a source of real dissatisfaction and dislike towards those with whom we associate. Such a disposition, when carried to an extreme, not only sours the temper, and dries up all the springs of innocent comfort which nature has so liberally provided for us in the common incidents of life, but, by withdrawing a man from active pursuits, renders all his talents and virtues useless to society. A character of this description has furnished to Molière the subject of the most finished of all his dramatic pieces; and to Marmontel, of one of his most agreeable and useful tales. The former of these is universally known as the master-piece of French comedy; but the latter possesses also an uncommon degree of merit by the hints it suggests for curing the weaknesses in which the character originates, and by the interesting contrast it exhibits between the misanthrope of Molière, and a man who unites inflexibility of principle with that accommodation of temper which is necessary for the practical exercise of virtue. The great nurse and cherisher of this species of misanthropy is solitary contemplation; and the only effectual remedy is society and business, together with a habit of directing the attention rather to the correction of our own faults than to a jealous and suspicious examination of the motives which influence the conduct of our neighbours.

Considered as a principle of action, a cultivated moral taste, while it provides an effectual security against the grossness necessarily connected with many vices, cherishes a temper of mind friendly to all that is amiable, or generous, or elevated in our nature. When separated, however, as it sometimes is, from a strong sense of duty, it can scarcely fail to prove a fallacious guide; the influence of fashion, and of other casual associations, tending perpetually to lead it astray. This is more particularly remarkable in men to whom the gratifications of taste in general form the principal object of pursuit, and whose habits of life encourage them to look no higher for their rule of conduct than the way of the world.

The language employed by some of the Greek philosophers in their speculations, concerning the nature of

virtue seems, on a superficial view, to imply that they supposed the moral faculty to be wholly resolvable into a sense of the beautiful; and hence Lord Shaftesbury, Dr. Hutcheson, and others, have been led to adopt a phraseology which has the appearance of substituting taste in contradistinction to reason and conscience, as the ultimate standard of right and wrong.

While on this subject I cannot help taking notice of a highly exceptionable passage which occurs in one of Mr. Burke's later publications,-a passage, in which (after contrasting the polished and courtly manners of the higher orders with the coarseness and vulgarity of the multitude) he remarks, that "among the former, vice loses half its malignity by losing all its grossness.' The fact, according to my view of things, is precisely the reverse; that the malignant contagiousness of vice is increased tenfold by every circumstance which draws a veil over, or disguises its native deformity. On this argument volumes might be written, and I sincerely wish that a hand could be found equal to the task. At present I must content myself with recommending it to the serious attention of moralists, as one of the most important topics of practical ethics which the actual circumstances of this part of the world point out as an object of philosophical discussion.

From each of the four principles which have now been under consideration unfortunate consequences result, wherever it prevails in the character, as the leading motive to action. Where they all maintain their due place, in subordination to the moral faculty, they tend at once to fortify virtuous habits, and to recommend them, by the influence of amiable example, to the imitation of others.

A partial consideration of the phenomena of moral perception, connected with one or other of these principles, has suggested some of the most popular theories concerning the origin of our moral ideas. An attention to the moral faculty alone, without regard to the principles which were intended to operate as its auxiliaries, and which contribute, in fact, so powerfully to the good

order of society, has led a few philosophers into an opposite extreme, less dangerous, undoubtedly, in its practical tendency, but less calculated perhaps to recommend ethical disquisitions to the notice of those who are engrossed with the active concerns of life.

All the foregoing inquiries concerning the moral constitution of man proceed on the supposition that he has a freedom of choice between good and evil; and that, when he deliberately performs an action which he knows to be wrong, he renders himself justly obnoxious to punishment. That this supposition is agreeable to the common apprehensions of mankind will not be disputed. From very early times, indeed, the truth of the supposition has been called in question by a few speculative men, who have contended that the actions we perform are the necessary result of the constitutions of our minds operated on by the circumstances of our external situation, and that what we call moral delinquencies are as much a part of our destiny as the corporeal or intellectual qualities we have received from nature. The argument in support of this doctrine has been proposed in various forms, and has been frequently urged with the confidence of demonstration.

With the consideration of these metaphysical subtilties, it seems to me improper to interrupt at present the train of our ethical inquiries. And, although I do not by any means go so far as Lord Bolingbroke when he pronounces, that "no one can deny the free will of man without lying," * I trust that I may fairly assume in what follows, the fact of man's free agency as sufficiently established by the evidence of consciousness; referring those who wish to enter more deeply into the controversy to the Appendix at the end of this work.

*«The free will of man, which no one can deny without lying or denying his instinctive knowledge." Bolingbroke's Philosophical Works, Vol. V. p. 85. The same assertion in substance occurs in various other parts of his writings.

BOOK THIRD.

OF THE VARIOUS BRANCHES OF OUR Duty.

THE different theories which have been proposed concerning the nature and essence of virtue have arisen chiefly from attempts to trace all the branches of our duty to one principle of action, such as a rational selflove, benevolence, justice, or a disposition to obey the will of God.

In order to avoid those partial views of the subject, which naturally take their rise from an undue love of system, the following inquiries proceed on an arrangement which has, in all ages, recommended itself to the good sense of mankind. This arrangement is founded on the different objects to which our duties relate. 1. The Deity. 2. Our Fellow Creatures. And 3. Ourselves.

CHAPTER FIRST.

OF THE DUTIES WHICH RESPECT THE DEITY.

As our duties to God (so far as they are discoverable by the light of nature) must be inferred from the relation in which we stand to him as the Author and the Governor of the universe, an examination of the principles of natural religion forms a necessary introduction to this section. Such an examination, besides, being the reasonable consequence of those impressions which his works produce on every attentive and well disposed mind, may be itself regarded both as one of the duties we owe to HIM, and as the expression of a moral temper sincerely devoted to truth, and alive to the sublimest emotions of gratitude and of benevolence.

PRELIMINARY INQUIRY INTO THE PRINCIPLES OF NATURAL RELIGION.

Of the Existence of the Deity.

Ir is scarcely possible to conceive a man capable of reflection, who has not, at times, proposed to himself the following questions: Whence am I? and whence the innumerable tribes of plants and of animals which I see, in constant succession, rising into existence? Whence the beautiful fabric of this universe? and by what wise and powerful Being were the principles of my constitution so wonderfully adapted to the various objects around me? To whom am I indebted for the distinguished rank which I hold in the creation, and for the numberless blessings which have fallen to my lot? And what return shall I make for this profusion of goodness?-The only return I can make is by accommodating my conduct to the will of my Creator, and by fulfilling, as far as I am able, the purposes of my being. But how are these purposes to be be discovered? The analogy of the lower animals gives me here no information. They too, as well as I, are endowed with various instincts and appetites; but their nature, on the whole, exhibits a striking contrast to mine. They are impelled by a blind determination towards their proper objects, and seem to obey the law of their nature in yielding to every principle which excites them to action. In my own species alone the case is different. Every individual chooses for himself the ends of his pursuit, and chooses the means which he is to employ for attaining them. Are all these elections equally good? and is there no law prescribed to man? I feel the reverse. I am able to distinguish what is right from what is wrong; what is honorable and becoming from what is unworthy and base; what is laudable and meritorious from what is shameful and criminal. Here, then, are plain indications. of the conduct I ought to pursue. There is a law prescribed to man as well as to the brutes. The only difference is, that it depends on my own will whether I obey or disobey it. And shall I alone counteract the