CHAPTER FOURTH. IMMUTABILITY OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS. §. 283. Remarks on the reality of right and wrong, and on the standard of rectitude, which is involved in their existence. IF on some occasion we are asked, why we approve of some actions and disapprove of others, the answer, which we are very likely to give, is, because the action which is approved is RIGHT, and the action which is disapproved is WRONG. If we are asked again, why we feel under moral obligation to do some things and to avoid the doing of others, the answer of the same purport will probably be, because the performance in the one case would be RIGHT, while the performance in the other would be WRONG.- —This language, if it be properly employed, evidently involves, that there is such a thing as right, and such a thing as wrong. And the existence of right and wrong further involves, that there is a great standard of Rectitude, by a reference to which the morality of every action is to be measured. This idea we hold to be, in the highest sense, an important one. If there is such a thing as right and wrong, and if there is such a thing, as we shall endeavor in this chapter to show, as an immutable distinction between them, it is impossible, that the character of human actions, so far as they are done deliberately and voluntarily, should be indifferent. There is a great law, a great rule and measurement of justice held over them, expansive as creation, and lasting as eternity. §. 284. Of the origin of the ideas or abstract conceptions of right and wrong. Of the origin of the ideas of right and wrong, we have formerly had occasion to speak. (Vol. I, §. 191.) Of course it will be the less necessary to delay upon that subject here. It may be proper, however, to remind the reader, that the terms right and wrong, (which some perhaps might regard as a reason for distrusting the reality and permanency of rectitude,) do not express any thing which is perceptible by the senses. Whatever Right or Rectitude may be, in itself considered, it is obviously not an object of the mere outward perceptivity; we cannot see it nor touch it; we cannot define its shape, nor designate its locality. Nevertheless it is not a matter in any sense remote or doubtful; but is brought home and fully made known to us, in a manner less liable to uncertainty and scepticism, viz. by means of the action of the Internal or Pure Intellect; that is to say, the Intellect, operating in virtue of its own nature, and independently of the instrumentality of the senses. It is in this way that we know it, although not under a material shape. Like the Deity himself, it is ever present, but ever invisible; silent but always operative; enthroned in the centre of the universe, but pervading its utmost limits; and estimating by the standard of its own perfect and unalterable purity all moral actions. It is the business of the moral sensibility or conscience, by means of the moral Emotions and the feelings of Moral Obligation to bring us into conformity to this standard, and to indicate all deviations from it. The standard of right, as we have just had occasion to intimate, is revealed in the Intellect; and not in the Intellect, acting on the doubtful information of the senses, but by its own inherent and unerring promptings. The power, the object of which is to secure a conformity to this standard, exists in the Sensibilities. Accordingly it may be added, although men may go astray, and in point of fact this is too often the case, notwithstanding the admonitions of the Conscience, yet Rectitude itself remains unchanged. It is not a mere outside, a mere superficies, without any substantiality. Nor is it a mere image, of which it can be said in the spirit of cavilling and scepticism, that it is inscribed over with characters of doubt and uncertainty. In its developement in the inward vision, it not only reveals itself with a stamp and likeness of its own, which cannot possibly be mistaken for any thing else; but it is also true, which is both philosophically and practically of great impor tance, that it stands in its own nature immutably and eternally based, not, as some seem to suppose, in the fickle foundations of personal interest and of mere positive enactment, but in the unalterableness of the constitution of things. This, at least, is essentially the view, which we feel ourselves obliged to take of it; and which we now propose to support by the following considerations. §. 285. The immutability of moral distinctions supported by the views, which men take of things in their nature or essence. The doctrine of the permanent nature of Rectitude and of the immutability of Moral distinctions seems to find support, in the first place, from the views, which men are generally found to take of things in their nature or essence. -Every thing, which exists, necessarily has a nature; not merely in the general sense of that term, but a specific nature of its own. "Every thing," (says bishop Butler,) "is what it is, and not another thing." In other words, there is something, (although perhaps that something is wholly unexplainable,) which renders the thing, that exists, what it is in distinction from every thing else; some element, some distinctive quality, some primordial characteristic, something, (we do not profess nor consider it necessary to be exact in the expression of it,) which is truly and absolutely essential both to its existence and the mode of its existence; and without which it would not be what it is. And this is equally true, whether the thing in question be made known to us as something material or immaterial; whether it is objective or subjective, an object which the mind contemplates exterior to itself or an internal and purely mental modification; whether it be regarded as an independent entity,an attribute, or a mere relation. This seems to be self-evident and undeniable; because, if the thing, which exists, has not a specific or distinctive nature, then it is not a distinct existence, but is identical with something else. And this is so clear that we need not hesitate to assert, although God, to the full extent of his omnipotence, can create things even out of nothing, and can modify them with every possibility of modification, He cannot do either, without giving them a nature; without imparting some distinctive element. These simple and common-sense views we may apply to everything which exists or is conceived to exist, to the whole universe of mind and of matter, of thought and of objects of thought. §. 286. Illustrations of the views of the preceding section. (1.) Beginning with those things which are addressed to the senses, we may remark in illustration of what has been said, that every kind of color has something in it by which it is distinguished from every other color, which is truly diverse from it. Every variety of the sensations of taste also, such as sweet, bitter, acrid, sour, has its specific nature, (whether we consider the sensation merely or include the outward cause that produces it,) which stamps and characterizes it as such a sensation, and not another one. All the varieties of sound, numerous as they are, have each their peculiarity, their distinctive trait or quality, and which cannot fail really and forever to separate them from all other varieties of sound. In no one of these cases can one sensation or perception be another; each stands by itself in its own nature and essence, and it is not possible even to conceive of them as interchangeable.—(2) If we turn our attention to those objects of thought, which are internal, and which are not so closely connected with and dependent on outward causes, as those things just mentioned, we shall find it to be the same. We are able, by means of that power of Original Suggestion, which constitutes one of the effective elements and characteristics of our mental structure, to frame the abstract notions of existence, unity, identity, succession, number, power, time, space, and the like. And all these have respectively a nature, appropriate and peculiar to themselves. Although we are unable to give a verbal definition of Unity or of Time, yet every one knows what is meant by these terms; every one has a knowledge for himself, sufficiently clear and satisfactory for all the common purposes of reasoning and practice. But while, in themselves considered, they lie clear and distinct in our perceptions, we also perceive with the entire clearness of intuition, that they are not the same; that each has its appropriate sphere; that they stand truly and forever apart from each other. The same may be said of Space and Power. Both of these are made known to us by the original, the suggestive power of the mind alone; and as the mind is the source, so it is the measure of the knowledge which we have of what we thus term. And we may confidently assert, that the mind pronounces them not only wholly distinct, but wholly unlike. And it is utterly impossible for the human mind, (as we doubt not every one will find on fully making the experiment,) to conceive of Power becoming Space, or of Space becoming Power, as much so as to conceive of the actual identity of UNITY and TIME, or of the identity of mere EXISTENCE and SUCCESSION. And it is the same with every other simple notion, which we form, whether of external or of internal origin; that is to say, whether wrought in the mind by the presence of some external object, or flowing from its own fulness. Whatever we perceive or feel to exist, which is elementary and simple, we never can perceive or feel to exist otherwise than it is; and perceiving it to be just what it is and nothing else, we cannot possibly perceive it to be something different.-(3) We might carry these illustrations into the Sensitive part of our nature. As an example, every man is capable of putting forth, or what is perhaps a more proper expression of the fact, of experiencing the emotions of pleasure and pain; and although it is admitted we cannot give an available definition of these emotions, still every one knows what they are. And if there is any elementary proposition whatever, which is so simple as to be beyond all doubt and to possess a truly intuitive character, it is, that our experience of pleasure is not the experience of pain, and on the contrary, our experience of pain is not the experience of pleasure. And furthermore, the abstract notions, which we are obviously able to form of the emotions of pleasure and pain, and which in point of fact, we always do form, whenever we make them the subjects of abstract inquiry and philosophical analysis, are entirely distinct from each other, as well as the emotions themselves. But in respect to the emotions in particular, the pleasure and pain actually experienced, the difference, which by nature exists between them, is perhaps more fully and promptly recognized. Without the least hesitation we may appeal to the testimony of any man's consciousness, whether it is not utterly impossible for him even to conceive, (we do not say of the |