to be corrected, and that it is both unsafe and unphilosophical to warp the practical rules, in order to make them tally with a favourite theory.

The question to be considered in this chapter belongs to the practical part of morals, and therefore is capable of a more easy and more certain determination. And if it be determined in the affirmative, I conceive that, it may serve as a touchstone to try some celebrated theories which are inconsistent with that determination, and which have led the theorists to oppose it by very subtile metaphysical arguments.

Every question about what is or is not the proper object of moral approbation belongs to practical morals, and such is the question now under consideration: Whether actions deserving moral approbation must be done with the belief of their being morally good? Or, Whether an action, done without any regard to duty or to the dictates of conscience, can be entitled to moral approbation?

In every action of a moral agent, his conscience is either altogether silent, or it pronounces the action to be good, or bad, or indifferent. This, I think, is a complete enumeration. If it be perfectly silent, the action must be very trifling, or appear so. For conscience, in those who have exercised it, is a very pragmatical faculty, and meddles with every part of our conduct, whether we desire its counsel or not. And what a man does in perfect simplicity, without the least suspicion of its being bad, his heart cannot condemn him for, nor will he that knows the heart condemn him. If there was any previous culpable negligence or inattention which led him to a wrong judgment, or hindered his forming a right one, that I do not exculpate. I only consider the action done, and the disposition with which it was done, without its previous circumstances. And in this there appears nothing that merits disapprobation. As little can it merit any degree of moral approbation, because there was neither good nor ill intended. And the same may be said when conscience pronounces the action to be indifferent.

If, in the second place, I do what my conscience pronounces to be bad or dubious, I am guilty to myself, and justly deserve the disapprobation of others. Nor am I less guilty in this case, though what I judged to be bad

should happen to be good or indifferent. I did it believing it to be bad, and this is an immorality.

Lastly, If I do what my conscience pronounces to be right and my duty, either I have some regard to duty, or I have none. The last is not supposable; for I believe there is no man so abandoned, but that he does what he believes to be his duty with more assurance and alacrity upon that account. The more weight the rectitude of the action has in determining me to do it, the more I approve of my own conduct. And if my worldly interest, my appetites or inclinations, draw me strongly the contrary way, my following the dictates of my conscience, in opposition to these motives, adds to the moral worth of the action.

When a man acts from an erroneous judgment, if his error be invincible, all agree that he is inculpable: But if his error be owing to some previous negligence or inattention, there seems to be some difference among moralists. This difference, however, is only seeming and not real. For wherein lies the fault in this case? It must be granted by all that the fault lies in this, and solely in this, that he was not at due pains to have his judgment well informed. Those moralists, therefore, who consider the action and the previous conduct that led to it as one whole, find something to blame in the whole and they do so most justly. But those who take this whole to pieces, and consider what is blameable and what is right in each part, find all that is blameable in what preceded this wrong judgment, and nothing but what is approvable in what followed it.

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Let us suppose, for instance, that a man believes that God has indispensably required him to observe a very rigorous fast in Lent; and that, from a regard to this supposed divine command, he fasts in such manner as is not only a great mortification to his appetite, but even hurtful to his health.

His superstitious opinion may be the effect of a culpable negligence, for which he can by no means be justified. Let him, therefore, bear all the blame upon this account that he deserves. But now, having this opinion fixed in his mind, shall he act according to it, or against it? Surely we cannot hesitate a moment in this case. It is evident, that in following the light of his judgment, he acts the part of a good and pious man; whereas, in acting contrary to his judgment, he would be guilty of wilful disobedience to his Maker.

If my servant, by mistaking my orders, does the contrary of what I commanded, believing, at the same time, that he obeys my orders, there may be some fault in his mistake, but to charge him with the crime of disobedience would be inhuman and unjust.

These determinations appear to me to have intuitive evidence, no less than that of mathematical axioms. A man who is come to years of understanding, and who has exercised his faculties in judging of right and wrong, sees their truth as he sees day-light. Metaphysical arguments brought against them have the same effect as when brought against the evidence of sense; they may puzzle and confound, but they do not convince. It appears evident, therefore, that those actions only can truly be called virtuous, or deserving of moral approbation, which the agent believed to be right, and to which he was influenced, more or less, by that belief.

If it should be objected, That this principle makes it to be of no consequence to a man's morals what his opinions may be, providing he acts agreeably to them, the answer is easy.

Morality requires not only that a man should act according to his judg