sire of praise, though it is not visible to us. But, to reasoning of this sort there is no limit. If we be fond of paradoxes, it is easy to assert that there is no such state as that of health,-and to prove it in exactly the same manner, by showing, that many who seem blooming and vigorous are the victims of some inward malady; and that it is, therefore, impossible for us, in pointing out any one, to say, there is health in this young and active form; since the bloom which we admire may be only the covering of a disease that is soon to prey on the very beauty which it seemed, perhaps for the time, to heighten with additional loveliness. If it be easy to make a little system like that of Mandeville, which reduces all virtue to the love of praise, it is just as easy to reverse the system, and to make all love of praise a modification of the purest virtue. We love it, it may be said, merely that we may give delight to those who love us, and who feel a lively interest in all the honours which can be lavished on us. This theory may be false, or rather truly is so; but however false, or even absurd, it is as philosophic in every respect as the opposite theory of Mandeville, since it proceeds, exactly in the same words, on the exclusive consideration of a certain elementary part of our mixed nature, and extends universally what is only partially true. Indeed, the facts which support it, if every one were to consult his memory, in the earliest years to which he can look back on his original feelings, are stronger, in support of this false generous hypothesis, than of that false ungenerous hypothesis, to which I have opposed it. What delight did the child feel, in all his little triumphs, when he thought of the pleasure which his parents were to feel? When his lesson was well learned, and rewarded with its due commendation, there were other ears than those around, which he would have wished to have heard; and if any little prize was allotted as a memorial of excellence, the pleasure which he felt on receiving it was slight, compared with the pleasure, with which he afterwards saw it in other hands, and looked to other eyes, when he returned to his home. Such, it might be said, is the origin of that love of praise which we feel; and its growth, in the progress of life, when praise is sought in greater objects, is only the growth of the same generous passion. But I will not dwell longer on an hypothesis which I have stated as false, and obviously false, though, obviously false as it is, it is at least as well founded as that of Mandeville. My only object is to show you, by this complete reversal of his reasoning, with equal semblance of probability, that his hypothesis is but an hypothesis. But how comes it in this system, which must account for our own emotions, as well as for the emotions of others, that we do approve of certain actions, as virtuous, without valuing them for the mere love of praise; and condemn even the love of praise itself, when the good of the world is intentionally sacrificed to it? I will admit, for a moment, to Mandeville, that we are all hypocrites-that we know the game of human life, and play our parts in it accordingly. In such circumstances, we may indeed assume the appearance of virtue ourselves, but how is it, that we feel approbation of others assuming the same disguise, when we are aware of its nature, and know virtue in all the actions which go under that well sounding name, to be only a more or less skilful attempt at imposition? The mob, in the gallery, may, indeed, wonder at all the transmutations in the pantomime; and the silliest among them may believe that Harlequin has turned the Clown into a fruit-stand, and himself into a fruit-woman : but however wide the wonder, or the belief may be, he who in vented these very changes, or is merely one of the subordinate shifters of the scenery, cannot surely be a partaker of the illusion. What juggler ever deceived his own eyes? Katerfelto, indeed, is described by Cowper, as, "with his hair on end, at his own wonders wondering." But Katerfelto himself, who wondered for his bread," could not feel much astonishment, even when he was fairly giving the greatest astonishment to others. It must be the same with the moral juggler. He knows the cheat; and he cannot feel admiration. If he can truly feel esteem, he feels that love of virtue, and consequently that distinction of actions, as virtuous or worthy of moral approbation, which Mandeville denies. He may be a dupe, indeed, in the particular case, but he cannot even be a dupe, without believing, that virtue is something nobler than a fraud; and if he believe virtue to be more noble, he must have feelings nobler than any which the system of Mandeville allows. In believing that it is possible for man not to be a hypocrite, he may be considered, almost as proving, that he has not, uniformly, been a hypocrite himself. Even if the belief of a system of this sort, which, as we have seen, has no force but that which it derives from the very common paralogism, of asserting the universal truth of a partial conclusion-even if this miserable belief were to have no tendency directly injurious to the morals of those who admit it, the mere loss of happiness which it would occasion, by the constant feeling of distrust to which it must give rise, would of itself, be no slight evil. To regard even every stranger, on whom our eyes could fall, as engaged in an unremitting plan of deceit,—all deceiving, and all to a certain degree deceived, would be to look on society with feelings that would make absolute solitude comparatively pleasing; and, if to regard strangers in this light would be so dreadful, how far more dreadful would it be, to look, ith the same distrust, on those in whom we had been accustomto confide as friends-to see dissimulation in every eye,-in the look of fondness of the parent, the wife, the child, the very caress and seeming innocence of infancy-and to think, that, the softer every tone of affection was to our ear, the more profound was the falsehood, which had made it softer, only that it might the more surely deceive! It is gratifying to find, that a system, which would make this dreadful transformation of the whole moral world, is but an hypothesis; and an hypothesis so unwarrantable, because so inconsistent with every feeling of our heart. Yet it is unfortunately a paradox, which admits of much satirical picturing; and, while few pause sufficiently to discover its logical imperfections, it is very possible that some minds may be seduced by the mere lively colouring of the pictures, to suppose, in spite of all the better feelings of which they are conscious, that the representation which is given of human life is true, because a few characters in human life are truly drawn. A rash assent may be given to the seeming penetration which such a view of the supposed artifices of morality involves; and after assent is once rashly given, the very generosity that might have appeared to confute the system, will be regarded only as an exemplification of it. I feel it the more my duty, therefore, to warn you against the adoption of a system, so false to the excellence of our moral nature-not because it is false only-though, even from the grossness of its theoretic falsehood alone, it is unworthy of a single moment's philosophic assent; but still more because the adoption of it must poison the virtue, and the happiness still more than the virtue, of every mind which admits it. There is scarcely any action for which it is not possible to invent some unworthy motive. If our system required the invention of one, the invention, we may be sure, will very speedily take place; and, with the loss of that amiable confidence of virtue, which believed and was believed, how much of happiness, too, will be lost; or rather, how little happiness will afterwards remain ! A slight extension of the system of Mandeville, produces that general selfish system of morals, which reduces all virtue to the desire of the undivided good of the agent. On this it will be necessary to dwell a little more fully, not so much for the purpose of exposing the fallacy of the system itself,-important as this exposure is, as for explaining that relation of utility to virtue, of which we so frequently hear, without any very accurate meaning attached to the relation. In the first place, however, since actions can be estimated as more or less useful, only by that faculty which analyzes and compares, it will be of advantage to make some remarks on the influence of reason on our moral sentiments, and on those the ories which, proceeding beyond this indisputable influence, would reduce to mere reason, as if it were the great principle of virtue itself, the whole moral phenomena of our approbation of good and disapprobation of evil. If all the actions of which man is capable, had terminated in one simple result of good or evil, without any mixture of both, or any further consequences, reason, I conceive, would have been of no advantage whatever, in determining moral sentiments, that must, in that case, have arisen immediately on the consideration of the simple effect, and of the will of producing that simple effect. Of the intentional production of good, as good, we should have approved instantly-of the intentional production of evil, as evil, we should as instantly have disapproved ;-and reason could not, in such circumstances, have taught us to love the one more, or hate the other less;-certainly not to love what we should otherwise have hated, nor to hate what we should otherwise have loved. But actions have not one simple result, in most cases. In producing enjoyment to some, they may produce misery to others,-either by consequences that are less or more remote, or by their own immediate but compound operation. It is impossible, therefore, to discover instantly, or certainly, in any particular case, the intention of the agent from the apparent result; and impossible for ourselves to know, instantly, when we wish to perform a particular action, for a particular end, whether it may not produce more evil than good,-when the good was our only object,-or more good than evil, when our object was the evil only. Reason, therefore, that power by which we discover the various relations of things, comes to our aid, and pointing out to us all the probable physical consequences of actions, shows us the good of what we might have conceived to be evil, the evil of what we might have conceived to be good, weighing each with each, and calculating the preponderance of either. It thus influences our moral feelings indirectly,—but it influences them only by presenting to us new objects, to be admired or hated, and still addresses itself to a principle which admires or hates. Like a telescope, or microscope, it shows us what was too distant, or too minute, to come within the sphere of our simple vision; but it does not alter the nature of vision itself. The best telescope, or the best microscope, could give no aid to the blind. They imply the previous power of visual discernment, or they are absolutely useless. Reason, in like manner, supposes in us a discriminating vision of another kind. By pointing out to us innumerable advantages or disadvantages, that flow from an action, it may heighten or reduce our approbation of the action, and consequently, our estimate of the virtue of him whom we suppose to have had this whole amount of good or evil in view, in his intentional production of it; but it does this only because we are capable of feeling moral regard for the intentional producer of happiness to others, independently of any analyses which reason may make. If we did not love what is for the good of mankind, and love, consequently, those actions which tend to the good of mankind, it would be vain for reason to show, that an action was likely to produce good, of which we were not aware, or evil, of which we were not aware. It is very different, however, when we consider the mind, as previously susceptible of moral emotion. If our emotion of approbation, when we meditate on the propriety of a particular action, depend, in any degree, on our belief of resulting good, and our disapprobation, in any degree on our belief of resulting evil; to show that the good of which we think is slight, when compared with the evil which accompanies or follows it, is, perhaps, to change wholly our approbation into disapprobation. We should feel, in such circumstances, a disapprobation of ourselves, if, with the clearer view of consequences now presented to us, we were to continue to desire to perform the very action, to have abstained from which before, would have excited our remorse. The utility of reason, then, is sufficiently obvious, even in morality; since, in a world so complicated as this, in which various interests are continually mingling, and in which the good of one may be the evil of many; a mere blind obedience to that voice, which would tell us instantly, and without reflection, in every case, to seek the good of any one, as soon as it was in our power to be instrumental to it, might produce the misery of many nations, or of many ages, in the relief of a few temporary wants of a few individuals. By far the greater portion of political evil, which nations suffer, arises, indeed, from this very source,-not so much from the tyranny of power, however tyrannical power may too frequently have been, as from its erring benevolence, in the far greater number of cases, in which it was exercised with the wish of promoting that very good which was delayed, or, perhaps, wholly impeded, by the very means that were chosen to further it. If those rulers, who were truly desirous of the happiness of their people, had only known how they could most effectually produce that happiness which they wished, there can be no question, that the earth at present would have exhibited appearances very different from those which, on the greater part of its surface, meet our melancholy view; that it would then have presented to us an aspect of general freedom and happiness, which not man only, but the great father and lover of man might have delighted to behold. Reason, then, though it is incapable of giving birth to the action of moral excellence, has yet important relations to that good which is the direct object of morality. Let none with heedless tongue from truth disjoin VOL. III.-U |