,,the ,,philosophical ,,works ,,of ,,david ,,hume4 ,,including ,,all ,,the ,,essays1 ,,and ,,exhibiting ,,the ,,more ,,important ,,alterations ,,and ,,corrections ,,in ,,the ,,successive ,,editions ,,published ,,by ,,the ,,author4 ,,in ,,four ,,volumes4 ,,vol4 ,,ii4 ,,edinburgh3 ,,printed ,,for ,,adam ,,black ,,and ,,william ,,tait2 ,,and ,,charles ,,tait1 #fc1 ,,fleet ,,street1 ,,london4 ,,mdcccxxvi4 ,,contents ,,of ,,volume ,,second4 ,,treatise ,,of ,,human ,,nature4 ,,book ,,ii4--,,of ,,the ,,passions4 ,,part ,i4 ,,of ,,pride ,,and ,,humility4 ,division of the ,subject ,of ,pride and ,humility1 their ,objects and ,causes ,whence these ,objects and ,causes are derived ,of the ,relations of ,impressions and ,ideas ,of the ,influence of these ,relations on ,pride and ,humility ,limitations of this ,system ,of ,vice and ,virtue ,of ,beauty and ,deformity ,of external ,advantages and ,disadvantages ,of ,property and ,riches ,of the ,love of ,fame ,of ,pride and ,humility of ,animals ,,part ,,ii4 ,,of ,,love ,,and ,,hatred4 ,of the ,objects and ,causes of ,love and ,hatred ,experiments to confirm this ,system ,difficulties solved ,of the ,love of ,relations ,of our ,esteem for the ,rich and ,powerful ,of ,benevolence and ,anger ,of ,compassion ,of ,malice and ,envy ,of the mixture of ,benevolence and ,anger with ,compassion and ,malice ,of ,respect and ,contempt ,of the ,amorous ,passion1 or ,love betwixt the ,sexes ,of ,love and ,hatred of ,animals ,,part ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,will ,,and ,,direct ,,passions4 ,of ,liberty and ,necessity ,the ,same subject continued ,of the ,influencing ,motives of the ,will ,of the ,causes of the ,violent ,passions ,of the ,effects of ,custom ,of the ,influence of the ,imagination on the ,passions ,of ,contiguity and ,distance in ,space and ,time ,the same ,subject continued ,of the ,direct ,passions ,of ,curiosity1 or the ,love of ,truth ,,book ,,iii4--,,of ,,morals4 ,,part ,i4 ,,of ,,virtue ,,and ,,vice ,,in ,,general4 ,moral ,distinctions not derived from ,reason ,moral ,distinctions derived from a ,moral ,sense ,,part ,,ii4 ,,of ,,justice ,,and ,,injustice4 ,justice1 whether a natural or artificial ,virtue8 ,of the ,origin of ,justice and ,property ,of the ,rules which determine ,property ,of the ,transference of ,property by ,consent ,of the ,obligation of ,promises ,some farther ,reflections concerning ,justice and ,injustice ,of the ,origin of ,government ,of the ,source of ,allegiance ,of the ,measures of ,allegiance ,of the ,objects of ,allegiance ,of the ,laws of ,nations ,of ,chastity and ,modesty ,,part ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,other ,,virtues ,,and ,,vices4 ,of the ,origin of the ,natural ,virtues and ,vices ,of ,greatness of ,mind ,of ,goodness and ,benevolence ,of ,natural ,abilities ,some farther ,reflections concerning the ,natural ,virtues ,conclusion of this ,book ,dialogues concerning ,natural ,religion ,appendix to the ,treatise of ,human ,nature ,,book ,,ii4 ,,of ,,the ,,passions ,,part ,i4 ,,of ,,pride ,,and ,,humility4 ,,section ,i4 ,,division ,,of ,,the ,,subject4 ,as all the perceptions of the mind may be divided into impressions and ideas1 so the impressions admit of another division into original and secondary4 ,this division of the impressions is the same with that which ,i formerly made use of#a when ,i distinguished them into impressions of sensation and reflection4 ,original impressions1 or impressions of sensation1 are such as1 without any antecedent perception1 arise in the soul1 from the constitution of the body1 from the animal spirits1 or from the application of objects to the external organs4 ,secondary1 or reflective impressions1 are such as proceed from some of these original ones1 either immediately1 or by the interposition of its idea4 ,of the first kind are all the impressions of the senses1 and all bodily pains and pleasures3 of the second are the passions1 and other emotions resembling them4 ',tis certain that the mind1 in its perceptions1 must begin somewhere2 and that since the impressions precede their correspondent ideas1 there must be some impressions1 which1 without any introduction1 make their appearance in the soul4 ,as these depend upon natural and physical causes1 the examination of them would lead me too far from my present subject1 into the sciences of anatomy and natural philosophy4 ,for this reason ,i shall here confine myself to those other impressions1 which ,i have called secondary and reflective1 as arising either from the original impressions1 or from their ideas4 ,bodily pains and pleasures are the source of many passions1 both when felt and considered by the mind2 but arise originally in the soul1 or in the body1 whichever you please to call it1 without any preceding thought or perception4 ,a fit of the gout produces a long train of passions1 as grief1 hope1 fear2 but is not derived immediately from any affection or idea4 ,the reflective impressions may be divided into two kinds1 viz4 the calm and the violent4 ,of the first kind is the sense of beauty and deformity in action1 composition1 and external objects4 ,of the second are the passions of love and hatred1 grief and joy1 pride and humility4 ,this division is far from being exact4 ,the raptures of poetry and music frequently rise to the greatest height2 while those other impressions1 properly called passions1 may decay into so soft an emotion1 as to become in a manner imperceptible4 ,but as1 in general1 the passions are more violent than the emotions arising from beauty and deformity1 these impressions have been commonly distinguished from each other4 ,the subject of the human mind being so copious and various1 ,i shall here take advantage of this vulgar and specious division1 that ,i may proceed with the greater order2 and1 having said all ,i thought necessary concerning our ideas1 shall now explain those violent emotions or passions1 their nature1 origin1 causes and effects4 ,when we take a survey of the passions1 there occurs a division of them into direct and indirect4 ,by direct passions ,i understand such as arise immediately from good or evil1 from pain or pleasure4 ,by indirect1 such as proceed from the same principles1 but by the conjunction of other qualities4 ,this distinction ,i cannot at present justify or explain any farther4 ,i can only observe in general1 that under the indirect passions ,i comprehend pride1 humility1 ambition1 vanity1 love1 hatred1 envy1 pity1 malice1 generosity1 with their dependents4 ,and under the direct passions1 desire1 aversion1 grief1 joy1 hope1 fear1 despair1 and security4 ,i shall begin with the former4 #a ,book ,i4 ,part ,i4 ,sect4 #b4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,of ,,pride ,,and ,,humility1 ,,their ,,objects ,,and ,,causes4 ,the passions of pride and humility being simple and uniform impressions1 'tis impossible we can ever1 by a multitude of words1 give a just definition of them1 or indeed of any of the passions4 ,the utmost we can pretend to is a description of them1 by an enumeration of such circumstances as attend them3 but as these words1 pride and humility1 are of general use1 and the impressions they represent the most common of any1 every one1 of himself1 will be able to form a just idea of them1 without any danger of mistake4 ,for which reason1 not to lose time upon preliminaries1 ,i shall immediately enter upon the examination of these passions4 ',tis evident1 that pride and humility1 though directly contrary1 have yet the same object4 ,this object is self1 or that succession of related ideas and impressions1 of which we have an intimate memory and consciousness4 ,here the view always fixes when we are actuated by either of these passions4 ,according as our idea of ourself is more or less advantageous1 we feel either of those opposite affections1 and are elated by pride1 or dejected with humility4 ,whatever other objects may be comprehended by the mind1 they are always considered with a view to ourselves2 otherwise they would never be able either to excite these passions1 or produce the smallest increase or diminution of them4 ,when self enters not into the consideration1 there is no room either for pride or humility4 ,but though that connected succession of perceptions1 which we call self be always the object of these two passions1 'tis impossible it can be their cause1 or be sufficient alone to excite them4 ,for as these passions are directly contrary1 and have the same object in common2 were their object also their cause1 it could never produce any degree of the one passion1 but at the same time it must excite an equal degree of the other2 which opposition and contrariety must destroy both4 ',tis impossible a man can at the same time be both proud and humble2 and where he has different reasons for these passions1 as frequently happens1 the passions either take place alternately1 or1 if they encounter1 the one annihilates the other1 as far as its strength goes1 and the remainder only of that which is superior1 continues to operate upon the mind4 ,but in the present case neither of the passions could ever become superior2 because1 supposing it to be the view only of ourself which excited them1 that being perfectly indifferent to either1 must produce both in the very same proportion2 or1 in other words1 can produce neither4 ,to excite any passion1 and at the same time raise an equal share of its antagonist1 is immediately to undo what was done1 and must leave the mind at last perfectly calm and indifferent4 ,we must therefore make a distinction betwixt the cause and the object of these passions2 betwixt that idea which excites them1 and that to which they direct their view when excited4 ,pride and humility1 being once raised1 immediately turn our attention to ourself1 and regard that as their ultimate and final object2 but there is something farther requisite in order to raise them3 something1 which is peculiar to one of the passions1 and produces not both in the very same degree4 ,the first idea that is presented to the mind is that of the cause or productive principle4 ,this excites the passion connected with it2 and that passion1 when excited1 turns our view to another idea1 which is that of self4 ,here then is a passion placed betwixt two ideas1 of which the one produces it1 and the other is produced by it4 ,the first idea therefore represents the cause1 the second the object of the passion4 ,to begin with the causes of pride and humility2 we may observe1 that their most obvious and remarkable property is the vast variety of subjects on which they may be placed4 ,every valuable quality of the mind1 whether of the imagination1 judgment1 memory or disposition2 wit1 good sense1 learning1 courage1 justice1 integrity2 all these are the causes of pride1 and their opposites of humility4 ,nor are these passions confined to the mind1 but extend their view to the body likewise4 ,a man may be proud of his beauty1 strength1 agility1 good mien1 address in dancing1 riding1 fencing1 and of his dexterity in any manual business or manufacture4 ,but this is not all4 ,the passion1 looking farther1 comprehends whatever objects are in the least allied or related to us4 ,our country1 family1 children1 relations1 riches1 houses1 gardens1 horses1 dogs1 clothes2 any of these may become a cause either of pride or of humility4 ,from the consideration of these causes1 it appears necessary we should make a new distinction in the causes of the passion1 betwixt that quality which operates1 and the subject on which it is placed4 ,a man1 for instance1 is vain of a beautiful house which belongs to him1 or which he has himself built and contrived4 ,here the object of the passion is himself1 and the cause is the beautiful house3 which cause again is subdivided into two parts1 viz4 the quality1 which operates upon the passion1 and the subject1 in which the quality inheres4 ,the quality is the beauty1 and the subject is the house1 considered as his property or contrivance4 ,both these parts are essential1 nor is the distinction vain and chimerical4 ,beauty1 considered merely as such1 unless placed upon something related to us1 never produces any pride or vanity2 and the strongest relation alone1 without beauty1 or something else in its place1 has as little influence on that passion4 ,since1 therefore1 these two particulars are easily separated1 and there is a necessity for their conjunction1 in order to produce the passion1 we ought to consider them as component parts of the cause2 and infix in our minds an exact idea of this distinction4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,whence ,,these ,,objects ,,and ,,causes ,,are ,,derived4 ,being so far advanced as to observe a difference betwixt the object of the passions and their cause1 and to distinguish in the cause the quality1 which operates on the passions1 from the subject1 in which it inheres2 we now proceed to examine what determines each of them to be what it is1 and assigns such a particular object and quality1 and subject to these affections4 ,by this means we shall fully understand the origin of pride and humility4 ',tis evident1 in the first place1 that these passions are determined to have self for their object1 not only by a natural1 but also by an original property4 ,no one can doubt but this property is natural1 from the constancy and steadiness of its operations4 ',tis always self1 which is the object of pride and humility2 and whenever the passions look beyond1 'tis still with a view to ourselves2 nor can any person or object otherwise have any influence upon us4 ,that this proceeds from an original quality or primary impulse1 will likewise appear evident1 if we consider that 'tis the distinguishing characteristic of these passions4 ,unless nature had given some original qualities to the mind1 it could never have any secondary ones2 because in that case it would have no foundation for action1 nor could ever begin to exert itself4 ,now these qualities1 which we must consider as original1 are such as are most inseparable from the soul1 and can be resolved into no other3 and such is the quality which determines the object of pride and humility4 ,we may1 perhaps1 make it a greater question1 whether the causes that produce the passion1 be as natural as the object to which it is directed1 and whether all that vast variety proceeds from caprice1 or from the constitution of the mind4 ,this doubt we shall soon remove1 if we cast our eye upon human nature1 and consider that1 in all nations and ages1 the same objects still give rise to pride and humility2 and that upon the view even of a stranger1 we can know pretty nearly what will either increase or diminish his passions of this kind4 ,if there be any variation in this particular1 it proceeds from nothing but a difference in the tempers and complexions of men1 and is1 besides1 very inconsiderable4 ,can we imagine it possible1 that while human nature remains the same1 men will ever become entirely indifferent to their power1 riches1 beauty or personal merit1 and that their pride and vanity will not be affected by these advantages8 ,but though the causes of pride and humility be plainly natural1 we shall find1 upon examination1 that they are not original1 and that 'tis utterly impossible they should each of them be adapted to these passions by a particular provision and primary constitution of nature4 ,beside their prodigious number1 many of them are the effects of art1 and arise partly from the industry1 partly from the caprice1 and partly from the good fortune of men4 ,industry produces houses1 furniture1 clothes4 ,caprice determines their particular kinds and qualities4 ,and good fortune frequently contributes to all this1 by discovering the effects that result from the different mixtures and combinations of bodies4 ',tis absurd therefore to imagine1 that each of these was foreseen and provided for by nature1 and that every new production of art1 which causes pride or humility1 instead of adapting itself to the passion by partaking of some general quality that naturally operates on the mind1 is itself the object of an original principle1 which till then lay concealed in the soul1 and is only by accident at last brought to light4 ,thus the first mechanic that invented a fine scrutoire1 produced pride in him who became possessed of it1 by principles different from those which made him proud of handsome chairs and tables4 ,as this appears evidently ridiculous1 we must conclude1 that each cause of pride and humility is not adapted to the passions by a distinct original quality1 but that there are some one or more circumstances common to all of them1 on which their efficacy depends4 ,besides1 we find in the course of nature1 that though the effects be many1 the principles from which they arise are commonly but few and simple1 and that 'tis the sign of an unskilful naturalist to have recourse to a different quality1 in order to explain every different operation4 ,how much more must this be true with regard to the human mind1 which1 being so confined a subject1 may justly be thought incapable of containing such a monstrous heap of principles1 as would be necessary to excite the passions of pride and humility1 were each distinct cause adapted to the passion by a distinct set of principles6 ,here1 therefore1 moral philosophy is in the same condition as natural1 with regard to astronomy before the time of ,copernicus4 ,the ancients1 though sensible of that maxim1 that ,nature does nothing in vain1 contrived such intricate systems of the heavens1 as seemed inconsistent with true philosophy1 and gave place at last to something more simple and natural4 ,to invent without scruple a new principle to every new phenomenon1 instead of adapting it to the old2 to overload our hypothesis with a variety of this kind1 are certain proofs that none of these principles is the just one1 and that we only desire1 by a number of falsehoods1 to cover our ignorance of the truth4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,relations ,,of ,,impressions ,,and ,,ideas4 ,thus we have established two truths without any obstacle or difficulty1 that 'tis from natural principles this variety of causes excite pride and humility1 and that 'tis not by a different principle each different cause is adapted to its passion4 ,we shall now proceed to inquire how we may reduce these principles to a lesser number1 and find among the causes something common on which their influence depends4 ,in order to this1 we must reflect on certain properties of human nature1 which1 though they have a mighty influence on every operation both of the understanding and passions1 are not commonly much insisted on by philosophers4 ,the first of these is the association of ideas1 which ,i have so often observed and explained4 ',tis impossible for the mind to fix itself steadily upon one idea for any considerable time2 nor can it by its utmost efforts ever arrive at such a constancy4 ,but however changeable our thoughts may be1 they are not entirely without rule and method in their changes4 ,the rule by which they proceed1 is to pass from one object to what is resembling1 contiguous to1 or produced by it4 ,when one idea is present to the imagination1 any other1 united by these relations naturally follows it1 and enters with more facility by means of that introduction4 ,the second property ,i shall observe in the human mind is a like association of impressions4 ,all resembling impressions are connected together1 and no sooner one arises than the rest immediately follow4 ,grief and disappointment give rise to anger1 anger to envy1 envy to malice1 and malice to grief again1 till the whole circle be completed4 ,in like manner our temper1 when elevated with joy1 naturally throws itself into love1 generosity1 pity1 courage1 pride1 and the other resembling affections4 ',tis difficult for the mind1 when actuated by any passion1 to confine itself to that passion alone1 without any change or variation4 ,human nature is too inconstant to admit of any such regularity4 ,changeableness is essential to it4 ,and to what can it so naturally change as to affections or emotions1 which are suitable to the temper1 and agree with that set of passions which then prevail8 ',tis evident then there is an attraction or association among impressions1 as well as among ideas2 though with this remarkable difference1 that ideas are associated by resemblance1 contiguity1 and causation1 and impressions only by resemblance4 ,in the third place1 'tis observable of these two kinds of association1 that they very much assist and forward each other1 and that the transition is more easily made where they both concur in the same object4 ,thus1 a man who1 by an injury from another1 is very much discomposed and ruffled in his temper1 is apt to find a hundred subjects of discontent1 impatience1 fear1 and other uneasy passions1 especially if he can discover these subjects in or near the person who was the cause of his first passion4 ,those principles which forward the transition of ideas here concur with those which operate on the passions2 and both uniting in one action1 bestow on the mind a double impulse4 ,the new passion1 therefore1 must arise with so much greater violence1 and the transition to it must be rendered so much more easy and natural4 ,upon this occasion ,i may cite the authority of an elegant writer1 who expresses himself in the following manner3--,as the fancy delights in every thing that is great1 strange or beautiful1 and is still more pleased the more it finds of these perfections in the same object1 so it is capable of receiving a new satisfaction by the assistance of another sense4 ,thus1 any continued sound1 as the music of birds or a fall of waters1 awakens every moment the mind of the beholder1 and makes him more attentive to the several beauties of the place that lie before him4 ,thus1 if there arises a fragrancy of smells or perfumes1 they heighten the pleasure of the imagination1 and make even the colours and verdure of the landscape appear more agreeable2 for the ideas of both senses recommend each other1 and are pleasanter together than when they enter the mind separately3 as the different colours of a picture1 when they are well disposed1 set off one another1 and receive an additional beauty from the advantage of the situation4 ,in this phenomenon we may remark the association both of impressions and ideas1 as well as the mutual assistance they lend each other4 ,,section ,v4 ,,of ,,the ,,influence ,,of ,,these ,,relations ,,on ,,pride ,,and ,,humility4 ,these principles being established on unquestionable experience1 ,i begin to consider how we shall apply them1 by revolving over all the causes of pride and humility1 whether these causes be regarded as the qualities that operate1 or as the subjects on which the qualities are placed4 ,in examining these qualities1 ,i immediately find many of them to concur in producing the sensation of pain and pleasure1 independent of those affections which ,i here endeavour to explain4 ,thus the beauty of our person1 of itself1 and by its very appearance1 gives pleasure as well as pride2 and its deformity1 pain as well as humility4 ,a magnificent feast delights us1 and a sordid one displeases4 ,what ,i discover to be true in some instances1 ,i suppose to be so in all1 and take it for granted at present1 without any farther proof1 that every cause of pride1 by its peculiar qualities1 produces a separate pleasure1 and of humility a separate uneasiness4 ,again1 in considering the subjects1 to which these qualities adhere1 ,i make a new supposition1 which also appears probable from many obvious instances1 viz4 that these subjects are either parts of ourselves1 or something nearly related to us4 ,thus the good and bad qualities of our actions and manners constitute virtue and vice1 and determine our personal character1 than which nothing operates more strongly on these passions4 ,in like manner1 'tis the beauty or deformity of our person1 houses1 equipage1 or furniture1 by which we are rendered either vain or humble4 ,the same qualities1 when transferred to subjects1 which bear us no relation1 influence not in the smallest degree either of these affections4 ,having thus in a manner supposed two properties of the causes of these affections1 viz4 that the qualities produce a separate pain or pleasure1 and that the subjects1 on which the qualities are placed1 are related to self2 ,i proceed to examine the passions themselves1 in order to find something in them correspondent to the supposed properties of their causes4 ,first1 ,i find1 that the peculiar object of pride and humility is determined by an original and natural instinct1 and that 'tis absolutely impossible1 from the primary constitution of the mind1 that these passions should ever look beyond self1 or that individual person1 of whose actions and sentiments each of us is intimately conscious4 ,here at last the view always rests1 when we are actuated by either of these passions2 nor can we1 in that situation of mind1 ever lose sight of this object4 ,for this ,i pretend not to give any reason2 but consider such a peculiar direction of the thought as an original quality4 ,the second quality which ,i discover in these passions1 and which ,i likewise consider as an original quality1 is their sensations1 or the peculiar emotions they excite in the soul1 and which constitute their very being and essence4 ,thus1 pride is a pleasant sensation1 and humility a painful2 and upon the removal of the pleasure and pain1 there is in reality no pride nor humility4 ,of this our very feeling convinces us2 and beyond our feeling1 'tis here in vain to reason or dispute4 ,if ,i compare therefore these two established properties of the passions1 viz4 their object1 which is self1 and their sensation1 which is either pleasant or painful1 to the two supposed properties of the causes1 viz4 their relation to self1 and their tendency to produce a pain or pleasure independent of the passion2 ,i immediately find1 that taking these suppositions to be just1 the true system breaks in upon me with an irresistible evidence4 ,that cause1 which excites the passion1 is related to the object1 which nature has attributed to the passion2 the sensation1 which the cause separately produces1 is related to the sensation of the passion3 from this double relation of ideas and impressions1 the passion is derived4 ,the one idea is easily converted into its correlative2 and the one impression into that which resembles and corresponds to it3 with how much greater facility must this transition be made1 where these movements mutually assist each other1 and the mind receives a double impulse from the relations both of its impressions and ideas6 ,that we may comprehend this the better1 we must suppose that nature has given to the organs of the human mind a certain disposition fitted to produce a peculiar impression or emotion1 which we call pride3 to this emotion she has assigned a certain idea1 viz4 that of self1 which it never fails to produce4 ,this contrivance of nature is easily conceived4 ,we have many instances of such a situation of affairs4 ,the nerves of the nose and palate are so disposed1 as in certain circumstances to convey such peculiar sensations to the mind3 the sensations of lust and hunger always produce in us the idea of those peculiar objects1 which are suitable to each appetite4 ,these two circumstances are united in pride4 ,the organs are so disposed as to produce the passion2 and the passion1 after its production1 naturally produces a certain idea4 ,all this needs no proof4 ',tis evident we never should be possessed of that passion1 were there not a disposition of mind proper for it2 and 'tis as evident1 that the passion always turns our view to ourselves1 and makes us think of our own qualities and circumstances4 ,this being fully comprehended1 it may now be asked1 ,whether nature produces the passion immediately of herself1 or whether she must be assisted by the cooperation of other causes8 ,for 'tis observable1 that in this particular her conduct is different in the different passions and sensations4 ,the palate must be excited by an external object1 in order to produce any relish3 but hunger arises internally1 without the concurrence of any external object4 ,but however the case may stand with other passions and impressions1 'tis certain that pride requires the assistance of some foreign object1 and that the organs which produce it exert not themselves like the heart and arteries1 by an original internal movement4 ,for1 first1 daily experience convinces us1 that pride requires certain causes to excite it1 and languishes when unsupported by some excellency in the character1 in bodily accomplishments1 in clothes1 equipage1 or fortune4 ,secondly1 'tis evident pride would be perpetual if it arose immediately from nature1 since the object is always the same1 and there is no disposition of body peculiar to pride1 as there is to thirst and hunger4 ,thirdly1 humility is in the very same situation with pride2 and therefore either must1 upon this supposition1 be perpetual likewise1 or must destroy the contrary passion from the very first moment2 so that none of them could ever make its appearance4 ,upon the whole1 we may rest satisfied with the foregoing conclusion1 that pride must have a cause as well as an object1 and that the one has no influence without the other4 ,the difficulty1 then1 is only to discover this cause1 and find what it is that gives the first motion to pride1 and sets those organs in action which are naturally fitted to produce that emotion4 ,upon my consulting experience1 in order to resolve this difficulty1 ,i immediately find a hundred different causes that produce pride2 and upon examining these causes1 ,i suppose1 what at first ,i perceive to be probable1 that all of them concur in two circumstances1 which are1 that of themselves they produce an impression allied to the passion1 and are placed on a subject allied to the object of the passion4 ,when ,i consider after this the nature of relation1 and its effects both on the passions and ideas1 ,i can no longer doubt upon these suppositions1 that 'tis the very principle which gives rise to pride1 and bestows motion on those organs1 which1 being naturally disposed to produce that affection1 require only a first impulse or beginning to their action4 ,any thing that gives a pleasant sensation1 and is related to self1 excites the passion of pride1 which is also agreeable1 and has self for its object4 ,what ,i have said of pride is equally true of humility4 ,the sensation of humility is uneasy1 as that of pride is agreeable2 for which reason the separate sensation arising from the causes must be reversed1 while the relation to self continues the same4 ,though pride and humility are directly contrary in their effects and in their sensations1 they have notwithstanding the same object2 so that 'tis requisite only to change the relation of impressions without making any change upon that of ideas4 ,accordingly we find1 that a beautiful house belonging to ourselves produces pride2 and that the same house1 still belonging to ourselves1 produces humility1 when by any accident its beauty is changed into deformity1 and thereby the sensation of pleasure1 which corresponded to pride1 is transformed into pain1 which is related to humility4 ,the double relation between the ideas and impressions subsists in both cases1 and produces an easy transition from the one emotion to the other4 ,in a word1 nature has bestowed a kind of attraction on certain impressions and ideas1 by which one of them1 upon its appearance1 naturally introduces its correlative4 ,if these two attractions or associations of impressions and ideas concur on the same object1 they mutually assist each other1 and the transition of the affections and of the imagination is made with the greatest ease and facility4 ,when an idea produces an impression1 related to an impression1 which is connected with an idea related to the first idea1 these two impressions must be in a manner inseparable1 nor will the one in any case be unattended with the other4 ',tis after this manner that the particular causes of pride and humility are determined4 ,the quality which operates on the passion produces separately an impression resembling it2 the subject to which the quality adheres is related to self1 the object of the passion3 no wonder the whole cause1 consisting of a quality and of a subject1 does so unavoidably give rise to the passion4 ,to illustrate this hypothesis1 we may compare it to that by which ,i have already explained the belief attending the judgments which we form from causation4 ,i have observed1 that in all judgments of this kind1 there is always a present impression and a related idea2 and that the present impression gives a vivacity to the fancy1 and the relation conveys this vivacity1 by an easy transition1 to the related idea4 ,without the present impression1 the attention is not fixed1 nor the spirits excited4 ,without the relation1 this attention rests on its first object1 and has no farther consequence4 ,there is evidently a great analogy betwixt that hypothesis1 and our present one of an impression and idea1 that transfuse themselves into another impression and idea by means of their double relation3 which analogy must be allowed to be no despicable proof of both hypotheses4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,limitations ,,of ,,this ,,system4 ,but before we proceed farther in this subject1 and examine particularly all the causes of pride and humility1 'twill be proper to make some limitations to the general system1 that all agreeable objects1 related to ourselves by an association of ideas and of impressions1 produce pride1 and disagreeable ones1 humility3 and these limitations are derived from the very nature of the subject4 ,i4 ,suppose an agreeable object to acquire a relation to self1 the first passion that appears on this occasion is joy2 and this passion discovers itself upon a slighter relation than pride and vain-glory4 ,we may feel joy upon being present at a feast1 where our senses are regaled with delicacies of every kind3 but 'tis only the master of the feast1 who1 beside the same joy1 has the additional passion of self-applause and vanity4 ',tis true1 men sometimes boast of a great entertainment1 at which they have only been present2 and by so small a relation convert their pleasure into pride3 but however this must in general be owned1 that joy arises from a more inconsiderable relation than vanity1 and that many things1 which are too foreign to produce pride1 are yet able to give us a delight and pleasure4 ,the reason of the difference may be explained thus4 ,a relation is requisite to joy1 in order to approach the object to us1 and make it give us any satisfaction4 ,but beside this1 which is common to both passions1 'tis requisite to pride1 in order to produce a transition from one passion to another1 and convert the satisfaction into vanity4 ,as it has a double task to perform1 it must be endowed with double force and energy4 ,to which we may add1 that where agreeable objects bear not a very close relation to ourselves1 they commonly do to some other person2 and this latter relation not only excels1 but even diminishes1 and sometimes destroys the former1 as we shall see afterwards4#b ,here then is the first limitation we must make to our general position1 that every thing related to us1 which produces pleasure or pain1 produces likewise pride or humility4 ,there is not only a relation required1 but a close one1 and a closer than is required to joy4 ,,ii4 ,the second limitation is1 that the agreeable or disagreeable object be not only closely related1 but also peculiar to ourselves1 or at least common to us with a few persons4 ',tis a quality observable in human nature1 and which we shall endeavour to explain afterwards1 that every thing1 which is often presented1 and to which we have been long accustomed1 loses its value in our eyes1 and is in a little time despised and neglected4 ,we likewise judge of objects more from comparison than from their real and intrinsic merit2 and where we cannot by some contrast enhance their value1 we are apt to overlook even what is essentially good in them4 ,these qualities of the mind have an effect upon joy as well as pride2 and 'tis remarkable1 that goods1 which are common to all mankind1 and have become familiar to us by custom1 give us little satisfaction1 though perhaps of a more excellent kind than those on which1 for their singularity1 we set a much higher value4 ,but though this circumstance operates on both these passions1 it has a much greater influence on vanity4 ,we are rejoiced for many goods1 which1 on account of their frequency1 give us no pride4 ,health1 when it returns after a long absence1 affords us a very sensible satisfaction2 but is seldom regarded as a subject of vanity1 because 'tis shared with such vast numbers4 ,the reason why pride is so much more delicate in this particular than joy1 ,i take to be as follows4 ,in order to excite pride1 there are always two objects we must contemplate1 viz4 the cause1 or that object which produces pleasure2 and self1 which is the real object of the passion4 ,but joy has only one object necessary to its production1 viz4 that which gives pleasure2 and though it be requisite that this bear some relation to self1 yet that is only requisite in order to render it agreeable2 nor is self1 properly speaking1 the object of this passion4 ,since1 therefore1 pride has1 in a manner1 two objects to which it directs our view1 it follows1 that where neither of them have any singularity1 the passion must be more weakened upon that account than a passion which has only one object4 ,upon comparing ourselves with others1 as we are every moment apt to do1 we find we are not in the least distinguished2 and1 upon comparing the object we possess1 we discover still the same unlucky circumstance4 ,by two comparisons so disadvantageous1 the passion must be entirely destroyed4 ,,iii4 ,the third limitation is1 that the pleasant or painful object be very discernible and obvious1 and that not only to ourselves but to others also4 ,this circumstance1 like the two foregoing1 has an effect upon joy as well as pride4 ,we fancy ourselves more happy1 as well as more virtuous or beautiful1 when we appear so to others2 but are still more ostentatious of our virtues than of our pleasures4 ,this proceeds from causes which ,i shall endeavour to explain afterwards4 ,,iv4 ,the fourth limitation is derived from the inconstancy of the cause of these passions1 and from the short duration of its connexion with ourselves4 ,what is casual and inconstant gives but little joy1 and less pride4 ,we are not much satisfied with the thing itself2 and are still less apt to feel any new degrees of self-satisfaction upon its account4 ,we foresee and anticipate its change by the imagination1 which makes us little satisfied with the thing3 we compare it to ourselves1 whose existence is more durable1 by which means its inconstancy appears still greater4 ,it seems ridiculous to infer an excellency in ourselves from an object which is of so much shorter duration1 and attends us during so small a part of our existence4 ',twill be easy to comprehend the reason why this cause operates not with the same force in joy as in pride2 since the idea of self is not so essential to the former passion as to the latter4 ,v4 ,i may add1 as a fifth limitation1 or rather enlargement of this system1 that general rules have a great influence upon pride and humility1 as well as on all the other passions4 ,hence we form a notion of different ranks of men1 suitable to the power or riches they are possessed of2 and this notion we change not upon account of any peculiarities of the health or temper of the persons1 which may deprive them of all enjoyment in their possessions4 ,this may be accounted for from the same principles that explained the influence of general rules on the understanding4 ,custom readily carries us beyond the just bounds in our passions as well as in our reasonings4 ,it may not be amiss to observe on this occasion1 that the influence of general rules and maxims on the passions very much contributes to facilitate the effects of all the principles1 which we shall explain in the progress of this ,treatise4 ,for 'tis evident1 that if a person1 full grown1 and of the same nature with ourselves1 were on a sudden transported into our world1 he would be very much embarrassed with every object1 and would not readily find what degree of love or hatred1 pride or humility1 or any other passion he ought to attribute to it4 ,the passions are often varied by very inconsiderable principles2 and these do not always play with a perfect regularity1 especially on the first trial4 ,but as custom and practice have brought to light all these principles1 and have settled the just value of every thing2 this must certainly contribute to the easy production of the passions1 and guide us1 by means of general established maxims1 in the proportions we ought to observe in preferring one object to another4 ,this remark may1 perhaps1 serve to obviate difficulties that may arise concerning some causes which ,i shall hereafter ascribe to particular passions1 and which may be esteemed too refined to operate so universally and certainly as they are found to do4 ,i shall close this subject with a reflection derived from these five limitations4 ,this reflection is1 that the persons who are proudest1 and who1 in the eye of the world1 have most reason for their pride1 are not always the happiest2 nor the most humble always the most miserable1 as may at first sight be imagined from this system4 ,an evil may be real1 though its cause has no relation to us3 it may be real1 without being peculiar3 it may be real without showing itself to others3 it may be real1 without being constant3 and it may be real1 without falling under the general rules4 ,such evils as these will not fail to render us miserable1 though they have little tendency to diminish pride3 and perhaps the most real and the most solid evils of life will be found of this nature4 #b ,part4 ,,ii4 ,sect4 #d4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,,of ,,vice ,,and ,,virtue4 ,taking these limitations along with us1 let us proceed to examine the causes of pride and humility1 and see whether in every case we can discover the double relations by which they operate on the passions4 ,if we find that all these causes are related to self1 and produce a pleasure or uneasiness separate from the passion1 there will remain no farther scruple with regard to the present system4 ,we shall principally endeavour to prove the latter point1 the former being in a manner self-evident4 ,to begin with vice and virtue1 which are the most obvious causes of these passions1 'twould be entirely foreign to my present purpose to enter upon the controversy1 which of late years has so much excited the curiosity of the public1 whether these moral distinctions be founded on natural and original principles1 or arise from interest and education4 ,the examination of this ,i reserve for the following book2 and1 in the mean time1 shall endeavour to show1 that my system maintains its ground upon either of these hypotheses1 which will be a strong proof of its solidity4 ,for1 granting that morality had no foundation in nature1 it must still be allowed1 that vice and virtue1 either from self-interest or the prejudices of education1 produce in us a real pain and pleasure2 and this we may observe to be strenuously asserted by the defenders of that hypothesis4 ,every passion1 habit1 or turn of character 7say they7 which has a tendency to our advantage or prejudice1 gives a delight or uneasiness2 and 'tis from thence the approbation or disapprobation arises4 ,we easily gain from the liberality of others1 but are always in danger of losing by their avarice3 courage defends us1 but cowardice lays us open to every attack3 justice is the support of society1 but injustice1 unless checked1 would quickly prove its ruin3 humility exalts1 but pride mortifies us4 ,for these reasons the former qualities are esteemed virtues1 and the latter regarded as vices4 ,now1 since 'tis granted there is a delight or uneasiness still attending merit or demerit of every kind1 this is all that is requisite for my purpose4 ,but ,i go farther1 and observe1 that this moral hypothesis and my present system not only agree together1 but also that1 allowing the former to be just1 'tis an absolute and invincible proof of the latter4 ,for if all morality be founded on the pain or pleasure which arises from the prospect of any loss or advantage that may result from our own characters1 or from those of others1 all the effects of morality must be derived from the same pain or pleasure1 and1 among the rest1 the passions of pride and humility4 ,the very essence of virtue1 according to this hypothesis1 is to produce pleasure1 and that of vice to give pain4 ,the virtue and vice must be part of our character1 in order to excite pride or humility4 ,what farther proof can we desire for the double relation of impressions and ideas8 ,the same unquestionable argument may be derived from the opinion of those who maintain that morality is something real1 essential1 and founded on nature4 ,the most probable hypothesis1 which has been advanced to explain the distinction betwixt vice and virtue1 and the origin of moral rights and obligations1 is1 that from a primary constitution of nature1 certain characters and passions1 by the very view and contemplation1 produce a pain1 and others in like manner excite a pleasure4 ,the uneasiness and satisfaction are not only inseparable from vice and virtue1 but constitute their very nature and essence4 ,to approve of a character is to feel an original delight upon its appearance4 ,to disapprove of it is to be sensible of an uneasiness4 ,the pain and pleasure therefore being the primary causes of vice and virtue1 must also be the causes of all their effects1 and consequently of pride and humility1 which are the unavoidable attendants of that distinction4 ,but1 supposing this hypothesis of moral philosophy should be allowed to be false1 'tis still evident that pain and pleasure1 if not the causes of vice and virtue1 are at least inseparable from them4 ,a generous and noble character affords a satisfaction even in the survey2 and when presented to us1 though only in a poem or fable1 never fails to charm and delight us4 ,on the other hand1 cruelty and treachery displease from their very nature2 nor is it possible ever to reconcile us to these qualities1 either in ourselves or others4 ,thus1 one hypothesis of morality is an undeniable proof of the foregoing system1 and the other at worst agrees with it4 ,but pride and humility arise not from these qualities alone of the mind1 which1 according to the vulgar systems of ethicks1 have been comprehended as parts of moral duty1 but from any other that has a connexion with pleasure and uneasiness4 ,nothing flatters our vanity more than the talent of pleasing by our wit1 good humour1 or any other accomplishment2 and nothing gives us a more sensible mortification than a disappointment in any attempt of that nature4 ,no one has ever been able to tell what wit is1 and to show why such a system of thought must be received under that denomination1 and such another rejected4 ',tis only by taste we can decide concerning it1 nor are we possessed of any other standard1 upon which we can form a judgment of this kind4 ,now1 what is this taste1 from which true and false wit in a manner receive their being1 and without which no thought can have a title to either of these denominations8 ',tis plainly nothing but a sensation of pleasure from true wit1 and of uneasiness from false1 without our being able to tell the reasons of that pleasure or uneasiness4 ,the power of bestowing these opposite sensations is1 therefore1 the very essence of true and false wit1 and consequently the cause of that pride or humility which arises from them4 ,there may perhaps be some1 who1 being accustomed to the style of the schools and pulpit1 and having never considered human nature in any other light1 than that in which they place it1 may here be surprised to hear me talk of virtue as exciting pride1 which they look upon as a vice2 and of vice as producing humility1 which they have been taught to consider as a virtue4 ,but not to dispute about words1 ,i observe1 that by pride ,i understand that agreeable impression1 which arises in the mind1 when the view either of our virtue1 beauty1 riches or power1 makes us satisfied with ourselves2 and that by humility ,i mean the opposite impression4 ',tis evident the former impression is not always vicious1 nor the latter virtuous4 ,the most rigid morality allows us to receive a pleasure from reflecting on a generous action2 and 'tis by none esteemed a virtue to feel any fruitless remorses upon the thoughts of past villany and baseness4 ,let us1 therefore1 examine these impressions1 considered in themselves2 and inquire into their causes1 whether placed on the mind or body1 without troubling ourselves at present with that merit or blame1 which may attend them4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,,of ,,beauty ,,and ,,deformity4 ,whether we consider the body as a part of ourselves1 or assent to those philosophers1 who regard it as something external1 it must still be allowed to be near enough connected with us to form one of these double relations1 which ,i have asserted to be necessary to the causes of pride and humility4 ,wherever1 therefore1 we can find the other relation of impressions to join to this of ideas1 we may expect with assurance either of these passions1 according as the impression is pleasant or uneasy4 ,but beauty of all kinds gives us a peculiar delight and satisfaction2 as deformity produces pain1 upon whatever subject it may be placed1 and whether surveyed in an animate or inanimate object4 ,if the beauty or deformity1 therefore1 be placed upon our own bodies1 this pleasure or uneasiness must be converted into pride or humility1 as having in this case all the circumstances requisite to produce a perfect transition of impressions and ideas4 ,these opposite sensations are related to the opposite passions4 ,the beauty or deformity is closely related to self1 the object of both these passions4 ,no wonder1 then1 our own beauty becomes an object of pride1 and deformity of humility4 ,but this effect of personal and bodily qualities is not only a proof of the present system1 by showing that the passions arise not in this case without all the circumstances ,i have required1 but may be employed as a stronger and more convincing argument4 ,if we consider all the hypotheses which have been formed either by philosophy or common reason1 to explain the difference betwixt beauty and deformity1 we shall find that all of them resolve into this1 that beauty is such an order and construction of parts1 as1 either by the primary constitution of our nature1 by custom1 or by caprice1 is fitted to give a pleasure and satisfaction to the soul4 ,this is the distinguishing character of beauty1 and forms all the difference betwixt it and deformity1 whose natural tendency is to produce uneasiness4 ,pleasure and pain1 therefore1 are not only necessary attendants of beauty and deformity1 but constitute their very essence4 ,and1 indeed1 if we consider that a great part of the beauty which we admire either in animals or in other objects is derived from the idea of convenience and utility1 we shall make no scruple to assent to this opinion4 ,that shape which produces strength is beautiful in one animal2 and that which is a sign of agility1 in another4 ,the order and convenience of a palace are no less essential to its beauty than its mere figure and appearance4 ,in like manner the rules of architecture require1 that the top of a pillar should be more slender than its base1 and that because such a figure conveys to us the idea of security1 which is pleasant2 whereas the contrary form gives us the apprehension of danger1 which is uneasy4 ,from innumerable instances of this kind1 as well as from considering that beauty1 like wit1 cannot be defined1 but is discerned only by a taste or sensation1 we may conclude that beauty is nothing but a form1 which produces pleasure1 as deformity is a structure of parts which conveys pain2 and since the power of producing pain and pleasure make in this manner the essence of beauty and deformity1 all the effects of these qualities must be derived from the sensation2 and among the rest pride and humility1 which of all their effects are the most common and remarkable4 ,this argument ,i esteem just and decisive2 but in order to give greater authority to the present reasoning1 let us suppose it false for a moment1 and see what will follow4 ',tis certain1 then1 that if the power of producing pleasure and pain forms not the essence of beauty and deformity1 the sensations are at least inseparable from the qualities1 and 'tis even difficult to consider them apart4 ,now1 there is nothing common to natural and moral beauty 7both of which are the causes of pride71 but this power of producing pleasure2 and as a common effect always supposes a common cause1 'tis plain that pleasure must in both cases be the real and influencing cause of the passion4 ,again1 there is nothing originally different betwixt the beauty of our bodies and the beauty of external and foreign objects1 but that the one has a near relation to ourselves1 which is waiting in the other4 ,this original difference1 therefore1 must be the cause of all their other differences1 and1 among the rest1 of their different influence upon the passion of pride1 which is excited by the beauty of our person1 but is not affected in the least by that of foreign and external objects4 ,placing then these two conclusions together1 we find they compose the preceding system betwixt them1 viz4 that pleasure1 as a related or resembling impression1 when placed on a related object1 by a natural transition produces pride1 and its contrary1 humility4 ,this system1 then1 seems already sufficiently confirmed by experience1 though we have not yet exhausted all our arguments4 ',tis not the beauty of the body alone that produces pride1 but also its strength and force4 ,strength is a kind of power1 and therefore the desire to excel in strength is to be considered as an inferior species of ambition4 ,for this reason the present phenomenon will be sufficiently accounted for in explaining that passion4 ,concerning all other bodily accomplishments1 we may observe1 in general1 that whatever in ourselves is either useful1 beautiful or surprising1 is an object of pride1 and its contrary of humility4 ,now1 'tis obvious that every thing useful1 beautiful or surprising1 agrees in producing a separate pleasure1 and agrees in nothing else4 ,the pleasure1 therefore1 with relation to self1 must be the cause of the passion4 ,though it should not be questioned whether beauty be not something real1 and different from the power of producing pleasure1 it can never be disputed1 that1 as surprise is nothing but a pleasure arising from novelty1 it is not1 properly speaking1 a quality in any object1 but merely a passion or impression in the soul4 ,it must therefore be from that impression that pride by a natural transition arises4 ,and it arises so naturally1 that there is nothing in us1 or belonging to us1 which produces surprise1 that does not at the same time excite that other passion4 ,thus1 we are vain of the surprising adventures we have met with1 the escapes we have made1 and dangers we have been exposed to4 ,hence the origin of vulgar lying2 where men1 without any interest1 and merely out of vanity1 heap up a number of extraordinary events1 which are either the fictions of their brain1 or1 if true1 have at least no connexion with themselves4 ,their fruitful invention supplies them with a variety of adventures2 and where that talent is wanting1 they appropriate such as belong to others1 in order to satisfy their vanity4 ,in this phenomenon are contained two curious experiments1 which1 if we compare them together1 according to the known rules1 by which we judge of cause and effect in anatomy1 natural philosophy1 and other sciences1 will be an undeniable argument for that influence of the double relations above-mentioned4 ,by one of these experiments we find1 that an object produces pride merely by the interposition of pleasure2 and that because the quality by which it produces pride1 is in reality nothing but the power of producing pleasure4 ,by the other experiment we find1 that the pleasure produces the pride by a transition along related ideas2 because when we cut off that relation1 the passion is immediately destroyed4 ,a surprising adventure1 in which we have been ourselves engaged1 is related to us1 and by that means produces pride3 but the adventures of others1 though they may cause pleasure1 yet1 for want of this relation of ideas1 never excite that passion4 ,what farther proof can be desired for the present system8 ,there is only one objection to this system with regard to our body2 which is1 that though nothing be more agreeable than health1 and more painful than sickness1 yet commonly men are neither proud of the one1 nor mortified with the other4 ,this will easily be accounted for1 if we consider the second and fourth limitations1 proposed to our general system4 ,it was observed1 that no object ever produces pride or humility1 if it has not something peculiar to ourself2 as also1 that every cause of that passion must be in some measure constant1 and hold some proportion to the duration of ourself1 which is its object4 ,now1 as health and sickness vary incessantly to all men1 and there is none who is solely or certainly fixed in either1 these accidental blessings and calamities are in a manner separated from us1 and are never considered as connected with our being and existence4 ,and that this account is just1 appears hence1 that wherever a malady of any kind is so rooted in our constitution that we no longer entertain any hopes of recovery1 from that moment it becomes an object of humility2 as is evident in old men1 whom nothing mortifies more than the consideration of their age and infirmities4 ,they endeavour1 as long as possible1 to conceal their blindness and deafness1 their rheums and gout2 nor do they ever confess them without reluctance and uneasiness4 ,and though young men are not ashamed of every headache or cold they fall into1 yet no topic is so proper to mortify human pride1 and make us entertain a mean opinion of our nature1 than this1 that we are every moment of our lives subject to such infirmities4 ,this sufficiently proves that bodily pain and sickness are in themselves proper causes of humility2 though the custom of estimating every thing by comparison more than by its intrinsic worth and value1 makes us overlook these calamities1 which we find to be incident to every one1 and causes us to form an idea of our merit and character independent of them4 ,we are ashamed of such maladies as affect others1 and are either dangerous or disagreeable to them4 ,of the epilepsy1 because it gives a horror to every one present2 of the itch1 because it is infectious2 of the king's evil1 because it commonly goes to posterity4 ,men always consider the sentiments of others in their judgment of themselves4 ,this has evidently appeared in some of the foregoing reasonings1 and will appear still more evidently1 and be more fully explained afterwards4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,,of ,,external ,,advantages ,,and ,,disadvantages4 ,but though pride and humility have the qualities of our mind and body1 that is self1 for their natural and more immediate causes1 we find by experience that there are many other objects which produce these affections1 and that the primary one is1 in some measure1 obscured and lost by the multiplicity of foreign and extrinsic4 ,we round a vanity upon houses1 gardens1 equipages1 as well as upon personal merit and accomplishments2 and though these external advantages be in themselves widely distant from thought or a person1 yet they considerably influence even a passion1 which is directed to that as its ultimate object4 ,this happens when external objects acquire any particular relation to ourselves1 and are associated or connected with us4 ,a beautiful fish in the ocean1 an animal in a desart1 and indeed any thing that neither belongs1 nor is related to us1 has no manner of influence on our vanity1 whatever extraordinary qualities it may be endowed with1 and whatever degree of surprise and admiration it may naturally occasion4 ,it must be some way associated with us in order to touch our pride4 ,its idea must hang in a manner upon that of ourselves2 and the transition from the one to the other must be easy and natural4 ,but here 'tis remarkable1 that though the relation of resemblance operates upon the mind in the same manner as contiguity and causation1 in conveying us from one idea to another1 yet 'tis seldom a foundation either of pride or of humility4 ,if we resemble a person in any of the valuable parts of his character1 we must1 in some degree1 possess the quality in which we resemble him2 and this quality we always choose to survey directly in ourselves1 rather than by reflection in another person1 when we would found upon it any degree of vanity4 ,so that though a likeness may occasionally produce that passion1 by suggesting a more advantageous idea of ourselves1 'tis there the view1 fixes at last1 and the passion finds its ultimate and final cause4 ,there are instances1 indeed1 wherein men show a vanity in resembling a great man in his countenance1 shape1 air1 or other minute circumstances1 that contribute not in any degree to his reputation2 but it must be confessed1 that this extends not very far1 nor is of any considerable moment in these affections4 ,for this ,i assign the following reason4 ,we can never have a vanity of resembling in trifles any person1 unless he be possessed of very shining qualities1 which give us a respect and veneration for him4 ,these qualities1 then1 are1 properly speaking1 the causes of our vanity1 by means of their relation to ourselves4 ,now1 after what manner are they related to ourselves8 ,they are parts of the person we value1 and1 consequently1 connected with these trifles2 which are also supposed to be parts of him4 ,these trifles are connected with the resembling qualities in us2 and these qualities in us1 being parts1 are connected with the whole2 and1 by that means1 form a chain of several links betwixt ourselves and the shining qualities of the person we resemble4 ,but1 besides that this multitude of relations must weaken the connexion1 'tis evident the mind1 in passing from the shining qualities to the trivial ones1 must1 by that contrast1 the better perceive the minuteness of the latter1 and be1 in some measure1 ashamed of the comparison and resemblance4 ,the relation1 therefore1 of contiguity1 or that of causation1 betwixt the cause and object of pride and humility1 is alone requisite to give rise to these passions2 and these relations are nothing else but qualities1 by which the imagination is conveyed from one idea to another4 ,now1 let us consider what effect these can possibly have upon the mind1 and by what means they become so requisite to the production of the passions4 ',tis evident1 that the association of ideas operates in so silent and imperceptible a manner1 that we are scarce sensible of it1 and discover it more by its effects than by any immediate feeling or perception4 ,it produces no emotion1 and gives rise to no new impression of any kind1 but only modifies those ideas of which the mind was formerly possessed1 and which it could recal upon occasion4 ,from this reasoning1 as well as from undoubted experience1 we may conclude1 that an association of ideas1 however necessary1 is not alone sufficient to give rise to any passion4 ',tis evident1 then1 that when the mind feels the passion1 either of pride or humility1 upon the appearance of a related object1 there is1 beside the relation or transition of thought1 an emotion1 or original impression1 produced by some other principle4 ,the question is1 whether the emotion first produced be the passion itself1 or some other impression related to it4 ,this question we cannot be long in deciding4 ,for1 besides all the other arguments with which this subject abounds1 it must evidently appear1 that the relation of ideas1 which experience shows to be so requisite a circumstance to the production of the passion1 would be entirely superfluous1 were it not to second a relation of affections1 and facilitate the transition from one impression to another4 ,if nature produced immediately the passion of pride or humility1 it would be completed in itself1 and would require no farther addition or increase from any other affection4 ,but1 supposing the first emotion to be only related to pride or humility1 'tis easily conceived to what purpose the relation of objects may serve1 and how the two different associations of impressions and ideas1 by uniting their forces1 may assist each other's operation4 ,this is not only easily conceived1 but1 ,i will venture to affirm1 'tis the only manner in which we can conceive this subject4 ,an easy transition of ideas1 which1 of itself1 causes no emotion1 can never be necessary1 or even useful to the passions1 but by forwarding the transition betwixt some related impressions4 ,not to mention that the same object causes a greater or smaller degree of pride1 not only in proportion to the increase or decrease of its qualities1 but also to the distance or nearness of the relation1 which is a clear argument for the transition of affections along the relation of ideas1 since every change in the relation produces a proportionable change in the passion4 ,thus one part of the preceding system1 concerning the relations of ideas1 is a sufficient proof of the other1 concerning that of impressions2 and is itself so evidently founded on experience1 that 'twould be lost time to endeavour farther to prove it4 ,this will appear still more evidently in particular instances4 ,men are vain of the beauty of their country1 of their county1 of their parish4 ,here the idea of beauty plainly produces a pleasure4 ,this pleasure is related to pride4 ,the object or cause of this pleasure is1 by the supposition1 related to self1 or the object of pride4 ,by this double relation of impressions and ideas1 a transition is made from the one impression to the other4 ,men are also vain of the temperature of the climate in which they were born2 of the fertility of their native soil2 of the goodness of the wines1 fruits1 or victuals1 produced by it2 of the softness or force of their language1 with other particulars of that kind4 ,these objects have plainly a reference to the pleasures of the senses1 and are originally considered as agreeable to the feeling1 taste1 or hearing4 ,how is it possible they could ever become objects of pride1 except by means of that transition above explained8 ,there are some that discover a vanity of an opposite kind1 and affect to depreciate their own country1 in comparison of those to which they have travelled4 ,these persons find1 when they are at home1 and surrounded with their countrymen1 that the strong relation betwixt them and their own nation is shared with so many1 that 'tis in a manner lost to them2 whereas their distant relation to a foreign country1 which is formed by their having seen it and lived in it1 is augmented by their considering how few there are who have done the same4 ,for this reason they always admire the beauty1 utility1 and rarity of what is abroad1 above what is at home4 ,since we can be vain of a country1 climate1 or any inanimate object which bears a relation to us1 'tis no wonder we are vain of the qualities of those who are connected with us by blood or friendship4 ,accordingly we find1 that the very same qualities1 which in ourselves produce pride1 produce also1 in a lesser degree1 the same affection when discovered in persons related to us4 ,the beauty1 address1 merit1 credit1 and honours of their kindred1 are carefully displayed by the proud1 as some of their most considerable sources of their vanity4 ,as we are proud of riches in ourselves1 so1 to satisfy our vanity1 we desire that every one1 who has any connexion with us1 should likewise be possessed of them1 and are ashamed of any one that is mean or poor among our friends and relations4 ,for this reason we remove the poor as far from us as possible2 and as we cannot prevent poverty in some distant collaterals1 and our forefathers are taken to be our nearest relations1 upon this account every one affects to be of a good family1 and to be descended from a long succession of rich and honourable ancestors4 ,i have frequently observed1 that those who boast of the antiquity of their families1 are glad when they can join this circumstance1 that their ancestors for many generations have been uninterrupted proprietors of the same portion of land1 and that their family has never changed its possessions1 or been transplanted into any other county or province4 ,i have also observed1 that 'tis an additional subject of vanity1 when they can boast that these possessions have been transmitted through a descent composed entirely of males1 and that the honours and fortune have never passed through any female4 ,let us endeavour to explain these phenomena by the foregoing system4 ',tis evident that1 when any one boasts of the antiquity of his family1 the subjects of his vanity are not merely the extent of time and number of ancestors1 but also their riches and credit1 which are supposed to reflect a lustre on himself on account of his relation to them4 ,he first considers these objects2 is affected by them in an agreeable manner2 and then returning back to himself1 through the relation of parent and child1 is elevated with the passion of pride1 by means of the double relation of impressions and ideas4 ,since1 therefore1 the passion depends on these relations1 whatever strengthens any of the relations must also increase the passion1 and whatever weakens the relations must diminish the passion4 ,now 'tis certain the identity of the possession strengthens the relation of ideas arising from blood and kindred1 and conveys the fancy with greater facility from one generation to another1 from the remotest ancestors to their posterity1 who are both their heirs and their descendants4 ,by this facility the impression is transmitted more entire1 and excites a greater degree of pride and vanity4 ,the case is the same with the transmission of the honours and fortune through a succession of males without their passing through any female4 ',tis a quality of human nature1 which we shall consider afterwards1#c that the imagination naturally turns to whatever is important and considerable2 and where two objects are presented to it1 a small and a great one1 usually leaves the former1 and dwells entirely upon the latter4 ,as in the society of marriage1 the male sex has the advantage above the female1 the husband first engages our attention2 and whether we consider him directly1 or reach him by passing through related objects1 the thought both rests upon him with greater satisfaction1 and arrives at him with greater facility than his consort4 ',tis easy to see1 that this property must strengthen the child's relation to the father1 and weaken that to the mother4 ,for as all relations are nothing but a propensity to pass from one idea to another1 whatever strengthens the propensity strengthens the relation2 and as we have a stronger propensity to pass from the idea of the children to that of the father1 than from the same idea to that of the mother1 we ought to regard the former relation as the closer and more considerable4 ,this is the reason why children commonly bear their father's name1 and are esteemed to be of nobler or baser birth1 according to his family4 ,and though the mother should be possessed of a superior spirit and genius to the father1 as often happens1 the general rule prevails1 notwithstanding the exception1 according to the doctrine above explained4 ,nay1 even when a superiority of any kind is so great1 or when any other reasons have such an effect1 as to make the children rather represent the mother's family than the father's1 the general rule still retains such an efficacy1 that it weakens the relation1 and makes a kind of break in the line of ancestors4 ,the imagination runs not along them with facility1 nor is able to transfer the honour and credit of the ancestors to their posterity of the same name and family so readily1 as when the transition is conformable to the general rules1 and passes from father to son1 or from brother to brother4 #c ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 #b4 ,,section ,x4 ,,of ,,property ,,and ,,riches4 ,but the relation which is esteemed the closest1 and which1 of all others1 produces most commonly the passion of pride1 is that of property4 ,this relation 'twill be impossible for me fully to explain before ,i come to treat of justice and the other moral virtues4 ',tis sufficient to observe on this occasion1 that property may be defined1 such a relation betwixt a person and an object as permits him1 but forbids any other1 the free use and possession of it1 without violating the laws of justice and moral equity4 ,if justice therefore be a virtue1 which has a natural and original influence on the human mind1 property may be looked upon as a particular species of causation2 whether we consider the liberty it gives the proprietor to operate as he pleases upon the object1 or the advantages which he reaps from it4 ',tis the same case1 if justice1 according to the system of certain philosophers1 should be esteemed an artificial and not a natural virtue4 ,for then honour1 and custom1 and civil laws supply the place of natural conscience1 and produce in some degree1 the same effects4 ,this1 in the mean time1 is certain1 that the mention of the property naturally carries our thought to the proprietor1 and of the proprietor to the property2 which being a proof of a perfect relation of ideas1 is all that is requisite to our present purpose4 ,a relation of ideas1 joined to that of impressions1 always produces a transition of affections2 and therefore1 whenever any pleasure or pain arises from an object1 connected with us by property1 we may be certain1 that either pride or humility must arise from this conjunction of relations1 if the foregoing system be solid and satisfactory4 ,and whether it be so or not1 we may soon satisfy ourselves by the most cursory view of human life4 ,every thing belonging to a vain man is the best that is any where to be found4 ,his houses1 equipage1 furniture1 clothes1 horses1 hounds1 excel all others in his conceit2 and 'tis easy to observe1 that from the least advantage in any of these1 he draws a new subject of pride and vanity4 ,his wine1 if you'll believe him1 has a finer flavour than any other2 his cookery is more exquisite2 his table more orderly2 his servant more expert2 the air in which he lives more healthful2 the soil he cultivates more fertile2 his fruits ripen earlier1 and to greater perfection2 such a thing is remarkable for its novelty2 such another for its antiquity3 this is the workmanship of a famous artist1 that belonged to such a prince or great man2 all objects1 in a word1 that are useful1 beautiful1 or surprising1 or are related to such1 may1 by means of property1 give rise to this passion4 ,these agree in giving pleasure1 and agree in nothing else4 ,this alone is common to them1 and therefore must be the quality that produces the passion1 which is their common effect4 ,as every new instance is a new argument1 and as the instances are here without number1 ,i may venture to affirm1 that scarce any system was ever so fully proved by experience1 as that which ,i have here advanced4 ,if the property of any thing that gives pleasure either by its utility1 beauty1 or novelty1 produces also pride by a double relation of impressions and ideas2 we need not be surprised that the power of acquiring this property should have the same effect4 ,now1 riches are to be considered as the power of acquiring the property of what pleases2 and 'tis only in this view they have any influence on the passions4 ,paper will1 on many occasions1 be considered as riches1 and that because it may convey the power of acquiring money2 and money is not riches1 as it is a metal endowed with certain qualities of solidity1 weight1 and fusibility2 but only as it has a relation to the pleasures and conveniences of life4 ,taking then this for granted1 which is in itself so evident1 we may draw from it one of the strongest arguments ,i have yet employed to prove the influence of the double relations on pride and humility4 ,it has been observed1 in treating of the understanding1 that the distinction which we sometimes make betwixt a power and the exercise of it1 is entirely frivolous1 and that neither man nor any other being ought ever to be thought possessed of any ability1 unless it be exerted and put in action4 ,but though this be strictly true in a just and philosophical way of thinking1 'tis certain it is not the philosophy of our passions1 but that many things operate upon them by means of the idea and supposition of power1 independent of its actual exercise4 ,we are pleased when we acquire an ability of procuring pleasure1 and are displeased when another acquires a power of giving pain4 ,this is evident from experience2 but in order to give a just explication of the matter1 and account for this satisfaction and uneasiness1 we must weigh the following reflections4 ',tis evident the error of distinguishing power from its exercise proceeds not entirely from the scholastic doctrine of free will1 which1 indeed1 enters very little into common life1 and has but small influence on our vulgar and popular ways of thinking4 ,according to that doctrine1 motives deprive us not of free-will1 nor take away our power of performing or forbearing any action4 ,but according to common notions a man has no power1 where very considerable motives lie betwixt him and the satisfaction of his desires1 and determine him to forbear what he wishes to perform4 ,i do not think ,i have fallen into my enemy's power when ,i see him pass me in the streets with a sword by his side1 while ,i am1 unprovided of any weapon4 ,i know that the fear of the civil magistrate is as strong a restraint as any of iron1 and that ,i am in as perfect safety as if he were chained or imprisoned4 ,but when a person acquires such an authority over me1 that not only there is no external obstacle to his actions1 but also that he may punish or reward me as he pleases without any dread of punishment in his turn1 ,i then attribute a full power to him1 and consider myself as his subject or vassal4 ,now1 if we compare these two cases1 that of a person who has very strong motives of interest or safety to forbear any action1 and that of another who lies under no such obligation1 we shall find1 according to the philosophy explained in the foregoing book1 that the only known difference betwixt them lies in this1 that in the former case we conclude1 from past experience1 that the person never will perform that action1 and in the latter1 that he possibly or probably will perform it4 ,nothing is more fluctuating and inconstant on many occasions than the will of man2 nor is there any thing but strong motives which can give us an absolute certainty in pronouncing concerning any of his future actions4 ,when we see a person free from these motives1 we suppose a possibility either of his acting or forbearing2 and though1 in general1 we may conclude him to be determined by motives and causes1 yet this removes not the uncertainty of our judgment concerning these causes1 nor the influence of that uncertainty on the passions4 ,since1 therefore1 we ascribe a power of performing an action to every one who has no very powerful motive to forbear it1 and refuse it to such as have1 it may justly be concluded1 that power has always a reference to its exercise1 either actual or probable1 and that we consider a person as endowed with any ability when we find1 from past experience1 that 'tis probable1 or at least possible1 he may exert it4 ,and indeed1 as our passions always regard the real existence of objects1 and we always judge of this reality from past instances1 nothing can be more likely of itself1 without any farther reasoning1 than that power consists in the possibility or probability of any action1 as discovered by experience and the practice of the world4 ,now1 'tis evident that1 wherever a person is in such a situation with regard to me that there is no very powerful motive to deter him from injuring me1 and consequently 'tis uncertain whether he will injure me or not1 ,i must be uneasy in such a situation1 and cannot consider the possibility or probability of that injury without a sensible concern4 ,the passions are not only affected by such events as are certain and infallible1 but also in an inferior degree by such as are possible and contingent4 ,and though perhaps ,i never really feel any harm1 and discover by the event1 that1 philosophically speaking1 the person never had any power of harming me1 since he did not exert any1 this prevents not my uneasiness from the preceding uncertainty4 ,the agreeable passions may here operate as well as the uneasy1 and convey a pleasure when ,i perceive a good to become either possible or probable by the possibility or probability of another's bestowing it on me1 upon the removal of any strong motives which might formerly have hindered him4 ,but we may farther observe1 that this satisfaction increases1 when any good approaches1 in such a manner that it is in one's own power to take or leave it1 and there neither is any physical impediment1 nor any very strong motive to hinder our enjoyment4 ,as all men desire pleasure1 nothing can be more probable than its existence when there is no external obstacle to the producing it1 and men perceive no danger in following their inclinations4 ,in that case their imagination easily anticipates the satisfaction1 and conveys the same joy as if they were persuaded of its real and actual existence4 ,but this accounts not sufficiently for the satisfaction which attends riches4 ,a miser receives delight from his money2 that is1 from the power it affords him of procuring all the pleasures and conveniences of life1 though he knows he has enjoyed his riches for forty years without ever enjoying them2 and consequently cannot conclude1 by any species of reasoning1 that the real existence of these pleasures is nearer1 than if he were entirely deprived of all his possessions4 ,but though he cannot form any such conclusion in a way of reasoning concerning the nearer approach of the pleasure1 'tis certain he imagines it to approach nearer1 whenever all external obstacles are removed1 along with the more powerful motives of interest and danger1 which oppose it4 ,for farther satisfaction on this head1 ,i must refer to my account of the will1#d where ,i shall explain that false sensation of liberty1 which makes us imagine we can perform any thing that is not very dangerous or destructive4 ,whenever any other person is under no strong obligations of interest to forbear any pleasure1 we judge from experience1 that the pleasure will exist1 and that he will probably obtain it4 ,but when ourselves are in that situation1 we judge from an illusion of the fancy1 that the pleasure is still closer and more immediate4 ,the will seems to move easily every way1 and casts a shadow or image of itself even to that side on which it did not settle4 ,by means of this image the enjoyment seems to approach nearer to us1 and gives us the same lively satisfaction as if it were perfectly certain and unavoidable4 ',twill now be easy to draw this whole reasoning to a point1 and to prove1 that when riches produce any pride or vanity in their possessors1 as they never fail to do1 'tis only by means of a double relation of impressions and ideas4 ,the very essence of riches consists in the power of procuring the pleasures and conveniences of life4 ,the very essence of this power consists in the probability of its exercise1 and in its causing us to anticipate1 by a true or false reasoning1 the real existence of the pleasure4 ,this anticipation of pleasure is1 in itself1 a very considerable pleasure2 and as its cause is some possession or property which we enjoy1 and which is thereby related to us1 we here clearly see all the parts of the foregoing system most exactly and distinctly drawn out before us4 ,for the same reason1 that riches cause pleasure and pride1 and poverty excites uneasiness and humility1 power must produce the former emotions1 and slavery the latter4 ,power or an authority over others makes us capable of satisfying all our desires2 as slavery1 by subjecting us to the will of others1 exposes us to a thousand wants and mortifications4 ',tis here worth observing1 that the vanity of power1 or shame of slavery1 are much augmented by the consideration of the persons over whom we exercise our authority1 or who exercise it over us4 ,for1 supposing it possible to frame statues of such an admirable mechanism1 that they could move and act in obedience to the will2 'tis evident the possession of them would give pleasure and pride1 but not to such a degree as the same authority1 when exerted over sensible and rational creatures1 whose condition1 being compared to our own1 makes it seem more agreeable and honourable4 ,comparison is in every case a sure method of augmenting our esteem of any thing4 ,a rich man feels the felicity of his condition better by opposing it to that of a beggar4 ,but there is a peculiar advantage in power1 by the contrast1 which is1 in a manner1 presented to us betwixt ourselves and the person we command4 ,the comparison is obvious and natural3 the imagination finds it in the very subject3 the passage of the thought to its conception is smooth and easy4 ,and that this circumstance has a considerable effect in augmenting its influence1 will appear afterwards in examining the nature of malice and envy4 #d ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 #b4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,,of ,,the ,,love ,,of ,,fame4 ,but beside these original causes of pride and humility1 there is a secondary one in the opinions of others1 which has an equal influence on the affections4 ,our reputation1 our character1 our name1 are considerations of vast weight and importance2 and even the other causes of pride1 virtue1 beauty and riches1 have little influence1 when not seconded by the opinions and sentiments of others4 ,in order to account for this phenomenon1 'twill be necessary to take some compass1 and first explain the nature of sympathy4 ,no quality of human nature is more remarkable1 both in itself and in its consequences1 than that propensity we have to sympathize with others1 and to receive by communication their inclinations and sentiments1 however different from1 or even contrary to1 our own4 ,this is not only conspicuous in children1 who implicitly embrace every opinion proposed to them2 but also in men of the greatest judgment and understanding1 who find it very difficult to follow their own reason or inclination1 in opposition to that of their friends and daily companions4 ,to this principle we ought to ascribe the great uniformity we may observe in the humours and turn of thinking of those of the same nation2 and 'tis much more probable1 that this resemblance arises from sympathy1 than from any influence of the soil and climate1 which1 though they continue invariably the same1 are not able to preserve the character of a nation the same for a century together4 ,a good-natured man finds himself in an instant of the same humour with his company2 and even the proudest and most surly take a tincture from their countrymen and acquaintance4 ,a cheerful countenance infuses a sensible complacency and serenity into my mind2 as an angry or sorrowful one throws a sudden damp upon me4 ,hatred1 resentment1 esteem1 love1 courage1 mirth and melancholy2 all these passions ,i feel more from communication1 than from my own natural temper and disposition4 ,so remarkable a phenomenon merits our attention1 and must be traced up to its first principles4 ,when any affection is infused by sympathy1 it is at first known only by its effects1 and by those external signs in the countenance and conversation1 which convey an idea of it4 ,this idea is presently converted into an impression1 and acquires such a degree of force and vivacity1 as to become the very passion itself1 and produce an equal emotion as any original affection4 ,however instantaneous this change of the idea into an impression may be1 it proceeds from certain views and reflections1 which will not escape the strict scrutiny of a philosopher1 though they may the person himself who makes them4 ',tis evident that the idea1 or rather impression of ourselves1 is always intimately present with us1 and that our consciousness gives us so lively a conception of our own person1 that 'tis not possible to imagine that any thing can in this particular go beyond it4 ,whatever object1 therefore1 is related to ourselves1 must be conceived with a like vivacity of conception1 according to the foregoing principles2 and though this relation should not be so strong as that of causation1 it must still have a considerable influence4 ,resemblance and contiguity are relations not to be neglected2 especially when1 by an inference from cause and effect1 and by the observation of external signs1 we are informed of the real existence of the object1 which is resembling or contiguous4 ,now1 'tis obvious that nature has preserved a great resemblance among all human creatures1 and that we never remark any passion or principle in others1 of which1 in some degree or other1 we may not find a parallel in ourselves4 ,the case is the same with the fabric of the mind as with that of the body4 ,however the parts may differ in shape or size1 their structure and composition are in general the same4 ,there is a very remarkable resemblance1 which preserves itself amidst all their variety2 and this resemblance must very much contribute to make us enter into the sentiments of others1 and embrace them with facility and pleasure4 ,accordingly we find1 that where1 beside the general resemblance of our natures1 there is any peculiar similarity in our manners1 or character1 or country1 or language1 it facilitates the sympathy4 ,the stronger the relation is betwixt ourselves and any object1 the more easily does the imagination make the transition1 and convey to the related idea the vivacity of conception1 with which we always form the idea of our own person4 ,nor is resemblance the only relation which has this effect1 but receives new force from other relations that may accompany it4 ,the sentiments of others have little influence when far removed from us1 and require the relation of contiguity to make them communicate themselves entirely4 ,the relations of blood1 being a species of causation1 may sometimes contribute to the same effect2 as also acquaintance1 which operates in the same manner with education and custom1 as we shall see more fully afterwards4#e ,all these relations1 when united together1 convey the impression or consciousness of our own person to the idea of the sentiments or passions of others1 and makes us conceive them in the strongest and most lively manner4 ,it has been remarked in the beginning of this ,treatise1 that all ideas are borrowed from impressions1 and that these two kinds of perceptions differ only in the degrees of force and vivacity with which they strike upon the soul4 ,the component parts of ideas and impressions are precisely alike4 ,the manner and order of their appearance may be the same4 ,the different degrees of their force and vivacity are1 therefore1 the only particulars that distinguish them3 and as this difference may be removed1 in some measure1 by a relation betwixt the impressions and ideas1 'tis no wonder an idea of a sentiment or passion may by this means be so enlivened as to become the very sentiment or passion4 ,the lively idea of any object always approaches its impression2 and 'tis certain we may feel sickness and pain from the mere force of imagination1 and make a malady real by often thinking of it4 ,but this is most remarkable in the opinions and affections2 and 'tis there principally that a lively idea is converted into an impression4 ,our affections depend more upon ourselves1 and the internal operations of the mind1 than any other impressions2 for which reason they arise more naturally from the imagination1 and from every lively idea we form of them4 ,this is the nature and cause of sympathy2 and 'tis after this manner we enter so deep into the opinions and affections of others1 whenever we discover them4 ,what is principally remarkable in this whole affair1 is the strong confirmation these phenomena give to the foregoing system concerning the understanding1 and consequently to the present one concerning the passions1 since these are analogous to each other4 ',tis indeed evident1 that when we sympathize with the passions and sentiments of others1 these movements appear at first in our mind as mere ideas1 and are conceived to belong to another person1 as we conceive any other matter of fact4 ',tis also evident1 that the ideas of the affections of others are converted into the very impressions they represent1 and that the passions arise in conformity to the images we form of them4 ,all this is an object of the plainest experience1 and depends not on any hypothesis of philosophy4 ,that science can only be admitted to explain the phenomena2 though at the same time it must be confessed1 they are so clear of themselves1 that there is but little occasion to employ it4 ,for1 besides the relation of cause and effect1 by which we are convinced of the reality of the passion with which we sympathize2 besides this1 ,i say1 we must be assisted by the relations of resemblance and contiguity1 in order to feel the sympathy in its full perfection4 ,and since these relations can entirely convert an idea into an impression1 and convey the vivacity of the latter into the former1 so perfectly as to lose nothing of it in the transition1 we may easily conceive how the relation of cause and effect alone1 may serve to strengthen and enliven an idea4 ,in sympathy there is an evident conversion of an idea into an impression4 ,this conversion arises from the relation of objects to ourself4 ,ourself is always intimately present to us4 ,let us compare all these circumstances1 and we shall find1 that sympathy is exactly correspondent to the operations of our understanding2 and even contains something more surprising and extraordinary4 ',tis now time to turn our view from the general consideration of sympathy1 to its influence on pride and humility1 when these passions arise from praise and blame1 from reputation and infamy4 ,we may observe1 that no person is ever praised by another for any quality which would not1 if real1 produce of itself a pride in the person possessed of it4 ,the eulogiums either turn upon his power1 or riches1 or family1 or virtue2 all of which are subjects of vanity1 that we have already explained and accounted for4 ',tis certain1 then1 that if a person considered himself in the same light in which he appears to his admirer1 he would first receive a separate pleasure1 and afterwards a pride or self-satisfaction1 according to the hypothesis above explained4 ,now1 nothing is more natural than for us to embrace the opinions of others in this particular1 both from sympathy1 which renders all their sentiments intimately present to us1 and from reasoning1 which makes us regard their judgment as a kind of argument for what they affirm4 ,these two principles of authority and sympathy influence almost all our opinions1 but must have a peculiar influence when we judge of our own worth and character4 ,such judgments are always attended with passion2#f and nothing tends more to disturb our understanding1 and precipitate us into any opinions1 however unreasonable1 than their connexion with passion1 which diffuses itself over the imagination1 and gives an additional force to every related idea4 ,to which we may add1 that1 being conscious of great partiality in our own favour1 we are peculiarly pleased with any thing that confirms the good opinion we have of ourselves1 and are easily shocked with whatever opposes it4 ,all this appears very probable in theory2 but in order to bestow a full certainty on this reasoning1 we must examine the phenomena of the passions1 and see if they agree with it4 ,among these phenomena we may esteem it a very favourable one to our present purpose1 that though fame in general be agreeable1 yet we receive a much greater satisfaction from the approbation of those whom we ourselves esteem and approve of1 than of those whom we hate and despise4 ,in like manner we are principally mortified with the contempt of persons upon whose judgment we set some value1 and are1 in a great measure1 indifferent about the opinions of the rest of mankind4 ,but if the mind received from any original instinct a desire of fame1 and aversion to infamy1 fame and infamy would influence us without distinction2 and every opinion1 according as it were favourable or unfavourable1 would equally excite that desire or aversion4 ,the judgment of a fool is the judgment of another person1 as well as that of a wise man1 and is only inferior in its influence on our own judgment4 ,we are not only better pleased with the approbation of a wise man than with that of a fool1 but receive an additional satisfaction from the former1 when 'tis obtained after a long and intimate acquaintance4 ,this is accounted for after the same manner4 ,the praises of others never give us much pleasure1 unless they concur with our own opinion1 and extol us for those qualities in which we chiefly excel4 ,a mere soldier little values the character of eloquence2 a gownman1 of courage2 a bishop1 of humour2 or a merchant1 of learning4 ,whatever esteem a man may have for any quality1 abstractedly considered1 when he is conscious he is not possessed of it1 the opinions of the whole world will give him little pleasure in that particular1 and that because they never will be able to draw his own opinion after them4 ,nothing is more usual than for men of good families1 but narrow circumstances1 to leave their friends and country1 and rather seek their livelihood by mean and mechanical employments among strangers1 than among those who are acquainted with their birth and education4 ,we shall be unknown1 say they1 where we go4 ,nobody will suspect from what family we are sprung4 ,we shall be removed from all our friends and acquaintance1 and our poverty and meanness will by that means sit more easy upon us4 ,in examining these sentiments1 ,i find they afford many very convincing arguments for my present purpose4 ,first1 we may infer from them that the uneasiness of being contemned depends on sympathy1 and that sympathy depends on the relation of objects to ourselves1 since we are most uneasy under the contempt of persons who are both related to us by blood and contiguous in place4 ,hence we seek to diminish this sympathy and uneasiness by separating these relations1 and placing ourselves in a contiguity to strangers1 and at a distance from relations4 ,secondly1 we may conclude1 that relations are requisite to sympathy1 not absolutely considered as relations1 but by their influence in converting our ideas of the sentiments of others into the very sentiments by means of the association betwixt the idea of their persons and that of our own4 ,for here the relations of kindred and contiguity both subsist1 but not being united in the same persons1 they contribute in a less degree to the sympathy4 ,thirdly1 this very circumstance of the diminution of sympathy1 by the separation of relations1 is worthy of our attention4 ,suppose ,i am placed in a poor condition among strangers1 and consequently am but lightly treated2 ,i yet find myself easier in that situation1 than when ,i was every day exposed to the contempt of my kindred and countrymen4 ,here ,i feel a double contempt2 from my relations1 but they are absent2 from those about me1 but they are strangers4 ,this double contempt is likewise strengthened by the two relations of kindred and contiguity4 ,but as the persons are not the same who are connected with me by those two relations1 this difference of ideas separates the impressions arising from the contempt1 and keeps them from running into each other4 ,the contempt of my neighbours has a certain influence1 as has also that of my kindred2 but these influences are distinct and never unite1 as when the contempt proceeds from persons who are at once both my neighbours and kindred4 ,this phenomenon is analogous to the system of pride and humility above explained1 which may seem so extraordinary to vulgar apprehensions4 ,fourthly1 a person in these circumstances naturally conceals his birth from those among whom he lives1 and is very uneasy if any one suspects him to be of a family much superior to his present fortune and way of living4 ,every thing in this world is judged of by comparison ,what is an immense fortune for a private gentleman1 is beggary for a prince4 ,a peasant would think himself happy in what cannot afford necessaries for a gentleman4 ,when a man has either been accustomed to a more splendid way of living1 or thinks himself entitled to it by his birth and quality1 every thing below is disagreeable and even shameful2 and 'tis with the greatest industry he conceals his pretensions to a better fortune4 ,here he himself knows his misfortunes2 but as those with whom he lives are ignorant of them1 he has the disagreeable reflection and comparison suggested only by his own thoughts1 and never receives it by a sympathy with others2 which must contribute very much to his ease and satisfaction4 ,if there be any objections to this hypothesis1 that the pleasure which we receive from praise arises from a communication of sentiments1 we shall find1 upon examination1 that these objections1 when taken in a proper light1 will serve to confirm it4 ,popular fame may be agreeable even to a man who despises the vulgar2 but 'tis because their multitude gives them additional weight and authority4 ,plagiaries are delighted with praises1 which they are conscious they do not deserve2 but this is a kind of castle-building1 where the imagination amuses itself with its own fictions1 and strives to render them firm and stable by a sympathy with the sentiments of others4 ,proud men are most shocked with contempt1 though they do not most readily assent to it2 but 'tis because of the opposition betwixt the passion1 which is natural to them1 and that received by sympathy4 ,a violent lover1 in like manner1 is very much displeased when you blame and condemn his love2 though 'tis evident your opposition can have no influence but by the hold it takes of himself1 and by his sympathy with you4 ,if he despises you1 or perceives you are in jest1 whatever you say has no effect upon him4 #e ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 #d4 #f ,book ,i4 ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 #aj4 ,,section ,,xii4 ,,of ,,the ,,pride ,,and ,,humility ,,of ,,animals4 ,thus1 in whatever light we consider this subject1 we may still observe1 that the causes of pride and humility correspond exactly to our hypothesis1 and that nothing can excite either of these passions1 unless it be both related to ourselves1 and produces a pleasure or pain independent of the passion4 ,we have not only proved1 that a tendency to produce pleasure or pain is common to all the causes of pride or humility1 but also that 'tis the only thing which is common1 and consequently is the quality by which they operate4 ,we have farther proved1 that the most considerable causes of these passions are really nothing but the power of producing either agreeable or uneasy sensations2 and therefore that all their effects1 and amongst the rest pride and humility1 are derived solely from that origin4 ,such simple and natural principles1 founded on such solid proofs1 cannot fail to be received by philosophers1 unless opposed by some objections that have escaped me4 ',tis usual with anatomists to join their observations and experiments on human bodies to those on beasts2 and1 from the agreement of these experiments1 to derive an additional argument for any particular hypothesis4 ',tis indeed certain1 that where the structure of parts in brutes is the same as in men1 and the operation of these parts also the same1 the causes of that operation cannot be different2 and that whatever we discover to be true of the one species1 may be concluded1 without hesitation1 to be certain of the other4 ,thus1 though the mixture of humours1 and the composition of minute parts1 may justly be presumed to be somewhat different in men from what it is in mere animals1 and therefore any experiment we make upon the one concerning the effects of medicines1 will not always apply to the other1 yet1 as the structure of the veins and muscles1 the fabric and situation of the heart1 of the lungs1 the stomach1 the liver1 and other parts1 are the same or nearly the same in all animals1 the very same hypothesis1 which in one species explains muscular motion1 the progress of the chyle1 the circulation of the blood1 must be applicable to every one2 and1 according as it agrees or disagrees with the experiments we may make in any species of creatures1 we may draw a proof of its truth or falsehood on the whole4 ,let us therefore apply this method of inquiry1 which is found so just and useful in reasonings concerning the body1 to our present anatomy of the mind1 and see what discoveries we can make by it4 ,in order to this1 we must first show the correspondence of passions in men and animals1 and afterwards compare the causes1 which produce these passions4 ',tis plain1 that almost in every species of creatures1 but especially of the nobler kind1 there are many evident marks of pride and humility4 ,the very port and gait of a swan1 or turkey1 or peacock1 show the high idea he has entertained of himself1 and his contempt of all others4 ,this is the more remarkable1 that1 in the two last species of animals1 the pride always attends the beauty1 and is discovered in the mule only4 ,the vanity and emulation of nightingales in singing have been commonly remarked2 as likewise that of horses in swiftness1 of hounds in sagacity and smell1 of the bull and cock in strength1 and of every other animal in his particular excellency4 ,add to this1 that every species of creatures1 which approach so often to man as to familiarize themselves with him1 show an evident pride in his approbation1 and are pleased with his praises and caresses1 independent of every other consideration4 ,nor are they the caresses of every one without distinction which give them this vanity1 but those principally of the persons they know and love2 in the same manner as that passion is excited in mankind4 ,all these are evident proofs that pride and humility are not merely human passions1 but extend themselves over the whole animal creation4 ,the causes of these passions are likewise much the same in beasts as in us1 making a just allowance for our superior knowledge and understanding4 ,thus1 animals have little or no sense of virtue or vice2 they quickly lose sight of the relations of blood2 and are incapable of that of right and property3 for which reason the causes of their pride and humility must lie solely in the body1 and can never be placed either in the mind or external objects4 ,but so far as regards the body1 the same qualities cause pride in the animal as in the human kind2 and 'tis on beauty1 strength1 swiftness1 or some other useful or agreeable quality1 that this passage is always founded4 ,the next question is1 whether1 since those passions are the same1 and arise from the same causes through the whole creation1 the manner1 in which the causes operate1 be also the same4 ,according to all rules of analogy1 this is justly to be expected2 and if we find upon trial1 that the explication of these phenomena1 which we make use of in one species1 will not apply to the rest1 we may presume that that explication1 however specious1 is in reality without foundation4 ,in order to decide this question1 let us consider1 that there is evidently the same relation of ideas1 and derived from the same causes1 in the minds of animals as in those of men4 ,a dog1 that has hid a bone1 often forgets the place2 but when brought to it1 his thought passes easily to what he formerly concealed1 by means of the contiguity1 which produces a relation among his ideas4 ,in like manner1 when he has been heartily beat in any place1 he will tremble on his approach to it1 even though he discover no signs of any present danger4 ,the effects of resemblance are not so remarkable2 but as that relation makes a considerable ingredient in causation1 of which all animals show so evident a judgment1 we may conclude1 that the three relations of resemblance1 contiguity1 and causation operate in the same manner upon beasts as upon human creatures4 ,there are also instances of the relation of impressions1 sufficient to convince us1 that there is an union of certain affections with each other in the inferior species of creatures1 as well as in the superior1 and that their minds are frequently conveyed through a series of connected emotions4 ,a dog1 when elevated with joy1 runs naturally into love and kindness1 whether of his master or of the sex4 ,in like manner1 when full of pain and sorrow1 he becomes quarrelsome and ill natured2 and that passion1 which at first was grief1 is by the smallest occasion converted into anger4 ,thus1 all the internal principles that are necessary in us to produce either pride or humility1 are common to all creatures2 and since the causes1 which excite these passions1 are likewise the same1 we may justly conclude1 that these causes operate after the same manner through the whole animal creation4 ,my hypothesis is so simple1 and supposes so little reflection and judgment1 that 'tis applicable to every sensible creature2 which must not only be allowed to be a convincing proof of its veracity1 but1 ,i am confident1 will be found an objection to every other system4 ,,part ,,ii4 ,,of ,,love ,,and ,,hatred4 ,,section ,i4 ,,of ,,the ,,object ,,and ,,causes ,,of ,,love ,,and ,,hatred4 ',tis altogether impossible to give any definition of the passions of love and hatred2 and that because they produce merely a simple impression1 without any mixture or composition4 ',twould be as unnecessary to attempt any description of them1 drawn from their nature1 origin1 causes1 and objects2 and that both because these are the subjects of our present inquiry1 and because these passions of themselves are sufficiently known from our common feeling and experience4 ,this we have already observed concerning pride and humility1 and here repeat it concerning love and hatred2 and1 indeed1 there is so great a resemblance betwixt these two sets of passions1 that we shall be obliged to begin with a kind of abridgment of our reasonings concerning the former1 in order to explain the latter4 ,as the immediate object of pride and humility is self1 or that identical person of whose thoughts1 actions and sensations1 we are intimately conscious2 so the object of love and hatred is some other person1 of whose thoughts1 actions and sensations1 we are not conscious4 ,this is sufficiently evident from experience4 ,our love and hatred are always directed to some sensible being external to us2 and when we talk of self-love1 'tis not in a proper sense1 nor has the sensation it produces any thing in common with that tender emotion1 which is excited by a friend or mistress4 ',tis the same case with hatred4 ,we may be mortified by our own faults and follies2 but never feel any anger or hatred1 except from the injuries of others4 ,but though the object of love and hatred be always some other person1 'tis plain that the object is not1 properly speaking1 the cause of these passions1 or alone sufficient to excite them4 ,for since love and hatred are directly contrary in their sensation1 and have the same object in common1 if that object were also their cause1 it would produce these opposite passions in an equal degree2 and as they must1 from the very first moment1 destroy each other1 none of them would ever be able to make its appearance4 ,there must1 therefore1 be some cause different from the object4 ,if we consider the causes of love and hatred1 we shall find they are very much diversified1 and have not many things in common4 ,the virtue1 knowledge1 wit1 good sense1 good humour of any person1 produce love and esteem2 as the opposite qualities1 hatred and contempt4 ,the same passions arise from bodily accomplishments1 such as beauty1 force1 swiftness1 dexterity2 and from their contraries2 as likewise from the external advantages and disadvantages of family1 possessions1 clothes1 nation and climate4 ,there is not one of these objects but what1 by its different qualities1 may produce love and esteem1 or hatred and contempt4 ,from the view of these causes we may derive a new distinction betwixt the quality that operates1 and the subject on which it is placed4 ,a prince that is possessed of a stately palace commands the esteem of the people upon that account2 and that1 first1 by the beauty of the palace2 and1 secondly1 by the relation of property1 which connects it with him4 ,the removal of either of these destroys the passion2 which evidently proves that the cause is a compounded one4 ',twould be tedious to trace the passions of love and hatred through all the observations which we have formed concerning pride and humility1 and which are equally applicable to both sets of passions4 ',twill be sufficient to remark1 in general1 that the object of love and hatred is evidently some thinking person2 and that the sensation of the former passion is always agreeable1 and of the latter uneasy4 ,we may also suppose1 with some show of probability1 that the cause of both these passions is always related to a thinking being1 and that the cause of the former produces a separate pleasure1 and of the latter a separate uneasiness4 ,one of these suppositions1 viz4 that the cause of love and hatred must be related to a person or thinking being1 in order to produce these passions1 is not only probable1 but too evident to be contested4 ,virtue and vice1 when considered in the abstract2 beauty and deformity1 when placed on inanimate objects2 poverty and riches1 when belonging to a third person1 excite no degree of love or hatred1 esteem or contempt1 towards those who have no relation to them4 ,a person looking out at a window sees me in the street1 and beyond me a beautiful palace1 with which ,i have no concern3 ,i believe none will pretend1 that this person will pay me the same respect as if ,i were owner of the palace4 ',tis not so evident at first sight1 that a relation of impressions is requisite to these passions1 and that because in the transition the one impression is so much confounded with the other1 that they become in a manner undistinguishable4 ,but as in pride and humility1 we have easily been able to make the separation1 and to prove1 that every cause of these passions produces a separate pain or pleasure1 ,i might here observe the same method with the same success1 in examining particularly the several causes of love and hatred4 ,but as ,i hasten to a full and decisive proof of these systems1 ,i delay this examination for a moment2 and in the mean time shall endeavour to convert to my present purpose all my reasonings concerning pride and humility1 by an argument that is founded on unquestionable experience4 ,there are few persons that are satisfied with their own character1 or genius1 or fortune1 who are not desirous of showing themselves to the world1 and of acquiring the love and approbation of mankind4 ,now 'tis evident1 that the very same qualities and circumstances1 which are the causes of pride or self-esteem1 are also the causes of vanity1 or the desire of reputation2 and that we always put to view those particulars with which in ourselves we are best satisfied4 ,but if love and esteem were not produced by the same qualities as pride1 according as these qualities are related to ourselves or others1 this method of proceeding would be very absurd2 nor could men expect a correspondence in the sentiments of every other person with those themselves have entertained4 ',tis true1 few can form exact systems of the passions1 or make reflections on their general nature and resemblances4 ,but without such a progress in philosophy1 we are not subject to many mistakes in this particular1 but are sufficiently guided by common experience1 as well as by a kind of presentation1 which tells us what will operate on others1 by what we feel immediately in ourselves4 ,since then the same qualities that produce pride or humility1 cause love or hatred1 all the arguments that have been employed to prove that the causes of the former passions excite a pain or pleasure independent of the passion1 will be applicable with equal evidence to the causes of the latter4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,experiments ,,to ,,confirm ,,this ,,system4 ,upon duly weighing these arguments1 no one will make any scruple to assent to that conclusion ,i draw from them1 concerning the transition along related impressions and ideas1 especially as 'tis a principle in itself so easy and natural4 ,but that we may place this system beyond doubt1 both with regard to love and hatred1 pride and humility1 'twill be proper to make some new experiments upon all these passions1 as well as to recal a few of these observations which ,i have formerly touched upon4 ,in order to make these experiments1 let us suppose ,i am in company with a person1 whom ,i formerly regarded without any sentiments either of friendship or enmity4 ,here ,i have the natural and ultimate object of all these four passions placed before me4 ,myself am the proper object of pride or humility2 the other person of love or hatred4 ,regard now with attention the nature of these passions1 and their situation with respect to each other4 ',tis evident here are four affections1 placed as it were in a square1 or regular connexion with1 and distance from1 each other4 ,the passions of pride and humility1 as well as those of love and hatred1 are connected together by the identity of their object1 which to the first set of passions is self1 to the second some other person4 ,these two lines of communication or connexion form two opposite sides of the square4 ,again1 pride and love are agreeable passions2 hatred and humility uneasy4 ,this similitude of sensation betwixt pride and love1 and that betwixt humility and hatred1 form a new connexion1 and may be considered as the other two sides of the square4 ,upon the whole1 pride is connected with humility1 love with hatred1 by their objects or ideas3 pride with love1 humility with hatred1 by their sensations or impressions4 ,i say then1 that nothing can produce any of these passions without bearing it a double relation1 viz4 of ideas to the object of the passion1 and of sensation to the passion itself4 ,this we must prove by our experiments4 ,first experiment4 ,to proceed with the greater order in these experiments1 let us first suppose1 that being placed in the situation above mentioned1 viz4 in company with some other person1 there is an object presented1 that has no relation either of impressions or ideas to any of these passions4 ,thus1 suppose we regard together an ordinary stone1 or other common object1 belonging to neither of us1 and causing of itself no emotion1 or independent pain and pleasure3 'tis evident such an object will produce none of these four passions4 ,let us try it upon each of them successively4 ,let us apply it to love1 to hatred1 to humility1 to pride2 none of them ever arises in the smallest degree imaginable4 ,let us change the object as oft as we please1 provided still we choose one that has neither of these two relations4 ,let us repeat the experiment in all the dispositions of which the mind is susceptible4 ,no object in the vast variety of nature will1 in any disposition1 produce any passion without these relations4 ,second experiment4 ,since an object that wants both these relations can ever produce any passion1 let us bestow on it only one of these relations1 and see what will follow4 ,thus1 suppose ,i regard a stone1 or any common object that belongs either to me or my companion1 and by that means acquires a relation of ideas to the object of the passions3 'tis plain that1 to consider the matter a priori1 no emotion of any kind can reasonably be expected4 ,for1 besides that a relation of ideas operates secretly and calmly on the mind1 it bestows an equal impulse towards the opposite passions of pride and humility1 love and hatred1 according as the object belongs to ourselves or others2 which opposition of the passions must destroy both1 and leave the mind perfectly free from any affection or emotion4 ,this reasoning a priori is confirmed by experience4 ,no trivial or vulgar object1 that causes not a pain or pleasure independent of the passion1 will ever1 by its property or other relations1 either to ourselves or others1 be able to produce the affections of pride or humility1 love or hatred4 ,third experiment4 ',tis evident1 therefore1 that a relation of ideas is not able alone to give rise to these affections4 ,let us now remove this relation1 and1 in its stead1 place a relation of impressions1 by presenting an object1 which is agreeable or disagreeable1 but has no relation either to ourself or companion2 and let us observe the consequences4 ,to consider the matter first a priori1 as in the preceding experiment1 we may conclude that the object will have a small1 but an uncertain connexion with these passions4 ,for1 besides that this relation is not a cold and imperceptible one1 it has not the inconvenience of the relation of ideas1 nor directs us with equal force to two contrary passions1 which1 by their opposition1 destroy each other4 ,but if we consider1 on the other hand1 that this transition from the sensation to the affection is not forwarded by any principle that produces a transition of ideas2 but1 on the contrary1 that though the one impression be easily transfused into the other1 yet the change of objects is supposed contrary to all the principles that cause a transition of that kind2 we may from thence infer1 that nothing will ever be a steady or durable cause of any passion that is connected with the passion merely by a relation of impressions4 ,what our reason would conclude from analogy1 after balancing these arguments1 would be1 that an object1 which produces pleasure or uneasiness1 but has no manner of connexion either with ourselves or others1 may give such a turn to the disposition as that it may naturally fall into pride or love1 humility or hatred1 and search for other objects1 upon which1 by a double relation1 it can found these affections2 but that an object1 which has only one of these relations1 though the most advantageous one1 can never give rise to any constant and established passion4 ,most fortunately1 all this reasoning is found to be exactly conformable to experience and the phenomena of the passions4 ,suppose ,i were travelling with a companion through a country to which we are both utter strangers2 'tis evident1 that if the prospects be beautiful1 the roads agreeable1 and the inns commodious1 this may put me into good humour both with myself and fellow-traveller4 ,but as we suppose that this country has no relation either to myself or friend1 it can never be the immediate cause of pride or love2 and1 therefore1 if ,i found not the passion on some other object that bears either of us a closer relation1 my emotions are rather to be considered as the overflowings of an elevate or humane disposition1 than as an established passion4 ,the case is the same where the object produces uneasiness4 ,fourth experiment4 ,having found1 that neither an object1 without any relation of ideas or impressions1 nor an object that has only one relation1 can ever cause pride or humility1 love or hatred2 reason alone may convince us1 without any farther experiment1 that whatever has a double relation must necessarily excite these passions2 since 'tis evident they must have some cause4 ,but1 to leave as little room for doubt as possible1 let us renew our experiments1 and see whether the event in this case answers our expectation4 ,i chuse an object1 such as virtue1 that causes a separate satisfaction3 on this object ,i bestow a relation to self2 and find1 that from this disposition of affairs there immediately arises a passion4 ,but what passion8 ,that very one of pride1 to which this object bears a double relation4 ,its idea is related to that of self1 the object of the passion3 the sensation it causes resembles the sensation of the passion4 ,that ,i may be sure ,i am not mistaken in this experiment1 ,i remove first one relation1 then another1 and find that each removal destroys the passion1 and leaves the object perfectly indifferent4 ,but ,i am not content with this4 ,i make a still farther trial2 and instead of removing the relation1 ,i only change it for one of a different kind4 ,i suppose the virtue to belong to my companion1 not to myself2 and observe what follows from this alteration4 ,i immediately perceive the affections to wheel about1 and leaving pride1 where there is only one relation1 viz4 of impressions1 fall to the side of love1 where they are attracted by a double relation of impressions and ideas4 ,by repeating the same experiment in changing anew the relation of ideas1 ,i bring the affections back to pride2 and1 by a new repetition1 ,i again place them at love or kindness4 ,being fully convinced of the influence of this relation1 ,i try the effects of the other2 and1 by changing virtue for vice1 convert the pleasant impression which arises from the former1 into the disagreeable one which proceeds from the latter4 ,the effect still answers expectation4 ,vice1 when placed on another1 excites1 by means of its double relations1 the passion of hatred1 instead of love1 which1 for the same reason1 arises from virtue4 ,to continue the experiment1 ,i change anew the relation of ideas1 and suppose the vice to belong to myself4 ,what follows8 ,what is usual4 ,a subsequent change of the passion from hatred to humility4 ,this humility ,i convert into pride by a new change of the impression2 and find1 after all1 that ,i have completed the round1 and have by these changes brought back the passion to that very situation in which ,i first found it4 ,but to make the matter still more certain1 ,i alter the object2 and1 instead of vice and virtue1 make the trial upon beauty and deformity1 riches and poverty1 power and servitude4 ,each of these objects runs the circle of the passions in the same manner1 by a change of their relations3 and in whatever order we proceed1 whether through pride1 love1 hatred1 humility1 or through humility1 hatred1 love1 pride1 the experiment is not in the least diversified4 ,esteem and contempt1 indeed1 arise on some occasions instead of love and hatred2 but these are1 at the bottom1 the same passions1 only diversified by some causes1 which we shall explain afterwards4 ,fifth experiment4 ,to give greater authority to these experiments1 let us change the situation of affairs as much as possible1 and place the passions and objects in all the different positions of which they are susceptible4 ,let us suppose1 beside the relations above mentioned1 that the person1 along with whom ,i make all these experiments1 is closely connected with me either by blood or friendship4 ,he is1 we shall suppose1 my son or brother1 or is united to me by a long and familiar acquaintance4 ,let us next suppose1 that the cause of the passion acquires a double relation of impressions and ideas to this person2 and let us see what the effects are of all these complicated attractions and relations4 ,before we consider what they are in fact1 let us determine what they ought to be1 conformable to my hypothesis4 ',tis plain1 that1 according as the impression is either pleasant or uneasy1 the passion of love or hatred must arise towards the person who is thus connected to the cause of the impression by these double relations which ,i have all along required4 ,the virtue of a brother must make me love him1 as his vice or infamy must excite the contrary passion4 ,but to judge only from the situation of affairs1 ,i should not expect that the affections would rest there1 and never transfuse themselves into any other impression4 ,as there is here a person1 who1 by means of a double relation1 is the object of my passion1 the very same reasoning leads me to think the passion will be carried farther4 ,the person has a relation of ideas to myself1 according to the supposition2 the passion of which he is the object1 by being either agreeable or uneasy1 has a relation of impressions to pride or humility4 ',tis evident1 then1 that one of these passions must arise from the love or hatred4 ,this is the reasoning ,i form in conformity to my hypothesis2 and am pleased to find1 upon trial1 that every thing answers exactly to my expectation4 ,the virtue or vice of a son or brother not only excites love or hatred1 but1 by a new transition from similar causes1 gives rise to pride or humility4 ,nothing causes greater vanity than any shining quality in our relations2 as nothing mortifies us more than their vice or infamy4 ,this exact conformity of experience to our reasoning is a convincing proof of the solidity of that hypothesis upon which we reason4 ,sixth experiment4 ,this evidence will be still augmented if we reverse the experiment1 and1 preserving still the same relations1 begin only with a different passion4 ,suppose that1 instead of the virtue or vice of a son or brother1 which causes first love or hatred1 and afterwards pride or humility1 we place these good or bad qualities on ourselves1 without any immediate connexion with the person who is related to us1 experience shows us1 that1 by this change of situation1 the whole chain is broke1 and that the mind is not conveyed from one passion to another1 as in the preceding instance4 ,we never love or hate a son or brother for the virtue or vice we discern in ourselves2 though 'tis evident the same qualities in him give us a very sensible pride or humility4 ,the transition from pride or humility to love or hatred1 is not so natural as from love or hatred to pride or humility4 ,this may at first sight be esteemed contrary to my hypothesis1 since the relations of impressions and ideas are in both cases precisely the same4 ,pride and humility are impressions related to love and hatred4 ,myself am related to the person4 ,it should therefore be expected1 that like causes must produce like effects1 and a perfect transition arise from the double relation1 as in all other cases4 ,this difficulty we may easily solve by the following reflections4 ',tis evident that1 as we are at all times intimately conscious of ourselves1 our sentiments and passions1 their ideas must strike upon us with greater vivacity than the ideas of the sentiments and passions of any other person4 ,but every thing that strikes upon us with vivacity1 and appears in a full and strong light1 forces itself1 in a manner1 into our consideration1 and becomes present to the mind on the smallest hint and most trivial relation4 ,for the same reason1 when it is once present1 it engages the attention1 and keeps it from wandering to other objects1 however strong may be their relation to our first object4 ,the imagination passes easily from obscure to lively ideas1 but with difficulty from lively to obscure4 ,in the one case the relation is aided by another principle2 in the other case1 'tis opposed by it4 ,now1 ,i have observed1 that those two faculties of the mind1 the imagination and passions1 assist each other in their operation when their propensities are similar1 and when they act upon the same object4 ,the mind has always a propensity to pass from a passion to any other related to it2 and this propensity is forwarded when the object of the one passion is related to that of the other4 ,the two impulses concur with each other1 and render the whole transition more smooth and easy4 ,but if it should happen1 that1 while the relation of ideas1 strictly speaking1 continues the same1 its influence in causing a transition of the imagination should no longer take place1 'tis evident its influence on the passions must also cease1 as being dependent entirely on that transition4 ,this is the reason why pride or humility is not transfused into love or hatred with the same ease that the latter passions are changed into the former4 ,if a person be my brother1 ,i am his likewise3 but though the relations be reciprocal1 they have very different effects on the imagination4 ,the passage is smooth and open from the consideration of any person related to us to that of ourself1 of whom we are every moment conscious4 ,but when the affections are once directed to ourself1 the fancy passes not with the same facility from that object to any other person1 how closely soever connected with us4 ,this easy or difficult transition of the imagination operates upon the passions1 and facilitates or retards their transition2 which is a clear proof that these two faculties of the passions and imagination are connected together1 and that the relations of ideas have an influence upon the affections4 ,besides innumerable experiments that prove this1 we here find1 that even when the relation remains2 if by any particular circumstance its usual effect upon the fancy in producing an association or transition of ideas is prevented1 its usual effect upon the passions1 in conveying us from one to another1 is in like manner prevented4 ,some may1 perhaps1 find a contradiction betwixt this phenomenon and that of sympathy1 where the mind passes easily from the idea of ourselves to that of any other object related to us4 ,but this difficulty will vanish1 if we consider that in sympathy our own person is not the object of any passion1 nor is there any thing that fixes our attention on ourselves1 as in the present case1 where we are supposed to be actuated1 with pride or humility4 ,ourself1 independent of the perception of every other object1 is in reality nothing2 for which reason we must turn our view to external objects1 and 'tis natural for us to consider with most attention such as lie contiguous to us1 or resemble us4 ,but when self is the object of a passion1 'tis not natural to quit the consideration of it till the passion be exhausted1 in which case the double relations of impressions and ideas can no longer operate4 ,seventh experiment4 ,to put this whole reasoning to a farther trial1 let us make a new experiment2 and as we have already seen the effects of related passions and ideas1 let us here suppose an identity of passions along with a relation of ideas2 and let us consider the effects of this new situation4 ',tis evident a transition of the passions from the one object to the other is here in all reason to be expected2 since the relation of ideas is supposed still to continue1 and an identity of impressions must produce a stronger connexion1 than the most perfect resemblance that can be imagined4 ,if a double relation1 therefore1 of impressions and ideas1 is able to produce a transition from one to the other1 much more an identity of impressions with a relation of ideas4 ,accordingly1 we find1 that when we either love or hate any person1 the passions seldom continue within their first bounds2 but extend themselves towards all the contiguous objects1 and comprehend the friends and relations of him we love or hate4 ,nothing is more natural than to bear a kindness to one brother on account of our friendship for another1 without any farther examination of his character4 ,a quarrel with one person gives us a hatred for the whole family1 though entirely innocent of that which displeases us4 ,instances of this kind are every where to be met with4 ,there is only one difficulty in this experiment which it will be necessary to account for1 before we proceed any farther4 ',tis evident1 that though all passions pass easily from one object to another related to it1 yet this transition is made with greater facility where the more considerable object is first presented1 and the lesser follows it1 than where this order is reversed1 and the lesser takes the precedence4 ,thus1 'tis more natural for us to love the son upon account of the father1 than the father upon account of the son2 the servant for the master1 than the master for the servant2 the subject for the prince1 than the prince for the subject4 ,in like manner we more readily contract a hatred against a whole family1 where our first quarrel is with the head of it1 than where we are displeased with a son1 or servant1 or some inferior member4 ,in short1 our passions1 like other objects1 descend with greater facility than they ascend4 ,that we may comprehend wherein consists the difficulty of explaining this phenomenon1 we must consider1 that the very same reason1 which determines the imagination to pass from remote to contiguous objects with more facility than from contiguous to remote1 causes it likewise to change with more ease the less for the greater1 than the greater for the less4 ,whatever has the greatest influence is most taken notice of2 and whatever is most taken notice of1 presents itself most readily to the imagination4 ,we are more apt to overlook in any subject what is trivial1 than what appears of considerable moment2 but especially if the latter takes the precedence1 and first engages our attention4 ,thus1 if any accident makes us consider the satellites of ,jupiter1 our fancy is naturally determined to form the idea of that planet2 but if we first reflect on the principal planet1 'tis more natural for us to overlook its attendants4 ,the mention of the provinces of any empire conveys our thought to the seat of the empire2 but the fancy returns not with the same facility to the consideration of the provinces4 ,the idea of the servant makes us think of the master2 that of the subject carries our view to the prince4 ,but the same relation has not an equal influence in conveying us back again4 ,and on this is founded that reproach of ,cornelia to her sons1 that they ought to be ashamed she should be more known by the title of the daughter of ,scipio1 than by that of the mother of the ,gracchi4 ,this was1 in other words1 exhorting them to render themselves as illustrious and famous as their grandfather1 otherwise the imagination of the people1 passing from her who was intermediate1 and placed in an equal relation to both1 would always leave them1 and denominate her by what was more considerable and of greater moment4 ,on the same principle is founded that common custom of making wives bear the name of their husbands1 rather than husbands that of their wives2 as also the ceremony of giving the precedency to those whom we honour and respect4 ,we might find many other instances to confirm this principle1 were it not already sufficiently evident4 ,now1 since the fancy finds the same facility in passing from the lesser to the greater1 as from remote to contiguous1 why does not this easy transition of ideas assist the transition of passions in the former case as well as in the latter8 ,the virtues of a friend or brother produce first love1 and then pride2 because in that case the imagination passes from remote to contiguous1 according to its propensity4 ,our own virtues produce not first pride1 and then love to a friend or brother2 because the passage in that case would be from contiguous to remote1 contrary to its propensity4 ,but the love or hatred of an inferior1 causes not readily any passion to the superior1 though that be the natural propensity of the imagination3 while the love or hatred of a superior1 causes a passion to the inferior1 contrary to its propensity4 ,in short1 the same facility of transition operates not in the same manner upon superior and inferior as upon contiguous and remote4 ,these two phenomena appear contradictory1 and require some attention to be reconciled4 ,as the transition of ideas is here made contrary to the natural propensity of the imagination1 that faculty must be overpowered by some stronger principle of another kind2 and as there is nothing ever present to the mind but impressions and ideas1 this principle must necessarily lie in the impressions4 ,now1 it has been observed1 that impressions or passions are connected only by their resemblance1 and that where any two passions place the mind in the same or in similar dispositions1 it very naturally passes from the one to the other3 as on the contrary1 a repugnance in the dispositions produces a difficulty in the transition of the passions4 ,but1 'tis observable1 that this repugnance may arise from a difference of degree as well as of kind2 nor do we experience a greater difficulty in passing suddenly from a small degree of love to a small degree of hatred1 than from a small to a great degree of either of these affections4 ,a man1 when calm or only moderately agitated1 is so different1 in every respect1 from himself1 when disturbed with a violent passion1 that no two persons can be more unlike2 nor is it easy to pass from the one extreme to the other1 without a considerable interval betwixt them4 ,the difficulty is not less1 if it be not rather greater in passing from the strong passion to the weak1 than in passing from the weak to the strong1 provided the one passion upon its appearance destroys the other1 and they do not both of them exist at once4 ,but the case is entirely altered1 when the passions unite together1 and actuate the mind at the same time4 ,a weak passion1 when added to a strong1 makes not so considerable change in the disposition1 as a strong when added to a weak2 for which reason there is a closer connexion betwixt the great degree and the small1 than betwixt the small degree and the great4 ,the degree of any passion depends upon the nature of its object2 and an affection directed to a person1 who is considerable in our eyes1 fills and possesses the mind much more than one1 which has for its object a person we esteem of less consequence4 ,here then1 the contradiction betwixt the propensities of the imagination and passion displays itself4 ,when we turn our thought to a great and a small object1 the imagination finds more facility in passing from the small to the great1 than from the great to the small2 but the affections find a greater difficulty3 and1 as the affections are a more powerful principle than the imagination1 no wonder they prevail over it1 and draw the mind to their side4 ,in spite of the difficulty of passing from the idea of great to that of little1 a passion directed to the former produces always a similar passion towards the latter1 when the great and little are related together4 ,the idea of the servant conveys our thought most readily to the master2 but the hatred or love of the master produces with greater facility anger or good will to the servant4 ,the strongest passion in this case takes the precedence2 and the addition of the weaker making no considerable change on the disposition1 the passage is by that means rendered more easy and natural betwixt them4 ,as1 in the foregoing experiment1 we found that a relation of ideas1 which1 by any particular circumstance1 ceases to produce its usual effect of facilitating the transition of ideas1 ceases likewise to operate on the passions2 so1 in the present experiment1 we find the same property of the impressions4 ,two different degrees of the same passion are surely related together2 but if the smaller be first present1 it has little or no tendency to introduce the greater2 and that because the addition of the great to the little produces a more sensible alteration on the temper than the addition of the little to the great4 ,these phenomena1 when duly weighed1 will be found convincing proofs of this hypothesis4 ,and these proofs will be confirmed1 if we consider the manner in which the mind here reconciles the contradiction ,i have observed betwixt the passions and the imagination4 ,the fancy passes with more facility from the less to the greater1 than from the greater to the less4 ,but1 on the contrary1 a violent passion produces more easily a feeble than that does a violent4 ,in this opposition1 the passion in the end prevails over the imagination3 but 'tis commonly by complying with it1 and by seeking another quality1 which may counterbalance that principle from whence the opposition arises4 ,when we love the father or master of a family1 we think of his children or servants4 ,but when these are present with us1 or when it lies any ways in our power to serve them1 the nearness and contiguity in this case increases their magnitude1 or at least removes that opposition which the fancy makes to the transition of the affections4 ,if the imagination finds a difficulty in passing from greater to less1 it finds an equal facility in passing from remote to contiguous1 which brings the matter to an equality1 and leaves the way open from the one passion to the other4 ,eighth experiment4 ,i have observed1 that the transition from love or hatred to pride or humility1 is more easy than from pride or humility to love or hatred2 and that the difficulty which the imagination finds in passing from contiguous to remote1 is the cause why we scarce have any instance of the latter transition of the affections4 ,i must1 however1 make one exception1 viz4 when the very cause of the pride and humility is placed in some other person4 ,for1 in that case1 the imagination is necessitated to consider the person1 nor can it possibly confine its view to ourselves4 ,thus1 nothing more readily produces kindness and affection to any person than his approbation of our conduct and character2 as1 on the other hand1 nothing inspires us with a stronger hatred than his blame or contempt4 ,here1 'tis evident1 that the original passion is pride or humility1 whose object is self2 and that this passion is transfused into love or hatred1 whose object is some other person1 notwithstanding the rule ,i have already established1 that the imagination passes with difficulty from contiguous to remote4 ,but the transition in this case is not made merely on account of the relation betwixt ourselves and the person2 but because that very person is the real cause of our first passion1 and1 of consequence1 is intimately connected with it4 ',tis his approbation that produces pride1 and disapprobation humility4 ,no wonder1 then1 the imagination returns back again attended with the related passions of love and hatred4 ,this is not a contradiction1 but an exception to the rule2 and an exception that arises from the same reason with the rule itself4 ,such an exception as this is1 therefore1 rather a confirmation of the rule4 ,and indeed1 if we consider all the eight experiments ,i have explained1 we shall find that the same principle appears in all of them1 and that 'tis by means of a transition arising from a double relation of impressions and ideas1 pride and humility1 love and hatred are produced4 ,an object without a relation1#a or with but one1#b never produces either of these passions2 and 'tis found#c that the passion always varies in conformity to the relation4 ,nay we may observe1 that where the relation1 by any particular circumstance1 has not its usual effect of producing a transition either of ideas or of impressions1#d it ceases to operate upon the passions1 and gives rise neither to pride nor love1 humility nor hatred4 ,this rule we find still to hold good1 even under the appearance of its contrary2#e and as relation is frequently experienced to have no effect1 which upon examination is found to proceed from some particular circumstance that prevents the transition2 so1 even in instances where that circumstance1 though present1 prevents not the transition1 'tis found to arise from some other circumstance which counterbalances it4 ,thus1 not only the variations resolve themselves into the general principle1 but even the variations of these variations4 #a ,first experiment4 #b ,second and third experiments4 #c ,fourth experiment4 #d ,sixth experiment4 #e ,seventh and eighth experiments4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,difficulties ,,solved4 ,after so many and such undeniable proofs drawn from daily experience and observation1 it may seem superfluous to enter into a particular examination of all the causes of love and hatred4 ,i shall therefore employ the sequel of this part1 first1 in removing some difficulties concerning particular causes of these passions2 secondly1 in examining the compound affections1 which arise from the mixture of love and hatred with other emotions4 ,nothing is more evident1 than that any person acquires our kindness1 or is exposed to our ill-will1 in proportion to the pleasure or uneasiness we receive from him1 and that the passions keep pace exactly with the sensations in all their changes and variations4 ,whoever can find the means1 either by his services1 his beauty1 or his flattery1 to render himself useful or agreeable to us1 is sure of our affections2 as1 on the other hand1 whoever harms or displeases us never fails to excite our anger or hatred4 ,when our own nation is at war with any other1 we detest them under the character of cruel1 perfidious1 unjust1 and violent2 but always esteem ourselves and allies equitable1 moderate1 and merciful4 ,if the general of our enemies be successful1 'tis with difficulty we allow him the figure and character of a man4 ,he is a sorcerer2 he has a communication with demons1 as is reported of ,oliver ,cromwell and the ,duke of ,luxembourg2 he is bloody-minded1 and takes a pleasure in death and destruction4 ,but if the success be on our side1 our commander has all the opposite good qualities1 and is a pattern of virtue1 as well as of courage and conduct4 ,his treachery we call policy2 his cruelty is an evil inseparable from war4 ,in short1 every one of his faults we either endeavour to extenuate1 or dignify it with the name of that virtue which approaches it4 ',tis evident the same method of thinking rims through common life4 ,there are some who add another condition1 and require not only that the pain and pleasure arise from the person1 but likewise that it arise knowingly1 and with a particular design and intention4 ,a man who wounds and harms us by accident1 becomes not our enemy upon that account2 nor do we think ourselves bound1 by any ties of gratitude1 to one who does us any service after the same manner4 ,by the intention we judge of the actions2 and1 according as that is good or bad1 they become causes of love or hatred4 ,but here we must make a distinction4 ,if that quality in another1 which pleases or displeases1 be constant and inherent in his person and character1 it will cause love or hatred1 independent of the intention3 but otherwise a knowledge and design is requisite1 in order to give rise to these passions4 ,one that is disagreeable by his deformity or folly1 is the object of our aversion1 though nothing be more certain1 than that he has not the least intention of displeasing us by these qualities4 ,but if the uneasiness proceed not from a quality1 but an action1 which is produced and annihilated in a moment1 'tis necessary1 in order to produce some relation1 and connect this action sufficiently with the person1 that it be derived from a particular forethought and design4 ',tis not enough that the action arise from the person1 and have him for its immediate cause and author4 ,this relation alone is too feeble and inconstant to be a foundation for these passions4 ,it reaches not the sensible and thinking part1 and neither proceeds from any thing durable in him1 nor leaves any thing behind it1 but passes in a moment1 and is as if it had never been4 ,on the other hand1 an intention shows certain qualities1 which1 remaining after the action is performed1 connect it with the person1 and facilitate the transition of ideas from one to the other4 ,we can never think of him without reflecting on these qualities1 unless repentance and a change of life have produced an alteration in that respect2 in which case the passion is likewise altered4 ,this1 therefore1 is one reason why an intention is requisite to excite either love or hatred4 ,but we must farther consider1 that an intention1 besides its strengthening the relation of ideas1 is often necessary to produce a relation of impressions1 and give rise to pleasure and uneasiness4 ,for 'tis observable1 that the principal part of an injury is the contempt and hatred which it shows in the person that injures us2 and without that1 the mere harm gives us a less sensible uneasiness4 ,in like manner1 a good office is agreeable1 chiefly because it flatters our vanity1 and is a proof of the kindness and esteem of the person who performs it4 ,the removal of the intention removes the mortification in the one case1 and vanity in the other2 and must of course cause a remarkable diminution in the passions of love and hatred4 ,i grant1 that these effects of the removal of design1 hatred1 in diminishing the relations of impressions and ideas1 are not entire1 nor able to remove every degree of these relations4 ,but then ,i ask1 if the removal of design be able entirely to remove the passion of love and hatred8 ,experience1 ,i am sure1 informs us of the contrary1 nor is there any thing more certain than that men often fall into a violent anger for injuries which they themselves must own to be entirely involuntary and accidental4 ,this emotion1 indeed1 cannot be of long continuance1 but still is sufficient to show1 that there is a natural connexion betwixt uneasiness and anger1 and that the relation of impressions will operate upon a very small relation of ideas4 ,but when the violence of the impression is once a little abated1 the defect of the relation begins to be better felt2 and as the character of a person is no wise interested in such injuries as are casual and involuntary1 it seldom happens that on their account we entertain a lasting enmity4 ,to illustrate this doctrine by a parallel instance1 we may observe1 that not only the uneasiness which proceeds from another by accident1 has but little force to excite our passion1 but also that which arises from an acknowledged necessity and duty4 ,one that has a real design of harming us1 proceeding not from hatred and ill will1 but from justice and equity1 draws not upon him our anger1 if we be in any degree reasonable2 notwithstanding he is both the cause1 and the knowing cause1 of our sufferings4 ,let us examine a little this phenomenon4 ',tis evident1 in the first place1 that this circumstance is not decisive2 and though it may be able to diminish the passions1 'tis seldom it can entirely remove them4 ,how few criminals are there who have no ill will to the person that accuses them1 or to the judge that condemns them1 even though they be conscious of their own deserts6 ,in like manner our antagonist in a lawsuit1 and our competitor for any office1 are commonly regarded as our enemies1 though we must acknowledge1 if we would but reflect a moment1 that their motive is entirely as justifiable as our own4 ,besides we may consider1 that when we receive harm from any person1 we are apt to imagine him criminal1 and 'tis with extreme difficulty we allow of his justice and innocence4 ,this is a clear proof that1 independent of the opinion of iniquity1 any harm or uneasiness has a natural tendency to excite our hatred1 and that afterwards we seek for reasons upon which we may justify and establish the passion4 ,here the idea of injury produces not the passion1 but arises from it4 ,nor is it any wonder that passion should produce the opinion of injury2 since otherwise it must suffer a considerable diminution1 which all the passions avoid as much as possible4 ,the removal of injury may remove the anger1 without proving that the anger arises only from the injury4 ,the harm and the justice are two contrary objects1 of which the one has a tendency to produce hatred1 and the other love2 and 'tis according to their different degrees1 and our particular turn of thinking1 that either of the objects prevails and excites its proper passion4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,love ,,of ,,relations4 ,having given a reason why several actions that cause a real pleasure or uneasiness excite not any degree1 or but a small one1 of the passion of love or hatred towards the actors1 'twill be necessary to show wherein consists the pleasure or uneasiness of many objects which we find by experience to produce these passions4 ,according to the preceding system1 there is always required a double relation of impressions and ideas betwixt the cause and effect1 in order to produce either love or hatred4 ,but though this be universally true1 'tis remarkable that the passion of love may be excited by only one relation of a different kind1 viz4 betwixt ourselves and the object2 or1 more properly speaking1 that this relation is always attended with both the others4 ,whoever is united to us by any connexion is always sure of a share of our love1 proportioned to the connexion1 without inquiring into his other qualities4 ,thus1 the relation of blood produces the strongest tie the mind is capable of in the love of parents to their children1 and a lesser degree of the same affection as the relation lessens4 ,nor has consanguinity alone this effect1 but any other relation without exception4 ,we love our countrymen1 our neighbours1 those of the same trade1 profession1 and even name with ourselves4 ,every one of these relations is esteemed some tie1 and gives a title to a share of our affection4 ,there is another phenomenon which is parallel to this1 viz4 that acquaintance1 without any kind of relation1 gives rise to love and kindness4 ,when we have contracted a habitude and intimacy with any person1 though in frequenting his company we have not been able to discover any very valuable quality of which he is possessed2 yet we cannot forbear preferring him to strangers of whose superior merit we are fully convinced4 ,these two phenomena of the effects of relation and acquaintance will give mutual light to each other1 and may be both explained from the same principle4 ,those who take a pleasure in declaiming against human nature have observed1 that man is altogether insufficient to support himself1 and that1 when you loosen all the holds which he has of external objects1 he immediately drops down into the deepest melancholy and despair4 ,from this1 say they1 proceeds that continual search after amusement in gaming1 in hunting1 in business1 by which we endeavour to forget ourselves1 and excite our spirits from the languid state into which they fall when not sustained by some brisk and lively emotion4 ,to this method of thinking ,i so far agree1 that ,i own the mind to be insufficient1 of itself1 to its own entertainment1 and that it naturally seeks after foreign objects which may produce a lively sensation1 and agitate the spirits4 ,on the appearance of such an object it awakes1 as it were1 from a dream2 the blood flows with a new tide2 the heart is elevated2 and the whole man acquires a vigour which he cannot command in his solitary and calm moments4 ,hence company is naturally so rejoicing1 as presenting the liveliest of all objects1 viz4 a rational and thinking being like ourselves1 who communicates to us all the actions of his mind1 makes us privy to his inmost sentiments and affections1 and lets us see1 in the very instant of their production1 all the emotions which are caused by any object4 ,every lively idea is agreeable1 but especially that of a passion1 because such an idea becomes a kind of passion1 and gives a more sensible agitation to the mind than any other image or conception4 ,this being once admitted1 all the rest is easy4 ,for as the company of strangers is agreeable to us for a short time1 by enlivening our thought1 so the company of our relations and acquaintance must be peculiarly agreeable1 because it has this effect in a greater degree1 and is of more durable influence4 ,whatever is related to us is conceived in a lively manner by the easy transition from ourselves to the related object4 ,custom also1 or acquaintance1 facilitates the entrance1 and strengthens the conception of any object4 ,the first case is parallel to our reasonings from cause and effect2 the second to education4 ,and as reasoning and education concur only in producing a lively and strong idea of any object1 so is this the only particular which is common to relation and acquaintance4 ,this must therefore be the influencing quality by which they produce all their common effects2 and love or kindness being one of these effects1 it must be from the force and liveliness of conception that the passion is derived4 ,such a conception is peculiarly agreeable1 and makes us have an affectionate regard for every thing that produces it1 when the proper object of kindness and good will4 ',tis obvious that people associate together according to their particular tempers and dispositions1 and that men of gay tempers naturally love the gay1 as the serious bear an affection to the serious4 ,this not only happens where they remark this resemblance betwixt themselves and others1 but also by the natural course of the disposition1 and by a certain sympathy which always arises betwixt similar characters4 ,where they remark the resemblance1 it operates after the manner of a relation by producing a connexion of ideas4 ,where they do not remark it1 it operates by some other principle2 and if this latter principle be similar to the former1 it must be received as a confirmation of the foregoing reasoning4 ,the idea of ourselves is always intimately present to us1 and conveys a sensible degree of vivacity to the idea of any other object to which we are related4 ,this lively idea changes by degrees into a real impression2 these two kinds of perception being in a great measure the same1 and differing only in their degrees of force and vivacity4 ,but this change must be produced with the greater ease1 that our natural temper gives us a propensity to the same impression which we observe in others1 and makes it arise upon any slight occasion4 ,in that case resemblance converts the idea into an impression1 not only by means of the relation1 and by transfusing the original vivacity into the related idea2 but also by presenting such materials as take fire from the least spark4 ,and as in both cases a love or affection from the resemblance1 we may learn that a sympathy with others is agreeable only by giving an emotion to the spirits1 since an easy sympathy and correspondent emotions are alone common to relation1 acquaintance1 and resemblance4 ,the great propensity men have to pride may be considered as another similar phenomenon4 ,it often happens1 that after we have lived a considerable time in any city1 however at first it might be disagreeable to us1 yet as we become familiar with the objects1 and contract an acquaintance1 though merely with the streets and buildings1 the aversion diminishes by degrees1 and at last changes into the opposite passion4 ,the mind finds a satisfaction and ease in the view of objects to which it is accustomed1 and naturally prefers them to others1 which1 though perhaps in themselves more valuable1 are less known to it4 ,by the same quality of the mind we are seduced into a good opinion of ourselves1 and of all objects that belong to us4 ,they appear in a stronger light1 are more agreeable1 and consequently fitter subjects of pride and vanity than any other4 ,it may not be amiss1 in treating of the affection we bear our acquaintance and relations1 to observe some pretty curious phenomena which attend it4 ',tis easy to remark in common life1 that children esteem their relation to their mother to be weakened1 in a great measure1 by her second marriage1 and no longer regard her with the same eye as if she had continued in her state of widowhood4 ,nor does this happen only when they have felt any inconveniences from her second marriage1 or when her husband is much her inferior2 but even without any of these considerations1 and merely because she has become part of another family4 ,this also takes place with regard to the second marriage of a father1 but in a much less degree2 and 'tis certain the ties of blood are not so much loosened in the latter case as by the marriage of a mother4 ,these two phenomena are remarkable in themselves1 but much more so when compared4 ,in order to produce a perfect relation betwixt two objects1 'tis requisite1 not only that the imagination be conveyed from one to the other1 by resemblance1 contiguity or causation1 but also that it return back from the second to the first with the same ease and facility4 ,at first sight this may seem a necessary and unavoidable consequence4 ,if one object resemble another1 the latter object must necessarily resemble the former4 ,if one object be the cause of another1 the second object is effect to its cause4 ',tis the same with contiguity2 and therefore the relation being always reciprocal1 it may be thought1 that the return of the imagination from the second to the first must also1 in every case1 be equally natural as its passage from the first to the second4 ,but upon farther examination we shall easily discover our mistake4 ,for supposing the second object1 beside its reciprocal relation to the first1 to have also a strong relation to a third object2 in that case the thought1 passing from the first object to the second1 returns not back with the same facility1 though the relation continues the same1 but is readily carried on to the third object1 by means of the new relation which presents itself1 and gives a new impulse to the imagination4 ,this new relation1 therefore1 weakens the tie betwixt the first and second objects4 ,the fancy is1 by its very nature1 wavering and inconstant1 and considers always two objects as more strongly related together1 where it finds the passage equally easy both in going and returning1 than where the transition is easy only in one of these motions4 ,the double motion is a kind of a double tie1 and binds the objects together in the closest and most intimate manner4 ,the second marriage of a mother breaks not the relation of child and parent2 and that relation suffices to convey my imagination from myself to her with the greatest ease and facility4 ,but after the imagination is arrived at this point of view1 it finds its object to be surrounded with so many other relations which challenge its regard1 that it knows not which to prefer1 and is at a loss what new object to pitch upon4 ,the ties of interest and duty bind her to another family1 and prevent that return of the fancy from her to myself which is necessary to support the union4 ,the thought has no longer the vibration requisite to set it perfectly at ease1 and indulge its inclination to change4 ,it goes with facility1 but returns with difficulty2 and by that interruption finds the relation much weakened from what it would be were the passage open and easy on both sides4 ,now1 to give a reason why this effect follows not in in the same degree upon the second marriage of a father2 we may reflect on what has been proved already1 that though the imagination goes easily from the view of a lesser object to that of a greater1 yet it returns not with the same facility from the greater to the less4 ,when my imagination goes from myself to my father1 it passes not so readily from him to his second wife1 nor considers him as entering into a different family1 but as continuing the head of that family of which ,i am myself a part4 ,his superiority prevents the easy transition of the thought from him to his spouse1 but keeps the passage still open for a return to myself along the same relation of child and parent4 ,he is not sunk in the new relation he acquires2 so that the double motion or vibration of thought is still easy and natural4 ,by this indulgence of the fancy in its inconstancy1 the tie of child and parent still preserves its full force and influence4 ,a mother thinks not her tie to a son weakened because 'tis shared with her husband2 nor a son his with a parent1 because 'tis shared with a brother4 ,the third object is here related to the first as well as to the second3 so that the imagination goes and comes along all of them with the greatest facility4 ,,section ,v4 ,,of ,,our ,,esteem ,,for ,,the ,,rich ,,and ,,powerful4 ,nothing has a greater tendency to give us an esteem for any person than his power and riches1 or a contempt1 than his poverty and meanness3 and as esteem and contempt are to be considered as species of love and hatred1 'twill be proper in this place to explain these phenomena4 ,here it happens1 most fortunately1 that the greatest difficulty is1 not to discover a principle capable of producing such an effect1 but to chuse the chief and predominant among several that present themselves4 ,the satisfaction we take in the riches of others1 and the esteem we have for the possessors1 may be ascribed to three different causes4 ,first1 to the objects they possess2 such as houses1 gardens1 equipages1 which1 being agreeable in themselves1 necessarily produce a sentiment of pleasure in every one that either considers or surveys them4 ,secondly1 to the expectation of advantage from the rich and powerful by our sharing their possessions4 ,thirdly1 to sympathy1 which makes us partake of the satisfaction of every one that approaches us4 ,all these principles may concur in producing the present phenomenon4 ,the question is1 to which of them we ought principally to ascribe it4 ',tis certain that the first principle1 viz4 the reflection on agreeable objects1 has a greater influence than what1 at first sight1 we may be apt to imagine4 ,we seldom reflect on what is beautiful or ugly1 agreeable or disagreeable1 without an emotion of pleasure or uneasiness2 and though these sensations appear not much1 in our common indolent way of thinking1 'tis easy1 either in reading or conversation1 to discover them4 ,men of wit always turn the discourse on subjects that are entertaining to the imagination2 and poets never present any objects but such as are of the same nature4 ,mr ,philips has chosen ,cider for the subject of an excellent poem4 ,beer would not have been so proper1 as being neither so agreeable to the taste nor eye4 ,but he would certainly have preferred wine to either of them1 could his native country have afforded him so agreeable a liquor4 ,we may learn from thence1 that every thing which is agreeable to the senses1 is also1 in some measure1 agreeable to the fancy1 and conveys to the thought an image of that satisfaction1 which it gives by its real application to the bodily organs4 ,but1 though these reasons may induce us to comprehend this delicacy of the imagination among the causes of the respect which we pay the rich and powerful1 there are many other reasons that may keep us from regarding it as the sole or principal4 ,for1 as the ideas of pleasure can have an influence only by means of their vivacity1 which makes them approach impressions1 'tis most natural those ideas should have that influence1 which are favoured by most circumstances1 and have a natural tendency to become strong and lively2 such as our ideas of the passions and sensations of any human creature4 ,every human creature resembles ourselves1 and1 by that means1 has an advantage above any other object in operating on the imagination4 ,besides1 if we consider the nature of that faculty1 and the great influence which all relations have upon it1 we shall easily be persuaded1 that however the ideas of the pleasant wines1 music1 or gardens1 which the rich man enjoys1 may become lively and agreeable1 the fancy will not confine itself to them1 but will carry its view to the related objects1 and1 in particular1 to the person who possesses them4 ,and this is the more natural1 that the pleasant idea1 or image1 produces here a passion towards the person by means of his relation to the object2 so that 'tis unavoidable but he must enter into the original conception1 since he makes the object of the derivative passion4 ,but if he enters into the original conception1 and is considered as enjoying these agreeable objects1 'tis sympathy which is properly the cause of the affection2 and the third principle is more powerful and universal than the first4 ,add to this1 that riches and power alone1 even though unemployed1 naturally cause esteem and respect2 and1 consequently1 these passions arise not from the idea of any beautiful or agreeable objects4 ',tis true money implies a kind of representation of such objects by the power it affords of obtaining them2 and for that reason may still be esteemed proper to convey those agreeable images which may give rise to the passion4 ,but as this prospect is very distant1 'tis more natural for us to take a contiguous object1 viz4 the satisfaction which this power affords the person who is possessed of it4 ,and of this we shall be farther satisfied1 if we consider that riches represent the goods of life only by means of the will which employs them2 and therefore imply1 in their very nature1 an idea of the person1 and cannot be considered without a kind of sympathy with his sensations and enjoyments4 ,this we may confirm by a reflection which to some will perhaps appear too subtile and refined4 ,i have already observed that power1 as distinguished from its exercise1 has either no meaning at all1 or is nothing but a possibility or probability of existence1 by which any object approaches to reality1 and has a sensible influence on the mind4 ,i have also observed1 that this approach1 by an illusion of the fancy1 appears much greater when we ourselves are possessed of the power than when it is enjoyed by another2 and that1 in the former case1 the objects seem to touch upon the very verge of reality1 and convey almost an equal satisfaction as if actually in our possession4 ,now ,i assert1 that where we esteem a person upon account of his riches1 we must enter into this sentiment of the proprietor1 and that1 without such a sympathy1 the idea of the agreeable objects1 which they give him the power to produce1 would have but a feeble influence upon us4 ,an avaricious man is respected for his money1 though he scarce is possessed of a power2 that is1 there scarce is a probability or even possibility of his employing it in the acquisition of the pleasures and conveniences of life4 ,to himself alone this power seems perfect and entire2 and therefore we must receive his sentiments by sympathy1 before we can have a strong intense idea of these enjoyments1 or esteem him upon account of them4 ,thus we have found1 that the first principle1 viz4 the agreeable idea of those objects which riches afford the enjoyment of1 resolves itself in a great measure into the third1 and becomes a sympathy with the person we esteem or love4 ,let us now examine the second principle1 viz4 the agreeable expectation of advantage1 and see what force we may justly attribute to it4 ',tis obvious1 that1 though riches and authority undoubtedly give their owner a power of doing us service1 yet this power is not to be considered as on the same footing with that which they afford him of pleasing himself1 and satisfying his own appetites4 ,self-love approaches the power and exercise very near each other in the latter case2 but in order to produce a similar effect in the former1 we must suppose a friendship and good-will to be conjoined with the riches4 ,without that circumstance 'tis difficult to conceive on what we can found our hope of advantage from the riches of others1 though there is nothing more certain than that we naturally esteem and respect the rich1 even before we discover in them any such favourable disposition towards us4 ,but ,i carry this farther1 and observe1 not only that we respect the rich and powerful where they show no inclination to serve us1 but also when we lie so much out of the sphere of their activity1 that they cannot even be supposed to be endowed with that power4 ,prisoners of war are always treated with a respect suitable to their condition2 and 'tis certain riches go very far towards fixing the condition of any person4 ,if birth and quality enter for a share1 this still affords us an argument of the same kind4 ,for what is it we call a man of birth1 but one who is descended from a long succession of rich and powerful ancestors1 and who acquires our esteem by his relation to persons whom we esteem8 ,his ancestors1 therefore1 though dead1 are respected in some measure on account of their riches1 and consequently without any kind of expectation4 ,but not to go so far as prisoners of war and the dead to find instances of this disinterested esteem for riches1 let us observe1 with a little attention1 those phenomena that occur to us in common life and conversation4 ,a man who is himself of a competent fortune1 upon coming into a company of strangers1 naturally treats them with different degrees of respect and deference1 as he is informed of their different fortunes and conditions2 though 'tis impossible he can ever propose1 and perhaps would not accept of any advantage from them4 ,a traveller is always admitted into company1 and meets with civility in proportion as his train and equipage speak him a man of great or moderate fortune4 ,in short1 the different ranks of men are in a great measure regulated by riches1 and that with regard to superiors as well as inferiors1 strangers as well as acquaintance4 ,there is1 indeed1 an answer to these arguments1 drawn from the influence of general rules4 ,it may be pretended1 that1 being accustomed to expect succour and protection from the rich and powerful1 and to esteem them upon that account1 we extend the same sentiments to those who resemble them in their fortune1 but from whom we can never hope for any advantage4 ,the general rule still prevails1 and1 by giving a bent to the imagination draws along the passion1 in the same manner as if its proper object were real and existent4 ,but that this principle does not here take place1 will easily appear1 if we consider that1 in order to establish a general rule1 and extend it beyond its proper bounds1 there is required a certain uniformity in our experience1 and a great superiority of those instances1 which are conformable to the rule1 above the contrary4 ,but here the case is quite otherwise4 ,of a hundred men of credit and fortune ,i meet with1 there is not perhaps one from whom ,i can expect advantage1 so that 'tis impossible any custom can ever prevail in the present case4 ,upon the whole1 there remains nothing which can give us an esteem for power and riches1 and a contempt for meanness and poverty1 except the pride of sympathy1 by which we enter into the sentiments of rich and poor1 and partake of their pleasure and uneasiness4 ,riches give satisfaction to their possessor2 and this satisfaction is conveyed to the beholder by the imagination1 which produces an idea resembling the original impression in force and vivacity4 ,this agreeable idea or impression is connected with love1 which is an agreeable passion4 ,it proceeds from a thinking conscious being1 which is the very object of love4 ,from this relation of impressions1 and identity of ideas1 the passion arises according to my hypothesis4 ,the best method of reconciling us to this opinion1 is to take a general survey of the universe1 and observe the force of sympathy through the whole animal creation1 and the easy communication of sentiments from one thinking being to another4 ,in all creatures that prey not upon others1 and are not agitated with violent passions1 there appears a remarkable desire of company1 which associates them together1 without any advantages they can ever propose to reap from their union4 ,this is still more conspicuous in man1 as being the creature of the universe who has the most ardent desire of society1 and is fitted for it by the most advantages4 ,we can form no wish which has not a reference to society4 ,a perfect solitude is1 perhaps1 the greatest punishment we can suffer4 ,every pleasure languishes when enjoyed apart from company1 and every pain becomes more cruel and intolerable4 ,whatever other passions we may be actuated by1 pride1 ambition1 avarice1 curiosity1 revenge or lust1 the soul or animating principle of them all is sympathy2 nor would they have any force1 were we to abstract entirely from the thoughts and sentiments of others4 ,let all the powers and elements of nature conspire to serve and obey one man2 let the sun rise and set at his command2 the sea and rivers roll as he pleases1 and the earth furnish spontaneously whatever may be useful or agreeable to him2 he will still be miserable1 till you give him some one person at least with whom he may share his happiness1 and whose esteem and friendship he may enjoy4 ,this conclusion1 from a general view of human nature1 we may confirm by particular instances1 wherein the force of sympathy is very remarkable4 ,most kinds of beauty are derived from this origin2 and though our first object be some senseless inanimate piece of matter1 'tis seldom we rest there1 and carry not our view to its influence on sensible and rational creatures4 ,a man who shows us any house or building1 takes particular care1 among other things1 to point out the convenience of the apartments1 the advantages of their situation1 and the little room lost in the stairs1 anti-chambers and passages2 and indeed 'tis evident the chief part of the beauty consists in these particulars4 ,the observation of convenience gives pleasure1 since convenience is a beauty4 ,but after what manner does it give pleasure8 ',tis certain our own interest is not in the least concerned2 and as this is a beauty of interest1 not of form1 so to speak1 it must delight us merely by communication1 and by our sympathizing with the proprietor of the lodging4 ,we enter into his interest by the force of imagination1 and feel the same satisfaction that the objects naturally occasion in him4 ,this observation extends to tables1 chairs1 scrutoires1 chimneys1 coaches1 saddles1 ploughs1 and indeed to every work of art2 it being an universal rule1 that their beauty is chiefly derived from their utility1 and from their fitness for that purpose1 to which they are destined4 ,but this is an advantage that concerns only the owner1 nor is there any thing but sympathy1 which can interest the spectator4 ',tis evident that nothing renders a field more agreeable than its fertility1 and that scarce any advantages of ornament or situation will be able to equal this beauty4 ',tis the same case with particular trees and plants1 as with the field on which they grow4 ,i know not but a plain1 overgrown with furze and broom1 may be1 in itself1 as beautiful as a hill covered with vines or olive trees1 though it will never appear so to one who is acquainted with the value of each4 ,but this is a beauty merely of imagination1 and has no foundation in what appears to the senses4 ,fertility and value have a plain reference to use2 and that to riches1 joy1 and plenty1 in which1 though we have no hope of partaking1 yet we enter into them by the vivacity of the fancy1 and share them in some measure with the proprietor4 ,there is no rule in painting more reasonable than that of balancing the figures1 and placing them with the greatest exactness on their proper centre of gravity4 ,a figure which is not justly balanced is disagreeable2 and that because it conveys the ideas of its fall1 of harm1 and of pain2 which ideas are painful when by sympathy they acquire any degree of force and vivacity4 ,add to this1 that the principal part of personal beauty is an air of health and vigour1 and such a construction of members as promises strength and activity4 ,this idea of beauty cannot be accounted for but by sympathy4 ,in general we may remark1 that the minds of men are mirrors to one another1 not only because they reflect each others emotions1 but also because those rays of passions1 sentiments and opinions1 may be often reverberated1 and may decay away by insensible degrees4 ,thus1 the pleasure which a rich man receives from his possessions1 being thrown upon the beholder1 causes a pleasure and esteem2 which sentiments again being perceived and sympathized with1 increase the pleasure of the possessor1 and1 being once more reflected1 become a new foundation for pleasure and esteem in the beholder4 ,there is certainly an original satisfaction in riches derived from that power which they bestow of enjoying all the pleasures of life2 and as this is their very nature and essence1 it must be the first source of all the passions which arise from them4 ,one of the most considerable of these passions is that of love or esteem in others1 which1 therefore1 proceeds from a sympathy with the pleasure of the possessor4 ,but the possessor has also a secondary satisfaction in riches1 arising from the love and esteem he acquires by them2 and this satisfaction is nothing but a second reflection of that original pleasure which proceeded from himself4 ,this secondary satisfaction or vanity becomes one of the principal recommendations of riches1 and is the chief reason why we either desire them for ourselves1 or esteem them in others4 ,here then is a third rebound of the original pleasure1 after which 'tis difficult to distinguish the images and reflections1 by reason of their faintness and confusion4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,of ,,benevolence ,,and ,,anger4 ,ideas may be compared to the extension and solidity of matter and impressions1 especially reflective ones1 to colours1 tastes1 smells1 and other sensible qualities4 ,ideas never admit of a total union1 but are endowed with a kind of impenetrability by which they exclude each other1 and are capable of forming a compound by their conjunction1 not by their mixture4 ,on the other hand1 impressions and passions are susceptible of an entire union1 and1 like colours1 may be blended so perfectly together1 that each of them may lose itself1 and contribute only to vary that uniform impression which arises from the whole4 ,some of the most curious phenomena of the human mind are derived from this property of the passions4 ,in examining those ingredients which are capable of uniting with love and hatred1 ,i begin to be sensible1 in some measure1 of a misfortune that has attended every system of philosophy with which the world has been yet acquainted4 ',tis commonly found1 that in accounting for the operations of nature by any particular hypothesis1 among a number of experiments that quadrate exactly with the principles we would endeavour to establish1 there is always some phenomenon which is more stubborn1 and will not so easily bend to our purpose4 ,we need not be surprised that this should happen in natural philosophy4 ,the essence and composition of external bodies are so obscure1 that we must necessarily1 in our reasonings1 or rather conjectures concerning them1 involve ourselves in contradictions and absurdities4 ,but as the perceptions of the mind are perfectly known1 and ,i have used all imaginable caution in forming conclusions concerning them1 ,i have always hoped to keep clear of those contradictions which have attended every other system4 ,accordingly1 the difficulty which ,i have at present in my eye is no wise contrary to my system1 but only departs a little from that simplicity which has been hitherto its principal force and beauty4 ,the passions of love and hatred are always followed by1 or rather conjoined with1 benevolence and anger4 ',tis this conjunction which chiefly distinguishes these affections from pride and humility4 ,for pride and humility are pure emotions in the soul1 unattended with any desire1 and not immediately exciting us to action4 ,but love and hatred are not completed within themselves1 nor rest in that emotion which they produce1 but carry the mind to something farther4 ,love is always followed by a desire of the happiness of the person beloved1 and an aversion to his misery3 as hatred produces a desire of the misery1 and an aversion to the happiness of the person hated4 ,so remarkable a difference betwixt these two sets of passions of pride and humility1 love and hatred1 which in so many other particulars correspond to each other1 merits our attention4 ,the conjunction of this desire and aversion with love and hatred may be accounted for by two different hypotheses4 ,the first is1 that love and hatred have not only a cause which excites them1 viz4 pleasure and pain1 and an object to which they are directed1 viz4 a person or thinking being1 but likewise an end which they endeavour to attain1 viz4 the happiness or misery of the person beloved or hated2 all which views1 mixing together1 make only one passion4 ,according to this system1 love is nothing but the desire of happiness to another person1 and hatred that of misery4 ,the desire and aversion constitute the very nature of love and hatred4 ,they are not only inseparable1 but the same4 ,but this is evidently contrary to experience4 ,for though 'tis certain we never love any person without desiring his happiness1 nor hate any without wishing his misery1 yet these desires arise only upon the ideas of the happiness or misery of our friend or enemy being presented by the imagination1 and are not absolutely essential to love and hatred4 ,they are the most obvious and natural sentiments of these affections1 but not the only ones4 ,the passions may express themselves in a hundred ways1 and may subsist a considerable time1 without our reflecting on the happiness or misery of their objects2 which clearly proves that these desires are not the same with love and hatred1 nor make any essential part of them4 ,we may therefore infer1 that benevolence and anger are passions different from love and hatred1 and only conjoined with them by the original constitution of the mind4 ,as nature has given to the body certain appetites and inclinations1 which she increases1 diminishes1 or changes according to the situation of the fluids or solids1 she has proceeded in the same manner with the mind4 ,according as we are possessed with love or hatred1 the correspondent desire of the happiness or misery of the person who is the object of these passions1 arises in the mind1 and varies with each variation of these opposite passions4 ,this order of things1 abstractedly considered1 is not necessary4 ,love and hatred might have been unattended with any such desires1 or their particular connexion might have been entirely reversed4 ,if nature had so pleased1 love might have had the same effect as hatred1 and hatred as love4 ,i see no contradiction in supposing a desire of producing misery annexed to love1 and of happiness to hatred4 ,if the sensation of the passion and desire be opposite1 nature could have altered the sensation without altering the tendency of the desire1 and by that means made them compatible with each other4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,,of ,,compassion4 ,but though the desire of the happiness or misery of others1 according to the love or hatred we bear them1 be an arbitrary and original instinct implanted in our nature1 we find it may be counterfeited on many occasions1 and may arise from secondary principles4 ,pity is a concern for1 and malice a joy in1 the misery of others1 without any friendship or enmity to occasion this concern or joy4 ,we pity even strangers1 and such as are perfectly indifferent to us3 and if our ill-will to another proceed from any harm or injury1 it is not1 properly speaking1 malice1 but revenge4 ,but if we examine these affections of pity and malice1 we shall find them to be secondary ones1 arising from original affections1 which are varied by some particular turn of thought and imagination4 ',twill be easy to explain the passion of pity1 from the precedent reasoning concerning sympathy4 ,we have a lively idea of every thing related to us4 ,all human creatures are related to us by resemblance4 ,their persons1 therefore1 their interests1 their passions1 their pains and pleasures1 must strike upon us in a lively manner1 and produce an emotion similar to the original one1 since a lively idea is easily converted into an impression4 ,if this be true in general1 it must be more so of affliction and sorrow4 ,these have always a stronger and more lasting influence than any pleasure or enjoyment4 ,a spectator of a tragedy passes through a long train of grief1 terror1 indignation1 and other affections1 which the poet represents in the persons he introduces4 ,as many tragedies end happily1 and no excellent one can be composed without some reverses of fortune1 the spectator must sympathize with all these changes1 and receive the fictitious joy as well as every other passion4 ,unless therefore it be asserted1 that every distinct passion is communicated by a distinct original quality1 and is not derived from the general principle of sympathy above explained1 it must be allowed that all of them arise from that principle4 ,to except any one in particular must appear highly unreasonable4 ,as they are all first present in the mind of one person1 and afterwards appear in the mind of another2 and as the manner of their appearance1 first as an idea1 then as an impression1 is in every case the same1 the transition must arise from the same principle4 ,i am at least sure1 that this method of reasoning would be considered as certain1 either in natural philosophy or common life4 ,add to this1 that pity depends1 in a great measure1 on the contiguity1 and even sight of the object1 which is a proof that 'tis derived from the imagination2 not to mention that women and children are most subject to pity1 as being most guided by that faculty4 ,the same infirmity1 which makes them faint at the sight of a naked sword1 though in the hands of their best friend1 makes them pity extremely those whom they find in any grief or affliction4 ,those philosophers1 who derive this passion from ,i know not what subtile reflections on the instability of fortune1 and our being liable to the same miseries we behold1 will find this observation contrary to them among a great many others1 which it were easy to produce4 ,there remains only to take notice of a pretty remarkable phenomenon of this passion1 which is1 that the communicated passion of sympathy sometimes acquires strength from the weakness of its original1 and even arises by a transition from affections which have no existence4 ,thus1 when a person obtains any honourable office1 or inherits a great fortune1 we are always the more rejoiced for his prosperity1 the less sense he seems to have of it1 and the greater equanimity and indifference he shows in its enjoyment4 ,in like manner1 a man who is not dejected by misfortunes is the more lamented on account of his patience2 and if that virtue extends so far as utterly to remove all sense of uneasiness1 it still farther increases our compassion4 ,when a person of merit falls into what is vulgarly esteemed a great misfortune1 we form a notion of his condition2 and1 carrying our fancy from the cause to the usual effect1 first conceive a lively idea of his sorrow1 and then feel an impression of it1 entirely overlooking that greatness of mind which elevates him above such emotions1 or only considering it so far as to increase our admiration1 love1 and tenderness for him4 ,we find from experience1 that such a degree of passion is usually connected with such a misfortune2 and though there be an exception in the present case1 yet the imagination is affected by the general rule1 and makes us conceive a lively idea of the passion1 or rather feel the passion itself in the same manner as if the person were really actuated by it4 ,from the same principles we blush for the conduct of those who behave themselves foolishly before us1 and that though they show no sense of shame1 nor seem in the least conscious of their folly4 ,all this proceeds from sympathy1 but 'tis of a partial kind1 and views its objects only on one side1 without considering the other1 which has a contrary effect1 and would entirely destroy that emotion which arises from the first appearance4 ,we have also instances wherein an indifference and insensibility under misfortune increases our concern for the misfortunate1 even though the indifference proceed not from any virtue and magnanimity4 ',tis an aggravation of a murder1 that it was committed upon persons asleep and in perfect security2 as historians readily observe of any infant prince1 who is captive in the hands of his enemies1 that he is more worthy of compassion the less sensible he is of his miserable condition4 ,as we ourselves are here acquainted with the wretched situation of the person1 it gives us a lively idea and sensation of sorrow1 which is the passion that generally attends it2 and this idea becomes still more lively1 and the sensation more violent by a contrast with that security and indifference which we observe in the person himself4 ,a contrast of any kind never fails to effect the imagination1 especially when presented by the subject2 and 'tis on the imagination that pity entirely depends4#f #f ,to prevent all ambiguity1 ,i must observe1 that where ,i oppose the imagination to the memory1 ,i mean in general the faculty that presents our fainter ideas4 ,in all other places1 and particularly when it is opposed to the understanding1 ,i understand the same faculty1 excluding only our demonstrative and probable reasonings4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,,of ,,malice ,,and ,,envy4 ,we must now proceed to account for the passion of malice1 which imitates the effects of hatred as pity does those of love1 and gives us a joy in the sufferings and miseries of others1 without any offence or injury on their part4 ,so little are men governed by reason in their sentiments and opinions1 that they always judge more of objects by comparison than from their intrinsic worth and value4 ,when the mind considers1 or is accustomed to any degree of perfection1 whatever falls short of it1 though really estimable1 has1 notwithstanding1 the same effect upon the passions as what is defective and ill4 ,this is an original quality of the soul1 and similar to what we have every day experience of in our bodies4 ,let a man heat one hand and cool the other2 the same water will at the same time seem both hot and cold1 according to the disposition of the different organs4 ,a small degree of any quality1 succeeding a greater1 produces the same sensation as if less than it really is1 and even sometimes as the opposite quality4 ,any gentle pain that follows a violent one1 seems as nothing1 or rather becomes a pleasure2 as1 on the other hand1 a violent pain succeeding a gentle one1 is doubly grievous and uneasy4 ,this no one can doubt of with regard to our passions and sensations4 ,but there may arise some difficulty with regard to our ideas and objects4 ,when an object augments or diminishes to the eye or imagination1 from a comparison with others1 the image and idea of the object are still the same1 and are equally extended in the retina1 and in the brain or organ of perception4 ,the eyes refract the rays of light1 and the optic nerves convey the images to the brain in the very same manner1 whether a great or small object has preceded2 nor does even the imagination alter the dimensions of its object on account of a comparison with others4 ,the question then is1 how1 from the same impression1 and the same idea1 we can form such different judgments concerning the same object1 and at one time admire its bulk1 and at another despise its littleness8 ,this variation in our judgments must certainly proceed from a variation in some perception2 but as the variation lies not in the immediate impression or idea of the object1 it must lie in some other impression that accompanies it4 ,in order to explain this matter1 ,i shall just touch upon two principles1 one of which shall be more fully explained in the progress of this ,treatise2 the other has been already accounted for4 ,i believe it may safely be established for a general maxim1 that no object is presented to the senses1 nor image formed in the fancy1 but what is accompanied with some emotion or movement of spirits proportioned to it2 and however custom may make us insensible of this sensation1 and cause us to confound it with the object or idea1 'twill be easy1 by careful and exact experiments1 to separate and distinguish them4 ,for1 to instance only in the cases of extension and number1 'tis evident that any very bulky object1 such as the ocean1 an extended plain1 a vast chain of mountains1 a wide forest2 or any very numerous collection of objects1 such as an army1 a fleet1 a crowd1 excite in the mind a sensible emotion2 and that the admiration which arises on the appearance of such objects is one of the most lively pleasures which human nature is capable of enjoying4 ,now1 as this admiration increases or diminishes by the increase or diminution of the objects1 we may conclude1 according to our foregoing principles1#g that 'tis a compound effect1 proceeding from the conjunction of the several effects which arise from each part of the cause4 ,every part1 then1 of extension1 and every unite of number1 has a separate emotion attending it when conceived by the mind2 and though that emotion be not always agreeable1 yet1 by its conjunction with others1 and by its agitating the spirits to a just pitch1 it contributes to the production of admiration1 which is always agreeable4 ,if this be allowed with respect to extension and number1 we can make no difficulty with respect to virtue and vice1 wit and folly1 riches and poverty1 happiness and misery1 and other objects of that kind1 which are always attended with an evident emotion4 ,the second principle ,i shall take notice of is that of our adherence to general rules2 which has such a mighty influence on the actions and understanding1 and is able to impose on the very senses4 ,when an object is found by experience to be always accompanied with another1 whenever the first object appears1 though changed in very material circumstances1 we naturally fly to the conception of the second1 and form an idea of it in as lively and strong a manner1 as if we had inferred its existence by the justest and most authentic conclusion of our understanding4 ,nothing can undeceive us1 not even our senses1 which1 instead of correcting this false judgment1 are often perverted by it1 and seem to authorize its errors4 ,the conclusion ,i draw from these two principles1 joined to the influence of comparison above-mentioned1 is very short and decisive4 ,every object is attended with some emotion proportioned to it2 a great object with a great emotion1 a small object with a small emotion4 ,a great object1 therefore1 succeeding a small one1 makes a great emotion succeed a small one4 ,now1 a great emotion succeeding a small one becomes still greater1 and rises beyond its ordinary proportion4 ,but as there is a certain degree of an emotion which commonly attends every magnitude of an object1 when the emotion increases1 we naturally imagine that the object has likewise increased4 ,the effect conveys our view to its usual cause1 a certain degree of emotion to a certain magnitude of the object2 nor do we consider1 that comparison may change the emotion without changing any thing in the object4 ,those who are acquainted with the metaphysical part of optics1 and know how we transfer the judgments and conclusions of the understanding to the senses1 will easily conceive this whole operation4 ,but leaving this new discovery of an impression that secretly attends every idea1 we must at least allow of that principle from whence the discovery arose1 that objects appear greater or less by a comparison with others4 ,we have so many instances of this1 that it is impossible we can dispute its veracity2 and 'tis from this principle ,i derive the passions of malice and envy4 ',tis evident we must receive a greater or less satisfaction or uneasiness from reflecting on our own condition and circumstances1 in proportion as they appear more or less fortunate or unhappy1 in proportion to the degrees of riches1 and power1 and merit1 and reputation1 which we think ourselves possest of4 ,now1 as we seldom judge of objects from their intrinsic value1 but form our notions of them from a comparison with other objects1 it follows1 that according as we observe a greater or less share of happiness or misery in others1 we must make an estimate of our own1 and feel a consequent pain or pleasure4 ,the misery of another gives us a more lively idea of our happiness1 and his happiness of our misery4 ,the former1 therefore1 produces delight1 and the latter uneasiness4 ,here then is a kind of pity reverst1 or contrary sensations arising in the beholder1 from those which are felt by the person whom he considers4 ,in general we may observe1 that1 in all kinds of comparison1 an object makes us always receive from another1 to which it is compared1 a sensation contrary to what arises from itself in its direct and immediate survey4 ,a small object makes a great one appear still greater4 ,a great object makes a little one appear less4 ,deformity of itself produces uneasiness1 but makes us receive new pleasure by its contrast with a beautiful object1 whose beauty is augmented by it2 as1 on the other hand1 beauty1 which of itself produces pleasure1 makes us receive a new pain by the contrast with any thing ugly1 whose deformity it augments4 ,the case1 therefore1 must be the same with happiness and misery4 ,the direct survey of another's pleasure naturally gives us pleasure1 and therefore produces pain when compared with our own4 ,his pain1 considered in itself1 is painful to us1 but augments the idea of our own happiness1 and gives us pleasure4 ,nor will it appear strange1 that we may feel a reverst sensation from the happiness and misery of others1 since we find the same comparison may give us a kind of malice against ourselves1 and make us rejoice for our pains1 and grieve for our pleasures4 ,thus1 the prospect of past pain is agreeable1 when we are satisfied with our present condition2 as1 on the other hand1 our past pleasures give us uneasiness1 when we enjoy nothing at present equal to them4 ,the comparison being the same as when we reflect on the sentiments of others1 must be attended with the same effects4 ,nay1 a person may extend this malice against himself1 even to his present fortune1 and carry it so far as designedly to seek affliction1 and increase his pains and sorrows4 ,this may happen upon two occasions4 ,first1 ,upon the distress and misfortune of a friend1 or person dear to him4 ,secondly1 ,upon the feeling any remorses for a crime of which he has been guilty4 ',tis from the principle of comparison that both these irregular appetites for evil arise4 ,a person who indulges himself in any pleasure while his friend lies under affliction1 feels the reflected uneasiness from his friend more sensibly by a comparison with the original pleasure which he himself enjoys4 ,this contrast1 indeed1 ought also to enliven the present pleasure4 ,but as grief is here supposed to be the predominant passion1 every addition falls to that side1 and is swallowed up in it1 without operating in the least upon the contrary affection4 ',tis the same case with those penances which men inflict on themselves for their past sins and failings4 ,when a criminal reflects on the punishment he deserves1 the idea of it is magnified by a comparison with his present ease and satisfaction1 which forces him1 in a manner1 to seek uneasiness1 in order to avoid so disagreeable a contrast4 ,this reasoning will account for the origin of envy as well as of malice4 ,the only difference betwixt these passions lies in this1 that envy is excited by some present enjoyment of another1 which1 by comparison1 diminishes our idea of our own3 whereas malice is the unprovoked desire of producing evil to another1 in order to reap a pleasure from the comparison4 ,the enjoyment1 which is the object of envy1 is commonly superior to our own4 ,a superiority naturally seems to overshade us1 and presents a disagreeable comparison4 ,but even in the case of an inferiority1 we still desire a greater distance1 in order to augment still more the idea of ourself4 ,when this distance diminishes1 the comparison is1 less to our advantage1 and consequently gives us less pleasure1 and is even disagreeable4 ,hence arises that species of envy which men feel1 when they perceive their inferiors approaching or overtaking them in the pursuit of glory or happiness4 ,in this envy we may see the effects of comparison twice repeated4 ,a man1 who compares himself to his inferior1 receives a pleasure from the comparison2 and when the inferiority decreases by the elevation of the inferior1 what should only have been a decrease of pleasure1 becomes a real pain1 by a new comparison with its preceding condition4 ',tis worthy of observation concerning that envy which arises from a superiority in others1 that 'tis not the great disproportion betwixt ourself and another1 which produces it2 but1 on the contrary1 our proximity4 ,a common soldier bears no such envy to his general as to his sergeant or corporal2 nor does an eminent writer meet with so great jealousy in common hackney scribblers1 as in authors that more nearly approach him4 ,it may indeed be thought1 that the greater the disproportion is1 the greater must be the uneasiness from the comparison4 ,but we may consider on the other hand1 that the great disproportion cuts off the relation1 and either keeps us from comparing ourselves1 with what is remote from us1 or diminishes the effects of the comparison4 ,resemblance and proximity always produce a relation of ideas2 and where you destroy these ties1 however other accidents may bring two ideas together1 as they have no bond or connecting quality to join them in the imagination1 'tis impossible they can remain long united1 or have any considerable influence on each other4 ,i have observed1 in considering the nature of ambition1 that the great feel a double pleasure in authority1 from the comparison of their own condition with that of their slaves2 and that this comparison has a double influence1 because 'tis natural1 and presented by the subject4 ,when the fancy1 in the comparison of objects1 passes not easily from the one object to the other1 the action of the mind is in a great measure broke1 and the fancy1 in considering the second object1 begins1 as it were1 upon a new footing4 ,the impression which attends every object1 seems not greater in that case by succeeding a less of the same kind2 but these two impressions are distinct1 and produce their distinct effects1 without any communication together4 ,the want of relation in the ideas breaks the relation of the impressions1 and by such a separation prevents their mutual operation and influence4 ,to confirm this we may observe1 that the proximity in the degree of merit is not alone sufficient to give rise to envy1 but must be assisted by other relations4 ,a poet is not apt to envy a philosopher1 or a poet of a different kind1 of a different nation1 or a different age4 ,all these differences prevent or weaken the comparison1 and consequently the passion4 ,this too is the reason why all objects appear great or little1 merely by a comparison with those of the same species4 ,a mountain neither magnifies nor diminishes a horse in our eyes2 but when a ,flemish and a ,welsh horse are seen together1 the one appears greater and the other less1 then when viewed apart4 ,from the same principle we may account for that remark of historians1 that any party in a civil war always choose to call in a foreign enemy at any hazard1 rather than submit to their fellow-citizens4 ,guicciardin applies this remark to the wars in ,italy1 where the relations betwixt the different states are1 properly speaking1 nothing but of name1 language1 and contiguity4 ,yet even these relations1 when joined with superiority1 by making the comparison more natural1 make it likewise more grievous1 and cause men to search for some other superiority1 which may be attended with no relation1 and by that means may have a less sensible influence on the imagination4 ,the mind quickly perceives its several advantages and disadvantages2 and finding its situation to be most uneasy1 where superiority is conjoined with other relations1 seeks its repose as much as possible by their separation1 and by breaking that association of ideas1 which renders the comparison so much more natural and efficacious4 ,when it cannot break the association1 it feels a stronger desire to remove the superiority2 and this is the reason why travellers are commonly so lavish of their praises to the ,chinese and ,persians1 at the same time that they depreciate those neighbouring nations which may stand upon a foot of rivalship with their native country4 ,these examples from history and common experience are rich and curious2 but we may find parallel ones in the arts1 which are no less remarkable4 ,should an author compose a treatise1 of which one part was serious and profound1 another light and humorous1 every one would condemn so strange a mixture1 and would accuse him of the neglect of all rules of art and criticism4 ,these rules of art are founded on the qualities of human nature2 and the quality of human nature1 which requires a consistency in every performance1 is that which renders the mind incapable of passing in a moment from one passion and disposition to a quite different one4 ,yet this makes us not blame ,mr ,prior for joining his ,alma and his ,solomon in the same volume2 though that admirable poet has succeeded perfectly well in the gaiety of the one1 as well as in the melancholy of the other4 ,even supposing the reader should peruse these two compositions without any interval1 he would feel little or no difficulty in the change of passions3 why8 but because he considers these performances as entirely different1 and1 by this break in the ideas1 breaks the progress of the affections1 and hinders the one from influencing or contradicting the other4 ,an heroic and burlesque design1 united in one picture1 would be monstrous2 though we place two pictures of so opposite a character in the same chamber1 and even close by each other1 without any scruple or difficulty4 ,in a word1 no ideas can affect each other1 either by comparison1 or by the passions they separately produce1 unless they be united together by some relation which may cause an easy transition of the ideas1 and consequently of the emotions or impressions attending the ideas1 and may preserve the one impression in the passage of the imagination to the object of the other4 ,this principle is very remarkable1 because it is analogous to what we have observed both concerning the understanding and the passions4 ,suppose two objects to be presented to me1 which are not connected by any kind of relation4 ,suppose that each of these objects separately produces a passion1 and that these two passions are in themselves contrary2 we find from experience1 that the want of relation in the objects or ideas hinders the natural contrariety of the passions1 and that the break in the transition of the thought removes the affections from each other1 and prevents their opposition4 ',tis the same case with comparison2 and from both these phenomena we may safely conclude1 that the relation of ideas must forward the transition of impressions1 since its absence alone is able to prevent it1 and to separate what naturally should have operated upon each other4 ,when the absence of an object or quality removes any usual or natural effect1 we may certainly conclude that its presence contributes to the production of the effect4 #g ,book ,i4 ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 #ae4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,,of ,,the ,,mixture ,,of ,,benevolence ,,and ,,anger ,,with ,,compassion ,,and ,,malice4 ,thus we have endeavoured to account for pity and malice4 ,both these affections arise from the imagination1 according to the light in which it places its object4 ,when our fancy considers directly the sentiments of others1 and enters deep into them1 it makes us sensible of all the passions it surveys1 but in a particular manner of grief or sorrow4 ,on the contrary1 when we compare the sentiments of others to our own1 we feel a sensation directly opposite to the original one1 viz4 a joy from the grief of others1 and a grief from their joy4 ,but these are only the first foundations of the affections of pity and malice4 ,other passions are afterwards confounded with them4 ,there is always a mixture of love or tenderness with pity1 and of hatred or anger with malice4 ,but it must be confessed1 that this mixture seems at first sight to be contradictory to my system4 ,for as pity is an uneasiness1 and malice a joy1 arising from the misery of others1 pity should naturally1 as in all other cases1 produce hatred1 and malice1 love4 ,this contradiction ,i endeavour to reconcile1 after the following manner4 ,in order to cause a transition of passions1 there is required a double relation of impressions and ideas2 nor is one relation sufficient to produce this effect4 ,but that we may understand the full force of this double relation1 we must consider1 that 'tis not the present sensation alone or momentary pain or pleasure1 which determines the character of any passion1 but the whole bent or tendency of it from the beginning to the end4 ,one impression may be related to another1 not only when their sensations are resembling1 as we have all along supposed in the preceding cases1 but also when their impulses or directions are similar and correspondent4 ,this cannot take place with regard to pride and humility1 because these are only pure sensations1 without any direction or tendency to action4 ,we are1 therefore1 to look for instances of this peculiar relation of impressions only in such affections as are attended with a certain appetite or desire1 such as those of love and hatred4 ,benevolence1 or the appetite which attends love1 is a desire of the happiness of the person beloved1 and an aversion to his misery1 as anger1 or the appetite which attends hatred1 is a desire of the misery of the person hated1 and an aversion to his happiness4 ,a desire1 therefore1 of the happiness of another1 and aversion to his misery1 are similar to benevolence2 and a desire of his misery and aversion to his happiness1 are correspondent to anger4 ,now1 pity is a desire of happiness to another1 and aversion to his misery1 as malice is the contrary appetite4 ,pity1 then1 is related to benevolence1 and malice to anger2 and as benevolence has been already found to be connected with love1 by a natural and original quality1 and anger with hatred1 'tis by this chain the passions of pity and malice are connected with love and hatred4 ,this hypothesis is founded on sufficient experience4 ,a man1 who1 from any motives1 has entertained a resolution of performing an action1 naturally runs into every other view or motive which may fortify that resolution1 and give it authority and influence on the mind4 ,to confirm us in any design1 we search for motives drawn from interest1 from honour1 from duty4 ,what wonder1 then1 that pity and benevolence1 malice and anger1 being the same desires arising from different principles1 should so totally mix together as to be undistinguishable8 ,as to the connexion betwixt benevolence and love1 anger and hatred1 being original and primary1 it admits of no difficulty4 ,we may add to this another experiment1 viz4 that benevolence and anger1 and1 consequently1 love and hatred1 arise when our happiness or misery have any dependence on the happiness or misery of another person1 without any farther relation4 ,i doubt not but this experiment will appear so singular as to excuse us for stopping a moment to consider it4 ,suppose that two persons of the same trade should seek employment in a town that is not able to maintain both1 'tis plain the success of one is perfectly incompatible with that of the other2 and that whatever is for the interest of either is contrary to that of his rival1 and so vice versa4 ,suppose1 again1 that two merchants1 though living in different parts of the world1 should enter into co-partnership together1 the advantage or loss of one becomes immediately the advantage or loss of his partner1 and the same fortune necessarily attends both4 ,now1 'tis evident1 that1 in the first case1 hatred always follows upon the contrariety of interests2 as1 in the second1 love arises from their union4 ,let us consider to what principle we can ascribe these passions4 ',tis plain they arise1 not from the double relations of impressions and ideas1 if we regard only the present sensation4 ,for1 taking the first case of rivalship1 though the pleasure and advantage of an antagonist necessarily causes my pain and loss1 yet1 to counterbalance this1 his pain and loss causes my pleasure and advantage2 and1 supposing him to be unsuccessful1 ,i may1 by this means1 receive from him a superior degree of satisfaction4 ,in the same manner the success of a partner rejoices me1 but then his misfortunes afflict me in an equal proportion2 and 'tis easy to imagine that the latter sentiment may1 in some cases1 preponderate4 ,but whether the fortune of a rival or partner be good or bad1 ,i always hate the former and love the latter4 ,this love of a partner cannot proceed from the relation or connexion betwixt us1 in the same manner as ,i love a brother or countryman4 ,a rival has almost as close a relation to me as a partner4 ,for1 as the pleasure of the latter causes my pleasure1 and his pain my pain2 so the pleasure of the former causes my pain1 and his pain my pleasure4 ,the connexion1 then1 of cause and effect1 is the same in both cases2 and if1 in the one case1 the cause and effect has a farther relation of resemblance1 they have that of contrariety in the other2 which1 being also a species of resemblance1 leaves the matter pretty equal4 ,the only explication1 then1 we can give of this phenomenon1 is derived from that principle of a parallel direction above-mentioned4 ,our concern for our own interest gives us a pleasure in the pleasure1 and a pain in the pain of a partner1 after the same manner as by sympathy we feel a sensation correspondent to those which appear in any person who is present with us4 ,on the other hand1 the same concern for our interest makes us feel a pain in the pleasure1 and a pleasure in the pain of a rival2 and1 in short1 the same contrariety of sentiments as arises from comparison and malice4 ,since1 therefore1 a parallel direction of the affections1 proceeding from interest1 can give rise to benevolence or anger1 no wonder the same parallel direction1 derived from sympathy and from comparison1 should have the same effect4 ,in general we may observe1 that 'tis impossible to do good to others1 from whatever motive1 without feeling some touches of kindness and good will towards them2 as the injuries we do not only cause hatred in the person who suffers them1 but even in ourselves4 ,these phenomena1 indeed1 may in part be accounted for from other principles4 ,but here there occurs a considerable objection1 which 'twill be necessary to examine before we proceed any farther4 ,i have endeavoured to prove that power and riches1 or poverty and meanness1 which give rise to love or hatred1 without producing any original pleasure or uneasiness1 operate upon us by means of a secondary sensation derived from a sympathy with that pain or satisfaction which they produce in the person who possesses them4 ,from a sympathy with his pleasure there arises love2 from that with his uneasiness1 hatred4 ,but 'tis a maxim which ,i have just now established1 and which is absolutely necessary to the explication of the phenomena of pity and malice1 ,that 'tis not the present sensation or momentary pain or pleasure which determines the character of any passion1 but the general bent or tendency of it from the beginning to the end4 ,for this reason1 pity or a sympathy with pain produces love1 and that because it interests us in the fortunes of others1 good or bad1 and gives us a secondary sensation correspondent to the primary1 in which it has the same influence with love and benevolence4 ,since1 then1 this rule holds good in one case1 why does it not prevail throughout1 and why does sympathy in uneasiness ever produce any passion beside good will and kindness8 ,is it becoming a philosopher to alter his method of reasoning1 and run from one principle to its contrary1 according to the particular phenomenon which he would explain8 ,i have mentioned two different causes from which a transition of passion may arise1 viz4 a double relation of ideas and impressions1 and1 what is similar to it1 a conformity in the tendency and direction of any two desires which arise from different principles4 ,now ,i assert1 that when a sympathy with uneasiness is weak1 it produces hatred or contempt by the former cause2 when strong1 it produces love or tenderness by the latter4 ,this is the solution of the foregoing difficulty1 which seems so urgent2 and this is a principle founded on such evident arguments1 that we ought to have established it1 even though it were not necessary to the explication of any phenomenon4 ',tis certain1 that sympathy is not always limited to the present moment1 but that we often feel1 by communication1 the pains and pleasures of others which are not in being1 and which we only anticipate by the force of imagination4 ,for1 supposing ,i saw a person perfectly unknown to me1 who1 while asleep in the fields1 was in danger of being trod under foot by horses1 ,i should immediately run to his assistance2 and in this ,i should be actuated by the same principle of sympathy which makes me concerned for the present sorrows of a stranger4 ,the bare mention of this is sufficient4 ,sympathy being nothing but a lively idea converted into an impression1 'tis evident that1 in considering the future possible or probable condition of any person1 we may enter into it with so vivid a conception as to make it our own concern1 and by that means be sensible of pains and pleasures which neither belong to ourselves1 nor at the present instant have any real existence4 ,but however we may look forward to the future in sympathizing with any person1 the extending of our sympathy depends in a great measure upon our sense of his present condition4 ',tis a great effort of imagination to form such lively ideas even of the present sentiments of others as to feel these very sentiments2 but 'tis impossible we could extend this sympathy to the future without being aided by some circumstance in the present1 which strikes upon us in a lively manner4 ,when the present misery of another has any strong influence upon me1 the vivacity of the conception is not confined merely to its immediate object1 but diffuses its influence over all the related ideas1 and gives me a lively notion of all the circumstances of that person1 whether past1 present1 or future2 possible1 probable1 or certain4 ,by means of this lively notion ,i am interested in them1 take part with them1 and feel a sympathetic motion in my breast1 conformable to whatever ,i imagine in his4 ,if ,i diminish the vivacity of the first conception1 ,i diminish that of the related ideas2 as pipes can convey no more water than what arises at the fountain4 ,by this diminution ,i destroy the future prospect which is necessary to interest me perfectly in the fortune of another4 ,i may feel the present impression1 but carry my sympathy no farther1 and never transfuse the force of the first conception into my ideas of the related objects4 ,if it be another's misery which is presented in this feeble manner1 ,i receive it by communication1 and am affected with all the passions related to it3 but as ,i am not so much interested as to concern myself in his good fortune as well as his bad1 ,i never feel the extensive sympathy1 nor the passions related to it4 ,now1 in order to know what passions are related to these different kinds of sympathy1 we must consider that benevolence is an original pleasure arising from the pleasure of the person beloved1 and a pain proceeding from his pain3 from which correspondence of impressions there arises a subsequent desire of his pleasure1 and aversion to his pain4 ,in order1 then1 to make a passion run parallel with benevolence1 'tis requisite we should feel these double impressions1 correspondent to those of the person whom we consider2 nor is any one of them alone sufficient for that purpose4 ,when we sympathize only with one impression1 and that a painful one1 this sympathy is related to anger and to hatred1 upon account of the uneasiness it conveys to us4 ,but as the extensive or limited sympathy depends upon the force of the first sympathy1 it follows that the passion of love or hatred depends upon the same principle4 ,a strong impression1 when communicated1 gives a double tendency of the passions1 which is related to benevolence and love by a similarity of direction1 however painful the first impression might have been4 ,a weak impression that is painful is related to anger and hatred by the resemblance of sensations4 ,benevolence1 therefore1 arises from a great degree of misery1 or any degree strongly sympathized with3 hatred or contempt from a small degree1 or one weakly sympathized with2 which is the principle ,i intended to prove and explain4 ,nor have we only our reason to trust to for this principle1 but also experience4 ,a certain degree of poverty produces contempt2 but a degree beyond causes compassion and good will4 ,we may undervalue a peasant or servant2 but when the misery of a beggar appears very great1 or is painted in very lively colours1 we sympathize with him in his afflictions1 and feel in our heart evident touches of pity and benevolence4 ,the same object causes contrary passions1 according to its different degrees4 ,the passions1 therefore1 must depend upon principles that operate in such certain degrees1 according to my hypothesis4 ,the increase of the sympathy has evidently the same effect as the increase of the misery4 ,a barren or desolate country always seems ugly and disagreeable1 and commonly inspires us with contempt for the inhabitants4 ,this deformity1 however1 proceeds in a great measure from a sympathy with the inhabitants1 as has been already observed2 but it is only a weak one1 and reaches no farther than the immediate sensation1 which is disagreeable4 ,the view of a city in ashes conveys benevolent sentiments2 because we there enter so deep into the interests of the miserable inhabitants1 as to wish for their prosperity1 as well as feel their adversity4 ,but though the force of the impression generally produces pity and benevolence1 'tis certain that1 by being carried too far1 it ceases to have that effect4 ,this1 perhaps1 may be worth our notice4 ,when the uneasiness is either small in itself1 or remote from us1 it engages not the imagination1 nor is able to convey an equal concern for the future and contingent good1 as for the present and real evil4 ,upon its acquiring greater force1 we become so interested in the concerns of the person1 as to be sensible both of his good and bad fortune2 and from that complete sympathy there arises pity and benevolence4 ,but 'twill easily be imagined1 that where the present evil strikes with more than ordinary force1 it may entirely engage our attention1 and prevent that double sympathy above mentioned4 ,thus we find1 that though every one1 but especially women1 are apt to contract a kindness for criminals who go to the scaffold1 and readily imagine them to be uncommonly handsome and well-shaped2 yet one who is present at the cruel execution of the rack1 feels no such tender emotions2 but is in a manner overcome with horror1 and has no leisure to temper this uneasy sensation by any opposite sympathy4 ,but the instance which makes the most clearly for my hypothesis1 is that wherein1 by a change of the objects1 we separate the double sympathy even from a middling degree of the passion2 in which case we find that pity1 instead of producing love and tenderness as usual1 always gives rise to the contrary affection4 ,when we observe a person in misfortune1 we are affected with pity and love2 but the author of that misfortune becomes the object of our strongest hatred1 and is the more detested in proportion to the degree of our compassion4 ,now1 for what reason should the same passion of pity produce love to the person who suffers the misfortune1 and hatred to the person who causes it2 unless it be because1 in the latter case1 the author bears a relation only to the misfortune2 whereas1 in considering the sufferer1 we carry our view on every side1 and wish for his prosperity1 as well as are sensible of his affliction8 ,i shall just observe1 before ,i leave the present subject1 that this phenomenon of the double sympathy1 and its tendency to cause love1 may contribute to the production of the kindness which we naturally bear our relations and acquaintance4 ,custom and relation make us enter deeply into the sentiments of others2 and whatever fortune we suppose to attend them1 is rendered present to us by the imagination1 and operates as if originally our own4 ,we rejoice in their pleasures1 and grieve for their sorrows1 merely from the force of sympathy4 ,nothing that concerns them is indifferent to us2 and as this correspondence of sentiments is the natural attendant of love1 it readily produces that affection4 ,,section ,x4 ,,of ,,respect ,,and ,,contempt4 ,there now remains only to explain the passions of respect and contempt1 along with the amorous affection1 in order to understand all the passions which have any mixture of love or hatred4 ,let us begin with respect and contempt4 ,in considering the qualities and circumstances of others1 we may either regard them as they really are in themselves2 or may make a comparison betwixt them and our own qualities and circumstances2 or may join these two methods of consideration4 ,the good qualities of others1 from the first point of view1 produce love2 from the second1 humility2 and1 from the third1 respect2 which is a mixture of these two passions4 ,their bad qualities1 after the same manner1 cause either hatred1 or pride1 or contempt1 according to the light in which we survey them4 ,that there is a mixture of pride in contempt1 and of humility in respect1 is1 ,i think1 too evident1 from their very feeling or appearance1 to require any particular proof4 ,that this mixture arises from a tacit comparison of the person contemned or respected with ourselves1 is no less evident4 ,the same man may cause either respect1 love1 or contempt1 by his condition and talents1 according as the person who considers him1 from his inferior1 becomes his equal or superior4 ,in changing the point of view1 though the object may remain the same1 its proportion to ourselves entirely alters2 which is the cause of an alteration in the passions4 ,these passions1 therefore1 arise from our observing the proportion1 that is1 from a comparison4 ,i have already observed1 that the mind has a much stronger propensity to pride than to humility1 and have endeavoured1 from the principles of human nature1 to assign a cause for this phenomenon4 ,whether my reasoning be received or not1 the phenomenon is undisputed1 and appears in many instances4 ,among the rest1 'tis the reason why there is a much greater mixture of pride in contempt1 than of humility in respect1 and why we are more elevated with the view of one below us1 than mortified with the presence of one above us4 ,contempt or scorn has so strong a tincture of pride1 that there scarce is any other passion discernible3 ,whereas in esteem or respect1 love makes a more considerable ingredient than humility4 ,the passion of vanity is so prompt1 that it rouses at the least call2 while humility requires a stronger impulse to make it exert itself4 ,but here it may reasonably be asked1 why this mixture takes place only in some cases1 and appears not on every occasion4 ,all those objects which cause love1 when placed on another person1 are the causes of pride when transferred to ourselves2 and consequently ought to be causes of humility as well as love while they belong to others1 and are only compared to those which we ourselves possess4 ,in like manner every quality1 which1 by being directly considered1 produces hatred1 ought always to give rise to pride by comparison1 and1 by a mixture of these passions of hatred and pride1 ought to excite contempt or scorn4 ,the difficulty then is1 why any objects ever cause pure love or hatred1 and produce not always the mixt passions of respect and contempt4 ,i have supposed all along that the passions of love and pride1 and those of humility and hatred1 are similar in their sensations1 and that the two former are always agreeable1 and that the two latter painful4 ,but though this be universally true1 'tis observable1 that the two agreeable as well as the two painful passions1 have some differences1 and even contrarieties1 which distinguish them4 ,nothing invigorates and exalts the mind equally with pride and vanity2 though at the same time love or tenderness is rather found to weaken and enfeeble it4 ,the same difference is observable betwixt the uneasy passions4 ,anger and hatred bestow a new force on all our thoughts and actions2 while humility and shame deject and discourage us4 ,of these qualities of the passions1 'twill be necessary to form a distinct idea4 ,let us remember that pride and hatred invigorate the soul1 and love and humility enfeeble it4 ,from this it follows1 that though the conformity betwixt love and hatred in the agreeableness of their sensation makes them always be excited by the same objects1 yet this other contrariety is the reason why they are excited in very different degrees4 ,genius and learning are pleasant and magnificent objects1 and by both these circumstances are adapted to pride and vanity1 but have a relation to love by their pleasure only4 ,ignorance and simplicity are disagreeable and mean1 which in the same manner gives them a double connexion with humility1 and a single one with hatred4 ,we may1 therefore1 consider it as certain1 that though the same object always produces love and pride1 humility and hatred1 according to its different situations1 yet it seldom produces either the two former or the two latter passions in the same proportion4 ',tis here we must seek for a solution of the difficulty above-mentioned1 why any object ever excites pure love or hatred1 and does not always produce respect or contempt1 by a mixture of humility or pride4 ,no quality in another gives rise to humility by comparison1 unless it would have produced pride by being placed in ourselves2 and1 vice versa1 no object excites pride by comparison1 unless it would have produced humility by the direct survey4 ,this is evident1 objects always produce by comparison a sensation directly contrary to their original one4 ,suppose1 therefore1 an object to be presented1 which is peculiarly fitted to produce love1 but imperfectly to excite pride1 this object1 belonging to another1 gives rise directly to a great degree of love1 but to a small one of humility by comparison2 and consequently that latter passion is scarce felt in the compound1 nor is able to convert the love into respect4 ,this is the case with good nature1 good humour1 facility1 generosity1 beauty1 and many other qualities4 ,these have a peculiar aptitude to produce love in others2 but not so great a tendency to excite pride in ourselves3 for which reason the view of them1 as belonging to another person1 produces pure love1 with but a small mixture of humility and respect4 ',tis easy to extend the same reasoning to the opposite passions4 ,before we leave this subject1 it may not be amiss to account for a pretty curious phenomenon1 viz4 why we commonly keep at a distance such as we contemn1 and allow not our inferiors to approach too near even in place and situation4 ,it has already been observed1 that almost every kind of ideas is attended with some emotion1 even the ideas of number and extension1 much more those of such objects as are esteemed of consequence in life1 and fix our attention4 ',tis not with entire indifference we can survey either a rich man or a poor one1 but must feel some faint touches1 at least1 of respect in the former case1 and of contempt in the latter4 ,these two passions are contrary to each other2 but in order to make this contrariety be felt1 the objects must be someway related2 otherwise the affections are totally separate and distinct1 and never encounter4 ,the relation takes place wherever the persons become contiguous2 which is a general reason why we are uneasy at seeing such disproportioned objects as a rich man and a poor one1 a nobleman and a porter1 in that situation4 ,this uneasiness1 which is common to every spectator1 must be more sensible to the superior2 and that because the near approach of the inferior is regarded as a piece of ill breeding1 and shows that he is not sensible of the disproportion1 and is no way affected by it4 ,a sense of superiority in another breeds in all men an inclination to keep themselves at a distance from him1 and determines them to redouble the marks of respect and reverence1 when they are obliged to approach him2 and where they do not observe that conduct1 'tis a proof they are not sensible of his superiority4 ,from hence too it proceeds1 that any great difference in the degrees of any quality is called a distance by a common metaphor1 which1 however trivial it may appear1 is founded on natural principles of the imagination4 ,a great difference inclines us to produce a distance4 ,the ideas of distance and difference are1 therefore1 connected together4 ,connected ideas are readily taken for each other2 and this is in general the source of the metaphor1 as we shall have occasion to observe afterwards4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,,of ,,the ,,amorous ,,passion1 ,,or ,,love ,,betwixt ,,the ,,sexes4 ,of all the compound passions which proceed from a mixture of love and hatred with other affections1 no one better deserves our attention1 than that love which arises betwixt the sexes1 as well on account of its force and violence1 as those curious principles of philosophy1 for which it affords us an uncontestable argument4 ',tis plain that this affection1 in its most natural state1 is derived from the conjunction of three different impressions or passions1 viz4 the pleasing sensation arising from beauty2 the bodily appetite for generation2 and a generous kindness or good will4 ,the origin of kindness from beauty may be explained from the foregoing reasoning4 ,the question is1 how the bodily appetite is excited by it4 ,the appetite of generation1 when confined to a certain degree1 is evidently of the pleasant kind1 and has a strong connexion with all the agreeable emotions4 ,joy1 mirth1 vanity1 and kindness1 are all incentives to this desire1 as well as music1 dancing1 wine1 and good cheer4 ,on the other hand1 sorrow1 melancholy1 poverty1 humility are destructive of it4 ,from this quality1 'tis easily conceived why it should be connected with the sense of beauty4 ,but there is another principle that contributes to the same effect4 ,i have observed that the parallel direction of the desires is a real relation1 and1 no less than a resemblance in their sensation1 produces a connexion among them4 ,that we may fully comprehend the extent of this relation1 we must consider that any principal desire may be attended with subordinate ones1 which are connected with it1 and to which1 if other desires are parallel1 they are by that means related to the principal one4 ,thus1 hunger may oft be considered as the primary inclination of the soul1 and the desire of approaching the meat as the secondary one1 since 'tis absolutely necessary to the satisfying that appetite4 ,if an object1 therefore1 by any separate qualities1 inclines us to approach the meat1 it naturally increases our appetite2 as on the contrary1 whatever inclines us to set our victuals at a distance1 is contradictory to hunger1 and diminishes our inclination to them4 ,now1 'tis plain1 that beauty has the first effect1 and deformity the second2 which is the reason why the former gives us a keener appetite for our victuals1 and the latter is sufficient to disgust us at the most savoury dish that cookery has invented4 ,all this is easily applicable to the appetite for generation4 ,from these two relations1 viz4 resemblance and a parallel desire1 there arises such a connexion betwixt the sense of beauty1 the bodily appetite1 and benevolence1 that they become in a manner inseparable2 and we find from experience1 that 'tis indifferent which of them advances first1 since any of them is almost sure to be attended with the related affections4 ,one who is inflamed with lust1 feels at least a momentary kindness towards the object of it1 and at the same time fancies her more beautiful than ordinary2 as there are many1 who begin with kindness and esteem for the wit and merit of the person1 and advance from that to the other passions4 ,but the most common species of love is that which first arises from beauty1 and afterwards diffuses itself into kindness1 and into the bodily appetite4 ,kindness or esteem1 and the appetite to generation1 are too remote to unite easily together4 ,the one is1 perhaps1 the most refined passion of the soul1 the other the most gross and vulgar4 ,the love of beauty is placed in a just medium betwixt them1 and partakes of both their natures2 from whence it proceeds1 that 'tis so singularly fitted to produce both4 ,this account of love is not peculiar to my system1 but is unavoidable on any hypothesis4 ,the three affections which compose this passion are evidently distinct1 and has each of them its distinct object4 ',tis certain1 therefore1 that 'tis only by their relation they produce each other4 ,but the relation of passions is not alone sufficient4 ',tis likewise necessary there should be a relation of ideas4 ,the beauty of one person never inspires us with love for another4 ,this then is a sensible proof of the double relation of impressions and ideas4 ,from one instance so evident as this we may form a judgment of the rest4 ,this may also serve in another view to illustrate what ,i have insisted on concerning the origin of pride and humility1 love and hatred4 ,i have observed1 that though self be the object of the first set of passions1 and some other person of the second1 yet these objects cannot alone be the causes of the passions1 as having each of them a relation to two contrary affections1 which must from the very first moment destroy each other4 ,here then is the situation of the mind1 as ,i have already described it4 ,it has certain organs naturally fitted to produce a passion2 that passion1 when produced1 naturally turns the view to a certain object4 ,but this not being sufficient to produce the passion1 there is required some other emotion1 which1 by a double relation of impressions and ideas1 may set these principles in action1 and bestow on them their first impulse4 ,this situation is still more remarkable with regard to the appetite of generation4 ,sex is not only the object1 but also the cause of the appetite4 ,we not only turn our view to it1 when actuated by that appetite1 but the reflecting on it suffices to excite the appetite4 ,but as this cause loses its force by too great frequency1 'tis necessary it should be quickened by some new impulse2 and that impulse we find to arise from the beauty of the person2 that is1 from a double relation of impressions and ideas4 ,since this double relation is necessary where an affection has both a distinct cause and object1 how much more so where it has only a distinct object without any determinate cause6 ,,section ,,xii4 ,,of ,,the ,,love ,,and ,,hatred ,,of ,,animals4 ,but to pass from the passions of love and hatred1 and from their mixtures and compositions1 as they appear in man1 to the same affections as they display themselves in brutes1 we may observe1 not only that love and hatred are common to the whole sensitive creation1 but likewise that their causes1 as above explained1 are of so simple a nature that they may easily be supposed to operate on mere animals4 ,there is no force of reflection or penetration required4 ,every thing is conducted by springs and principles1 which are not peculiar to man1 or any one species of animals4 ,the conclusion from this is obvious in favour of the foregoing system4 ,love1 in animals1 has not for its only object animals of the same species1 but extends itself farther1 and comprehends almost every sensible and thinking being4 ,a dog naturally loves a man above his own species1 and very commonly meets with a return of affection4 ,as animals are but little susceptible either of the pleasures or pains of the imagination1 they can judge of objects only by the sensible good or evil which they produce1 and from that must regulate their affections towards them4 ,accordingly we find1 that by benefits or injuries we produce their love or hatred2 and that1 by feeding and cherishing any animal1 we quickly acquire his affections2 as by beating and abusing him we never fail to draw on us his enmity and ill-will4 ,love in beasts is not caused so much by relation as in our species2 and that because their thoughts are not so active as to trace relations1 except in very obvious instances4 ,yet 'tis easy to remark1 that on some occasions it has a considerable influence upon them4 ,thus1 acquaintance1 which has the same effect as relation1 always produces love in animals1 either to men or to each other4 ,for the same reason1 any likeness among them is the source of affection4 ,an ox confined to a park with horses1 will naturally join their company1 if ,i may so speak1 but always leaves it to enjoy that of his own species1 where he has the choice of both4 ,the affection of parents to their young proceeds from a peculiar instinct in animals1 as well as in our species4 ',tis evident that sympathy1 or the communication of passions1 takes place among animals1 no less than among men4 ,fear1 anger1 courage1 and other affections1 are frequently communicated from one animal to another1 without their knowledge of that cause which produced the original passion4 ,grief likewise is received by sympathy1 and produces almost all the same consequences1 and excites the same emotions1 as in our species4 ,the howlings and lamentations of a dog produce a sensible concern in his fellows4 ,and 'tis remarkable1 that though almost all animals use in play the same member1 and nearly the same action as in fighting2 a lion1 a tiger1 a cat1 their paws2 an ox1 his horns2 a dog1 his teeth2 a horse1 his heels3 yet they most carefully avoid harming their companion1 even though they have nothing to fear from his resentment2 which is an evident proof of the sense brutes have of each other's pain and pleasure4 ,every one has observed how much more dogs are animated when they hunt in a pack1 than when they pursue their game apart2 and 'tis evident this can proceed from nothing but from sympathy4 ',tis also well known to hunters1 that this effect follows in a greater degree1 and even in too great a degree1 where too packs that are strangers to each other are joined together4 ,we might1 perhaps1 be at a loss to explain this phenomenon1 if we had not experience of a similar in ourselves4 ,envy and malice are passions very remarkable in animals4 ,they are perhaps more common than pity2 as requiring less effort of thought and imagination4 ,,part ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,will ,,and ,,direct ,,passions4 ,,section ,i4 ,,of ,,liberty ,,and ,,necessity4 ,we come now to explain the direct passions1 or the impressions which arise immediately from good or evil1 from pain or pleasure4 ,of this kind are1 desire and aversion1 grief and joy1 hope and fear4 ,of all the immediate effects of pain and pleasure1 there is none more remarkable than the will2 and though1 properly speaking1 it be not comprehended among the passions1 yet1 as the full understanding of its nature and properties is necessary to the explanation of them1 we shall here make it the subject of our inquiry4 ,i desire it may be observed1 that1 by the will1 ,i mean nothing but the internal impression we feel1 and are conscious of1 when we knowingly give rise to any new motion of our body1 or new perception of our mind4 ,this impression1 like the preceding ones of pride and humility1 love and hatred1 'tis impossible to define1 and needless to describe any farther2 for which reason we shall cut off all those definitions and distinctions with which philosophers are wont to perplex rather than clear up this question2 and entering at first upon the subject1 shall examine that long-disputed question concerning liberty and necessity1 which occurs so naturally in treating of the will4 ',tis universally acknowledged that the operations of external bodies are necessary2 and that1 in the communication of their motion1 in their attraction1 and mutual cohesion1 there are not the least traces of indifference or liberty4 ,every object is determined by an absolute fate to a certain degree and direction of its motion1 and can no more depart from that precise line in which it moves1 than it can convert itself into an angel1 or spirit1 or any superior substance4 ,the actions1 therefore1 of matter1 are to be regarded as instances of necessary actions2 and whatever is1 in this respect1 on the same footing with matter1 must be acknowledged to be necessary4 ,that we may know whether this be the case with the actions of the mind1 we shall begin with examining matter1 and considering on what the idea of a necessity in its operations are founded1 and why we conclude one body or action to be the infallible cause of another4 ,it has been observed already1 that in no single instance the ultimate connexion of any objects is discoverable either by our senses or reason1 and that we can never penetrate so far into the essence and construction of bodies1 as to perceive the principle on which their mutual influence depends4 ',tis their constant union alone with which we are acquainted2 and 'tis from the constant union the necessity arises4 ,if objects had not an uniform and regular conjunction with each other1 we should never arrive at any idea of cause and effect2 and even after all1 the necessity which enters into that idea1 is nothing but a determination of the mind to pass from one object to its usual attendant1 and infer the existence of one from that of the other4 ,here then are two particulars which we are to consider as essential to necessity1 viz4 the constant union and the inference of the mind2 and wherever we discover these1 we must acknowledge a necessity4 ,as the actions of matter have no necessity but what is derived from these circumstances1 and it is not by any insight into the essence of bodies we discover their connexion1 the absence of this insight1 while the union and inference remain1 will never1 in any case1 remove the necessity4 ',tis the observation of the union which produces the inference2 for which reason it might be thought sufficient1 if we prove a constant union in the actions of the mind1 in order to establish the inference along with the necessity of these actions4 ,but that ,i may bestow a greater force on my reasoning1 ,i shall examine these particulars apart1 and shall first prove from experience that our actions have a constant union with our motives1 tempers1 and circumstances1 before ,i consider the inferences we draw from it4 ,to this end a very slight and general view of the common course of human affairs will be sufficient4 ,there is no light in which we can take them that does not confirm this principle4 ,whether we consider mankind according to the difference of sexes1 ages1 governments1 conditions1 or methods of education2 the same uniformity and regular operation of natural principles are discernible4 ,like causes still produce like effects2 in the same manner as in the mutual action of the elements and powers of nature4 ,there are different trees which regularly produce fruit1 whose relish is different from each other2 and this regularity will be admitted as an instance of necessity and causes in external bodies4 ,but are the products of ,guienne and of ,champagne more regularly different than the sentiments1 actions1 and passions of the two sexes1 of which the one are distinguished by their force and maturity1 the other by their delicacy and softness8 ,are the changes of our body from infancy to old age more regular and certain than those of our mind and conduct8 ,and would a man be more ridiculous1 who would expect that an infant of four years old will raise a weight of three hundred pounds1 than one who1 from a person of the same age1 would look for a philosophical reasoning1 or a prudent and well concerted action8 ,we must certainly allow1 that the cohesion of the parts of matter arises from natural and necessary principles1 whatever difficulty we may find in explaining them3 and for a like reason we must allow1 that human society is founded on like principles2 and our reason in the latter case is better than even that in the former2 because we not only observe that men always seek society1 but can also explain the principles on which this universal propensity is founded4 ,for it is more certain that two flat pieces of marble will unite together1 than two young savages of different sexes will copulate8 ,do the children arise from this copulation more uniformly1 than does the parents' care for their safety and preservation8 ,and after they have arrived at years of discretion by the care of their parents1 are the inconveniences attending their separation more certain than their foresight of these inconveniences1 and their care of avoiding them by a close union and confederacy8 ,the skin1 pores1 muscles1 and nerves of a day-labourer1 are different from those of a man of quality3 so are his sentiments1 actions1 and manners4 ,the different stations of life influence the whole fabric1 external and internal2 and these different stations arise necessarily1 because uniformly1 from the necessary and uniform principles of human nature4 ,men cannot live without society1 and cannot be associated without government4 ,government makes a distinction of property1 and establishes the different ranks of men4 ,this produces industry1 traffic1 manufactures1 lawsuits1 war1 leagues1 alliances1 voyages1 travels1 cities1 fleets1 ports1 and all those other actions and objects which cause such a diversity1 and at the same time maintain such an uniformity in human life4 ,should a traveller1 returning from a far country1 tell us1 that he had seen a climate in the fiftieth degree of northern latitude1 where all the fruits ripen and come to perfection in the winter1 and decay in the summer1 after the same manner as in ,england they are produced and decay in the contrary seasons1 he would find few so credulous as to believe him4 ,i am apt to think a traveller would meet with as little credit1 who should inform us of people exactly of the same character with those in ,plato's republic on the one hand1 or those in ,hobbes's ,leviathan on the other4 ,there is a general course of nature in human actions1 as well as in the operations of the sun and the climate4 ,there are also characters peculiar to different nations and particular persons1 as well as common to mankind4 ,the knowledge of these characters is founded on the observation of an uniformity in the actions that flow from them2 and this uniformity forms the very essence of necessity4 ,i can imagine only one way of eluding this argument1 which is by denying that uniformity of human actions1 on which it is founded4 ,as long as actions have a constant union and connexion with the situation and temper of the agent1 however we may in words refuse to acknowledge the necessity1 we really allow the thing4 ,now1 some may perhaps find a pretext to deny this regular union and connexion4 ,for what is more capricious than human actions8 ,what more inconstant than the desires of man8 ,and what creature departs more widely1 not only from right reason1 but from his own character and disposition8 ,an hour1 a moment is sufficient to make him change from one extreme to another1 and overturn what cost the greatest pain and labour to establish4 ,necessity is regular and certain4 ,human conduct is irregular and uncertain4 ,the one therefore proceeds not from the other4 ,to this ,i reply1 that in judging of the actions of men we must proceed upon the same maxims1 as when we reason concerning external objects4 ,when any phenomena are constantly and invariably conjoined together1 they acquire such a connexion in the imagination1 that it passes from one to the other without any doubt or hesitation4 ,but below this there are many inferior degrees of evidence and probability1 nor does one single contrariety of experiment entirely destroy all our reasoning4 ,the mind balances the contrary experiments1 and1 deducting the inferior from the superior1 proceeds with that degree of assurance or evidence1 which remains4 ,even when these contrary experiments are entirely equal1 we remove not the notion of causes and necessity2 but1 supposing that the usual contrariety proceeds from the operation of contrary and concealed causes1 we conclude1 that the chance or indifference lies only in our judgment on account of our imperfect knowledge1 not in the things themselves1 which are in every case equally necessary1 though1 to appearance1 not equally constant or certain4 ,no union can be more constant and certain than that of some actions with some motives and characters2 and if1 in other cases1 the union is uncertain1 'tis no more than what happens in the operations of body2 nor can we conclude any thing from the one irregularity which will not follow equally from the other4 ',tis commonly allowed that madmen have no liberty4 ,but1 were we to judge by their actions1 these have less regularity and constancy than the actions of wise men1 and consequently are farther removed from necessity4 ,our way of thinking in this particular is1 therefore1 absolutely inconsistent2 but is a natural consequence of these confused ideas and undefined terms1 which we so commonly make use of in our reasonings1 especially on the present subject4 ,we must now show1 that1 as the union betwixt motives and actions has the same constancy as that in any natural operations1 so its influence on the understanding is also the same1 in determining us to infer the existence of one from that of another4 ,if this shall appear1 there is no known circumstance that enters into the connexion and production of the actions of matter that is not to be found in all the operations of the mind2 and consequently we cannot1 without a manifest absurdity1 attribute necessity to the one1 and refuse it to the other4 ,there is no philosopher1 whose judgment is so rivetted to this fantastical system of liberty1 as not to acknowledge the force of moral evidence1 and both in speculation and practice proceed upon it as upon a reasonable foundation4 ,now1 moral evidence is nothing but a conclusion concerning the actions of men1 derived from the consideration of their motives1 temper1 and situation4 ,thus1 when we see certain characters or figures described upon paper1 we infer that the person who produced them would affirm such facts1 the death of ,csar1 the success of ,augustus1 the cruelty of ,nero2 and1 remembering many other concurrent testimonies1 we conclude that those facts were once really existent1 and that so many men1 without any interest1 would never conspire to deceive us2 especially since they must1 in the attempt1 expose themselves to the derision of all their contemporaries1 when these facts were asserted to be recent and universally known4 ,the same kind of reasoning runs through politics1 war1 commerce1 economy1 and indeed mixes itself so entirely in human life1 that 'tis impossible to act or subsist a moment without having recourse to it4 ,a prince who imposes a tax upon his subjects1 expects their compliance4 ,a general who conducts an army1 makes account of a certain degree of courage4 ,a merchant looks for fidelity and skill in his factor or supercargo4 ,a man who gives orders for his dinner1 doubts not of the obedience of his servants4 ,in short1 as nothing more nearly interests us than our own actions and those of others1 the greatest part of our reasonings is employed in judgments concerning them4 ,now ,i assert1 that whoever reasons after this manner1 does ipso facto believe the actions of the will to arise from necessity1 and that he knows not what he means when he denies it4 ,all those objects1 of which we call the one cause and the other effect1 considered in themselves1 are as distinct and separate from each other as any two things in nature2 nor can we ever1 by the most accurate survey of them1 infer the existence of the one from that of the other4 ',tis only from experience and the observation of their constant union1 that we are able to form this inference2 and even after all1 the inference is nothing but the effects of custom on the imagination4 ,we must not here be content with saying1 that the idea of cause and effect arises from objects constantly united2 but must affirm1 that 'tis the very same with the idea of these objects1 and that the necessary connexion is not discovered by a conclusion of the understanding1 but is merely a perception of the mind4 ,wherever1 therefore1 we observe the same union1 and wherever the union operates in the same manner upon the belief and opinion1 we have the idea of causes and necessity1 though perhaps we may avoid those expressions4 ,motion in one body1 in all past instances that have fallen under our observation1 is followed upon impulse by motion in another4 ',tis impossible for the mind to penetrate farther4 ,from this constant union it forms the idea of cause and effect1 and by its influence feels the necessity4 ,as there is the same constancy1 and the same influence1 in what we call moral evidence1 ,i ask no more4 ,what remains can only be a dispute of words4 ,and indeed1 when we consider how aptly natural and moral evidence cement together1 and form only one chain of argument betwixt them1 we shall make no scruple to allow1 that they are of the same nature1 and derived from the same principles4 ,a prisoner1 who has neither money nor interest1 discover the impossibility of his escape1 as well from the obstinacy of the gaoler1 as from the walls and bars with which he is surrounded2 and in all attempts for his freedom1 chooses rather to work upon the stone and iron of the one1 than upon the inflexible nature of the other4 ,the same prisoner1 when conducted to the scaffold1 foresees his death as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of his guards1 as from the operation of the axe or wheel4 ,his mind runs along a certain train of ideas3 the refusal of the soldiers to consent to his escape2 the action of the executioner2 the separation of the head and body1 bleeding1 convulsive motions1 and death4 ,here is a connected chain of natural causes and voluntary actions2 but the mind feels no difference betwixt them in passing from one link to another2 nor is less certain of the future event than if it were connected with the present impressions of the memory and senses by a train of causes cemented together by what we are pleased to call a physical necessity4 ,the same experienced union has the same effect on the mind1 whether the united objects be motives1 volitions and actions1 or figure and motion4 ,we may change the names of things1 but their nature and their operation on the understanding never change4 ,i dare be positive no one will ever endeavour to refute these reasonings otherwise than by altering my definitions1 and assigning a different meaning to the terms of cause1 and effect1 and necessity1 and liberty1 and chance4 ,according to my definitions1 necessity makes an essential part of causation2 and consequently liberty1 by removing necessity1 removes also causes1 and is the very same thing with chance4 ,as chance is commonly thought to imply a contradiction1 and is at least directly contrary to experience1 there are always the same arguments against liberty or free-will4 ,if any one alters the definitions1 ,i cannot pretend to argue with him till ,i know the meaning he assigns to these terms4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,the ,,same ,,subject ,,continued4 ,i believe we may assign the three following reasons for the prevalence of the doctrine of liberty1 however absurd it may be in one sense1 and unintelligible in any other4 ,first1 after we have performed any action1 though we confess we were influenced by particular views and motives1 'tis difficult for us to persuade ourselves we were governed by necessity1 and that 'twas utterly impossible for us to have acted otherwise1 the idea of necessity seeming to imply something of force1 and violence1 and constraint1 of which we are not sensible4 ,few are capable of distinguishing betwixt the liberty of spontaneity1 as it is called in the schools1 and the liberty of indifference2 betwixt that which is opposed to violence1 and that which means a negation of necessity and causes4 ,the first is even the most common sense of the word2 and as 'tis only that species of liberty which it concerns us to preserve1 our thoughts have been principally turned towards it1 and have almost universally confounded it with the other4 ,secondly1 there is a false sensation or experience even of the liberty of indifference1 which is regarded as an argument for its real existence4 ,the necessity of any action1 whether of matter or of the mind1 is not properly a quality in the agent1 but in any thinking or intelligent being1 who may consider the action1 and consists in the determination of his thought to infer its existence from some preceding objects3 as liberty or chance1 on the other hand1 is nothing but the want of that determination1 and a certain looseness1 which we feel in passing or not passing from the idea of one to that of the other4 ,now1 we may observe1 that though in reflecting on human actions1 we seldom feel such a looseness or indifference1 yet it very commonly happens1 that1 in performing the actions themselves1 we are sensible of something like it3 and as all related or resembling objects are readily taken for each other1 this has been employed as a demonstrative1 or even an intuitive proof of human liberty4 ,we feel that our actions are subject to our will on most occasions1 and imagine we feel that the will itself is subject to nothing2 because when1 by a denial of it1 we are provoked to try1 we feel that it moves easily every way1 and produces an image of itself even on that side on which it did not settle4 ,this image or faint motion1 we persuade ourselves1 could have been completed into the thing itself2 because1 should that be denied1 we find1 upon a second trial1 that it can4 ,but these efforts are all in vain2 and whatever capricious and irregular actions we may perform1 as the desire of showing our liberty is the sole motive of our actions1 we can never free ourselves from the bonds of necessity4 ,we may imagine we feel a liberty within ourselves1 but a spectator can commonly infer our actions from our motives and character2 and even where he cannot1 he concludes in general that he might1 were he perfectly acquainted with every circumstance of our situation and temper1 and the most secret springs of our complexion and disposition4 ,now1 this is the very essence of necessity1 according to the foregoing doctrine4 ,a third reason why the doctrine of liberty has generally been better received in the world than its antagonist1 proceeds from religion1 which has been very unnecessarily interested in this question4 ,there is no method of reasoning more common1 and yet none more blameable1 than in philosophical debates to endeavour to refute any hypothesis by a pretext of its dangerous consequences to religion and morality4 ,when any opinion leads us into absurdities1 'tis certainly false2 but 'tis not certain an opinion is false1 because 'tis of dangerous consequence4 ,such topics1 therefore1 ought entirely to be foreborn1 as serving nothing to the discovery of truth1 but only to make the person of an antagonist odious4 ,this ,i observe in general1 without pretending to draw any advantage from it4 ,i submit myself frankly to an examination of this kind1 and dare venture to affirm1 that the doctrine of necessity1 according to my explication of it1 is not only innocent1 but even advantageous to religion and morality4 ,i define necessity two ways1 conformable to the two definitions of cause1 of which it makes an essential part4 ,i place it either in the constant union and conjunction of like objects1 or in the inference of the mind from the one to the other4 ,now1 necessity1 in both these senses1 has universally1 though tacitly1 in the schools1 in the pulpit1 and in common life1 been allowed to belong to the will of man2 and no one has ever pretended to deny1 that we can draw inferences concerning human actions1 and that those inferences are founded on the experienced union of like actions with like motives and circumstances4 ,the only particular in which any one can differ from me is1 either that perhaps he will refuse to call this necessity2 but as long as the meaning is understood1 ,i hope the word can do no harm2 or1 that he will maintain there is something else in the operations of matter4 ,now1 whether it be so or not1 is of no consequence to religion1 whatever it may be to natural philosophy4 ,i may be mistaken in asserting1 that we have no idea of any other connexion in the actions of body1 and shall be glad to be farther instructed on that head3 but sure ,i am1 ,i ascribe nothing to the actions of the mind1 but what must readily be allowed of4 ,let no one1 therefore1 put an invidious construction on my words1 by saying simply1 that ,i assert the necessity of human actions1 and place them on the same footing with the operations of senseless matter4 ,i do not ascribe to the will that unintelligible necessity1 which is supposed to lie in matter4 ,but ,i ascribe to matter that intelligible quality1 call it necessity or not1 which the most rigorous orthodoxy does or must allow to belong to the will4 ,i change1 therefore1 nothing in the received systems1 with regard to the will1 but only with regard to material objects4 ,nay1 ,i shall go farther1 and assert1 that this kind of necessity is so essential to religion and morality1 that without it there must ensue an absolute subversion of both1 and that every other supposition is entirely destructive to all laws1 both divine and human4 ',tis indeed certain1 that as all human laws are founded on rewards and punishments1 'tis supposed as a fundamental principle1 that these motives have an influence on the mind1 and both produce the good and prevent the evil actions4 ,we may give to this influence what name we please2 but as 'tis usually conjoined with the action1 common sense requires it should be esteemed a cause1 and be looked upon as an instance of that necessity1 which ,i would establish4 ,this reasoning is equally solid1 when applied to divine laws1 so far as the ,deity is considered as a legislator1 and is supposed to inflict punishment and bestow rewards with a design to produce obedience4 ,but ,i also maintain1 that even where he acts not in his magisterial capacity1 is regarded as the avenger of crimes merely on account of their odiousness and deformity1 not only 'tis impossible1 without the necessary connexion of cause and effect in human actions1 that punishments could be inflicted compatible with justice and moral equity2 but also that it could ever enter into the thoughts of any reasonable being to inflict them4 ,the constant and universal object of hatred or anger is a person or creature endowed with thought and consciousness2 and when any criminal or injurious actions excite that passion1 'tis only by their relation to the person or connexion with him4 ,but according to the doctrine of liberty or chance1 this connexion is reduced to nothing1 nor are men more accountable for those actions1 which are designed and premeditated1 than for such as are the most casual and accidental4 ,actions are1 by their very nature1 temporary and perishing2 and where they proceed not from some cause in the characters and disposition of the person who performed them1 they infix not themselves upon him1 and can neither redound to his honour1 if good1 nor infamy1 if evil4 ,the action itself may be blameable2 it may be contrary to all the rules of morality and religion3 but the person is not responsible for it2 and as it proceeded from nothing in him that is durable or constant1 and leaves nothing of that nature behind it1 'tis impossible he can1 upon its account1 become the object of punishment or vengeance4 ,according to the hypothesis of liberty1 therefore1 a man is as pure and untainted1 after having committed the most horrid crimes1 as at the first moment of his birth1 nor is his character any way concerned in his actions1 since they are not derived from it1 and the wickedness of the one can never be used as a proof of the depravity of the other4 ',tis only upon the principles of necessity1 that a person acquires any merit or demerit from his actions1 however the common opinion may incline to the contrary4 ,but so inconsistent are men with themselves1 that though they often assert that necessity utterly destroys all merit and demerit either towards mankind or superior powers1 yet they continue still to reason upon these very principles of necessity in all their judgments concerning this matter4 ,men are not blamed for such evil actions as they perform ignorantly and casually1 whatever may be their consequences4 ,why8 but because the causes of these actions are only momentary1 and terminate in them alone4 ,men are less blamed for such evil actions as they perform hastily and unpremeditately1 than for such as proceed from thought and deliberation4 ,for what reason8 but because a hasty temper1 though a constant cause in the mind1 operates only by intervals1 and infects not the whole character4 ,again1 repentance wipes off every crime1 especially if attended with an evident reformation of life and manners4 ,how is this to be accounted for8 but by asserting that actions render a person criminal1 merely as they are proofs of criminal passions or principles in the mind2 and when1 by any alteration of these principles1 they cease to be just proofs1 they likewise cease to be criminal4 ,but according the doctrine of liberty or chance1 they never were just proofs1 and consequently never were criminal4 ,here then ,i turn to my adversary1 and desire him to free his own system from these odious consequences before he charge them upon others4 ,or1 if he rather chooses that this question should be decided by fair arguments before philosophers1 than by declamations before the people1 let him return to what ,i have advanced to prove that liberty and chance are synonymous2 and concerning the nature of moral evidence and the regularity of human actions4 ,upon a review of these reasonings1 ,i cannot doubt of an entire victory2 and therefore1 having proved that all actions of the will have particular causes1 ,i proceed to explain what these causes are1 and how they operate4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,influencing ,,motives ,,of ,,the ,,will4 ,nothing is more usual in philosophy1 and even in common life1 than to talk of the combat of passion and reason1 to give the preference to reason1 and assert that men are only so far virtuous as they conform themselves to its dictates4 ,every rational creature1 'tis said1 is obliged to regulate his actions by reason2 and if any other motive or principle challenge the direction of his conduct1 he ought to oppose it1 'till it be entirely subdued1 or at least brought to a conformity with that superior principle4 ,on this method of thinking the greatest part of moral philosophy1 ancient and modern1 seems to be founded2 nor is there an ampler field1 as well for metaphysical arguments1 as popular declamations1 than this supposed pre-eminence of reason above passion4 ,the eternity1 invariableness1 and divine origin of the former1 have been displayed to the best advantage3 the blindness1 inconstancy1 and deceitfulness of the latter1 have been as strongly insisted on4 ,in order to show the fallacy of all this philosophy1 ,i shall endeavour to prove first1 that reason alone can never be a motive to any action of the will2 and secondly1 that it can never oppose passion in the direction of the will4 ,the understanding exerts itself after two different ways1 as the judges from demonstration or probability2 as it regards the abstract relations of our ideas1 or those relations of objects of which experience only gives us information4 ,i believe it scarce will be asserted1 that the first species of reasoning alone is ever the cause of any action4 ,as its proper province is the world of ideas1 and as the will always places us in that of realities1 demonstration and volition seem upon that account to be totally removed from each other4 ,mathematics1 indeed1 are useful in all mechanical operations1 and arithmetic in almost every art and profession3 but 'tis not of themselves they have any influence4 ,mechanics are the art of regulating the motions of bodies to some designed end or purpose2 and the reason why we employ arithmetic in fixing the proportions of numbers1 is only that we may discover the proportions of their influence and operation4 ,a merchant is desirous of knowing the sum total of his accounts with any person3 why8 but that he may learn what sum will have the same effects in paying his debt1 and going to market1 as all the particular articles taken together4 ,abstract or demonstrative reasoning1 therefore1 never influences any of our actions1 but only as it directs our judgment concerning causes and effects2 which leads us to the second operation of the understanding4 ',tis obvious1 that when we have the prospect of pain or pleasure from any object1 we feel a consequent emotion of aversion or propensity1 and are carried to avoid or embrace what will give us this uneasiness or satisfaction4 ',tis also obvious1 that this emotion rests not here1 but1 making us cast our view on every side1 comprehends whatever objects are connected with its original one by the relation of cause and effect4 ,here then reasoning takes place to discover this relation2 and according as our reasoning varies1 our actions receive a subsequent variation4 ,but 'tis evident1 in this case1 that the impulse arises not from reason1 but is only directed by it4 ',tis from the prospect of pain or pleasure that the aversion or propensity arises towards any object3 and these emotions extend themselves to the causes and effects of that object1 as they are pointed out to us by reason and experience4 ,it can never in the least concern us to know1 that such objects are causes1 and such others effects1 if both the causes and effects be indifferent to us4 ,where the objects themselves do not affect us1 their connexion can never give them any influence2 and 'tis plain that1 as reason is nothing but the discovery of this connexion1 it cannot be by its means that the objects are able to affect us4 ,since reason alone can never produce any action1 or give rise to volition1 ,i infer1 that the same faculty is as incapable of preventing volition1 or of disputing the preference with any passion or emotion4 ,this consequence is necessary4 ',tis impossible reason could have the latter effect of preventing1 volition1 but by giving an impulse in a contrary direction to our passion2 and that impulse1 had it operated alone1 would have been able to produce volition4 ,nothing can oppose or retard the impulse of passion1 but a contrary impulse2 and if this contrary impulse ever arises from reason1 that latter faculty must have an original influence on the will1 and must be able to cause1 as well as hinder1 any act of volition4 ,but if reason has no original influence1 'tis impossible it can withstand any principle which has such an efficacy1 or ever keep the mind in suspence a moment4 ,thus1 it appears1 that the principle which opposes our passion1 cannot be the same with reason1 and is only called so in an improper sense4 ,we speak not strictly and philosophically1 when we talk of the combat of passion and of reason4 ,reason is1 and ought only to be1 the slave of the passions1 and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them4 ,as this opinion may appear somewhat extraordinary1 it may not be improper to confirm it by some other considerations4 ,a passion is an original existence1 or1 if you will1 modification of existence1 and contains not any representative quality1 which renders it a copy of any other existence or modification4 ,when ,i am angry1 ,i am actually possest with the passion1 and in that emotion have no more a reference to any other object1 than when ,i am thirsty1 or sick1 or more than five feet high4 ',tis impossible1 therefore1 that this passion can be opposed by1 or be contradictory to1 truth and reason2 since this contradiction consists in the disagreement of ideas1 considered as copies1 with those objects which they represent4 ,what may at first occur on this head is1 that as nothing can be contrary to truth or reason1 except what has a reference to it1 and as the judgments of our understanding only have this reference1 it must follow1 that passions can be contrary to reason only1 so far as they are accompanied with some judgment or opinion4 ,according to this principle1 which is so obvious and natural1 'tis only in two senses that any affection can be called unreasonable4 ,first1 ,when a passion1 such as hope or fear1 grief or joy1 despair or security1 is founded on the supposition of the existence of objects1 which really do not exist4 ,secondly1 ,when in exerting any passion in action1 we choose means sufficient for the designed end1 and deceive ourselves in our judgment of causes and effects4 ,where a passion is neither founded on false suppositions1 nor chooses means insufficient for the end1 the understanding can neither justify nor condemn it4 ',tis not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the scratching of my finger4 ',tis not contrary to reason for me to choose my total ruin1 to prevent the least uneasiness of an ,indian1 or person wholly unknown to me4 ',tis as little contrary to reason to prefer even my own acknowledged lesser good to my greater1 and have a more ardent affection for the former than the latter4 ,a trivial good may1 from certain circumstances1 produce a desire superior to what arises from the greatest and most valuable enjoyment2 nor is there any thing more extraordinary in this1 than in mechanics to see one pound weight raise up a hundred by the advantage of its situation4 ,in short1 a passion must be accompanied with some false judgment1 in order to its being unreasonable2 and even then1 'tis not the passion1 properly speaking1 which is unreasonable1 but the judgment4 ,the consequences are evident4 ,since a passion can never1 in any sense1 be called unreasonable1 but when founded on a false supposition1 or when it chuses means insufficient for the designed end1 'tis impossible1 that reason and passion can ever oppose each other1 or dispute for the government of the will and actions4 ,the moment we perceive the falsehood of any supposition1 or the insufficiency of any means1 our passions yield to our reason without any opposition4 ,i may desire any fruit as of an excellent relish2 but whenever you convince me of my mistake1 my longing ceases4 ,i may will the performance of certain actions as means of obtaining any desired good2 but as my willing of these actions is only secondary1 and founded on the supposition that they are causes of the proposed effect2 as soon as ,i discover the falsehood of that supposition1 they must become indifferent to me4 ',tis natural for one1 that does not examine objects with a strict philosophic eye1 to imagine1 that those actions of the mind are entirely the same1 which produce not a different sensation1 and are not immediately distinguishable to the feeling and perception4 ,reason1 for instance1 exerts itself without producing any sensible emotion2 and except in the more sublime disquisitions of philosophy1 or in the frivolous subtilties of the schools1 scarce ever conveys any pleasure or uneasiness4 ,hence it proceeds1 that every action of the mind which operates with the same calmness and tranquillity1 is confounded with reason by all those who judge of things from the first view and appearance4 ,now 'tis certain there are certain calm desires and tendencies1 which1 though they be real passions1 produce little emotion in the mind1 and are more known by their effects than by the immediate feeling or sensation4 ,these desires are of two kinds2 either certain instincts originally implanted in our natures1 such as benevolence and resentment1 the love of life1 and kindness to children2 or the general appetite to good1 and aversion to evil1 considered merely as such4 ,when any of these passions are calm1 and cause no disorder in the soul1 they are very readily taken for the determinations of reason1 and are supposed to proceed from the same faculty with that which judges of truth and falsehood4 ,their nature and principles have been supposed the same1 because their sensations are not evidently different4 ,beside these calm passions1 which often determine the will1 there are certain violent emotions of the same kind1 which have likewise a great influence on that faculty4 ,when ,i receive any injury from another1 ,i often feel a violent passion of resentment1 which makes me desire his evil and punishment1 independent of all considerations of pleasure and advantage to myself4 ,when ,i am immediately threatened with any grievous ill1 my fears1 apprehensions and aversions rise to a great height1 and produce a sensible emotion4 ,the common error of metaphysicians has lain in ascribing the direction of the will entirely to one of these principles1 and supposing the other to have no influence4 ,men often act knowingly against their interest2 for which reason1 the view of the greatest possible good does not always influence them4 ,men often counteract a violent passion in prosecution of their interests and designs2 'tis not1 therefore1 the present uneasiness alone which determines them4 ,in general we may observe1 that both these principles1 operate on the will2 and where they are contrary1 that either of them prevails1 according to the general character or present disposition of the person4 ,what we call strength of mind1 implies the prevalence of the calm passions above the violent2 though we may easily observe1 there is no man so constantly possessed of this virtue1 as never on any occasion to yield to the solicitations of passion and desire4 ,from these variations of temper proceeds the great difficulty of deciding concerning the actions and resolutions of men1 where there is any contrariety of motives and passions4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,causes ,,of ,,the ,,violent ,,passions4 ,there is not in philosophy a subject of more nice speculation than this1 of the different causes and effects of the calm and violent passions4 ',tis evident1 passions influence not the will in proportion to their violence1 or the disorder they occasion in the temper2 but1 on the contrary1 that when a passion has once become a settled principle of action1 and is the predominant inclination of the soul1 it commonly produces no longer any sensible agitation4 ,as repeated custom and its own force have made every thing yield to it1 it directs the actions and conduct without that opposition and emotion which so naturally attend every momentary gust of passion4 ,we must1 therefore1 distinguish betwixt a calm and a weak passion2 betwixt a violent and a strong one4 ,but notwithstanding this1 'tis certain that1 when we would govern a man1 and push him to any action1 'twill commonly be better policy to work upon the violent than the calm passions1 and rather take him by his inclination1 than what is vulgarly called his reason4 ,we ought to place the object in such particular situations as are proper to increase the violence of the passion4 ,for we may observe1 that all depends upon the situation of the object1 and that a variation in this particular will be able to change the calm and the violent passions into each other4 ,both these kinds of passions pursue good1 and avoid evil2 and both of them are increased or diminished by the increase or diminution of the good or evil4 ,but herein lies the difference betwixt them3 the same good1 when near1 will cause a violent passion1 which1 when remote1 produces only a calm one4 ,as this subject belongs very properly to the present question concerning the will1 we shall here examine it to the bottom1 and shall consider some of those circumstances and situations of objects1 which render a passion either calm or violent4 ',tis a remarkable property of human nature1 that any emotion which attends a passion1 is easily converted into it1 though in their natures they be originally different from1 and even contrary to1 each other4 ',tis true1 in order to make a perfect union among the passions1 there is always required a double relation of impressions and ideas2 nor is one relation sufficient for that purpose4 ,but though this be confirmed by undoubted experience1 we must understand it with its proper limitations1 and must regard the double relation as requisite only to make one passion produce another4 ,when two passions are already produced by their separate causes1 and are both present in the mind1 they readily mingle and unite1 though they have but one relation1 and sometimes without any4 ,the predominant passion swallows up the inferior1 and converts it into itself4 ,the spirits1 when once excited1 easily receive a change in their direction2 and 'tis natural to imagine this change will come from the prevailing affection4 ,the connexion is in many respects closer betwixt any two passions1 than betwixt any passion and indifference4 ,when a person is once heartily in love1 the little faults and caprice of his mistress1 the jealousies and quarrels to which that commerce is so subject1 however unpleasant1 and related to anger and hatred1 are yet found to give additional force to the prevailing passion4 ',tis a common artifice of politicians1 when they would affect any person very much by a matter of fact1 of which they intend to inform him1 first to excite his curiosity1 delay as long as possible the satisfying it1 and by that means raise his anxiety and impatience to the utmost1 before they give him a full insight into the business4 ,they know that his curiosity will precipitate him into the passion they design to raise1 and assist the object in its influence on the mind4 ,a soldier advancing to the battle1 is naturally inspired with courage and confidence1 when he thinks on his friends and fellow-soldiers2 and is struck with fear and terror1 when he reflects on the enemy4 ,whatever new emotion1 therefore1 proceeds from the former1 naturally increases the courage2 as the same emotion1 proceeding from the latter1 augments the fear1 by the relation of ideas1 and the conversion of the inferior emotion into the predominant4 ,hence it is1 that in martial discipline1 the uniformity and lustre of our habit1 the regularity of our figures and motions1 with all the pomp and majesty of war1 encourage ourselves and allies2 while the same objects in the enemy strike terror into us1 though agreeable and beautiful in themselves4 ,since passions1 however independent1 are naturally transfused into each other1 if they are both present at the same time1 it follows1 that when good or evil is placed in such a situation as to cause any particular emotion beside its direct passion of desire or aversion1 that latter passion must acquire new force and violence4 ,this happens1 among other cases1 whenever any object excites contrary passions4 ,for 'tis observable that an opposition of passions commonly causes a new emotion in the spirits1 and produces more disorder than the concurrence of any two affections of equal force4 ,this new emotion is easily converted into the predominant passion1 and increases its violence beyond the pitch it would have arrived at had it met with no opposition4 ,hence we naturally desire what is forbid1 and take a pleasure in performing actions1 merely because they are unlawful4 ,the notion of duty1 when opposite to the passions1 is seldom able to overcome them2 and1 when it fails of that effect1 is apt rather to increase them1 by producing an opposition in our motives and principles4 ,the same effect follows1 whether the opposition arises from internal motives or external obstacles4 ,the passion commonly acquires new force and violence in both cases4 ,the efforts which the mind makes to surmount the obstacle1 excite the spirits and enliven the passion4 ,uncertainty has the same influence as opposition4 ,the agitation of the thought1 the quick turns it makes from one view to another1 the variety of passions which succeed each other1 according to the different views2 all these produce an agitation in the mind1 and transfuse themselves into the predominant passion4 ,there is not1 in my opinion1 any other natural cause why security diminishes the passions1 than because it removes that uncertainty which increases them4 ,the mind1 when left to itself1 immediately languishes1 and1 in order to preserve its ardour1 must be every moment supported by a new flow of passion4 ,for the same reason1 despair1 though contrary to security1 has a like influence4 ',tis certain1 nothing more powerful animates any affection1 than to conceal some part of its object by throwing it into a kind of shade1 which1 at the same time that it shows enough to prepossess us in favour of the object1 leaves still some work for the imagination4 ,besides1 that obscurity is always attended with a kind of uncertainty2 the effort which the fancy makes to complete the idea1 rouses the spirits1 and gives an additional force to the passion4 ,as despair and security1 though contrary to each other1 produce the same effects1 so absence is observed to have contrary effects1 and1 in different circumstances1 either increases or diminishes our affections4 ,the ,duc de la ,rochefoucault has very well observed1 that absence destroys weak passions1 but increases strong2 as the wind extinguishes a candle1 but blows up a fire4 ,long absence naturally weakens our idea1 and diminishes the passion2 but where the idea is so strong and lively as to support itself1 the uneasiness1 arising from absence1 increases the passion1 and gives it new force and violence4 ,,section ,v4 ,,of ,,the ,,effects ,,of ,,custom4 ,but nothing has a greater effect both to increase and diminish our passions1 to convert pleasure into pain1 and pain into pleasure1 than custom and repetition4 ,custom has two original effects upon the mind1 in bestowing a facility in the performance of any action1 or the conception of any object1 and afterwards a tendency or inclination towards it2 and from these we may account for all its other effects1 however extraordinary4 ,when the soul applies itself to the performance of any action1 or the conception of any object to which it is not accustomed1 there is a certain unpliableness in the faculties1 and a difficulty of the spirits moving in their new direction4 ,as this difficulty excites the spirits1 'tis the source of wonder1 surprise1 and of all the emotions which arise from novelty1 and is in itself very agreeable1 like every thing which enlivens the mind to a moderate degree4 ,but though surprise be agreeable in itself1 yet1 as it puts the spirits in agitation1 it not only augments our agreeable affections1 but also our painful1 according to the foregoing principle1 that every emotion which precedes or attends a passion is easily converted into it4 ,hence1 every thing that is new is most affecting1 and gives us either more pleasure or pain than what1 strictly speaking1 naturally belongs to it4 ,when it often returns upon us1 the novelty wears off1 the passions subside1 the hurry of the spirits is over1 and we survey the objects with greater tranquillity4 ,by degrees1 the repetition produces a facility1 which is another very powerful principle of the human mind1 and an infallible source of pleasure where the facility goes not beyond a certain degree4 ,and here 'tis remarkable1 that the pleasure which arises from a moderate facility has not the same tendency with that which arises from novelty1 to augment the painful as well as the agreeable affections4 ,the pleasure of facility does not so much consist in any ferment of the spirits1 as in their orderly motion1 which will sometimes be so powerful as even to convert pain into pleasure1 and give us a relish in time for what at first was most harsh and disagreeable4 ,but1 again1 as facility converts pain into pleasure1 so it often converts pleasure into pain when it is too great1 and renders the actions of the mind so faint and languid1 that they are no longer able to interest and support it4 ,and indeed scarce any other objects become disagreeable through custom1 but such as are naturally attended with some emotion or affection1 which is destroyed by the too frequent repetition4 ,one can consider the clouds1 and heavens1 and trees1 and stones1 however frequently repeated1 without ever feeling any aversion4 ,but when the fair sex1 or music1 or good cheer1 or any thing that naturally ought to be agreeable1 becomes indifferent1 it easily produces the opposite affection4 ,but custom not only gives a facility to perform any action1 but likewise an inclination and tendency towards it1 where it is not entirely disagreeable1 and can never be the object of inclination4 ,and this is the reason why custom increases all active habits1 but diminishes passive1 according to the observation of a late eminent philosopher4 ,the facility takes off from the force of the passive habits by rendering the motion of the spirits faint and languid4 ,but as in the active1 the spirits are sufficiently supported of themselves1 the tendency of the mind gives them new force1 and bends them more strongly to the action4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,of ,,the ,,influence ,,of ,,the ,,imagination ,,on ,,the ,,passions4 ',tis remarkable1 that the imagination and affections have a close union together1 and that nothing1 which affects the former1 can be entirely indifferent to the latter4 ,wherever our ideas of good or evil acquire a new vivacity1 the passions become more violent1 and keep pace with the imagination in all its variations4 ,whether this proceeds from the principle above-mentioned1 that any attendant emotion is easily converted into the ,predominant1 ,i shall not determine4 ',tis sufficient for my present purpose1 that we have many instances to confirm this influence of the imagination upon the passions4 ,any pleasure with which we are acquainted1 affects us more than any other which we own to be superior1 but of whose nature we are wholly ignorant4 ,of the one we can form a particular and determinate idea3 the other we conceive under the general notion of pleasure2 and 'tis certain1 that the more general and universal any of our ideas are1 the less influence they have upon the imagination4 ,a general idea1 though it be nothing but a particular one considered in a certain view1 is commonly more obscure2 and that because no particular idea1 by which we represent a general one1 is ever fixed or determinate1 but may easily be changed for other particular ones1 which will serve equally in the representation4 ,there is a noted passage in the history of ,greece1 which may serve for our present purpose4 ,themistocles told the ,athenians1 that he had formed a design1 which would be highly useful to the public1 but which 'twas impossible for him to communicate to them without ruining the execution1 since its success depended entirely on the secrecy with which it should be conducted4 ,the ,athenians1 instead of granting him full power to act as he thought fitting1 ordered him to communicate his design to ,aristides1 in whose prudence they had an entire confidence1 and whose opinion they were resolved blindly to submit to4 ,the design of ,themistocles was secretly to set fire to the fleet of all the ,grecian commonwealths1 which was assembled in a neighbouring port1 and which1 being once destroyed1 would give the ,athenians the empire of the sea without any rival4 ,aristides returned to the assembly1 and told them1 that nothing could be more advantageous than the design of ,themistocles2 but at the same time that nothing could be more unjust3 upon which the people unanimously rejected the project4 ,a late celebrated historian#a admires this passage of ancient history as one of the most singular that is any where to be met with4 ,here1 says he1 they are not philosophers1 to whom 'tis easy in their schools to establish the finest maxims and most sublime rules of morality1 who decide that interest ought never to prevail above justice4 ',tis a whole people interested in the proposal which is made to them1 who consider it as of importance to the public good1 and who1 notwithstanding1 reject it unanimously1 and without hesitation1 merely because it is contrary to justice4 ,for my part ,i see nothing so extraordinary in this proceeding of the ,athenians4 ,the same reasons which render it so easy for philosophers to establish these sublime maxims1 tend1 in part1 to diminish the merit of such a conduct in that people4 ,philosophers never balance betwixt profit and honesty1 because their decisions are general1 and neither their passions nor imaginations are interested in the objects4 ,and though1 in the present case1 the advantage was immediate to the ,athenians1 yet as it was known only under the general notion of advantage1 without being conceived by any particular idea1 it must have had a less considerable influence on their imaginations1 and have been a less violent temptation1 than if they had been acquainted with all its circumstances3 otherwise 'tis difficult to conceive1 that a whole people1 unjust and violent as men commonly are1 should so unanimously have adhered to justice1 and rejected any considerable advantage4 ,any satisfaction which we lately enjoyed1 and of which the memory is fresh and recent1 operates on the will with more violence than another of which the traces are decayed1 and almost obliterated4 ,from whence does this proceed1 but that the memory in the first case assists the fancy1 and gives an additional force and vigour to its conceptions8 ,the image of the past pleasure being strong and violent1 bestows these qualities on the idea of the future pleasure1 which is connected with it by the relation of resemblance4 ,a pleasure which is suitable to the way of life in which we are engaged1 excites more our desires and appetites than another which is foreign to it4 ,this phenomenon may be explained from the same principle4 ,nothing is more capable of infusing any passion into the mind1 than eloquence1 by which objects are represented in their strongest and most lively colours4 ,we may of ourselves acknowledge1 that such an object is valuable1 and such another odious2 but till an orator excites the imagination1 and gives force to these ideas1 they may have but a feeble influence either on the will or the affections4 ,but eloquence is not always necessary4 ,the bare opinion of another1 especially when enforced with passion1 will cause an idea of good or evil to have an influence upon us1 which would otherwise have been entirely neglected4 ,this proceeds from the principle of sympathy or communication2 and sympathy1 as ,i have already observed1 is nothing but the conversion of an idea into an impression by the force of imagination4 ',tis remarkable1 that lively passions commonly attend a lively imagination4 ,in this respect1 as well as others1 the force of the passion depends as much on the temper of the person1 as the nature or situation of the object4 ,i have already observed1 that belief is nothing but a lively idea related to a present impression4 ,this vivacity is a requisite circumstance to the exciting all our passions1 the calm as well as the violent2 nor has a mere fiction of the imagination any considerable influence upon either of them4 ',tis too weak to take any hold of the mind1 or be attended with emotion4 #a ,mons4 ,rollin4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,,of ,,contiguity ,,and ,,distance ,,in ,,space ,,and ,,time4 ,there is an easy reason why every thing contiguous to us1 either in space or time1 should be conceived with a peculiar force and vivacity1 and excel every other object in its influence on the imagination4 ,ourself is intimately present to us1 and whatever is related to self must partake of that quality4 ,but where an object is so far removed as to have lost the advantage of this relation1 why1 as it is farther removed1 its idea becomes still fainter and more obscure1 would perhaps require a more particular examination4 ',tis obvious that the imagination can never totally forget the points of space and time in which we are existent2 but receives such frequent advertisements of them from the passions and senses1 that1 however it may turn its attention to foreign and remote objects1 it is necessitated every moment to reflect on the present4 ',tis also remarkable1 that in the conception of those objects which we regard as real and existent1 we take them in their proper order and situation1 and never leap from one object to another1 which is distant from it1 without running over1 at least in a cursory manner1 all those objects which are interposed betwixt them4 ,when we reflect1 therefore1 on any object distant from ourselves1 we are obliged not only to reach it at first by passing through all the intermediate space betwixt ourselves and the object1 but also to renew our progress every moment1 being every moment recalled to the consideration of ourselves and our present situation4 ',tis easily conceived1 that this interruption must weaken the idea1 by breaking the action of the mind1 and hindering the conception from being so intense and continued1 as when we reflect on a nearer object4 ,the fewer steps we make to arrive at the object1 and the smoother the road is1 this diminution of vivacity is less sensibly felt1 but still may be observed more or less in proportion to the degrees of distance and difficulty4 ,here then we are to consider two kinds of objects1 the contiguous and remote1 of which the former1 by means of their relation to ourselves1 approach an impression in force and vivacity2 the latter1 by reason of the interruption in our manner of conceiving them1 appear in a weaker and more imperfect light4 ,this is their effect on the imagination4 ,if my reasoning be just1 they must have a proportionable effect on the will and passions4 ,contiguous objects must have an influence much superior to the distant and remote4 ,accordingly we find1 in common life1 that men are principally concerned about those objects which are not much removed either in space or time1 enjoying the present1 and leaving what is afar off to the care of chance and fortune4 ,talk to a man of his condition thirty years hence1 and he will not regard you4 ,speak of what is to happen to-morrow1 and he will lend you attention4 ,the breaking of a mirror gives us more concern when at home1 than the burning of a house when abroad1 and some hundred leagues distant4 ,but farther2 though distance1 both in space and time1 has a considerable effect on the imagination1 and by that means on the will and passions1 yet the consequence of a removal in space are much inferior to those of a removal in time4 ,twenty years are certainly but a small distance of time in comparison of what history and even the memory of some may inform them of1 and yet ,i doubt if a thousand leagues1 or even the greatest distance of place this globe can admit of1 will so remarkably weaken our ideas1 and diminish our passions4 ,a ,west ,india merchant will tell you1 that he is not without concern about what passes in ,jamaica2 though few extend their views so far into futurity1 as to dread very remote accidents4 ,the cause of this phenomenon must evidently lie in the different properties of space and time4 ,without having recourse to metaphysics1 any one may easily observe1 that space or extension consists of a number of co-existent parts disposed in a certain order1 and capable of being at once present to the sight or feeling4 ,on the contrary1 time or succession1 though it consists likewise of parts1 never presents to us more than one at once2 nor is it possible for any two of them ever to co-existent4 ,these qualities of the objects have a suitable effect on the imagination4 ,the parts of extension being susceptible of an union to the senses1 acquire an union in the fancy2 and as the appearance of one part excludes not another1 the transition or passage of the thought through the contiguous parts is by that means rendered more smooth and easy4 ,on the other hand1 the incompatibility of the parts of time in their real existence separates them in the imagination1 and makes it more difficult for that faculty to trace any long succession or series of events4 ,every part must appear single and alone1 nor can regularly have entrance into the fancy without banishing what is supposed to have been immediately precedent4 ,by this means any distance in time causes a greater interruption in the thought than an equal distance in space1 and consequently weakens more considerably the idea1 and consequently the passions2 which depend in a great measure on the imagination1 according to my system4 ,there is another phenomenon of a like nature with the foregoing1 viz4 the superior effects of the same distance in futurity above that in the past4 ,this difference with respect to the will is easily accounted for4 ,as none of our actions can alter the past1 'tis not strange it should never determine the will4 ,but with respect to the passions1 the question is yet entire1 and well worth the examining4 ,besides the propensity to a gradual progression through the points of space and time1 we have another peculiarity in our method of thinking1 which concurs in producing this phenomenon4 ,we always follow the succession of time in placing our ideas1 and from the consideration of any object pass more easily to that which follows immediately after it1 than to that which went before it4 ,we may learn this1 among other instances1 from the order which is always observed in historical narrations4 ,nothing but an absolute necessity can oblige an historian to break the order of time1 and in his narration give the precedence to an event1 which was in reality posterior to another4 ,this will easily be applied to the question in hand1 if we reflect on what ,i have before observed1 that the present situation of the person is always that of the imagination1 and that 'tis from thence we proceed to the conception of any distant object4 ,when the object is past1 the progression of the thought in passing to it from the present is contrary to nature1 as proceeding from one point of time to that which is preceding1 and from that to another preceding1 in opposition to the natural course of the succession4 ,on the other hand1 when we turn our thought to a future object1 our fancy flows along the stream of time1 and arrives at the object of an order1 which seems most natural1 passing always from one point of time to that which is immediately posterior to it4 ,this easy progression of ideas favours the imagination1 and makes it conceive its object in a stronger and fuller light1 than when we are continually opposed in our passage1 and are obliged to overcome the difficulties arising from the natural propensity of the fancy4 ,a small degree of distance in the past has1 therefore1 a greater effect in interrupting and weakening the conception1 than a much greater in the future4 ,from this effect of it on the imagination is derived its influence on the will and passions4 ,there is another cause1 which both contributes to the same effect1 and proceeds from the same quality of the fancy1 by which we are determined to trace the succession of time by a similar succession of ideas4 ,when1 from the present instant1 we consider two points ,of time equally distant in the future and in the past1 'tis evident that1 abstractedly considered1 their relation to the present is almost equal4 ,for as the future will some time be present1 so the past was once present4 ,if we could1 therefore1 remove this quality of the imagination1 an equal distance in the past and in the future would have a similar influence4 ,nor is this only true when the fancy remains fixed1 and from the present instant surveys the future and the past2 but also when it changes its situation1 and places us in different periods of time4 ,for as1 on the one hand1 in supposing ourselves existent in a point of time interposed betwixt the present instant and the future object1 we find the future object approach to us1 and the past retire and become more distant3 so1 on the other hand1 in supposing ourselves existent in a point of time interposed betwixt the present and the past1 the past approaches to us1 and the future becomes more distant4 ,but from the property of the fancy above mentioned1 we rather choose to fix our thought on the point of time interposed betwixt the present and the future1 than on that betwixt the present and the past4 ,we advance rather than retard our existence2 and1 following what seems the natural succession of time1 proceed from past to present1 and from present to future2 by which means we conceive the future as flowing every moment nearer us1 and the past as retiring4 ,an equal distance1 therefore1 in the past and in the future1 has not the same effect on the imagination2 and that because we consider the one as continually increasing1 and the other as continually diminishing4 ,the fancy anticipates the course of things1 and surveys the object in that condition to which it tends1 as well as in that which is regarded as the present4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,,the ,,same ,,subject ,,continued4 ,thus1 we have accounted for three phenomena1 which seem pretty remarkable4 ,why distance weakens the conception and passion3 why distance in time has a greater effect than that in space3 and why distance in past time has still a greater effect than that in future4 ,we must now consider three phenomena1 which seem to be in a manner the reverse of these3 why a very great distance increases our esteem and admiration for an object3 why such a distance in time increases it more than that in space3 and a distance in past time more than that in future4 ,the curiousness of the subject will1 ,i hope1 excuse my dwelling on it for some time4 ,to begin with the first phenomenon1 why a great distance increases our esteem and admiration for an object2 'tis evident that the mere view and contemplation of any greatness1 whether successive or extended1 enlarges the soul1 and gives it a sensible delight and pleasure4 ,a wide plain1 the ocean1 eternity1 a succession of several ages2 all these are entertaining objects1 and excel every thing1 however beautiful1 which accompanies not its beauty with a suitable greatness4 ,now1 when any very distant object is presented to the imagination1 we naturally reflect on the interposed distance1 and by that means conceiving something great and magnificent1 receive the usual satisfaction4 ,but as the fancy passes easily from one idea to another related to it1 and transports to the second all the passions excited by the first1 the admiration1 which is directed to the distance1 naturally diffuses itself over the distant object4 ,accordingly we find1 that 'tis not necessary the object should be actually distant from us in order to cause our admiration2 but that 'tis sufficient if1 by the natural association of ideas1 it conveys our view to any considerable distance4 ,a great traveller1 though in the same chamber1 will pass for a very extraordinary person2 as a ,greek medal1 even in our cabinet1 is always esteemed a valuable curiosity4 ,here the object1 by a natural transition1 conveys our view to the distance2 and the admiration which arises from that distance1 by another natural transition1 returns back to the object4 ,but though every great distance produces an admiration for the distant object1 a distance in time has a more considerable effect than that in space4 ,ancient busts and inscriptions are more valued than ,japan tables3 and1 not to mention the ,greeks and ,romans1 'tis certain we regard with more veneration the old ,chaldeans and ,egyptians1 than the modern ,chinese and ,persians2 and bestow more fruitless pains to clear up the history and chronology of the former1 than it would cost us to make a voyage1 and be certainly informed of the character1 learning1 and government of the latter4 ,i shall be obliged to make a digression in order to explain this phenomenon4 ',tis a quality very observable in human nature1 that any opposition which does not entirely discourage and intimidate us1 has rather a contrary effect1 and inspires us with a more than ordinary grandeur and magnanimity4 ,in collecting our force to overcome the opposition1 we invigorate the soul1 and give it an elevation with which otherwise it would never have been acquainted4 ,compliance1 by rendering our strength useless1 makes us insensible of it2 but opposition awakens and employs it4 ,this is also true in the inverse4 ,opposition not only enlarges the soul2 but the soul1 when full of courage and magnanimity1 in a manner seeks opposition4 ,spumantemque dari pecora inter inertia votis ,optat aprum1 aut fulvum descendere monte leonem4 ,whatever supports and fills the passions is agreeable to us2 as1 on the contrary1 what weakens and enfeebles them is uneasy4 ,as opposition has the first effect1 and facilitates the second1 no wonder the mind1 in certain dispositions1 desires the former1 and is averse to the latter4 ,these principles have an effect on the imagination as well as on the passions4 ,to be convinced of this1 we need only consider the influence of heights and depths on that faculty4 ,any great elevation of place communicates a kind of pride or sublimity of imagination1 and gives a fancied superiority over those that lie below2 and1 vice versa1 a sublime and strong imagination conveys the idea of ascent and elevation4 ,hence it proceeds1 that we associate1 in a manner1 the idea of whatever is good with that of height1 and evil with lowness4 ,heaven is supposed to be above1 and hell below4 ,a noble genius is called an elevate and sublime one4 ,atque udam spernit humum fugiente penna4 ,on the contrary1 a vulgar and trivial conception is styled indifferently low or mean4 ,prosperity is denominated ascent1 and adversity descent4 ,kings and princes are supposed to be placed at the top of human affairs2 as peasants and day-labourers are said to be in the lowest stations4 ,these methods of thinking and of expressing ourselves1 are not of so little consequence as they may appear at first sight4 ',tis evident to common sense1 as well as philosophy1 that there is no natural nor essential difference betwixt high and low1 and that this distinction arises only from the gravitation of matter1 which produces a motion from the one to the other4 ,the very same direction1 which in this part of the globe is called ascent1 is denominated descent in our antipodes2 which can proceed from nothing but the contrary tendency of bodies4 ,now 'tis certain1 that the tendency of bodies1 continually operating upon our senses1 must produce1 from custom1 a like tendency in the fancy2 and that when we consider any object situated in an ascent1 the idea of its weight gives us a propensity to transport it from the place in which it is situated to the place immediately below it1 and so on till we come to the ground1 which equally stops the body and our imagination4 ,for a like reason we feel a difficulty in mounting1 and pass not without a kind of reluctance from the inferior to that which is situated above it2 as if our ideas acquired a kind of gravity from their objects4 ,as a proof of this1 do we not find1 that the facility1 which is so much studied in music and poetry1 is called the fall or cadency of the harmony or period2 the idea of facility communicating to us that of descent1 in the same manner as descent produces a facility8 ,since the imagination1 therefore1 in running from low to high1 finds an opposition in its internal qualities and principles1 and since the soul1 when elevated with joy and courage1 in a manner seeks opposition1 and throws itself with alacrity into any scene of thought or action where its courage meets with matter to nourish and employ it1 it follows1 that every thing which invigorates and enlivens the soul1 whether by touching the passions or imagination1 naturally conveys to the fancy this inclination for ascent1 and determines it to run against the natural stream of its thoughts and conceptions4 ,this aspiring progress of the imagination suits the present disposition of the mind2 and the difficulty1 instead of extinguishing its vigour and alacrity1 has the contrary effect of sustaining and increasing it4 ,virtue1 genius1 power and riches1 are for this reason associated with height and sublimity1 as poverty1 slavery and folly1 are conjoined with descent and lowness4 ,were the case the same with us as ,milton represents it to be with the angels1 to whom descent is adverse1 and who cannot sink without labour and compulsion1 this order of things would be entirely inverted2 as appears hence1 that the very nature of ascent and descent is derived from the difficulty and propensity1 and consequently every one of their effects proceeds from that origin4 ,all this is easily applied to the present question1 why a considerable distance in time produces a greater veneration for the distant objects than a like removal in space4 ,the imagination moves with more difficulty in passing from one portion of time to another1 than in a transition through the parts of space2 and that because space or extension appears united to our senses1 while time or succession is always broken and divided4 ,this difficulty1 when joined with a small distance1 interrupts and weakens the fancy1 but has a contrary effect in a great removal4 ,the mind1 elevated by the vastness of its object1 is still farther elevated by the difficulty of the conception1 and1 being obliged every moment to renew its efforts in the transition from one part of time to another1 feels a more vigorous and sublime disposition than in a transition through the parts of space1 where the ideas flow along with easiness and facility4 ,in this disposition1 the imagination1 passing1 as is usual1 from the consideration of the distance to the view of the distant objects1 gives us a proportionable veneration for it2 and this is the reason why all the relicks of antiquity are so precious in our eyes1 and appear more valuable than what is brought even from the remotest parts of the world4 ,the third phenomenon ,i have remarked will be a full confirmation of this4 ',tis not every removal in time which has the effect of producing veneration and esteem4 ,we are not apt to imagine our posterity will excel us1 or equal our ancestors4 ,this phenomenon is the more remarkable1 because any distance in futurity weakens not our ideas so much as an equal removal in the past4 ,though a removal in the past1 when very great1 increases our passions beyond a like removal in the future1 yet a small removal has a greater influence in diminishing them4 ,in our common way of thinking we are placed in a kind of middle station betwixt the past and future2 and as our imagination finds a kind of difficulty in running along the former1 and a facility in following the course of the latter1 the difficulty conveys the notion of ascent1 and the facility of the contrary4 ,hence we imagine our ancestors to be1 in a manner1 mounted above us1 and our posterity to lie below us4 ,our fancy arrives not at the one without effort1 but easily reaches the other3 which effort weakens the conception1 where the distance is small2 but enlarges and elevates the imagination1 when attended with a suitable object4 ,as on the other hand1 the facility assists the fancy in a small removal1 but takes off from its force when it contemplates any considerable distance4 ,it may not be improper1 before we leave this subject of the will1 to resume1 in a few words1 all that has been said concerning it1 in order to set the whole more distinctly before the eyes of the reader4 ,what we commonly understand by passion is a violent and sensible emotion of mind1 when any good or evil is presented1 or any object1 which1 by the original formation of our faculties1 is fitted to excite an appetite4 ,by reason we mean affections of the very same kind with the former1 but such as operate more calmly1 and cause no disorder in the temper3 which tranquillity leads us into a mistake concerning them1 and causes us to regard them as conclusions only of our intellectual faculties4 ,both the causes and effects of these violent and calm passions are pretty variable1 and depend1 in a great measure1 on the peculiar temper and disposition of every individual4 ,generally speaking1 the violent passions have a more powerful influence on the will2 though 'tis often found that the calm ones1 when corroborated by reflection1 and seconded by resolution1 are able to control them in their most furious movements4 ,what makes this whole affair more uncertain1 is1 that a calm passion may easily be changed into a violent one1 either by a change of temper1 or of the circumstances and situation of the object2 as by the borrowing of force from any attendant passion1 by custom1 or by exciting the imagination4 ,upon the whole1 this struggle of passion and of reason1 as it is called1 diversifies human life1 and makes men so different not only from each other1 but also from themselves in different times4 ,philosophy can only account for a few of the greater and more sensible events of this war2 but must leave all the smaller and more delicate revolutions1 as dependent on principles too fine and minute for her comprehension4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,,of ,,the ,,direct ,,passions4 ',tis easy to observe1 that the passions1 both direct and indirect1 are founded on pain and pleasure1 and that1 in order to produce an affection of any kind1 'tis only requisite to present some good or evil4 ,upon the removal of pain and pleasure1 there immediately follows a removal of love and hatred1 pride and humility1 desire and aversion1 and of most of our reflective or secondary impressions4 ,the impressions which arise from good and evil most naturally1 and with the least preparation1 are the direct passions of desire and aversion1 grief and joy1 hope and fear1 along with volition4 ,the mind1 by an original instinct1 tends to unite itself with the good1 and to avoid the evil1 though they be conceived merely in idea1 and be considered as to exist in any future period of time4 ,but supposing that there is an immediate impression of pain or pleasure1 and that arising from an object related to ourselves or others1 this does not prevent the propensity or aversion1 with the consequent emotions1 but1 by concurring with certain dormant principles of the human mind1 excites the new impressions of pride or humility1 love or hatred4 ,that propensity which unites us to the object1 or separates us from it1 still continues to operate1 but in conjunction with the indirect passions which arise from a double relation of impressions and ideas4 ,these indirect passions1 being always agreeable or uneasy1 give in their turn additional force to the direct passions1 and increase our desire and aversion to the object4 ,thus1 a suit of fine clothes produces pleasure from their beauty2 and this pleasure produces the direct passions1 or the impressions of volition and desire4 ,again1 when these clothes are considered as belonging to ourself1 the double relation conveys to us the sentiment of pride1 which is an indirect passion2 and the pleasure which attends that passion returns back to the direct affections1 and gives new force to our desire or volition1 joy or hope4 ,when good is certain or probable1 it produces joy4 ,when evil is in the same situation1 there arises grief or sorrow4 ,when either good or evil is uncertain1 it gives rise to fear or hope1 according to the degrees of uncertainty on the one side or the other4 ,desire arises from good considered simply2 and aversion is derived from evil4 ,the will exerts itself1 when either the good or the absence of the evil may be attained by any action of the mind or body4 ,beside good and evil1 or1 in other words1 pain and pleasure1 the direct passions frequently arise from a natural impulse or instinct1 which is perfectly unaccountable4 ,of this kind is the desire of punishment to our enemies1 and of happiness to our friends2 hunger1 lust1 and a few other bodily appetites4 ,these passions1 properly speaking1 produce good and evil1 and proceed not from them1 like the other affections4 ,none of the direct affections seem to merit our particular attention1 except hope and fear1 which we shall here endeavour to account for4 ',tis evident that the very same event1 which1 by its certainty1 would produce grief or joy1 gives always rise to fear or hope1 when only probable and uncertain4 ,in order1 therefore1 to understand the reason why this circumstance makes such a considerable difference1 we must reflect on what ,i have already advanced in the preceding book concerning the nature of probability4 ,probability arises from an opposition of contrary chances or causes1 by which the mind is not allowed to fix on either side1 but is incessantly tost from one to another1 and at one moment is determined to consider an object as existent1 and at another moment as the contrary4 ,the imagination or understanding1 call it which you please1 fluctuates betwixt the opposite views2 and though perhaps it may be oftener turned to the one side than the other1 'tis impossible for it1 by reason of the opposition of causes or chances1 to rest on either4 ,the pro and con of the question alternately prevail2 and the mind1 surveying the object in its opposite principles1 finds such a contrariety as utterly destroys all certainty and established opinion4 ,suppose1 then1 that the object1 concerning whose reality we are doubtful1 is an object either of desire or aversion1 'tis evident that1 according as the mind turns itself either to the one side or the other1 it must feel a momentary impression of joy or sorrow4 ,an object1 whose existence we desire1 gives satisfaction1 when we reflect on those causes which produce it2 and1 for the same reason1 excites grief or uneasiness from the opposite consideration3 so that as the understanding1 in all probable questions1 is divided betwixt the contrary points of view1 the affections must in the same manner be divided betwixt opposite emotions4 ,now1 if we consider the human mind1 we shall find1 that1 with regard to the passions1 'tis not of the nature of a wind-instrument of music1 which1 in running over all the notes1 immediately loses the sound after the breath ceases2 but rather resembles1 a string-instrument1 where1 after each stroke1 the vibrations still retain some sound1 which gradually and insensibly decays4 ,the imagination is extremely quick and agile2 but the passions are slow and restive3 for which reason1 when any object is presented that affords a variety of views to the one1 and emotions to the other1 though the fancy may change its views with great celerity1 each stroke will not produce a clear and distinct note of passion1 but the one passion will always be mixt and confounded with the other4 ,according as the probability inclines to good or evil1 the passion of joy or sorrow predominates in the composition3 because the nature of probability is to cast a superior number of views or chances on one side2 or1 which is the same thing1 a superior number of returns of one passion2 or1 since the dispersed passions are collected into one1 a superior degree of that passion4 ,that is1 in other words1 the grief and joy being intermingled with each other1 by means of the contrary views of the imagination1 produce1 by their union1 the passions of hope and fear4 ,upon this head there may be started a very curious question concerning that contrariety of passions which is our present subject4 ',tis observable1 that where the objects of contrary passions are presented at once1 beside the increase of the predominant passion 7which has been already explained1 and commonly arises at their first shock or rencounter71 it sometimes happens that both the passions exist successively1 and by short intervals2 sometimes1 that they destroy each other1 and neither of them takes place2 and sometimes that both of them remain united in the mind4 ,it may therefore be asked1 by what theory we can explain these variations1 and to what general principle we can reduce them4 ,when the contrary passions arise from objects entirely different1 they take place alternately1 the want of relation in the ideas separating the impressions from each other1 and preventing their opposition4 ,thus1 when a man is afflicted for the loss of a lawsuit1 and joyful for the birth of a son1 the mind running from the agreeable to the calamitous object1 with whatever celerity it may perform this motion1 can scarcely temper the one affection with the other1 and remain betwixt them in a state of indifference4 ,it more easily attains that calm situation1 when the same event is of a mixt nature1 and contains something adverse and something prosperous in its different circumstances4 ,for in that case1 both the passions1 mingling with each other by means of the relation1 become mutually destructive1 and leave the mind in perfect tranquillity4 ,but suppose1 in the third place1 that the object is not a compound of good or evil1 but is considered as probable or improbable in any degree2 in that case ,i assert1 that the contrary passions will both of them be present at once in the soul1 and1 instead of destroying and tempering each other1 will subsist together1 and produce a third impression or affection by their union4 ,contrary passions are not capable of destroying each other1 except when their contrary movements exactly rencounter1 and are opposite in their direction1 as well as in the sensation they produce4 ,this exact rencounter depends upon the relations of those ideas from which they are derived1 and is more or less perfect1 according to the degrees of the relation4 ,in the case of probability1 the contrary chances are so far related that they determine concerning the existence or non-existence of the same object4 ,but this relation is far from being perfect1 since some of the chances lie on the side of existence1 and others on that of non-existence1 which are objects altogether incompatible4 ',tis impossible1 by one steady view1 to survey the opposite chances1 and the events dependent on them2 but 'tis necessary that the imagination should run alternately from the one to the other4 ,each view of the imagination produces its peculiar passion1 which decays away by degrees1 and is followed by a sensible vibration after the stroke4 ,the incompatibility of the views keeps the passions from shocking in a direct line1 if that expression may be allowed2 and yet their relation is sufficient to mingle their fainter emotions4 ',tis after this manner that hope and fear arise from the different mixture of these opposite passions of grief and joy1 and from their imperfect union and conjunction4 ,upon the whole1 contrary passions succeed each other alternately1 when they arise from different objects2 they mutually destroy each other1 when they proceed from different parts of the same2 and they subsist1 both of them1 and mingle together1 when they are derived from the contrary and incompatible chances or possibilities on which any one object depends4 ,the influence of the relations of ideas is plainly seen in this whole affair4 ,if the objects of the contrary passions be totally different1 the passions are like two opposite liquors in different bottles1 which have no influence on each other4 ,if the objects be intimately connected1 the passions are like an alkali and an acid1 which1 being mingled1 destroy each other4 ,if the relation be more imperfect1 and consists in the contradictory views of the same object1 the passions are like oil and vinegar1 which1 however mingled1 never perfectly unite and incorporate4 ,as the hypothesis concerning hope and fear carries its own evidence along with it1 we shall be the more concise in our proofs4 ,a few strong arguments are better than many weak ones4 ,the passions of fear and hope may arise when the chances are equal on both sides1 and no superiority can be discovered in the one above the other4 ,nay1 in this situation the passions are rather the strongest1 as the mind has then the least foundation to rest upon1 and is tossed with the greatest uncertainty4 ,throw in a superior degree of probability to the side of grief1 you immediately see that passion diffuse itself over the composition1 and tincture it into fear4 ,increase the probability1 and by that means the grief1 the fear prevails still more and more1 till at last it runs insensibly1 as the joy continually diminishes1 into pure grief4 ,after you have brought it to this situation1 diminish the grief1 after the same manner that you increased it1 by diminishing the probability on that side1 and you'll see the passion clear every moment1 'till it changes insensibly into hope2 which again runs1 after the same manner1 by slow degrees1 into joy1 as you increase that part of the composition by the increase of the probability4 ,are not these as plain proofs1 that the passions of fear and hope are mixtures of grief and joy1 as in optics 'tis a proof1 that a coloured ray of the sun passing through a prism1 is a composition of two others1 when1 as you diminish or increase the quantity of either1 you find it prevail proportionably more or less in the composition8 ,i am sure neither natural nor moral philosophy admits of stronger proofs4 ,probability is of two kinds1 either when the object is really in itself uncertain1 and to be determined by chance2 or when1 though the object be already certain1 yet 'tis uncertain to our judgment1 which finds a number of proofs on each side of the question4 ,both these kinds of probabilities cause fear and hope2 which can only proceed from that property1 in which they agree1 viz4 the uncertainty and fluctuation they bestow on the imagination by the contrariety of views which is common to both4 ',tis a probable good or evil that commonly produces hope or fear2 because probability1 being a wavering and unconstant method of surveying an object1 causes naturally a like mixture and uncertainty of passion4 ,but we may observe1 that wherever1 from other causes1 this mixture can be produced1 the passions of fear and hope will arise1 even though there be no probability2 which must be allowed to be a convincing proof of the present hypothesis4 ,we find that an evil1 barely conceived as possible1 does sometimes produce fear2 especially if the evil be very great4 ,a man cannot think of excessive pains and tortures without trembling1 if he be in the least danger of suffering them4 ,the smallness of the probability is compensated by the greatness of the evil2 and the sensation is equally lively1 as if the evil were more probable4 ,one view or glimpse of the former has the same effect as several of the latter4 ,but they are not only possible evils that cause fear1 but even some allowed to be impossible2 as when we tremble on the brink of a precipice1 though we know ourselves to be in perfect security1 and have it in our choice whether we will advance a step farther4 ,this proceeds from the immediate presence of the evil1 which influences the imagination in the same manner as the certainty of it would do2 but being encountered by the reflection on our security1 is immediately retracted1 and causes the same kind of passion1 as when1 from a contrariety of chances1 contrary passions are produced4 ,evils that are certain have sometimes the same effect in producing fear1 as the possible or impossible4 ,thus1 a man in a strong prison well-guarded1 without the least means of escape1 trembles at the thought of the rack1 to which he is sentenced4 ,this happens only when the certain evil is terrible and confounding2 in which case the mind continually rejects it with horror1 while it continually presses in upon the thought4 ,the evil is there fixed and established1 but the mind cannot endure to fix upon it2 from which fluctuation and uncertainty there arises a passion of much the same appearance with fear4 ,but 'tis not only where good or evil is uncertain1 as to its existence1 but also as to its kind1 that fear or hope arises4 ,let one be told by a person1 whose veracity he cannot doubt of1 that one of his sons is suddenly killed1 'tis evident the passion this event would occasion1 would not settle into pure grief1 till he got certain information which of his sons he had lost4 ,here there is an evil certain1 but the kind of it uncertain3 consequently the fear we feel on this occasion is without the least mixture of joy1 and arises merely from the fluctuation of the fancy betwixt its objects4 ,and though each side of the question produces here the same passion1 yet that passion cannot settle1 but receives from the imagination a tremulous and unsteady motion1 resembling in its cause1 as well as in its sensation1 the mixture and contention of grief and joy4 ,from these principles we may account for a phenomenon in the passions1 which at first sight seems very extraordinary1 viz4 that surprise is apt to change into fear1 and every thing that is unexpected affrights us4 ,the most obvious conclusion from this is1 that human nature is in general pusillanimous2 since1 upon the sudden appearance of any object1 we immediately conclude it to be an evil1 and1 without waiting till we can examine its nature1 whether it be good or bad1 are at first affected with fear4 ,this1 ,i say1 is the most obvious conclusion2 but upon farther examination1 we shall find that the phenomenon is otherwise to be accounted for4 ,the suddenness and strangeness of an appearance naturally excite a commotion in the mind1 like every thing for which we are not prepared1 and to which we are not accustomed4 ,this commotion1 again1 naturally produces a curiosity or inquisitiveness1 which1 being very violent1 from the strong and sudden impulse of the object1 becomes uneasy1 and resembles in its fluctuation and uncertainty1 the sensation of fear1 or the mixed passions of grief and joy4 ,this image of fear naturally converts into the thing itself1 and gives us a real apprehension of evil1 as the mind always forms its judgments more from its present disposition than from the nature of its objects4 ,thus all kinds of uncertainty have a strong connexion with fear1 even though they do not cause any opposition of passions by the opposite views and considerations they present to us4 ,a person who has left his friend in any malady1 will feel more anxiety upon his account1 than if he were present1 though perhaps he is not only incapable of giving him assistance1 but likewise of judging of the event of his sickness4 ,in this case1 though the principle object of the passion1 viz4 the life or death of his friend1 be to him equally uncertain when present as when absent2 yet there are1 a thousand little circumstances of his friend's situation and condition1 the knowledge of which fixes the idea1 and prevents that fluctuation and uncertainty so nearly allied to fear4 ,uncertainty is1 indeed1 in one respect1 as nearly allied to hope as to fear1 since it makes an essential part in the composition of the former passion2 but the reason why it inclines not to that side1 is1 that uncertainty alone is uneasy1 and has a relation of impressions to the uneasy passions4 ',tis thus our uncertainty concerning any minute circumstance relating to a person1 increases our apprehensions of his death or misfortune4 ,horace has remarked this phenomenon3 ,ut assidens implumibus pullus avis ,serpentium allapsus timet1 ,magis relictis2 non1 ut adsit1 auxili ,latura plus presentibus4 ,but this principle of the connexion of fear with uncertainty ,i carry farther1 and observe1 that any doubt produces that passion1 even though it presents nothing to us on any side but what is good and desirable4 ,a virgin1 on her bridal-night goes to bed full of fears and apprehensions1 though she expects nothing but pleasure of the highest kind1 and what she has long wished for4 ,the newness and greatness of the event1 the confusion of wishes and joys1 so embarrass the mind1 that it knows not on what passion to fix itself2 from whence arises a fluttering or unsettledness of the spirits1 which being1 in some degree1 uneasy1 very naturally degenerates into fear4 ,thus we still find1 that whatever causes any fluctuation or mixture of passions1 with any degree of uneasiness1 always produces fear1 or at least a passion so like it1 that they are scarcely to be distinguished4 ,i have here confined myself to the examination of hope and fear in their most simple and natural situation1 without considering all the variations they may receive from the mixture of different views and reflections4 ,terror1 consternation1 astonishment1 anxiety1 and other passions of that kind1 are nothing but different species and degrees of fear4 ',tis easy to imagine how a different situation of the object1 or a different turn of thought1 may change even the sensation of a passion2 and this may in general account for all the particular subdivisions of the other affections1 as well as of fear4 ,love may show itself in the shape of tenderness1 friendship1 intimacy1 esteem1 good-will1 and in many other appearances2 which at the bottom are the same affections1 and arise from the same causes1 though with a small variation1 which it is not necessary to give any particular account of4 ',tis for this reason ,i have all along confined myself to the principal passion4 ,the same care of avoiding prolixity is the reason why ,i waive the examination of the will and direct passions1 as they appear in animals2 since nothing is more evident1 than that they are of the same nature1 and excited by the same causes as in human creatures4 ,i leave this to the reader's own observation1 desiring him at the same time to consider the additional force this bestows on the present system4 ,,section ,x4 ,,of ,,curiosity1 ,,or ,,the ,,love ,,of ,,truth4 ,but methinks we have been not a little inattentive to run over so many different parts of the human mind1 and examine so many passions1 without taking once into consideration that love of truth1 which was the first source of all our inquiries4 ',twill therefore be proper1 before we leave this subject1 to bestow a few reflections on that passion1 and show its origin in human nature4 ',tis an affection of so peculiar a kind1 that it would have been impossible to have treated of it under any of those heads1 which we have examined1 without danger of obscurity and confusion4 ,truth is of two kinds1 consisting either in the discovery of the proportions of ideas1 considered as such1 or in the conformity of our ideas of objects to their real existence4 ',tis certain that the former species of truth is not desired merely as truth1 and that 'tis not the justness of our conclusions1 which alone gives the pleasure4 ,for these conclusions are equally just1 when we discover the equality of two bodies by a pair of compasses1 as when we learn it by a mathematical demonstration2 and though in the one case the proofs be demonstrative1 and in the other only sensible1 yet generally speaking1 the mind acquiesces with equal assurance in the one as in the other4 ,and in an arithmetical operation1 where both the truth and the assurance are of the same nature1 as in the most profound algebraical problem1 the pleasure is very inconsiderable1 if rather it does not degenerate into pain3 which is an evident proof1 that the satisfaction1 which we sometimes receive from the discovery of truth1 proceeds not from it1 merely as such1 but only as endowed with certain qualities4 ,the first and most considerable circumstance requisite to render truth agreeable1 is the genius and capacity which is employed in its invention and discovery4 ,what is easy and obvious is never valued2 and even what is in itself difficult1 if we come to the knowledge of it without difficulty1 and without any stretch of thought or judgment1 is but little regarded4 ,we love to trace the demonstrations of mathematicians2 but should receive small entertainment from a person who should barely inform us of the proportions of lines and angles1 though we reposed the utmost confidence both in his judgment and veracity4 ,in this case 'tis sufficient to have ears to learn the truth4 ,we never are obliged to fix our attention or exert our genius2 which of all other exercises of the mind is the most pleasant and agreeable4 ,but though the exercise of genius be the principal source of that satisfaction we receive from the sciences1 yet ,i doubt if it be alone sufficient to give us any considerable enjoyment4 ,the truth we discover must also be of some importance4 ',tis easy to multiply algebraical problems to infinity1 nor is there any end in the discovery of the proportions of conic sections2 though few mathematicians take any pleasure in these researches1 but turn their thoughts to what is more useful and important4 ,now the question is1 after what manner this utility and importance operate upon us8 ,the difficulty on this head arises from hence1 that many philosophers have consumed their time1 have destroyed their health1 and neglected their fortune1 in the search of such truths1 as they esteemed important and useful to the world1 though it appeared from their whole conduct and behaviour1 that they were not endowed with any share of public spirit1 nor had any concern for the interests of mankind4 ,were they convinced that their discoveries were of no consequence1 they would entirely lose all relish for their studies1 and that though the consequences be entirely indifferent to them2 which seems to be a contradiction4 ,to remove this contradiction1 we must consider1 that there are certain desires and inclinations1 which go no farther than the imagination1 and are rather the faint shadows and images of passions1 than any real affections4 ,thus1 suppose a man1 who takes a survey of the fortifications of any city2 considers their strength and advantages1 natural or acquired2 observes the disposition and contrivance of the bastions1 ramparts1 mines1 and other military works2 'tis plain that1 in proportion as all these are fitted to attain their ends1 he will receive a suitable pleasure and satisfaction4 ,this pleasure1 as it arises from the utility1 not the form of the objects1 can be no other than a sympathy with the inhabitants1 for whose security all this art is employed2 though 'tis possible that this person1 as a stranger or an enemy1 may in his heart have no kindness for them1 or may even entertain a hatred against them4 ,it may indeed be objected1 that such a remote sympathy is a very slight foundation for a passion1 and that so much industry and application1 as we frequently observe in philosophers1 can never be derived from so inconsiderable an original4 ,but here ,i return to what ,i have already remarked1 that the pleasure of study consists chiefly in the action of the mind1 and the exercise of the genius and understanding in the discovery or comprehension of any truth4 ,if the importance of the truth be requisite to complete the pleasure1 'tis not on account of any considerable addition which of itself it brings to our enjoyment1 but only because 'tis in some measure requisite to fix our attention4 ,when we are careless and inattentive1 the same action of the understanding has no effect upon us1 nor is able to convey any of that satisfaction which arises from it when we are in another disposition4 ,but beside the action of the mind1 which is the principal foundation of the pleasure1 there is likewise required a degree of success in the attainment of the end1 or the discovery of that truth we examine4 ,upon this head ,i shall make a general remark1 which may be useful on many occasions1 viz4 that where the mind pursues any end with passion1 though that passion be not derived originally from the end1 but merely from the action and pursuit1 yet1 by the natural course of the affections1 we acquire a concern for the end itself1 and are uneasy under any disappointment we meet with in the pursuit of it4 ,this proceeds from the relation and parallel direction of the passions above-mentioned4 ,to illustrate all this by a similar instance1 ,i shall observe1 that there cannot be two passions more nearly resembling each other than those of hunting and philosophy1 whatever disproportion may at first sight appear betwixt them4 ',tis evident1 that the pleasure of hunting consists in the action of the mind and body2 the motion1 the attention1 the difficulty1 and the uncertainty4 ',tis evident1 likewise1 that these actions must be attended with an idea of utility1 in order to their having any effect upon us4 ,a man of the greatest fortune1 and the farthest removed from avarice1 though he takes a pleasure in hunting after partridges and pheasants1 feels no satisfaction in shooting crows and magpies2 and that because he considers the first as fit for the table1 and the other as entirely useless4 ,here 'tis certain1 that the utility or importance of itself causes no real passion1 but is only requisite to support the imagination2 and the same person who overlooks a ten times greater profit in any other subject1 is pleased to bring home half a dozen woodcocks or plovers1 after having employed several hours in hunting after them4 ,to make the parallel betwixt hunting and philosophy more complete1 we may observe1 that though in both cases the end of our action may in itself be despised1 yet1 in the heat of the action1 we acquire such an attention to this end1 that we are very uneasy under any disappointments1 and are sorry when we either miss our game1 or fall into any error in our reasoning4 ,if we want another parallel to these affections1 we may consider the passion of gaming1 which affords a pleasure from the same principles as hunting and philosophy4 ,it has been remarked1 that the pleasure of gaming arises not from interest alone1 since many leave a sure gain for this entertainment2 neither is it derived from the game alone1 since the same persons have no satisfaction when they play for nothing2 but proceeds from both these causes united1 though separately they have no effect4 ',tis here1 as in certain chemical preparations1 where the mixture of two clear and transparent liquids produces a third1 which is opaque and coloured4 ,the interest which we have in any game engages our attention1 without which we can have no enjoyment1 either in that or in any other action4 ,our attention being once engaged1 the difficulty1 variety1 and sudden reverses of fortune2 still farther interest us2 and 'tis from that concern our satisfaction arises4 ,human life is so tiresome a scene1 and men generally are of such indolent dispositions1 that whatever amuses them1 though by a passion mixed with pain1 does in the main give them a sensible pleasure4 ,and this pleasure is here increased by the nature of the objects1 which1 being sensible and of a narrow compass1 are entered into with facility1 and are agreeable to the imagination4 ,the same theory that accounts for the love of truth in mathematics and algebra1 may be extended to morals1 politics1 natural philosophy1 and other studies1 where we consider not the abstract relations of ideas1 but their real connexions and existence4 ,but beside the love of knowledge which displays itself in the sciences1 there is a certain curiosity implanted in human nature1 which is a passion derived from a quite different principle4 ,some people have an insatiable desire of knowing the actions and circumstances of their neighbours1 though their interest be no way concerned in them1 and they must entirely depend on others for their information2 in which case there is no room for study or application4 ,let us search for the reason of this phenomenon4 ,it has been proved at large1 that the influence of belief is at once to enliven and infix any idea in the imagination1 and prevent all kind of hesitation and uncertainty about it4 ,both these circumstances are advantageous4 ,by the vivacity of the idea we interest the fancy1 and produce1 though in a lesser degree1 the same pleasure which arises from a moderate passion4 ,as the vivacity of the idea gives pleasure1 so its certainty prevents uneasiness1 by fixing one particular idea in the mind1 and keeping it from wavering in the choice of its objects4 ',tis a quality of human nature which is conspicuous on many occasions1 and is common both to the mind and body1 that too sudden and violent a change is unpleasant to us1 and that1 however any objects may in themselves be indifferent1 yet their alteration gives uneasiness4 ,as 'tis the nature of doubt to cause a variation in the thought1 and transport us suddenly from one idea to another1 it must of consequence be the occasion of pain4 ,this pain chiefly takes place where interest1 relation1 or the greatness and novelty of any event interests us in it4 ',tis not every matter of fact of which we have a curiosity to be informed2 neither are they such only as we have an interest to know4 ',tis sufficient if the idea strikes on us with such force1 and concerns us so nearly1 as to give us an uneasiness in its instability and inconstancy4 ,a stranger1 when he arrives first at any town1 may be entirely indifferent about knowing the history and adventures of the inhabitants2 but as he becomes farther acquainted with them1 and has lived any considerable time among them1 he acquires the same curiosity as the natives4 ,when we are reading the history of a nation1 we may have an ardent desire of clearing up any doubt or difficulty that occurs in it2 but become careless in such researches1 when the ideas of these events are1 in a great measure1 obliterated4 ,,book ,,iii4 ,,of ,,morals4 ,,part ,i4 ,,of ,,virtue ,,and ,,vice ,,in ,,general4 ,,section ,i4 ,,moral ,,distinctions ,,not ,,derived ,,from ,,reason4 ,there is an inconvenience which attends all abstruse reasoning1 that it may silence1 without convincing an antagonist1 and requires the same intense study to make us sensible of its force1 that was at first requisite for its invention4 ,when we leave our closet1 and engage in the common affairs of life1 its conclusions seem to vanish like the phantoms of the night on the appearance of the morning2 and 'tis difficult for us to retain even that conviction which we had attained with difficulty4 ,this is still more conspicuous in a long chain of reasoning1 where we must preserve to the end the evidence of the first propositions1 and where we often lose sight of all the most received maxims1 either of philosophy or common life4 ,i am not1 however1 without hopes1 that the present system of philosophy will acquire new force as it advances2 and that our reasonings concerning morals will corroborate whatever has been said concerning the understanding and the passions4 ,morality is a subject that interests us above all others2 we fancy the peace of society to be at stake in every decision concerning it2 and 'tis evident1 that this concern must make our speculations appear more real and solid1 than where the subject is in a great measure indifferent to us4 ,what affects us1 we conclude can never be a chimera2 and1 as our passion is engaged on the one side or the other1 we naturally think that the question lies within human comprehension2 which1 in other cases of this nature1 we are apt to entertain some doubt of4 ,without this advantage1 ,i never should have ventured upon a third volume of such abstruse philosophy1 in an age wherein the greatest part of men seem agreed to convert reading into an amusement1 and to reject every thing that requires any considerable degree of attention to be comprehended4 ,it has been observed1 that nothing is ever present to the mind but its perceptions2 and that all the actions of seeing1 hearing1 judging1 loving1 hating1 and thinking1 fall under this denomination4 ,the mind can never exert itself in any action which we may not comprehend under the term of perception2 and consequently that term is no less applicable to those judgments by which we distinguish moral good and evil1 than to every other operation of the mind4 ,to approve of one character1 to condemn another1 are only so many different perceptions4 ,now1 as perceptions resolve themselves into two kinds1 viz4 impressions and ideas1 this distinction gives rise to a question1 with which we shall open up our present inquiry concerning morals1 whether 'tis by means of our ideas or impressions we distinguish betwixt vice and virtue1 and pronounce an action blameable or praiseworthy8 ,this will immediately cut off all loose discourses and declamations1 and reduce us to something precise and exact on the present subject4 ,those who affirm that virtue is nothing but a conformity to reason2 that there are eternal fitnesses and unfitnesses of things1 which are the same to every rational being that considers them2 that the immutable measures of right and wrong impose an obligation1 not only on human creatures1 but also on the ,deity himself3 all these systems concur in the opinion1 that morality1 like truth1 is discerned merely by ideas1 and by their juxtaposition and comparison4 ,in order1 therefore1 to judge of these systems1 we need only consider1 whether it be possible1 from reason alone1 to distinguish betwixt moral good and evil1 or whether there must concur some other principles to enable us to make that distinction4 ,if morality had naturally no influence on human passions and actions1 'twere in vain to take such pains to inculcate it2 and nothing would be more fruitless than that multitude of rules and precepts with which all moralists abound4 ,philosophy is commonly divided into speculative and practical2 and as morality is always comprehended under the latter division1 'tis supposed to influence our passions and actions1 and to go beyond the calm and indolent judgments of the understanding4 ,and this is confirmed by common experience1 which informs us1 that men are often governed by their duties1 and are deterred from some actions by the opinion of injustice1 and impelled to others by that of obligation4 ,since morals1 therefore1 have an influence on the actions and affections1 it follows1 that they cannot be derived from reason2 and that because reason alone1 as we have already proved1 can never have any such influence4 ,morals excite passions1 and produce or prevent actions4 ,reason of itself is utterly impotent in this particular4 ,the rules of morality1 therefore1 are not conclusions of our reason4 ,no one1 ,i believe1 will deny the justness of this inference2 nor is there any other means of evading it1 than by denying that principle1 on which it is founded4 ,as long as it is allowed1 that reason has no influence on our passions and actions1 'tis in vain to pretend that morality is discovered only by a deduction of reason4 ,an active principle can never be founded on an inactive2 and it reason be inactive in itself1 it must remain so in all its shapes and appearances1 whether it exerts itself in natural or moral subjects1 whether it considers the powers of external bodies1 or the actions of rational beings4 ,it would be tedious to repeat all the arguments1 by which ,i have proved1#a that reason is perfectly inert1 and can never either prevent or produce any action or affection4 ',twill be easy to recollect what has been said upon that subject4 ,i shall only recall on this occasion one of these arguments1 which ,i shall endeavour to render still more conclusive1 and more applicable to the present subject4 ,reason is the discovery of truth or falsehood4 ,truth or falsehood consists in an agreement or disagreement either to the real relations of ideas1 or to real existence and matter of fact4 ,whatever therefore is not susceptible of this agreement or disagreement1 is incapable of being true or false1 and can never be an object of our reason4 ,now1 'tis evident our passions1 volitions1 and actions1 are not susceptible of any such agreement or disagreement2 being original facts and realities1 complete in themselves1 and implying no reference to other passions1 volitions1 and actions4 ',tis impossible1 therefore1 they can be pronounced either true or false1 and be either contrary or conformable to reason4 ,this argument is of double advantage to our present purpose4 ,for it proves directly1 that actions do not derive their merit from a conformity to reason1 nor their blame from a contrariety to it2 and it proves the same truth more indirectly1 by showing us1 that as reason can never immediately prevent or produce any action by contradicting or approving of it1 it cannot be the source of moral good and evil1 which are found to have that influence4 ,actions may be laudable or blameable2 but they cannot be reasonable or unreasonable3 laudable or blameable1 therefore1 are not the same with reasonable or unreasonable4 ,the merit and demerit of actions frequently contradict1 and sometimes control our natural propensities4 ,but reason has no such influence4 ,moral distinctions1 therefore1 are not the offspring of reason4 ,reason is wholly inactive1 and can never be the source of so active a principle as conscience1 or a sense of morals4 ,but perhaps it may be said1 that though no will or action can be immediately contradictory to reason1 yet we may find such a contradiction in some of the attendants of the action1 that is1 in its causes or effects4 ,the action may cause a judgment1 or may be obliquely caused by one1 when the judgment concurs with a passion2 and by an abusive way of speaking1 which philosophy will scarce allow of1 the same contrariety may1 upon that account1 be ascribed to the action4 ,how far this truth or falsehood may be the source of morals1 'twill now be proper to consider4 ,it has been observed1 that reason1 in a strict and philosophical sense1 can have an influence on our conduct only after two ways3 either when it excites a passion1 by informing us of the existence of something which is a proper object of it2 or when it discovers the connexion of causes and effects1 so as to afford us means of exerting any passion4 ,these are the only kinds of judgment which can accompany our actions1 or can be said to produce them in any manner2 and it must be allowed1 that these judgments may often be false and erroneous4 ,a person may be affected with passion1 by supposing a pain or pleasure to lie in an object1 which has no tendency to produce either of these sensations1 or which produces the contrary to what is imagined4 ,a person may also take false measures for the attaining of his end1 and may retard1 by his foolish conduct1 instead of forwarding the execution of any project4 ,these false judgments may be thought to affect the passions and actions1 which are connected with them1 and may be said to render them unreasonable1 in a figurative and improper way of speaking4 ,but though this be acknowledged1 'tis easy to observe1 that these errors are so far from being the source of all immorality1 that they are commonly very innocent1 and draw no manner of guilt upon the person who is so unfortunate as to fall into them4 ,they extend not beyond a mistake of fact1 which moralists have not generally supposed criminal1 as being perfectly involuntary4 ,i am more to be lamented than blamed1 if ,i am mistaken with regard to the influence of objects in producing pain or pleasure1 or if ,i know not the proper means of satisfying my desires4 ,no one can ever regard such errors as a defect in my moral character4 ,a fruit1 for instance1 that is really disagreeable1 appears to me at a distance1 and1 through mistake1 ,i fancy it to be pleasant and delicious4 ,here is one error4 ,i choose certain means of reaching this fruit1 which are not proper for my end4 ,here is a second error2 nor is there any third one1 which can ever possibly enter into our reasonings concerning actions4 ,i ask1 therefore1 if a man in this situation1 and guilty of these two errors1 is to be regarded as vicious and criminal1 however unavoidable they might have been8 ,or if it be possible to imagine1 that such errors are the sources of all immorality8 ,and here it may be proper to observe1 that if moral distinctions be derived from the truth or falsehood of those judgments1 they must take place wherever we form the judgments2 nor will there be any difference1 whether the question be concerning an apple or a kingdom1 or whether the error be avoidable or unavoidable4 ,for as the very essence of morality is supposed to consist in an agreement or disagreement to reason1 the other circumstances are entirely arbitrary1 and can never either bestow on any action the character of virtuous or vicious1 or deprive it of that character4 ,to which we may add1 that this agreement or disagreement1 not admitting of degrees1 all virtues and vices would of course be equal4 ,should it be pretended1 that though a mistake of fact be not criminal1 yet a mistake of right often is2 and that this may be the source of immorality3 ,i would answer1 that 'tis impossible such a mistake can ever be the original source of immorality1 since it supposes a real right and wrong2 that is1 a real distinction in morals1 independent of these judgments4 ,a mistake1 therefore1 of right1 may become a species of immorality2 but 'tis only a secondary one1 and is founded on some other antecedent to it4 ,as to those judgments which are the effects of our actions1 and which1 when false1 give occasion to pronounce the actions contrary to truth and reason2 we may observe1 that our actions never cause any judgment1 either true or false1 in ourselves1 and that 'tis only on others they have such an influence4 ',tis certain that an action1 on many occasions1 may give rise to false conclusions in others2 and that a person1 who1 through a window1 sees any lewd behaviour of mine with my neighbour's wife1 may be so simple as to imagine she is certainly my own4 ,in this respect my action resembles somewhat a lie or falsehood2 only with this difference1 which is material1 that ,i perform not the action with any intention of giving rise to a false judgment in another1 but merely to satisfy my lust and passion4 ,it causes1 however1 a mistake and false judgment by accident2 and the falsehood of its effects may be ascribed1 by some odd figurative way of speaking1 to the action itself4 ,but still ,i can see no pretext of reason for asserting1 that the tendency to cause such an error is the first spring or original source of all immorality4#b ,thus1 upon the whole1 'tis impossible that the distinction betwixt moral good and evil can be made by reason2 since that distinction has an influence upon our actions1 of which reason alone is incapable4 ,reason and judgment may1 indeed1 be the mediate cause of an action1 by prompting or by directing a passion2 but it is not pretended that a judgment of this kind1 either in its truth or falsehood1 is attended with virtue or vise4 ,and as to the judgments1 which are caused by our judgments1 they can still less bestow those moral qualities on the actions which are their causes4 ,but1 to be more particular1 and to show that those eternal immutable fitnesses and unfitnesses of things cannot be defended by sound philosophy1 we may weigh the following considerations4 ,if the thought and understanding were alone capable of fixing the boundaries of right and wrong1 the character of virtuous and vicious either must lie in some relations of objects1 or must be a matter of fact which is discovered by our reasoning4 ,this consequence is evident4 ,as' the operations of human understanding divide themselves into two kinds1 the comparing of ideas1 and the inferring of matter of fact1 were virtue discovered by the understanding1 it must be an object of one of these operations2 nor is there any third operation of the understanding which can discover it4 ,there has been an opinion very industriously propagated by certain philosophers1 that morality is susceptible of demonstration2 and though no one has ever been able to advance a single step in those demonstrations1 yet tis taken for granted that this science may be brought to an equal certainty with geometry or algebra4 ,upon this supposition1 vice and virtue must consist in some relations2 since 'tis allowed on all hands1 that no matter of fact is capable of being demonstrated4 ,let us therefore begin with examining this hypothesis1 and endeavour1 if possible1 to fix those moral qualities which have been so long the objects of our fruitless researches2 point out distinctly the relations which constitute morality or obligation1 that we may know wherein they consist1 and after what manner we must judge of them4 ,if you assert that vice and virtue consist in relations susceptible of certainty and demonstration1 you must confine yourself to those four relations which alone admit of that degree of evidence2 and in that case you run into absurdities from which you will never be able to extricate yourself4 ,for as you make the very essence of morality to lie in the relations1 and as there is no one of these relations but what is applicable1 not only to an irrational but also to an inanimate object1 it follows1 that even such objects must be susceptible of merit or demerit4 ,resemblance1 contrariety1 degrees in quality1 and proportions in quantity and number2 all these relations belong as properly to matter1 as to our actions1 passions1 and volitions4 ',tis unquestionable1 therefore1 that morality lies not in any of these relations1 nor the sense of it in their discovery4#c ,should it be asserted1 that the sense of morality consists in the discovery of some relation distinct from these1 and that our enumeration was not complete when we comprehended all demonstrable relations under four general heads2 to this ,i know not what to reply1 till some one be so good as to point out to me this new relation4 ',tis impossible to refute a system which has never yet been explained4 ,in such a manner of fighting in the dark1 a man loses his blows in the air1 and often places them where the enemy is not present4 ,i must therefore1 on this occasion1 rest contented with requiring the two following conditions of any one that would undertake to clear up this system4 ,first1 as moral good and evil belong only to the actions of the mind1 and are derived from our situation with regard to external objects1 the relations from which these moral distinctions arise must lie only betwixt internal actions and external objects1 and must not be applicable either to internal actions1 compared among themselves1 or to external objects1 when placed in opposition to other external objects4 ,for as morality is supposed to attend certain relations1 if these relations could belong to internal actions considered singly1 it would follow1 that we might be guilty of crimes in ourselves1 and independent of our situation with respect to the universe2 and in like manner1 if these moral relations could be applied to external objects1 it would follow1 that even inanimate beings would be susceptible of moral beauty and deformity4 ,now1 it seems difficult to imagine that any relation can be discovered betwixt our passions1 volitions and actions1 compared to external objects1 which relation might not belong either to these passions and volitions1 or to these external objects1 compared among themselves4 ,but it will be still more difficult to fulfil the second condition1 requisite to justify this system4 ,according to the principles of those who maintain an abstract rational difference betwixt moral good and evil1 and a natural fitness and unfitness of things1 'tis not only supposed1 that these relations1 being eternal and immutable1 are the same1 when considered by every rational creature1 but their effects are also supposed to be necessarily the same2 and 'tis concluded they have no less1 or rather a greater1 influence in directing the will of the ,deity1 than in governing the rational and virtuous of our own species4 ,these two particulars are evidently distinct4 ',tis one thing to know virtue1 and another to conform the will to it4 ,in order1 therefore1 to prove that the measures of right and wrong are eternal laws1 obligatory on every rational mind1 'tis not sufficient to show the relations upon which they are founded3 we must also point out the connexion betwixt the relation and the will2 and must prove that this connexion is so necessary1 that in every well-disposed mind1 it must take place and have its influence2 though the difference betwixt these minds be in other respects immense and infinite4 ,now1 besides what ,i have already proved1 that even in human nature no relation can ever alone produce any action2 besides this1 ,i say1 it has been shown1 in treating of the understanding1 that there is no connexion of cause and effect1 such as this is supposed to be1 which is discoverable otherwise than by experience1 and of which we can pretend to have any security by the simple consideration of the objects4 ,all beings in the universe1 considered in themselves1 appear entirely loose and independent of each other4 ',tis only by experience we learn their influence and connexion2 and this influence we ought never to extend beyond experience4 ,thus it will be impossible to fulfil the first condition required to the system of eternal rational measures of right and wrong2 because it is impossible to show those relations1 upon which such a distinction may be founded3 and 'tis as impossible to fulfil the second condition2 because we cannot prove a priori1 that these relations1 if they really existed and were perceived1 would be universally forcible and obligatory4 ,but to make these general reflections more clear and convincing1 we may illustrate them by some particular instances1 wherein this character of moral good or evil is the most universally acknowledged4 ,of all crimes that human creatures are capable of committing1 the most horrid and unnatural is ingratitude1 especially when it is committed against parents1 and appears in the more flagrant instances of wounds and death4 ,this is acknowledged by all mankind1 philosophers as well as the people2 the question only arises among philosophers1 whether the guilt or moral deformity of this action be discovered by demonstrative reasoning1 or be felt by an internal sense1 and by means of some sentiment1 which the reflecting on such an action naturally occasions4 ,this question will soon be decided against the former opinion1 if we can show the same relations in other objects1 without the notion of any guilt or iniquity attending them4 ,reason or science is nothing but the comparing of ideas1 and the discovery of their relations2 and if the same relations have different characters1 it must evidently follow1 that those characters are not discovered merely by reason4 ,to put the affair1 therefore1 to this trial1 let us choose any inanimate object1 such as an oak or elm2 and let us suppose1 that1 by the dropping of its seed1 it produces a sapling below it1 which1 springing up by degrees1 at last overtops and destroys the parent tree3 ,i ask1 if1 in this instance1 there be wanting any relation which is discoverable in parricide or ingratitude8 ,is not the one tree the cause of the other's existence2 and the latter the cause of the destruction of the former1 in the same manner as when a child murders his parent8 ',tis not sufficient to reply1 that a choice or will is wanting4 ,for in the case of parricide1 a will does not give rise to any different relations1 but is only the cause from which the action is derived2 and consequently produces the same relations1 that in the oak or elm arise from some other principles4 ',tis a will or choice that determines a man to kill his parent3 and they are the laws of matter and motion1 that determine a sapling to destroy the oak from which it sprung4 ,here then the same relations have different causes2 but still the relations are the same3 and as their discovery is not in both cases attended with a notion of immorality1 it follows1 that that notion does not arise from such a discovery4 ,but to choose an instance still more resembling2 ,i would fain ask any one1 why incest in the human species is criminal1 and why the very same action1 and the same relations in animals1 have not the smallest moral turpitude and deformity8 ,if it be answered1 that this action is innocent in animals1 because they have not reason sufficient to discover its turpitude2 but that man1 being endowed with that faculty1 which ought to restrain him to his duty1 the same action instantly becomes criminal to him4 ,should this be said1 ,i would reply1 that this is evidently arguing in a circle4 ,for1 before reason can perceive this turpitude1 the turpitude must exist2 and consequently is independent of the decisions of our reason1 and is their object more properly than their effect4 ,according to this system1 then1 every animal that has sense and appetite and will1 that is1 every animal must be susceptible of all the same virtues and vices1 for which we ascribe praise and blame to human creatures4 ,all the difference is1 that our superior reason may serve to discover the vice or virtue1 and by that means may augment the blame or praise3 but still this discovery supposes a separate being in these moral distinctions1 and a being which depends only on the will and appetite1 and which1 both in thought and reality1 may be distinguished from reason4 ,animals are susceptible of the same relations with respect to each other as the human species1 and therefore would also be susceptible of the same morality1 if the essence of morality consisted in these relations4 ,their want of a sufficient degree of reason may hinder them from perceiving the duties and obligations of morality1 but can never hinder these duties from existing2 since they must antecedently exist1 in order to their being perceived4 ,reason must find them1 and can never produce them4 ,this argument deserves to be weighed1 as being1 in my opinion1 entirely decisive4 ,nor does this reasoning only prove1 that morality consists not in any relations that are the objects of science2 but if examined1 will prove with equal certainty1 that it consists not in any matter of fact1 which can be discovered by the understanding4 ,this is the second part of our argument2 and if it can be made evident1 we may conclude1 that morality is not an object of reason4 ,but can there be any difficulty in proving1 that vice and virtue are not matters of fact1 whose existence we can infer by reason8 ,take any action allowed to be vicious2 wilful murder1 for instance4 ,examine it in all lights1 and see if you can find that matter of fact1 or real existence1 which you call vice4 ,in whichever way you take it1 you find only certain passions1 motives1 volitions and thoughts4 ,there is no other matter of fact in the case4 ,the vice entirely escapes you1 as long as you consider the object4 ,you never can find it1 till you turn your reflection into your own breast1 and find a sentiment of disapprobation1 which arises in you1 towards this action4 ,here is a matter of fact2 but 'tis the object of feeling1 not of reason4 ,it lies in yourself1 not in the object4 ,so that when you pronounce any action or character to be vicious1 you mean nothing1 but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it4 ,vice and virtue1 therefore1 may be compared to sounds1 colours1 heat and cold1 which1 according to modern philosophy1 are not qualities in objects1 but perceptions in the mind3 and this discovery in morals1 like that other in physics1 is to be regarded as a considerable advancement of the speculative sciences2 though1 like that too1 it has little or no influence on practice4 ,nothing can be more real1 or concern us more1 than our own sentiments of pleasure and uneasiness2 and if these be favourable to virtue1 and unfavourable to vice1 no more can be requisite to the regulation of our conduct and behaviour4 ,i cannot forbear adding to these reasonings an observation1 which may1 perhaps1 be found of some importance4 ,in every system of morality which ,i have hitherto met with1 ,i have always remarked1 that the author proceeds for some time in the ordinary way of reasoning1 and establishes the being of a ,god1 or makes observations concerning human affairs2 when of a sudden ,i am surprised to find1 that instead of the usual copulations of propositions1 is1 and is not1 ,i meet with no proposition that is not connected with an ought1 or an ought not4 ,this change is imperceptible2 but is1 however1 of the last consequence4 ,for as this ought1 or ought not1 expresses some new relation or affirmation1 'tis necessary that it should be observed and explained2 and at the same time that a reason should be given1 for what seems altogether inconceivable1 how this new relation can be a deduction from others1 which are entirely different from it4 ,but as authors do not commonly use this precaution1 ,i shall presume to recommend it to the readers2 and am persuaded1 that this small attention would subvert all the vulgar systems of morality1 and let us see1 that the distinction of vice and virtue is not founded merely on the relations of objects1 nor is perceived by reason4 #a ,book ,,ii4 ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 #c #b ,one might think it were entirely superfluous to prove this1 if a late author1 who has had the good fortune to obtain some reputation1 had not seriously affirmed1 that such a falsehood is the foundation of all guilt and moral deformity4 ,that we may discover the fallacy of his hypothesis1 we need only consider1 that a false conclusion is drawn from an action1 only by means of an obscurity of natural principles1 which makes a cause be secretly interrupted in its operation1 by contrary causes1 and renders the connexion betwixt two objects uncertain and variable4 ,now1 as a like uncertainty and variety of causes take place1 even in natural objects1 and produce a like error in our judgment1 if that tendency to produce error were the very essence of vice and immorality1 it should follow1 that even inanimate objects might be vicious and immoral4 ',tis in vain to urge1 that inanimate objects act without liberty and choice4 ,for as liberty and choice are not necessary to make an action produce in us an erroneous conclusion1 they can be1 in no respect1 essential to morality2 and ,i do not readily perceive1 upon this system1 how they can ever come to be regarded by it4 ,if the tendency to cause error be the origin of immorality1 that tendency and immorality would in every case be inseparable4 ,add to this1 that if ,i had used the precaution of shutting the windows1 while ,i indulged myself in those liberties with my neighbour's wife1 ,i should have been guilty of no immorality2 and that because my action1 being perfectly concealed1 would have had no tendency to produce any false conclusion4 ,for the same reason1 a thief1 who steals in by a ladder at a window1 and takes all imaginable care to cause no disturbance1 is in no respect criminal4 ,for either he will not be perceived1 or if he be1 'tis impossible he can produce any error1 nor will any one1 from these circumstances1 take him to be other than what he really is4 ',tis well known1 that those who are squint-sighted do very readily cause mistakes in others1 and that we imagine they salute or are talking to one person1 while they address themselves to another4 ,are they1 therefore1 upon that account1 immoral8 ,besides1 we may easily observe1 that in all those arguments there is an evident reasoning in a circle4 ,a person who takes possession of another's goods1 and uses them as his own1 in a manner declares them to be his own2 and this falsehood is the source of the immorality of injustice4 ,but is property1 or right1 or obligation1 intelligible without an antecedent morality8 ,a man that is ungrateful to his benefactor1 in a manner affirms that he never received any favours from him4 ,but in what manner8 ,is it because 'tis his duty to be grateful8 ,but this supposes that there is some antecedent rule of duty and morals4 ,is it because human nature is generally grateful1 and makes us conclude that a man who does any harm1 never received any favour from the person he harmed8 ,but human nature is not so generally grateful as to justify such a conclusion2 or1 if it were1 is an exception to a general rule in every case criminal1 for no other reason than because it is an exception8 ,but what may suffice entirely to destroy this whimsical system is1 that it leaves us under the same difficulty to give a reason why truth is virtuous and falsehood vicious1 as to account for the merit or turpitude of any other action4 ,i shall allow1 if you please1 that all immorality is derived from this supposed falsehood in action1 provided you can give me any plausible reason why such a falsehood is immoral4 ,if you consider rightly of the matter1 you will find yourself in the same difficulty as at the beginning4 ,this last argument is very conclusive2 because1 if there be not an evident merit or turpitude annexed to this species of truth or falsehood1 it can never have any influence upon our actions4 ,for who ever thought of forbearing any action1 because others might possibly draw false conclusions from it8 ,or who ever performed any1 that he might give rise to true conclusions8 #c ,as a proof how confused our way of thinking on this subject commonly is1 we may observe1 that those who assert that morality is demonstrable1 do not say that morality lies in the relations1 and that the relations are distinguishable by reason4 ,they only say1 that reason can discover such an action1 in such relations1 to be virtuous1 and such another vicious4 ,it seems they thought it sufficient if they could bring the word ,relation into the proposition1 without troubling themselves whether it was to the purpose or not4 ,but here1 ,i think1 is plain argument4 ,demonstrative reason discovers only relations4 ,but that reason1 according to this hypothesis1 discovers also vice and virtue4 ,these moral qualities1 therefore1 must be relations4 ,when we blame any action1 in any situation1 the whole complicated object of action and situation must form certain relations1 wherein the essence of vice consists4 ,this hypothesis is not otherwise intelligible4 ,for what does reason discover1 when it pronounces any action vicious8 ,does it discover a relation or a matter of fact8 ,these questions are decisive1 and must not be eluded4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,moral ,,distinctions ,,derived ,,from ,a ,,moral ,,sense4 ,thus the course of the argument leads us to conclude1 that since vice and virtue are not discoverable merely by reason1 or the comparison of ideas1 it must be by means of some impression or sentiment they occasion1 that we are able to mark the difference betwixt them4 ,our decisions concerning moral rectitude and depravity are evidently perceptions2 and as all perceptions are either impressions or ideas1 the exclusion of the one is a convincing argument for the other4 ,morality1 therefore1 is more properly felt than judged of2 though this feeling or sentiment is commonly so soft and gentle that we are apt to confound it with an idea1 according to our common custom of taking all things for the same which have any near resemblance to each other4 ,the next question is1 of what nature are these impressions1 and after what manner do they operate upon us8 ,here we cannot remain long in suspense1 but must pronounce the impression arising from virtue to be agreeable1 and that proceeding from vice to be uneasy4 ,every moment's experience must convince us of this4 ,there is no spectacle so fair and beautiful as a noble and generous action2 nor any which gives us more abhorrence than one that is cruel and treacherous4 ,no enjoyment equals the satisfaction we receive from the company of those we love and esteem2 as the greatest of all punishments is to be obliged to pass our lives with those we hate or contemn4 ,a very play or romance may afford us instances of this pleasure which virtue conveys to us2 and pain1 which arises from vice4 ,now1 since the distinguishing impressions by which moral good or evil is known1 are nothing but particular pains or pleasures1 it follows1 that in all inquiries concerning these moral distinctions1 it will be sufficient to show the principles which make us feel a satisfaction or uneasiness from the survey of any character1 in order to satisfy us why the character is laudable or blameable4 ,an action1 or sentiment1 or character1 is virtuous or vicious2 why8 because its view causes a pleasure or uneasiness of a particular kind4 ,in giving a reason1 therefore1 for the pleasure or uneasiness1 we sufficiently explain the vice or virtue4 ,to have the sense of virtue1 is nothing but to feel a satisfaction of a particular kind from the contemplation of a character4 ,the very feeling constitutes our praise or admiration4 ,we go no farther2 nor do we inquire into the cause of the satisfaction4 ,we do not infer a character to be virtuous1 because it pleases2 but in feeling that it pleases after such a particular manner1 we in effect feel that it is virtuous4 ,the case is the same as in our judgments concerning all kinds of beauty1 and tastes1 and sensations4 ,our approbation is implied in the immediate pleasure they convey to us4 ,i have objected to the system which establishes eternal rational measures of right and wrong1 that 'tis impossible to show1 in the actions of reasonable creatures1 any relations which are not found in external objects2 and therefore1 if morality always attended these relations1 'twere possible for inanimate matter to become virtuous or vicious4 ,now it may1 in like manner1 be objected to the present system1 that if virtue and vice be determined by pleasure and pain1 these qualities must1 in every case1 arise from the sensations2 and consequently any object1 whether animate or inanimate1 rational or irrational1 might become morally good or evil1 provided it can excite a satisfaction or uneasiness4 ,but though this objection seems to be the very same1 it has by no means the same force in the one case as in the other4 ,for1 first1 'tis evident that1 under the term pleasure1 we comprehend sensations1 which are very different from each other1 and which have only such a distant resemblance as is requisite to1 make them be expressed by the same abstract term4 ,a good composition of music and a bottle of good wine equally produce pleasure2 and1 what is more1 their goodness is determined merely by the pleasure4 ,but shall we say1 upon that account1 that the wine is harmonious1 or the music of a good flavour8 ,in like manner1 an inanimate object1 and the character or sentiments of any person1 may1 both of them1 give satisfaction2 but1 as the satisfaction is different1 this keeps our sentiments concerning them from being confounded1 and makes us ascribe virtue to the one and not to the other4 ,nor is every sentiment of pleasure or pain which arises from characters and actions1 of that peculiar kind which makes us praise or condemn4 ,the good qualities of an enemy are hurtful to us1 but may1 still command our esteem and respect4 ',tis only when a character is considered in general1 without reference to our particular interest1 that it causes such a feeling or sentiment as denominates it morally good or evil4 ',tis true1 those sentiments from interest and morals are apt to be confounded1 and naturally run into one another4 ,it seldom happens that we do not think an enemy vicious1 and can distinguish betwixt his opposition to our interest and real villany or baseness4 ,but this hinders not but that the sentiments are in themselves distinct2 and a man of temper and judgment may preserve himself from these illusions4 ,in like manner1 though 'tis certain a musical voice is nothing but one that naturally gives a particular kind of pleasure2 yet 'tis difficult for a man to be sensible that the voice of an enemy is agreeable1 or to allow it to be musical4 ,but a person of a fine ear1 who has the command of himself1 can separate these feelings1 and give praise to what deserves it4 ,secondly1 we may call to remembrance the preceding system of the passions1 in order to remark a still more considerable difference among our pains and pleasures4 ,pride and humility1 love and hatred1 are excited1 when there is any thing presented to us that both bears a relation to the object of the passion1 and produces a separate sensation1 related to the sensation of the passion4 ,now1 virtue and vice are attended with these circumstances4 ,they must necessarily be placed either in ourselves or others1 and excite either pleasure or uneasiness2 and therefore must give rise to one of these four passions1 which clearly distinguishes them from the pleasure and pain arising from inanimate objects1 that often bear no relation to us2 and this is1 perhaps1 the most considerable effect that virtue and vice have upon the human mind4 ,it may now be asked1 in general concerning this pain or pleasure that distinguishes moral good and evil1 ,from what principle is it derived1 and whence does it arise in the human mind8 ,to this ,i reply1 first1 that 'tis absurd to imagine that1 in every particular instance1 these sentiments are produced by an original quality and primary constitution4 ,for as the number of our duties is in a manner infinite1 'tis impossible that our original instincts should extend to each of them1 and from our very first infancy impress on the human mind all that multitude of precepts which are contained in the completest system of ethics4 ,such a method of proceeding is not conformable to the usual maxims by which nature is conducted1 where a few principles produce all that variety we observe in the universe1 and every thing is carried on in the easiest and most simple manner4 ',tis necessary1 therefore1 to abridge these primary impulses1 and find some more general principles upon which all our notions of morals are founded4 ,but1 in the second place1 should it be asked1 whether we ought to search for these principles in nature1 or whether we must look for them in some other origin8 ,i would reply1 that our answer to this question depends upon the definition of the word ,nature1 than which there is none more ambiguous and equivocal4 ,if nature be opposed to miracles1 not only the distinction betwixt vice and virtue is natural1 but also every event which has ever happened in the world1 excepting those miracles on which our religion is founded4 ,in saying1 then1 that the sentiments of vice and virtue are natural in this sense1 we make no very extraordinary discovery4 ,but nature may also be opposed to rare and unusual2 and in this sense of the word1 which is the common one1 there may often arise disputes concerning what is natural or unnatural2 and one may in general affirm1 that we are not possessed of any very precise standard by which these disputes can be decided4 ,frequent and rare depend upon the number of examples we have observed2 and as this number may gradually increase or diminish1 'twill be impossible to fix any exact boundaries betwixt them4 ,we may only affirm on this head1 that if ever there was any thing which could be called natural in this sense1 the sentiments of morality certainly may2 since there never was any nation of the world1 nor any single person in any nation1 who was utterly deprived of them1 and who never1 in any instance1 showed the least approbation or dislike of manners4 ,these sentiments are so rooted in our constitution and temper1 that1 without entirely confounding the human mind by disease or madness1 'tis impossible to extirpate and destroy them4 ,but nature may also be opposed to artifice1 as well as to what is rare and unusual2 and in this sense it may be disputed1 whether the notions of virtue be natural or not4 ,we readily forget1 that the designs and projects and views of men are principles as necessary in their operation as heat and cold1 moist and dry2 but1 taking them to be free and entirely our own1 'tis usual for us to set them in opposition to the other principles of nature4 ,should it therefore be demanded1 whether the sense of virtue be natural or artificial1 ,i am of opinion that 'tis impossible for me at present to give any precise answer to this question4 ,perhaps it will appear afterwards that our sense of some virtues is artificial1 and that of others natural4 ,the discussion of this question will be more proper1 when we enter upon an exact detail of each particular vice and virtue4#d ,mean while1 it may not be amiss to observe1 from these definitions of natural and unnatural1 that nothing can be more unphilosophical than those systems which assert1 that virtue is the same with what is natural1 and vice with what is unnatural4 ,for1 in the first sense of the word1 nature1 as opposed to miracles1 both vice and virtue are equally natural2 and1 in the second sense1 as opposed to what is unusual1 perhaps virtue will be found to be the most unnatural4 ,at least it must be owned1 that heroic virtue1 being as unusual1 is as little natural as the most brutal barbarity4 ,as to the third sense of the word1 'tis certain that both vice and virtue are equally artificial and out of nature4 ,for1 however it may be disputed1 whether the notion of a merit or demerit in certain actions1 be natural or artificial1 'tis evident that the actions themselves are artificial1 and are performed with a certain design and intention2 otherwise they could never be ranked under any of these denominations4 ',tis impossible1 therefore1 that the character of natural and unnatural can ever1 in any sense1 mark the boundaries of vice and virtue4 ,thus we are still brought back to our first position1 that virtue is distinguished by the pleasure1 and vice by the pain1 that any action1 sentiment1 or character1 gives us by the mere view and contemplation4 ,this decision is very commodious2 because it reduces us to1 this simple question1 ,why any action or sentiment1 upon the general view or survey1 gives a certain satisfaction or uneasiness1 in order to show the origin of its moral rectitude or depravity1 without looking for any incomprehensible relations and qualities1 which never did exist in nature1 nor even in our imagination1 by any clear and distinct conception8 ,i flatter myself ,i have executed a great part of my present design by a state of the question1 which appears to me so free from ambiguity and obscurity4 #d ,in the following discourse1 natural is also opposed sometimes to civil1 sometimes to moral4 ,the opposition will always discover the sense in which it is taken4 ,,part ,,ii4 ,,of ,,justice ,,and ,,injustice4 ,,section ,i4 ,,justice1 ,,whether ,a ,,natural ,,or ,,artificial ,,virtue8 ,i have already hinted1 that our sense of every kind of virtue is not natural2 but that there are some virtues that produce pleasure and approbation by means of an artifice or contrivance1 which arises from the circumstances and necessity of mankind4 ,of this kind ,i assert justice to be2 and shall endeavour to defend this opinion by a short1 and1 ,i hope1 convincing argument1 before ,i examine the nature of the artifice1 from which the sense of that virtue is derived4 ',tis evident that1 when we praise any actions1 we regard only the motives that produced them1 and consider the actions as signs or indications of certain principles in the mind and temper4 ,the external performance has no merit4 ,we must look within to find the moral quality4 ,this we cannot do directly2 and therefore fix our attention on actions1 as on external signs4 ,but these actions are still considered as signs2 and the ultimate object of our praise and approbation is the motive that produced them4 ,after the same manner1 when we require any action1 or blame a person for not performing it1 we always suppose that one in that situation should be influenced by the proper motive of that action1 and we esteem it vicious in him to be regardless of it4 ,if we find1 upon inquiry1 that the virtuous motive was still powerful over his breast1 though checked in its operation by some circumstances unknown to us1 we retract our blame1 and have the same esteem for him1 as if he had actually performed the action which we require of him4 ,it appears1 therefore1 that all virtuous actions derive their merit only from virtuous motives1 and are considered merely as signs of those motives4 ,from this principle ,i conclude1 that the first virtuous motive which bestows a merit on any action1 can never be a regard to the virtue of that action1 but must be some other natural motive or principle4 ,to suppose1 that the mere regard to the virtue of the action1 may be the first motive which produced the action1 and rendered it virtuous1 is to reason in a circle4 ,before we can have such a regard1 the action must be really virtuous2 and this virtue must be derived from some virtuous motive3 and consequently1 the virtuous motive must be different from the regard to the virtue of the action4 ,a virtuous motive is requisite to render an action virtuous4 ,an action must be virtuous before we can have a regard to its virtue4 ,some virtuous motive1 therefore1 must be antecedent to that regard4 ,nor is this merely a metaphysical subtilty2 but enters into all our reasonings in common life1 though perhaps we may not be able to place it in such distinct philosophical terms4 ,we blame a father for neglecting his child4 ,why8 because it shows a want of natural affection1 which is the duty of every parent4 ,were not natural affection a duty1 the care of children could not be a duty2 and 'twere impossible we could have the duty in our eye in the attention we give to our offspring4 ,in this case1 therefore1 all men suppose a motive to the action distinct from a sense of duty4 ,here is a man that does many benevolent actions2 relieves the distressed1 comforts the afflicted1 and extends his bounty even to the greatest strangers4 ,no character can be more amiable and virtuous4 ,we regard these actions as proofs of the greatest humanity4 ,this humanity bestows a merit on the actions4 ,a regard to this merit is1 therefore1 a secondary consideration1 and derived from the antecedent principles of humanity1 which is meritorious and laudable4 ,in short1 it may be established as an undoubted maxim1 that no action can be virtuous1 or morally good1 unless there be in human nature some motive to produce it distinct from the sense of its morality4 ,but may not the sense of morality or duty produce an action1 without any other motive8 ,i answer1 it may2 but this is no objection to the present doctrine4 ,when any virtuous motive or principle is common in human nature1 a person who feels his heart devoid of that motive1 may hate himself upon that account1 and may perform the action without the motive1 from a certain sense of duty1 in order to acquire1 by practice1 that virtuous principle1 or at least to disguise to himself1 as much as possible1 his want of it4 ,a man that really feels no gratitude in his temper1 is still pleased to perform grateful actions1 and thinks he has1 by that means1 fulfilled his duty4 ,actions are at first only considered as signs of motives3 but 'tis usual1 in this case1 as in all others1 to fix our attention on the signs1 and neglect1 in some measure1 the thing signified4 ,but though1 on some occasions1 a person may perform an action merely out of regard to its moral obligation1 yet still this supposes in human nature some distinct principles1 which are capable of producing the action1 and whose moral beauty renders the action meritorious4 ,now1 to apply all this to the present case2 ,i suppose a person to have lent me a sum of money1 on condition that it be restored in a few days2 and also suppose1 that after the expiration of the term agreed on1 he demands the sum3 ,i ask1 ,what reason or motive have ,i to restore the money8 ,it will perhaps be said1 that my regard to justice1 and abhorrence of villany and knavery1 are sufficient reasons for me1 if ,i have the least grain of honesty1 or sense of duty and obligation4 ,and this answer1 no doubt1 is just and satisfactory to man in his civilized state1 and when trained up according to a certain discipline and education4 ,but in his rude and more natural condition1 if you are pleased to call such a condition natural1 this answer would be rejected as perfectly unintelligible and sophistical4 ,for one in that situation would immediately ask you1 ,wherein consists this honesty and justice1 which you find in restoring a loan1 and abstaining from the property of others8 ,it does not surely lie in the external action4 ,it must1 therefore1 be placed in the motive from which the external action is derived4 ,this motive can never be a regard to the honesty of the action4 ,for 'tis a plain fallacy to say1 that a virtuous motive is requisite to render an action honest1 and1 at the same time1 that a regard to the honesty is the motive of the action4 ,we can never have a regard to the virtue of an action1 unless the action be antecedently virtuous4 ,no action can be virtuous1 but so far as it proceeds from a virtuous motive4 ,a virtuous motive1 therefore1 must precede the regard to the virtue2 and 'tis impossible that the virtuous motive and the regard to the virtue can be the same4 ',tis requisite1 then1 to find some motive to acts of justice and honesty1 distinct from our regard to the honesty2 and in this lies the great difficulty4 ,for should we say1 that a concern for our private interest or reputation1 is the legitimate motive to all honest actions3 it would follow1 that wherever that concern ceases1 honesty can no longer have place4 ,but 'tis certain that self-love1 when it acts at its liberty1 instead of engaging us to honest actions1 is the source of all injustice and violence2 nor can a man ever correct those vices1 without correcting and restraining the natural movements of that appetite4 ,but should it be affirmed1 that the reason or motive of such actions is the regard to public interest1 to which nothing is more contrary than examples of injustice and dishonesty2 should this be said1 ,i would propose the three following considerations as worthy of our attention4 ,first1 ,public interest is not naturally attached to the observation of the rules of justice2 but is only connected with it1 after an artificial convention for the establishment of these rules1 as shall be shown more at large hereafter4 ,secondly1 ,if we suppose that the loan was secret1 and that it is necessary for the interest of the person1 that the money be restored in the same manner 7as when the lender would conceal his riches71 in that case the example ceases1 and the public is no longer interested in the actions of the borrower2 though ,i suppose there is no moralist who will affirm that the duty and obligation ceases4 ,thirdly1 ,experience sufficiently proves that men1 in the ordinary conduct of life1 look not so far as the public interest1 when they pay their creditors1 perform their promises1 and abstain from theft1 and robbery1 and injustice of every kind4 ,that is a motive too remote and too sublime to affect the generality of mankind1 and operate with any force in actions so contrary to private interest as are frequently those of justice and common honesty4 ,in general1 it may be affirmed1 that there is no such passion in human minds as the love of mankind1 merely as such1 independent of personal qualities1 of services1 or of relation to ourself4 ',tis true1 there is no human1 and indeed no sensible creature1 whose happiness or misery does not1 in some measure1 affect us1 when brought near us1 and represented in lively colours3 but this proceeds merely from sympathy1 and is no proof of such an universal affection to mankind1 since this concern extends itself beyond our own species4 ,an affection betwixt the sexes is a passion evidently implanted in human nature2 and this passion not only appears in its peculiar symptoms1 but also in inflaming every other principle of affection1 and raising a stronger love from beauty1 wit1 kindness1 than what would otherwise flow from them4 ,were there an universal love among all human creatures1 it would appear after the same manner4 ,any degree of a good quality would cause a stronger affection than the same degree of a bad quality would cause hatred2 contrary to what we find by experience4 ,men's tempers are different1 and some have a propensity to the tender1 and others to the rougher affections3 but in the main1 we may affirm1 that man in general1 or human nature1 is nothing but the object both of love and hatred1 and requires some other cause1 which1 by a double relation of impressions and ideas1 may excite these passions4 ,in vain would we endeavour to elude this hypothesis4 ,there are no phenomena that point out any such kind affection to men1 independent of their merit1 and every other circumstance4 ,we love company in general2 but 'tis as we love any other amusement4 ,an ,englishman in ,italy is a friend2 a ,european in ,china2 and perhaps a man would be beloved as such1 were we to meet him in the moon4 ,but this proceeds only from the relation to ourselves2 which in these cases gathers force by being confined to a few persons4 ,if public benevolence1 therefore1 or a regard to the interests of mankind1 cannot be the original motive to justice1 much less can private benevolence1 or a regard to the interests of the party concerned1 be this motive4 ,for what if he be my enemy1 and has given me just cause to hate him8 ,what if he be a vicious man1 and deserves the hatred of all mankind8 ,what if he be a miser1 and can make no use of what ,i would deprive him of8 ,what if he be a profligate debauchee1 and would rather receive harm than benefit from large possessions8 ,what if ,i be in necessity1 and have urgent motives to acquire something to my family8 ,in all these cases1 the original motive to justice would fail2 and consequently the justice itself1 and along with it all property1 right1 and obligation4 ,a rich man lies under a moral obligation to communicate to those in necessity a share of his superfluities4 ,were private benevolence the original motive to justice1 a man would not be obliged to leave others in the possession of more than he is obliged to give them4 ,at least1 the difference would be very inconsiderable4 ,men generally fix their affections more on what they are possessed of1 than on what they never enjoyed3 for this reason1 it would be greater cruelty to dispossess a man of any thing1 than not to give it him4 ,but who will assert1 that this is the only foundation of justice8 ,besides1 we must consider1 that the chief reason why men attach themselves so much to their possessions1 is1 that they consider them as their property1 and as secured to them inviolably by the laws of society4 ,but this is a secondary consideration1 and dependent on the preceding notions of justice and property4 ,a man's property is supposed to be fenced against every mortal1 in every possible case4 ,but private benevolence is1 and ought to be1 weaker in some persons than in others2 and in many1 or indeed in most persons1 must absolutely fail4 ,private benevolence1 therefore1 is not the original motive of justice4 ,from all this it follows1 that we have no real or universal motive for observing the laws of equity1 but the very equity and merit of that observance2 and as no action can be equitable or meritorious1 where it cannot arise from some separate motive1 there is here an evident sophistry and reasoning in a circle4 ,unless1 therefore1 we will allow that nature has established a sophistry1 and rendered it necessary and unavoidable1 we must allow1 that the sense of justice and injustice is not derived from nature1 but arises artificially1 though necessarily1 from education1 and human conventions4 ,i shall add1 as a corollary to this reasoning1 that since no action can be laudable or blameable1 without some motives or impelling passions1 distinct from the sense of morals1 these distinct passions must have a great influence on that sense4 ',tis according to their general force in human nature that we blame or praise4 ,in judging of the beauty of animal bodies1 we always carry in our eye the economy of a certain species2 and where the limbs and features observe that proportion which is common to the species1 we pronounce them handsome and beautiful4 ,in like manner1 we always consider the natural and usual force of the passions1 when we determine concerning vice and virtue2 and if the passions depart very much from the common measures on either side1 they are always disapproved as vicious4 ,a man naturally loves his children better than his nephews1 his nephews better than his cousins1 his cousins better than strangers1 where every thing else is equal4 ,hence arise our common measures of duty1 in preferring the one to the other4 ,our sense of duty always follows the common and natural course of our passions4 ,to avoid giving offence1 ,i must here observe1 that when ,i deny justice to be a natural virtue1 ,i make use of the word natural1 only as opposed to artificial4 ,in another sense of the word1 as no principle of the human mind is more natural than a sense of virtue1 so no virtue is more natural than justice4 ,mankind is an inventive species2 and where an invention is obvious and absolutely necessary1 it may as properly be said to be natural as any thing that proceeds immediately from original principles1 without the intervention of thought or reflection4 ,though the rules of justice be artificial1 they are not arbitrary4 ,nor is the expression improper to call them ,laws of ,nature2 if by natural we understand what is common to any species1 or even if we confine it to mean what is inseparable from the species4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,of ,,the ,,origin ,,of ,,justice ,,and ,,property4 ,we now proceed to examine two questions1 viz4 concerning the manner in which the rules of justice are established by the artifice of men2 and concerning the reasons which determine us to attribute to the observance or neglect of these rules a moral beauty and deformity4 ,these questions will appear afterwards to be distinct4 ,we shall begin with the former4 ,of all the animals with which this globe is peopled1 there is none towards whom nature seems1 at first sight1 to have exercised more cruelty than towards man1 in the numberless wants and necessities with which she has loaded him1 and in the slender means which she affords to the relieving these necessities4 ,in other creatures1 these two particulars generally compensate each other4 ,if we consider the lion as a voracious and carnivorous animal1 we shall easily discover him to be very necessitous2 but if we turn our eye to his make and temper1 his agility1 his courage1 his arms and his force1 we shall find that his advantages hold proportion with his wants4 ,the sheep and ox are deprived of all these advantages2 but their appetites are moderate1 and their food is of easy purchase4 ,in man alone this unnatural conjunction of infirmity and of necessity may be observed in its greatest perfection4 ,not only the food which is required for his sustenance flies his search and approach1 or at least requires his labour to be produced1 but he must be possessed of clothes and lodging to defend him against the injuries of the weather2 though1 to consider him only in himself1 he is provided neither with arms1 nor force1 nor other natural abilities which are in any degree answerable to so many necessities4 ',tis by society alone he is able to supply his defects1 and raise himself up to an equality with his fellow-creatures1 and even acquire a superiority above them4 ,by society all his infirmities are compensated2 and though in that situation his wants multiply every moment upon him1 yet his abilities are still more augmented1 and leave him in every respect more satisfied and happy than 'tis possible for him1 in his savage and solitary condition1 ever to become4 ,when every individual person labours apart1 and only for himself1 his force is too small to execute any considerable work2 his labour being employed in supplying all his different necessities1 he never attains a perfection in any particular art2 and as his force and success are not at all times equal1 the least failure in either of these particulars must be attended with inevitable ruin and misery4 ,society provides a remedy for these three inconveniences4 ,by the conjunction of forces1 our power is augmented2 by the partition of employments1 our ability increases2 and by mutual succour1 we are less exposed to fortune and accidents4 ',tis by this additional force1 ability1 and security1 that society becomes advantageous4 ,but1 in order to form society1 'tis requisite not only that it be advantageous1 but also that men be sensible of these advantages2 and 'tis impossible1 in their wild uncultivated state1 that by study and reflection alone they should ever be able to attain this knowledge4 ,most fortunately1 therefore1 there is conjoined to those necessities1 whose remedies are remote and obscure1 another necessity1 which1 having a present and more obvious remedy1 may justly be regarded as the first and original principle of human society4 ,this necessity is no other than that natural appetite betwixt the sexes1 which unites them together1 and preserves their union1 till a new tie takes place in their concern for their common offspring4 ,this new concern becomes also a principle of union betwixt the parents and offspring1 and forms a more numerous society1 where the parents govern by the advantage of their superior strength and wisdom1 and at the same time are restrained in the exercise of their authority by that natural affection which they bear their children4 ,in a little time1 custom and habit1 operating on the tender minds of the children1 makes them sensible of the advantages which they may reap from society1 as well as fashions them by degrees for it1 by rubbing off those rough comers and untoward affections which prevent their coalition4 ,for it must be confest1 that however the circumstances of human nature may render an union necessary1 and however those passions of lust and natural affection may seem to render it unavoidable1 yet there are other particulars in our natural temper1 and in our outward circumstances1 which are very incommodious1 and are even contrary to the requisite conjunction4 ,among the former we may justly esteem our selfishness to be the most considerable4 ,i am sensible that1 generally speaking1 the representations of this quality have been carried much too far2 and that the descriptions which certain philosophers delight so much to form of mankind in this particular1 are as wide of nature as any accounts of monsters which we meet with in fables and romances4 ,so far from thinking that men have no affect ion for any thing beyond themselves1 ,i am of opinion that1 though it be rare to meet with one who loves any single person better than himself1 yet 'tis as rare to meet with one in whom all the kind affections1 taken together1 do not overbalance all the selfish4 ,consult common experience2 do you not see1 that though the whole expense of the family be generally under the direction of the master of it1 yet there are few that do not bestow the largest part of their fortunes on the pleasures of their wives and the education of their children1 reserving the smallest portion for their own proper use and entertainment8 ,this is what we may observe concerning such as have those endearing ties2 and may presume1 that the case would be the same with others1 were they placed in a like situation4 ,but1 though this generosity must be acknowledged to the honour of human nature1 we may at the same time remark1 that so noble an affection1 instead of fitting men for large societies1 is almost as contrary to them as the most narrow selfishness4 ,for while each person loves himself better than any other single person1 and in his love to others bears the greatest affection to his relations and acquaintance1 this must necessarily produce an opposition of passions1 and a consequent opposition of actions1 which cannot but be dangerous to the new-established union4 ',tis1 however1 worth while to remark1 that this contrariety of passions would be attended with but small danger1 did it not concur with a peculiarity in our outward circumstances1 which affords it an opportunity of exerting itself4 ,there are three different species of goods which we are possessed of2 the internal satisfaction our minds2 the external advantages of our body2 and the enjoyment of such possessions as we have acquired by our industry and good fortune4 ,we are perfectly secure in the enjoyment of the first4 ,the second may be ravished from us1 but can be of no advantage to him who deprives us of them4 ,the last only are both exposed to the violence of others1 and may be transferred without suffering any loss or alteration2 while at the same time there is not a sufficient quantity of them to supply every one's desires and necessities4 ,as the improvement1 therefore1 of these goods is the chief advantage of society1 so the instability of their possession1 along with their scarcity1 is the chief impediment4 ,in vain should we expect to find1 in uncultivated nature1 a remedy to this inconvenience2 or hope for any inartificial principle of the human mind which might control those partial affections1 and make us overcome the temptations arising from our circumstances4 ,the idea of justice can never serve to this purpose1 or be taken for a natural principle1 capable of inspiring men with an equitable conduct towards each other4 ,that virtue1 as it is now understood1 would never have been dreamed of among rude and savage men4 ,for the notion of injury or injustice implies an immorality or vice committed against some other person3 ,and as every immorality is derived from some defect or unsoundness of the passions1 and as this defect must be judged of1 in a great measure1 from the ordinary course of nature in the constitution of the mind1 'twill be easy to know whether we be guilty of any immorality with regard to others1 by considering the natural and usual force of those several affections which are directed towards them4 ,now1 it appears that1 in the original frame of our mind1 our strongest attention is confined to ourselves2 our next is extended to our relations and acquaintance2 and 'tis only the weakest which reaches to strangers and indifferent persons4 ,this partiality1 then1 and unequal affection1 must not only have an influence on our behaviour and conduct in society1 but even on our ideas of vice and virtue2 so as to make us regard any remarkable transgression of such a degree of partiality1 either by too great an enlargement or contraction of the affections1 as vicious and immoral4 ,this we may observe in our common judgments concerning actions1 where we blame a person who either centres all his affections in his family1 or is so regardless of them as1 in any opposition of interest1 to give the preference to a stranger or mere chance acquaintance4 ,from all which it follows1 that our natural uncultivated ideas of morality1 instead of providing a remedy for the partiality of our affections1 do rather conform themselves to that partiality1 and give it an additional force and influence4 ,the remedy1 then1 is not derived from nature1 but from artifice2 or1 more properly speaking1 nature provides a remedy1 in the judgment and understanding1 for what is irregular and incommodious in the affections4 ,for when men1 from their early education in society1 have become sensible of the infinite advantages that result from it1 and have besides acquired a new affection to company and conversation1 and when they have observed1 that the principal disturbance in society arises from those goods1 which we call external1 and from their looseness and easy transition from one person to another1 they must seek for a remedy1 by putting these goods1 as far as possible1 on the same footing with the fixed and constant advantages of the mind and body4 ,this can be done after no other manner1 than by a convention entered into by all the members of the society to bestow stability on the possession of those external goods1 and leave every one in the peaceable enjoyment of what he may acquire by his fortune and industry4 ,by this means1 every one knows what he may safely possess2 and the passions are restrained in their partial and contradictory motions4 ,nor is such a restraint contrary to these passions2 for1 if so1 it could never be entered into nor maintained2 but it is only contrary to their heedless and impetuous movement4 ,instead of departing from our own interest1 or from that of our nearest friends1 by abstaining from the possessions of others1 we cannot better consult both these interests1 than by such a convention2 because it is by that means we maintain society1 which is so necessary to their well-being and subsistence1 as well as to our own4 ,this convention is not of the nature of a promise2 for even promises themselves1 as we shall see afterwards1 arise from human conventions4 ,it is only a general sense of common interest2 which sense all the members of the society express to one another1 and which induces them to regulate their conduct by certain rules4 ,i observe1 that it will be for my interest to leave another in the possession of his goods1 provided he will act in the same manner with regard to me4 ,he is sensible of a like interest in the regulation of his conduct4 ,when this common sense of interest is mutually expressed1 and is known to both1 it produces a suitable resolution and behaviour4 ,and this may properly enough be called a convention or agreement betwixt us1 though without the interposition of a promise2 since the actions of each of us have a reference to those of the other1 and are performed upon the supposition that something is to be performed on the other part4 ,two men who pull the oars of a boat1 do it by an agreement or convention1 though they have never given promises to each other4 ,nor is the rule concerning the stability of possession the less derived from human conventions1 that it arises gradually1 and acquires force by a slow progression1 and by our repeated experience of the inconveniences of transgressing it4 ,on the contrary1 this experience assures us still more1 that the sense of interest has become common to all our fellows1 and gives us a confidence of the future regularity of their conduct2 and 'tis only on the expectation of this that our moderation and abstinence are founded4 ,in like manner are languages gradually established by human conventions1 without any promise4 ,in like manner do gold and silver become the common measures of exchange1 and are esteemed sufficient payment for what is of a hundred times their value4 ,after this convention1 concerning abstinence from the possessions of others1 is entered into1 and every one has acquired a stability in his possessions1 there immediately arise the ideas of justice and injustice2 as also those of property1 right1 and obligation4 ,the latter are altogether unintelligible1 without first understanding the former4 ,our property is nothing but those goods1 whose constant possession is established by the laws of society2 that is1 by the laws of justice4 ,those1 therefore1 who make use of the words property1 or right1 or obligation1 before they have explained the origin of justice1 or even make use of them in that explication1 are guilty of a very gross fallacy1 and can never reason upon any solid foundation4 ,a man's property is some object related to him4 ,this relation is not natural1 but moral1 and founded on justice4 ',tis very preposterous1 therefore1 to imagine that we can have any idea of property1 without fully comprehending the nature of justice1 and showing its origin in the artifice and contrivance of men4 ,the origin of justice explains that of property4 ,the same artifice gives rise to both4 ,as our first and most natural sentiment of morals is founded on the nature of our passions1 and gives the preference to ourselves and friends above strangers1 'tis impossible there can be naturally any such thing as a fixed right or property1 while the opposite passions of men impel them in contrary directions1 and are not restrained by any convention or agreement4 ,no one can doubt that the convention for the distinction of property1 and for the stability of possession1 is of all circumstances the most necessary to the establishment of human society1 and that1 after the agreement for the fixing and observing of this rule1 there remains little or nothing to be done towards settling a perfect harmony and concord4 ,all the other passions1 beside this of interest1 are either easily restrained1 or are not of such pernicious consequence when indulged4 ,vanity is rather to be esteemed a social passion1 and a bond of union among men4 ,pity and love are to be considered in the same light4 ,and as to envy and revenge1 though pernicious1 they operate only by intervals1 and are directed against particular persons1 whom we consider as our superiors or enemies4 ,this avidity alone1 of acquiring goods and possessions for ourselves and our nearest friends1 is insatiable1 perpetual1 universal1 and directly destructive of society4 ,there scarce is any one who is not actuated by it2 and there is no one who has not reason to fear from it1 when it acts without any restraint1 and gives way to its first and most natural movements4 ,so that1 upon the whole1 we are to esteem the difficulties in the establishment of society to be greater or less1 according to those we encounter in regulating and restraining this passion4 ',tis certain1 that no affection of the human mind has both a sufficient force and a proper direction to counterbalance the love of gain1 and render men fit members of society1 by making them abstain from the possessions of others4 ,benevolence to strangers is too weak for this purpose2 and as to the other passions1 they rather inflame this avidity1 when we observe1 that the larger our possessions are1 the more ability we have of gratifying all our appetites4 ,there is no passion1 therefore1 capable of controlling the interested affection1 but the very affection itself1 by an alteration of its direction4 ,now1 this alteration must necessarily take place upon the least reflection2 since 'tis evident that the passion is much better satisfied by its restraint than by its liberty1 and that1 in preserving society1 we make much greater advances in the acquiring possessions1 than in the solitary and forlorn condition which must follow upon violence and an universal license4 ,the question1 therefore1 concerning the wickedness or goodness of human nature1 enters not in the least into that other question concerning the origin of society2 nor is there any thing to be considered but the degrees of men's sagacity or folly4 ,for whether the passion of self-interest be esteemed vicious or virtuous1 'tis all a case1 since itself alone restrains it2 so that if it be virtuous1 men become social by their virtue2 if vicious1 their vice has the same effect4 ,now1 as 'tis by establishing the rule for the stability of possession that this passion restrains itself1 if that rule be very abstruse and of difficult invention1 society must be esteemed in a manner accidental1 and the effect of many ages4 ,but if it be found1 that nothing can be more simple and obvious than that rule2 that every parent1 in order to preserve peace among his children1 must establish it2 and that these first rudiments of justice must every day be improved1 as the society enlarges3 if all this appear evident1 as it certainly must1 we may conclude that 'tis utterly impossible for men to remain any considerable time in that savage condition which precedes society1 but that his very first state and situation may justly be esteemed social4 ,this1 however1 hinders not but that philosophers may1 if they please1 extend their reasoning to the supposed state of nature2 provided they allow it to be a mere philosophical fiction1 which never had1 and never could have1 any reality4 ,human nature being composed of two principal parts1 which are requisite in all its actions1 the affections and understanding1 'tis certain that the blind motions of the former1 without the direction of the latter1 incapacitate men for society2 and it may be allowed us to consider separately the effects that result from the separate operations of these two component parts of the mind4 ,the same liberty may be permitted to moral1 which is allowed to natural philosophers2 and 'tis very usual with the latter to consider any motion as compounded and consisting of two parts separate from each other1 though at the same time they acknowledge it to be in itself uncompounded and inseparable4 ,this state of nature1 therefore1 is to be regarded as a mere fiction1 not unlike that of the golden age which poets have invented2 only with this difference1 that the former is described as full of war1 violence and injustice2 whereas the latter is painted out to us as the most charming and most peaceable condition that can possibly be imagined4 ,the seasons1 in that first age of nature1 were so temperate1 if we may believe the poets1 that there was no necessity for men to provide themselves with clothes and houses as a security against the violence of heat and cold4 ,the rivers flowed with wine and milk2 the oaks yielded honey2 and nature spontaneously produced her greatest delicacies4 ,nor were these the chief advantages of that happy age4 ,the storms and tempests were not alone removed from nature2 but those more furious tempests were unknown to human breasts1 which now cause such uproar1 and engender such confusion4 ,avarice1 ambition1 cruelty1 selfishness1 were never heard of3 cordial affection1 compassion1 sympathy1 were the only movements with which the human mind was yet acquainted4 ,even the distinction of mine and thine was banished from that happy race of mortals1 and carried with them the very notions of property and obligation1 justice and injustice4 ,this1 no doubt1 is to be regarded as an idle fiction2 but yet deserves our attention1 because nothing can more evidently show the origin of those virtues1 which are the subjects of our present inquiry4 ,i have already observed1 that justice takes its rise from human conventions2 and that these are intended as a remedy to some inconveniences1 which proceed from the concurrence of certain qualities of the human mind with the situation of external objects4 ,the qualities of the mind are selfishness and limited generosity3 and the situation of external objects is their easy change1 joined to their scarcity in comparison of the wants and desires of men4 ,but however philosophers may have been bewildered in those speculations1 poets have been guided more infallibly1 by a certain taste or common instinct1 which1 in most kinds of reasoning1 goes farther than any of that art and philosophy with which we have been yet acquainted4 ,they easily perceived1 if every man had a tender regard for another1 or if nature supplied abundantly all our wants and desires1 that the jealousy of interest1 which justice supposes1 could no longer have place2 nor would there be any occasion for those distinctions and limits of property and possession1 which at present are in use among mankind4 ,increase to a sufficient degree the benevolence of men1 or the bounty of nature1 and you render justice useless1 by supplying its place with much nobler virtues1 and more valuable blessings4 ,the selfishness of men is animated by the few possessions we have1 in proportion to our wants2 and 'tis to restrain this selfishness1 that men have been obliged to separate themselves from the community1 and to distinguish betwixt their own goods and those of others4 ,nor need we have recourse to the fictions of poets to learn this2 but1 beside the reason of the thing1 may discover the same truth by common experience and observation4 ',tis easy to remark1 that a cordial affection renders all things common among friends2 and that married people1 in particular1 mutually lose their property1 and are unacquainted with the mine and thine1 which are so necessary1 and yet cause such disturbance in human society4 ,the same effect arises from any alteration in the circumstances of mankind2 as when there is such a plenty of any thing as satisfies all the desires of men3 in which case the distinction of property is entirely lost1 and every thing remains in common4 ,this we may observe with regard to air and water1 though the most valuable of all external objects2 and may easily conclude1 that if men were supplied with every thing in the same abundance1 or if every one had the same affection and tender regard for every one as for himself1 justice and injustice would be equally unknown among mankind4 ,here then is a proposition1 which1 ,i think1 may be regarded as certain1 that 'tis only from the selfishness and confined generosity of men1 along with the scanty provision nature has made for his wants1 that justice derives its origin4 ,if we look backward we shall find1 that this proposition bestows an additional force on some of those observations which we have already made on this subject4 ,first1 ,we may conclude from it1 that a regard to public interest1 or a strong extensive benevolence1 is not our first and original motive for the observation of the rules of justice2 since 'tis allowed1 that if men were endowed with such a benevolence1 these rules would never have been dreamt of4 ,secondly1 ,we may conclude from the same principle1 that the sense of justice is not founded on reason1 or on the discovery of certain connexions and relations of ideas1 which are eternal1 immutable1 and universally obligatory4 ,for since it is confessed1 that such an alteration as that above-mentioned1 in the temper and circumstances of mankind1 would entirely alter our duties and obligations1 'tis necessary upon the common system1 that the sense of virtue is derived from reason1 to show the change which this must produce in the relations and ideas4 ,but 'tis evident1 that the only cause why the extensive generosity of man1 and the perfect abundance of every thing1 would destroy the very idea of justice1 is1 because they render it useless2 and that1 on the other hand1 his confined benevolence1 and his necessitous condition1 give rise to that virtue1 only by making it requisite to the public interest1 and to that of every individual4 ',twas therefore a concern for our own and the public interest which made us establish the laws of justice2 and nothing can be more certain1 than that it is not any relation of ideas which gives us this concern1 but our impressions and sentiments1 without which every thing in nature is perfectly indifferent to us1 and can never in the least affect us4 ,the sense of justice1 therefore1 is not founded on our ideas1 but on our impressions4 ,thirdly1 ,we may farther confirm the foregoing proposition1 that those impressions1 which give rise to this sense of justice1 are not natural to the mind of man1 but arise from artifice and human conventions4 ,for1 since any considerable alteration of temper and circumstances destroys equally justice and injustice2 and since such an alteration has an effect only by changing our own and the public interest1 it follows1 that the first establishment of the rules of justice depends on these different interests4 ,but if men pursued the public interest naturally1 and with a hearty affection1 they would never have dreamed of restraining each other by these rules2 and if they pursued their own interest1 without any precaution1 they would run headlong into every kind of injustice and violence4 ,these rules1 therefore1 are artificial1 and seek their end in an oblique and indirect manner2 nor is the interest which gives rise to them of a kind that could be pursued by the natural and inartificial passions of men4 ,to make this more evident1 consider1 that1 though the rules of justice are established merely by interest1 their connexion with interest is somewhat singular1 and is different from what may be observed on other occasions4 ,a single act of justice is frequently contrary to public interest2 and were it to stand alone1 without being followed by other acts1 may1 in itself1 be very prejudicial to society4 ,when a man of merit1 of a beneficent disposition1 restores a great fortune to a miser1 or a seditious bigot1 he has acted justly and laudably2 but the public is a real sufferer4 ,nor is every single act of justice1 considered apart1 more conducive to private interest than to public2 and 'tis easily conceived how a man may impoverish himself by a signal instance of integrity1 and have reason to wish1 that1 with regard to that single act1 the laws of justice were for a moment suspended in the universe4 ,but1 however single acts of justice may be contrary1 either to public or private interest1 'tis certain that the whole plan or scheme is highly conducive1 or indeed absolutely requisite1 both to the support of society1 and the well-being of every individual4 ',tis impossible to separate the good from the ill4 ,property must be stable1 and must be fixed by general rules4 ,though in one instance the public be a sufferer1 this momentary ill is amply compensated by the steady prosecution of the rule1 and by the peace and order which it establishes in society4 ,and even every individual person must find himself a gainer on balancing the account2 since1 without justice1 society must immediately dissolve1 and every one must fall into that savage and solitary condition1 which is infinitely worse than the worst situation that can possibly be supposed in society4 ,when1 therefore1 men have had experience enough to observe1 that1 whatever may be the consequence of any single act of justice1 performed by a single person1 yet the whole system of actions concurred in by the whole society1 is infinitely advantageous to the whole1 and to every part1 it is not long before justice and property take place4 ,every member of society is sensible of this interest3 every one expresses this sense to his fellows1 along with the resolution he has taken of squaring his actions by it1 on condition that others will do the same4 ,no more is requisite to induce any one of them to perform an act of justice1 who has the first opportunity4 ,this becomes an example to others2 and thus justice establishes itself by a kind of convention or agreement1 that is1 by a sense of interest1 supposed to be common to all1 and where every single act is performed in expectation that others are to perform the like4 ,without such a convention1 no one would ever have dreamed that there was such a virtue as justice1 or have been induced to conform his actions to it4 ,taking any single act1 my justice may be pernicious in every respect2 and 'tis only upon the supposition that others are to imitate my example1 that ,i can be induced to embrace that virtue2 since nothing but this combination can render justice advantageous1 or afford me any motives to conform myself to its rules4 ,we come now to the second question we proposed1 viz4 ,why we annex the idea of virtue to justice1 and of vice to injustice4 ,this question will not detain us long after the principles which we have already established4 ,all we can say of it at present will be despatched in a few words3 and for farther satisfaction1 the reader must wait till we come to the third part of this book4 ,the natural obligation to justice1 viz4 interest1 has been fully explained2 but as to the moral obligation1 or the sentiment of right and wrong1 'twill first be requisite to examine the natural virtues1 before we can give a full and satisfactory account of it4 ,after men have found by experience1 that their selfishness and confined generosity1 acting at their liberty1 totally incapacitate them for society2 and at the same time have observed1 that society is necessary to the satisfaction of those very passions1 they are naturally induced to lay themselves under the restraint of such rules1 as may render their commerce more safe and commodious4 ,to the imposition1 then1 and observance of these rules1 both in general1 and in every particular instance1 they are at first induced only by a regard to interest2 and this motive1 on the first formation of society1 is sufficiently strong and forcible4 ,but when society has become numerous1 and has increased to a tribe or nation1 this interest is more remote2 nor do men so readily perceive that disorder and confusion follow upon every breach of these rules1 as in a more narrow and contracted society4 ,but though1 in our own actions1 we may frequently lose sight of that interest which we have in maintaining order1 and may follow a lesser and more present interest1 we never fail to observe the prejudice we receive1 either mediately or immediately1 from the injustice of others2 as not being in that case either blinded by passion1 or biassed by any contrary temptation4 ,nay1 when the injustice is so distant from us as no way to affect our interest1 it still displeases us2 because we consider it as prejudicial to human society1 and pernicious to every one that approaches the person guilty of it4 ,we partake of their uneasiness by sympathy2 and as every thing which gives uneasiness in human actions1 upon the general survey1 is called ,vice1 and whatever produces satisfaction1 in the same manner1 is denominated ,virtue1 this is the reason why the sense of moral good and evil follows upon justice and injustice4 ,and though this sense1 in the present case1 be derived only from contemplating the actions of others1 yet we fail not to extend it even to our own actions4 ,the general rule reaches beyond those instances from which it arose2 while1 at the same time1 we naturally sympathize with others in the sentiments they entertain of us4 ,though this progress of the sentiments be natural1 and even necessary1 'tis certain1 that it is here forwarded by the artifice of politicians1 who1 in order to govern men more easily1 and preserve peace in human society1 have endeavoured to produce an esteem for justice1 and an abhorrence of injustice4 ,this1 no doubt1 must have its effect2 but nothing can be more evident1 than that the matter has been carried too far by certain writers on morals1 who seem to have employed their utmost efforts to extirpate all sense of virtue from among mankind4 ,any artifice of politicians may assist nature in the producing of those sentiments1 which she suggests to us1 and may even1 on some occasions1 produce alone an approbation or esteem for any particular action2 but 'tis impossible it should be the sole cause of the distinction we make betwixt vice and virtue4 ,for if nature did not aid us in this particular1 'twould be in vain for politicians to talk of honourable or dishonourable1 praiseworthy or blameable4 ,these words would be perfectly unintelligible1 and would no more have any idea annexed to them1 than if they were of a tongue perfectly unknown to us4 ,the utmost politicians can perform1 is to extend the natural sentiments beyond their original bounds2 but still nature must furnish the materials1 and give us some notion of moral distinctions4 ,as public praise and blame increase our esteem for justice1 so private education and instruction contribute to the same effect4 ,for as parents easily observe1 that a man is the more useful1 both to himself and others1 the greater degree of probity and honour he is endowed with1 and that those principles have1 greater force when custom and education assist interest and reflection3 for these reasons they are induced to inculcate on their children1 from their earliest infancy1 the principles of probity1 and teach them to regard the observance of those rules by which society is maintained1 as worthy and honourable1 and their violation as base and infamous4 ,by this means the sentiments of honour may take root in their tender minds1 and acquire such firmness and solidity1 that they may fall little short of those principles which are the most essential to our natures1 and the most deeply radicated in our internal constitution4 ,what farther contributes to increase their solidity1 is the interest of our reputation1 after the opinion1 that a merit or demerit attends justice or injustice1 is once firmly established among mankind4 ,there is nothing which touches us more nearly than our reputation1 and nothing on which our reputation more depends than our conduct with relation to the property of others4 ,for this reason1 every one who has any regard to his character1 or who intends to live on good terms with mankind1 must fix an inviolable law to himself1 never1 by any temptation1 to be induced to violate those principles which are essential to a man of probity and honour4 ,i shall make only one observation before ,i leave this subject1 viz4 that1 though ,i assert that1 in the state of nature1 or that imaginary state which preceded society1 there be neither justice nor injustice1 yet ,i assert not that it was allowable1 in such a state1 to violate the property of others4 ,i only maintain1 that there was no such thing as property2 and consequently could be no such thing as justice or injustice4 ,i shall have occasion to make a similar reflection with regard to promises1 when ,i come to treat of them2 and ,i hope this reflection1 when duly weighed1 will suffice to remove all odium from the foregoing opinions1 with regard to justice and injustice4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,rules ,,which ,,determine ,,property4 ,though the establishment of the rule1 concerning the stability of possession1 be not only useful1 but even absolutely necessary to human society1 it can never serve to any purpose1 while it remains in such general terms4 ,some method must be shown1 by which we may distinguish what particular goods are to be assigned to each particular person1 while the rest of mankind are excluded from their possession and enjoyment4 ,our next business1 then1 must be to discover the reasons which modify this general rule1 and fit it to the common use and practice of the world4 ',tis obvious1 that those reasons are not derived from any utility or advantage1 which either the particular person or the public may reap from his enjoyment of any particular goods1 beyond what would result from the possession of them by any other person4 ',twere better1 no doubt1 that every one were possessed of what is most suitable to him1 and proper for his use3 ,but besides1 that this relation of fitness may be common to several at once1 'tis liable to so many controversies1 and men are so partial and passionate in judging of these controversies1 that such a loose and uncertain rule would be absolutely incompatible with the peace of human society4 ,the convention concerning the stability of possession is entered into1 in order to cut off all occasions of discord and contention2 and this end would never be attained1 were we allowed to apply this rule differently in every particular case1 according to every particular utility which might be discovered in such an application4 ,justice1 in her decisions1 never regards the fitness or unfitness of objects to particular persons1 but conducts herself by more extensive views4 ,whether a man be generous1 or a miser1 he is equally well received by her1 and obtains1 with the same facility1 a decision in his favour1 even for what is entirely useless to him4 ,it follows1 therefore1 that the general rule1 that possession must be stable1 is not applied by particular judgments1 but by other general rules1 which must extend to the whole society1 and be inflexible either by spite or favour4 ,to illustrate this1 ,i propose the following instance4 ,i first consider men in their savage and solitary condition2 and suppose that1 being sensible of the misery of that state1 and foreseeing the advantages that would result from society1 they seek each other's company1 and make an offer of mutual protection and assistance4 ,i also suppose that they are endowed with such sagacity as immediately to perceive that the chief impediment to this project of society and partnership lies in the avidity and selfishness of their natural temper2 to remedy which1 they enter into a convention which for the stability of possession1 and for mutual restraint and forbearance4 ,i am sensible that this method of proceeding is not altogether natural2 but1 besides that1 ,i here only suppose those reflections to be formed at once1 which1 in fact1 arise insensibly and by degrees2 besides this1 ,i say1 'tis very possible that several persons1 being by different accidents separated from the societies to which they formerly belonged1 may be obliged to form a new society among themselves2 in which case they are entirely in the situation above-mentioned4 ',tis evident1 then1 that their first difficulty in this situation1 after the general convention for the establishment of society1 and for the constancy of possession1 is1 how to separate their possessions1 and assign to each his particular portion1 which he must for the future unalterably enjoy4 ,this difficulty will not detain them long2 but it must immediately occur to them1 as the most natural expedient1 that every one continue to enjoy what he is at present master of1 and that property or constant possession be conjoined to the immediate possession4 ,such is the effect of custom1 that it not only reconciles us to any thing we have long enjoyed1 but even gives us an affection for it1 and makes us prefer it to other objects1 which may be more valuable1 but are less known to us4 ,what has long lain under our eye1 and has often been employed to our advantage1 that we are always the most unwilling to part with2 but can easily live without possessions which we never have enjoyed1 and are not accustomed to4 ',tis evident1 therefore1 that men would easily acquiesce in this expedient1 that every one continue to enjoy what he is at present possessed of2 and this is the reason why they would so naturally agree in preferring it4#a ,but we may observe1 that1 though the rule of the assignment of property to the present possessor be natural1 and by that means useful1 yet its utility extends not beyond the first formation of society2 nor would any thing be more pernicious than the constant observance of it2 by which restitution would be excluded1 and every injustice would be authorized and rewarded4 ,we must1 therefore1 seek for some other circumstance1 that may give rise to property after society is once established2 and of this kind ,i find four most considerable1 viz4 ,occupation1 ,prescription1 ,accession1 and ,succession4 ,we shall briefly examine each of these1 beginning with occupation4 ,the possession of all external goods is changeable and uncertain2 which is one of the most considerable impediments to the establishment of society1 and is the reason why1 by universal agreement1 express or tacit1 men restrain themselves by what we now call the rules of justice and equity4 ,the misery of the condition which precedes this restraint1 is the cause why we submit to that remedy as quickly as possible2 and this affords us an easy reason why why annex the idea of property to the first possession1 or to occupation4 ,men are unwilling to leave property in suspense1 even for the shortest time1 or open the least door to violence and disorder4 ,to which we may add1 that the first possession always engages the attention most2 and did we neglect it1 there would be no colour of reason for assigning property to any succeeding possession4#b ,there remains nothing but to determine exactly what is meant by possession2 and this is not so easy as may at first sight be imagined4 ,we are said to be in possession of any thing1 not only when we immediately touch it1 but also when we are so situated with respect to it1 as to have it in our power to use it2 and may move1 alter1 or destroy it1 according to our present pleasure or advantage4 ,this relation1 then1 is a species of cause and effect2 and as property is nothing but a stable possession1 derived from the rules of justice1 or the conventions of men1 'tis to be considered as the same species of relation4 ,but here we may observe1 that1 as the power of using any object becomes more or less certain1 according as the interruptions we may meet with are more or less probable2 and as this probability may increase by insensible degrees1 'tis in many cases impossible to determine when possession begins or ends2 nor is there any certain standard by which we can decide such controversies4 ,a wild boar that falls into our snares1 is deemed to be in our possession if it be impossible for him to escape4 ,but what do we mean by impossible8 ,how do we separate this impossibility from an improbability8 ,and how distinguish that exactly from a probability8 ,mark the precise limits of the one and the other1 and show the standard1 by which we may decide all disputes that may arise1 and1 as we find1 by experience1 frequently do arise upon this subject4#c ,but such disputes may not arise concerning the real existence of property and possession1 but also concerning their extent2 and these disputes are often susceptible of no decision1 or can be decided by no other faculty than the imagination4 ,a person who lands on the shore of a small island that is desart and uncultivated is deemed its possessor from the very first moment1 and acquires the property of the whole2 because the object is there bounded and circumscribed in the fancy1 and at the same time is proportioned to the new possessor4 ,the same person landing on a desart island as large as ,great ,britain1 extends his property no farther than his immediate possession2 though a numerous colony are esteemed the proprietors of the whole from the instant of their debarkment4 ,but if it often happens that the title of first possession becomes obscure through time1 and that 'tis impossible to determine many controversies which may arise concerning it2 in that case1 long possession or prescription naturally takes place1 and gives a person a sufficient property in any thing he enjoys4 ,the nature of human society admits not of any great accuracy2 nor can we always remount to the first origin of things1 in order to determine their present condition4 ,any considerable space of time sets objects at such a distance that they seem in a manner to lose their reality1 and have as little influence on the mind as if they never had been in being4 ,a man's title that is clear and certain at present1 will seem obscure and doubtful fifty years hence1 even though the facts on which it is founded should be proved with the greatest evidence and certainty4 ,the same facts have not the same influence after so long an interval of time4 ,and this may be received as a convincing argument for our preceding doctrine with regard to property and justice4 ,possession during a long tract of time conveys a title to any object4 ,but as 'tis certain that1 however every thing be produced in time1 there is nothing real that is produced by time1 it follows1 that property being produced by time1 is not any thing real in the objects1 but is the offspring of the sentiments1 on which alone time is found to have any influence4#d ,we acquire the property of objects by accession1 when they are connected in an intimate manner with objects that are already our property1 and at the same time are inferior to them4 ,thus1 the fruits of our garden1 the offspring of our cattle1 and the work of our slaves1 are all of them esteemed our property1 even before possession4 ,where objects are connected together in the imagination1 they are apt to be put on the same footing1 and are commonly supposed to be endowed with the same qualities4 ,we readily pass from one to the other1 and make no difference in our judgments concerning them1 especially if the latter be inferior to the former4 #e ,the right of succession is a very natural one1 from the presumed consent of the parent or near relation1 and from the general interest of mankind1 which requires that men's possessions should pass to those who are dearest to them1 in order to render them more industrious and frugal4 ,perhaps these causes are seconded by the influence of relation1 or the association of ideas1 by which we are naturally directed to consider the son after the parent's decease1 and ascribe to him a title to his father's possessions4 ,those goods must become the property of somebody3 but of whom is the question4 ,here 'tis evident the person's children naturally present themselves to the mind2 and being already connected to those possessions by means of their deceased parent1 we are apt to connect them still farther by the relation of property4 ,of this there are many parallel instances4#f #a ,no questions in philosophy are more difficult1 than when a number of causes present themselves for the same phenomenon1 to determine which is the principal and predominant4 ,there seldom is any very precise argument to fix our choice1 and men must be contented to be guided by a kind of taste or fancy1 arising from analogy1 and a comparison of similar instances4 ,thus1 in the present case1 there are1 no doubt1 motives of public interest for most of the rules which determine property2 but still ,i suspect1 that these rules are principally fixed by the imagination1 or the more frivolous properties of our thought and conception4 ,i shall continue to explain these causes1 leaving it to the reader's choice1 whether he will prefer those derived from public utility1 or those derived from the imagination4 ,we shall begin with the right of the present possessor4 ',tis a quality which ,i have already observed7997 in human nature1 that when two objects appear in a close relation to each other1 the mind is apt to ascribe to them any additional relation1 in order to complete the union2 and this inclination is so strong1 as often to make us run into errors 7such as that of the conjunction of thought and matter7 if we find that they can serve to that purpose4 ,many of our impressions are incapable of place or local position2 and yet those very impressions we suppose to have a local conjunction with the impressions of sight and touch1 merely because they are conjoined by causation1 and are already united in the imagination4 ,since1 therefore1 we can feign a new relation1 and even an absurd one1 in order to complete any union1 'twill easily be imagined1 that if there be any relations which depend on the mind1 'twill readily conjoin them to any preceding relation1 and unite1 by a new bond1 such objects as have already an union in the fancy4 ,thus1 for instance1 we never fail1 in our arrangement of bodies1 to place those which are resembling in contiguity to each other1 or at least in correspondent points of view2 because we feel a satisfaction in joining the relation of contiguity to that of resemblance1 or the resemblance of situation to that of qualities4 ,and this is easily accounted for from the known properties of human nature4 ,when the mind is determined to join certain objects1 but undetermined in its choice of the particular objects1 it naturally turns its eye to such as are related together4 ,they are already united in the mind3 they present themselves at the same time to the conception2 and instead of requiring any new reason for their conjunction1 it would require a very powerful reason to make us overlook this natural affinity4 ,this we shall have occasion to explain more fully afterwards when we come to treat of beauty4 ,in the mean time1 we may content ourselves with observing1 that the same love of order and uniformity which arranges the books in a library1 and the chairs in a parlour1 contributes to the formation of society1 and to the well-being of mankind1 by modifying the general rule concerning the stability of possession4 ,and as property forms a relation betwixt a person and an object1 'tis natural to found it on some preceding relation2 and1 as property is nothing but a constant possession1 secured by the laws of society1 'tis natural to add it to the present possession1 which is a relation that resembles it4 ,for this also has its influence4 ,if it be natural to conjoin till sorts of relations1 'tis more so to conjoin such relations as are resembling1 and are related together4 7997 ,book ,i4 ,part ,,iv4 ,sect4 #e #b ,some philosophers account for the right of occupation1 by saying that every one has a property in his own labour2 and when he joins that labour to any thing1 it gives him the property of the whole3 but1 ,i4 ,there are several kinds of occupation where we cannot be said to join our labour to the object we acquire3 as when we possess a meadow by grazing our cattle upon it #b4 ,this accounts for the matter by means of accession2 which is taking a needless circuit4 #c4 ,we cannot be said to join our labour to any thing but in a figurative sense4 ,properly speaking1 we only make an alteration on it by our labour4 ,this forms a relation betwixt us and the object2 and thence arises the property1 according to the preceding principles4 #c ,if we seek a solution of these difficulties in reason and public interest1 we never shall find satisfaction2 and if we look for it in the imagination1 'tis evident1 that the qualities which operate upon that faculty1 run so insensibly and gradually into each other1 that 'tis impossible to give them any precise bounds or termination4 ,the difficulties on this head must increase1 when we consider that our judgment alters very sensibly according to the subject1 and that the same power and proximity will be deemed possession in one case1 which is not esteemed such in another4 ,a person who has hunted a hare to the last degree of weariness1 would look upon it as an injustice for another to rush in before him1 and seize his prey4 ,but the same person1 advancing to pluck an apple that hangs within his reach1 has no reason to complain if another1 more alert1 passes him1 and takes possession4 ,what is the reason of this difference1 but that immobility1 not being natural to the hare1 but the effect of industry1 forms in that case a strong relation with the hunter1 which is wanting in the other8 ,here1 then1 it appears1 that a certain and infallible power of enjoyment1 without touch or some other sensible relation1 often produces not property3 and ,i farther observe1 that a sensible relation1 without any present power1 is sometimes sufficient to give a title to any object4 ,the sight of a thing is seldom a considerable relation1 and is only regarded as such1 when the object is hidden1 or very obscure2 in which case we find that the view alone conveys a property2 according to that maxim1 that even a whole continent belongs to the nation which first discovered it4 ',tis however remarkable1 that both in the case of discovery and that of possession1 the first discoverer and possessor must join to the relation an intention of rendering himself proprietor1 otherwise the relation will not have its effect2 and that because the connexion in our fancy betwixt the property and the relation is not so great but that it requires to be helped by such an intention4 ,from all these circumstances1 'tis easy to see how perplexed many questions may become concerning the acquisition of property by occupation2 and the least effort of thought may present us with instances which are not susceptible of any reasonable decision4 ,if we prefer examples which are real to such as are feigned1 we may consider the following one1 which is to be met with in almost every writer that has treated of the laws of nature4 ,two ,grecian colonies1 leaving their native country in search of new seats1 were informed that a city near them was deserted by its inhabitants4 ,to know the truth of this report1 they despatched at once two messengers1 one from each colony1 who finding1 on their approach1 that the information was true1 begun a race together1 with an intention to take possession of the city1 each of them for his countrymen4 ,one of these messengers1 finding that he was not an equal match for the other1 launched his spear at the gates of the city1 and was so fortunate as to fix it there before the arrival of his companion4 ,this produced a dispute betwixt the two colonies1 which of them was the proprietor of the empty city2 and this dispute still subsists among philosophers4 ,for my part1 ,i find the dispute impossible to be decided1 and that because the whole question hangs upon the fancy1 which in this case is not possessed of any precise or determinate standard upon which it can give sentence4 ,to make this evident1 let us consider1 that if these two persons had been simply members of the colonies1 and not messengers or deputies1 their actions would not have been of any consequence2 since in that case their relation to the colonies would have been but feeble and imperfect4 ,add to this1 that nothing determined them to run to the gates rather than the walls or any other part of the city1 but that the gates1 being the most 99obviated991 and remarkable part1 satisfy the fancy best in taking them for the whole2 as we find by the poets1 who frequently draw their images and metaphors from them4 ,besides1 we may consider that the touch or contact of the one messenger is not properly possession1 no more than the piercing the gates with the spear1 but only forms a relation2 and there is a relation in the other case equally obvious1 though not perhaps of equal force4 ,which of these relations1 then1 conveys a right and property1 or whether any of them be sufficient for that effect1 ,i leave to the decision of such as are wiser than myself4 #d ,present possession is plainly a relation betwixt a person and an object2 but is not sufficient to counterbalance the relation of first possession1 unless the former be long and uninterrupted2 in which case the relation is increased on the side of the present possession by the extent of time1 and diminished on that of first possession by the distance4 ,this change in the relation produces a consequent change in the property4 #e ,this source of property can never be explained but from the imagination2 and one may affirm1 that the causes are here unmixed4 ,we shall proceed to explain them more particularly1 and illustrate them by examples from common life and experience4 ,it has been observed above1 that the mind has a natural propensity to join relations1 especially resembling ones1 and finds a kind of fitness and uniformity in such an union4 ,from this propensity are derived these laws of nature1 that upon the first formation of society1 property always follows the present possession2 and afterwards1 that it arises from first or from long possession4 ,now1 we may easily observe1 that relation is not confined merely to one degree2 but that from an object that is related to us1 we acquire a relation to every other object which is related to it1 and so on1 till the thought loses the chain by too long a progress4 ,however the relation may weaken by each remove1 'tis not immediately destroyed2 but frequently connects two objects by means of an intermediate one1 which is related to both4 ,and this principle is of such force as to give rise to the right of accession1 and causes us to acquire the property1 not only of such objects as we are immediately possessed of1 but also of such as are closely connected with them4 ,suppose a ,german1 a ,frenchman1 and a ,spaniard1 to come into a room where there are placed upon the table three bottles of wine1 ,rhenish1 ,burgundy1 and ,port2 and suppose they should fall a quarrelling about the division of them1 a person who was chosen for umpire would naturally1 to show his impartiality1 give every one the product of his own country2 and this from a principle which1 in some measure1 is the source of those laws of nature that ascribe property to occupation1 prescription and accession4 ,in all these cases1 and particularly that of accession1 there is first a natural union betwixt the idea of the person and that of the object1 and afterwards a new and moral union produced by that right or property which we ascribe to the person4 ,but here there occurs a difficulty which merits our attention1 and may afford us an opportunity of putting to trial that singular method of reasoning which has been employed on the present subject4 ,i have already observed1 that the imagination passes with greater facility from little to great1 than from great to little1 and that the transition of ideas is always easier and smoother in the former case than in the latter4 ,now1 as the right of accession arises from the easy transition of ideas by which related objects are connected together1 it should naturally be imagined that the right of accession must increase in strength1 in proportion as the transition of ideas is performed with greater facility4 ,it may therefore be thought2 that when we have acquired the property of any small object1 we shall readily consider any great object related to it as an accession1 and as belonging to the proprietor of the small one2 since the transition is in that case very easy from the small object to the great one1 and should connect them together in the closest manner4 ,but in fact the case is always found to be otherwise4 ,the empire of ,great ,britain seems to draw along with it the dominion of the ,orkneys1 the ,hebrides1 the ,isle of ,man1 and the ,isle of ,wight2 but the authority over those lesser islands does not naturally imply any title to ,great ,britain4 ,in short1 a small object naturally follows a great one as its accession2 but a great one is never supposed to belong to the proprietor of a small one related to it1 merely on account of that property and relation4 ,yet in this latter case the transition of ideas is smoother from the proprietor to the small object which is his property1 and from the small object to the great one1 than in the former case from the proprietor to the great object1 and from the great one to the small4 ,it may therefore be thought1 that these phenomena are objections to the foregoing hypothesis1 that the ascribing of property to accession is nothing but an effect of the relations of ideas1 and of the smooth transition of the imagination4 ',twill be easy to solve this objection1 if we consider the agility and unsteadiness of the imagination1 with the different views in which it is continually placing its objects4 ,when we attribute to a person a property in two objects1 we do not always pass from the person to one object1 and from that to the other related to it4 ,the objects being here to be considered as the property of the person1 we are apt to join them together1 and place them in the same light4 ,suppose1 therefore1 a great and a small object to be related together1 if a person be strongly related to the great object1 he will likewise be strongly related to both the objects considered together1 because he is related to the most considerable part4 ,on the contrary1 if he be only related to the small object1 he will not be strongly related to both considered together1 since his relation lies only with the most trivial part1 which is not apt to strike us in any great degree when we consider the whole4 ,and this is the reason why small objects become accessions to great ones1 and not great to small4 ',tis the general opinion of philosophers and civilians1 that the sea is incapable of becoming the property of any nation2 and that because 'tis impossible to take possession of it1 or form any such distinct relation with it1 as may be the foundation of property4 ,where this reason ceases1 property immediately takes place4 ,thus1 the most strenuous advocates for the liberty of the seas universally allow1 that friths and bays naturally belong as an accession to the proprietors of the surrounding continent ,these have properly no more bond or union with the land than the ,pacific ocean would have2 but having an union in the fancy1 and being at the same time inferior1 they are of course regarded as an accession4 ,the property of rivers1 by the laws of most nations1 and by the natural turn of our thought1 is attributed to the proprietors of their banks1 excepting such vast rivers as the ,rhine or the ,danube1 which seem too large to the imagination to follow as an accession the property of the neighbouring fields4 ,yet even these rivers are considered as the property of that nation through whose dominions they run2 the idea of a nation being a suitable bulk to correspond with them1 and bear them such a relation in the fancy4 ,the accessions which are made to lands bordering upon rivers1 follow the land1 say the civilians1 provided it be made by what they call alluvion1 that is1 insensibly and imperceptibly2 which are circumstances that mightily assist the imagination in the conjunction4 ,where there is any considerable portion torn at once from one bank1 and joined to another1 it becomes not his property whose land it falls on1 till it unite with the land1 and till the trees or plants have spread their roots into both4 ,before that1 the imagination does not sufficiently join them4 ,there are other cases which somewhat resemble this of accession1 but which1 at the bottom1 are considerably different1 and merit our attention4 ,of this kind is the conjunction of the properties of different persons1 after such a manner as not to admit of separation4 ,the question is1 to whom the united mass must belong4 ,where this conjunction is of such a nature as to admit of division1 but not of separation1 the decision is natural and easy4 ,the whole mass must be supposed to be common betwixt the proprietors of the several parts1 and afterwards must be divided according to the proportions of these parts4 ,but here ,i cannot forbear taking notice of a remarkable subtilty of the ,roman law1 in distinguishing betwixt confusion and commixtion4 ,confusion is an union of two bodies1 such as different liquors1 where the parts become entirely undistinguishable4 ,commixtion is the blending of two bodies1 such as two bushels of corn1 where the parts remain separate in an obvious and visible manner4 ,as in the latter case the imagination discovers not so entire an union as in the former1 but is able to trace and preserve a distinct idea of the property of each2 this is the reason why the civil law1 though it established an entire community in the case of confusion1 and after that a proportional division1 yet in the case of commixtion1 supposes each of the proprietors to maintain a distinct right2 however1 necessity may at last force them to submit to the same division4 ,quod si frumentum ,titii frumento tuo mistum fuerit3 siquidem ex voluntate vestra1 communc est3 quia singula corpora1 id est1 singula grana1 qu a cujusque propria fuerunt1 ex consensu vestro communicata sunt4 ,quod si casu id mistum fuerit1 vel ,titius id miscuerit sine tua voluntate1 non videtur id communc esse2 quia singula corpora in sua substantia durant4 ,sed nec magis istis casibus commune sit frumentum quam grex intelligitur esse communis1 si pecora ,titii tuis pecoribus mista fuerint4 ,sed si ab alterutro vestrum totum id frumentum retineatur1 in rem quidem actio pro modo frumenti cujusque competit4 ,arbitrio autem judicis1 ut ipse stimet quale cujusque frumentum fuerit4 ,inst4 ,lib4 ,,ii4 ,tit ,i4 #bh4 ,where the properties of two persons are united after such a manner as neither to admit of division nor separation1 as when one builds a house on another's ground1 in that case the whole must belong to one of the proprietors2 and here ,i assert1 that it naturally is conceived to belong to the proprietor of the most considerable part4 ,for1 however the compound object may have a relation to two different persons1 and carry our view at once to both of them1 yet1 as the most considerable part principally engages our attention1 and by the strict union draws the inferior along it2 for this reason1 the whole bears a relation to the proprietor of that part1 and is regarded as his property4 ,the only difficulty is1 what we shall be pleased to call the most considerable part1 and most attractive to the imagination4 ,this quality depends on several different circumstances which have little connexion with each other4 ,one part of a compound object may become more considerable than another1 either because it is more constant and durable2 because it is of greater value2 because it is more obvious and remarkable2 because it is of greater extent2 or because its existence is more separate and independent4 ',twill be easy to conceive1 that1 as these circumstances may be conjoined and opposed in all the different ways1 and according to all the different degrees1 which can be imagined1 there will result many cases where the reasons on both sides are so equally balanced1 that 'tis impossible for us to give any satisfactory decision4 ,here1 then1 is the proper business of municipal laws1 to fix what the principles of human nature have left undetermined4 ,the superficies yields to the soil1 says the civil law3 the writing to the paper3 the canvas to the picture4 ,these decisions do not well agree together1 and are a proof of the contrariety of those principles from which they are derived4 ,but of all the questions of this kind1 the most curious is that which for so many ages divided the disciples of ,proculus and ,sabinus4 ,suppose a person should make a cup from the metal of another1 or a ship from his wood1 and suppose the proprietor of the metal or wood should demand his goods1 the question is1 whether he acquires a title to the cup or ship4 ,sabinus maintained the affirmative1 and asserted1 that the substance or matter is the foundation of all the qualities2 that it is incorruptible and immortal1 and therefore superior to the form1 which is casual and dependent4 ,on the other hand1 ,proculus observed1 that the form is the most obvious and remarkable part1 and that from it bodies are denominated of this or that particular species4 ,to which he might have added1 that the matter or substance is in most bodies so fluctuating and uncertain1 that 'tis utterly impossible to trace it in all its changes4 ,for my part1 ,i know not from what principles such a controversy can be certainly determined4 ,i shall therefore content myself with observing1 that the decision of ,trebonian seems to me pretty ingenious2 that the cup belongs to the proprietor of the metal1 because it can be brought back to its first form3 but that the ship belongs to the author of its form1 for a contrary reason4 ,but1 however ingenious this reason may seem1 it plainly depends upon the fancy1 which1 by the possibility of such a reduction1 finds a closer connexion and relation betwixt a cup and the proprietor of its metal1 than betwixt a ship and the proprietor of its wood1 where the substance is more fixed and unalterable4 #f ,in examining the different titles to authority in government1 we shall meet with many reasons to convince us that the right of succession depends1 in a great measure1 on the imagination4 ,meanwhile ,i shall rest contented with observing one example1 which belongs to the present subject4 ,suppose that a person die without children1 and that a dispute arises among his relations concerning his inheritance2 'tis evident1 that if his riches be derived partly from his father1 partly from his mother1 the most natural way of determining such a dispute is1 to divide his possessions1 and assign each part to the family from whence it is derived4 ,now1 as the person is supposed to have been once the full and entire proprietor of those goods1 ,i ask1 what is it makes us find a certain equity and natural reason in this partition1 except it be the imagination8 ,his affection to these families does not depend upon his possessions2 for which reason his consent can never be presumed precisely for such a partition4 ,and as to the public interest1 it seems not to be in the least concerned on the one side or the other4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,transference ,,of ,,property ,,by ,,consent4 ,however useful1 or even necessary1 the stability of possession may be to human society1 'tis attended with very considerable inconveniences4 ,the relation of fitness or suitableness ought never to enter into consideration1 in distributing the properties of mankind2 but we must govern ourselves by rules which are more general in their application1 and more free from doubt and uncertainty4 ,of this kind is present possession upon the first establishment of society2 and afterwards occupation1 prescription1 accession1 and succession4 ,as these depend very much on chance1 they must frequently prove contradictory both to men's wants and desires2 and persons and possessions must often be very ill adjusted4 ,this is a grand inconvenience1 which calls for a remedy4 ,to apply one directly1 and allow every man to seize by violence what he judges to be fit for him1 would destroy society2 and therefore the rules of justice seek some medium betwixt a rigid stability and this changeable and uncertain adjustment4 ,but there is no medium better than that obvious one1 that possession and property should always be stable1 except when the proprietor consents to bestow them on some other person4 ,this rule can have no ill consequence in occasioning wars and dissensions1 since the proprietor's consent1 who alone is concerned1 is taken along in the alienation2 and it may serve to many good purposes in adjusting property to persons4 ,different parts of the earth produce different commodities2 and not only so1 but different men both are by nature fitted for different employments1 and attain to greater perfection in any one1 when they confine themselves to it alone4 ,all this requires a mutual exchange and commerce2 for which reason the translation of property by consent is founded on a law of nature1 as well as its stability without such a consent4 ,so far is determined by a plain utility and interest4 ,but perhaps 'tis from more trivial reasons1 that delivery1 or a sensible transference of the object1 is commonly required by civil laws1 and also by the laws of nature1 according to most authors1 as a requisite circumstance in the translation of property4 ,the property of an object1 when taken for something real1 without any reference to morality1 or the sentiments of the mind1 is a quality perfectly insensible1 and even inconceivable2 nor can we form any distinct notion1 either of its stability or translation4 ,this imperfection of our ideas is less sensibly felt with regard to its stability1 as it engages less our attention1 and is easily past over by the mind1 without any scrupulous examination4 ,but as the translation of property from one person to another is a more remarkable event1 the defect of our ideas becomes more sensible on that occasion1 and obliges us to turn ourselves on every side in search of some remedy4 ,now1 as nothing more enlivens any idea than a present impression1 and a relation betwixt that impression and the idea2 'tis natural for us to seek some false light from this quarter4 ,in order to aid the imagination in conceiving the transference of property1 we take the sensible object1 and actually transfer its possession to the person on whom we would bestow the property4 ,the supposed resemblance of the actions1 and the presence of this sensible delivery1 deceive the mind1 and make it fancy that it conceives the mysterious transition of the property4 ,and that this explication of the matter is just1 appears hence1 that men have invented a symbolical delivery1 to satisfy the fancy where the real one is impracticable4 ,thus the giving the keys of a granary1 is understood to be the delivery of the corn contained in it3 the giving of stone and earth represents the delivery of a manor4 ,this is a kind of superstitious practice in civil laws1 and in the laws of nature1 resembling the ,roman ,catholic superstitions in religion4 ,as the ,roman ,catholics represent the inconceivable mysteries of the ,christian religion1 and render them more present to the mind1 by a taper1 or habit1 or grimace1 which is supposed to resemble them2 so lawyers and moralists have run into like inventions for the same reason1 and have endeavoured by those means to satisfy themselves concerning the transference of property by consent4 ,,section ,v4 ,,of ,,the ,,obligation ,,of ,,promises4 ,that the rule of morality1 which enjoins the performance of promises1 is not natural1 will sufficiently appear from these two propositions1 which ,i proceed to prove1 viz4 that a promise would not be intelligible before human conventions had established it2 and that even if it were intelligible1 it would not be attended with any moral obligation4 ,i say1 first1 that a promise is not intelligible naturally1 nor antecedent to human conventions2 and that a man1 unacquainted with society1 could never enter into any engagements with another1 even though they could perceive each other's thoughts by intuition4 ,if promises be natural and intelligible1 there must be some act of the mind attending these words1 ,i promise2 and on this act of the mind must the obligation depend4 ,let us therefore run over all the faculties of the soul1 and see which of them is exerted in our promises4 ,the act of the mind1 expressed by a promise1 is not a resolution to perform any thing2 for that alone never imposes any obligation4 ,nor is it a desire of such a performance2 for we may bind ourselves without such a desire1 or even with an aversion1 declared and avowed4 ,neither is it the willing of that action which we promise to perform2 for a promise always regards some future time1 and the will has an influence only on present actions4 ,it follows1 therefore1 that since the act of the mind1 which enters into a promise1 and produces its obligation1 is neither the resolving1 desiring1 nor willing any particular performance1 it must necessarily be the willing of that obligation which arises from the promise4 ,nor is this only a conclusion of philosophy1 but is entirely conformable to our common ways of thinking and of expressing ourselves1 when we say that we are bound by our own consent1 and that the obligation arises from our mere will and pleasure4 ,the only question then is1 whether there be not a manifest absurdity in supposing this act of the mind1 and such an absurdity as no man could fall into1 whose ideas are not confounded with prejudice and the fallacious use of language4 ,all morality depends upon our sentiments2 and when any action or quality of the mind pleases us after a certain manner1 we say it is virtuous2 and when the neglect or non-performance of it displeases us after a like manner1 we say that we lie under an obligation to perform it4 ,a change of the obligation supposes a change of the sentiment2 and a creation of a new obligation supposes some new sentiment to arise4 ,but 'tis certain we can naturally no more change our own sentiments than the motions of the heavens2 nor by a single act of our will1 that is1 by a promise1 render any action agreeable or disagreeable1 moral or immoral1 which1 without that act1 would have produced contrary impressions1 or have been endowed with different qualities4 ,it would be absurd1 therefore1 to will any new obligation1 that is1 any new sentiment of pain or pleasure2 nor is it possible that men could naturally fall into so gross an absurdity4 ,a promise1 therefore1 is naturally something altogether unintelligible1 nor is there any act of the mind belonging to it4#g ,but1 secondly1 if there was any act of the mind belonging to it1 it could not naturally produce any obligation4 ,this appears evidently from the foregoing reasoning4 ,a promise creates a new obligation4 ,a new obligation supposes new sentiments to arise4 ,the will never creates new sentiments4 ,there could not naturally1 therefore1 arise any obligation from a promise1 even supposing the mind could fall into the absurdity of willing that obligation4 ,the same truth may be proved still more evidently by that reasoning which proved justice in general to be an artificial virtue4 ,no action can be required of us as our duty1 unless there be implanted in human nature some actuating passion or motive capable of producing the action4 ,this motive cannot be the sense of duty4 ,a sense of duty supposes an antecedent obligation2 and where an action is not required by any natural passion1 it cannot be required by any natural obligation2 since it may be omitted without proving any defect or imperfection in the mind and temper1 and consequently without any vice4 ,now1 'tis evident we have no motive leading us to the performance of promises1 distinct from a sense of duty4 ,if we thought that promises had no moral obligation1 we never should feel any inclination to observe them4 ,this is not the case with the natural virtues4 ,though there was no obligation to relieve the miserable1 our humanity would lead us to it2 and when we omit that duty1 the immorality of the omission arises from its being a proof that we want the natural sentiments of humanity4 ,a father knows it to be his duty to take care of his children1 but he has also a natural inclination to it4 ,and if no human creature had that inclination1 no one could lie under any such obligation4 ,but as there is naturally no inclination to observe promises distinct from a sense of their obligation1 it follows1 that fidelity is no natural virtue1 and that promises have no force antecedent to human conventions4 ,if any one dissent from this1 he must give a regular proof of these two propositions1 viz4 that there is a peculiar act of the mind annexed to promises2 and that consequent to this act of the mind1 there arises an inclination to perform1 distinct from a sense of duty4 ,i presume that it is impossible to prove either of these two points2 and therefore ,i venture to conclude1 that promises are human inventions1 founded on the necessities and interests of society4 ,in order to discover these necessities and interests1 we must consider the same qualities of human nature which we have already found to give rise to the preceding laws of society4 ,men being naturally selfish1 or endowed only with a confined generosity1 they are not easily induced to perform any action for the interest of strangers1 except with a view to some reciprocal advantage1 which they had no hope of obtaining but by such a performance4 ,now1 as it frequently happens that these mutual performances cannot be finished at the same instant1 'tis necessary that one party be contented to remain in uncertainty1 and depend upon the gratitude of the other for a return of kindness4 ,but so much corruption is there among men1 that1 generally speaking1 this becomes but a slender security2 and as the benefactor is here supposed to bestow his favours with a view to self-interest1 this both takes off from the obligation1 and sets an example of selfishness1 which is the true mother of ingratitude4 ,were we1 therefore1 to follow the natural course of our passions and inclinations1 we should perform but few actions for the advantage of others from disinterested views1 because we are naturally very limited in our kindness and affection2 and we should perform as few of that kind out of regard to interest1 because we cannot depend upon their gratitude4 ,here1 then1 is the mutual commerce of good offices in a manner lost among mankind1 and every one reduced to his own skill and industry for his well-being and subsistence4 ,the invention of the law of nature1 concerning the stability of possession1 has already rendered men tolerable to each other2 that of the transference of property and possession by consent has begun to render them mutually advantageous2 but still these laws of nature1 however strictly observed1 are not sufficient to render them so serviceable to each other as by nature they are fitted to become4 ,though possession be stable1 men may often reap but small advantage from it1 while they are possessed of a greater quantity of any species of goods than they have occasion for1 and at the same time suffer by the want of others4 ,the transference of property1 which is the proper remedy for this inconvenience1 cannot remedy it entirely2 because it can only take place with regard to such objects as are present and individual1 but not to such as are absent or general4 ,one cannot transfer the property of a particular house1 twenty leagues distant1 because the consent cannot be attended with delivery1 which is a requisite circumstance4 ,neither can one transfer the property of ten bushels of corn1 or five hogsheads of wine1 by the mere expression and consent1 because these are only general terms1 and have no direct relation to any particular heap of corn or barrels of wine4 ,besides1 the commerce of mankind is not confined to the barter of commodities1 but may extend to services and actions1 which we may exchange to our mutual interest and advantage4 ,your corn is ripe to-day2 mine will be so to-morrow4 ',tis profitable for us both that ,i should labour with you to-day1 and that you should aid me to-morrow4 ,i have no kindness for you1 and know you have as little for me4 ,i will not1 therefore1 take any pains upon your account2 and should ,i labour with you upon my own account1 in expectation of a return1 ,i know ,i should be disappointed1 and that ,i should in vain depend upon your gratitude4 ,here1 then1 ,i leave you to labour alone3 you treat me in the same manner4 ,the seasons change2 and both of us lose our harvests for want of mutual confidence and security4 ,all this is the effect of the natural and inherent principles and passions of human nature2 and as these passions and principles are unalterable1 it may be thought that our conduct1 which depends on them1 must be so too1 and that 'twould be in vain1 either for moralists or politicians1 to tamper with us1 or attempt to change the usual course of our actions1 with a view to public interest4 ,and1 indeed1 did the success of their designs depend upon their success in correcting the selfishness and ingratitude of men1 they would never make any progress1 unless aided by ,omnipotence1 which is alone able to new-mould the human mind1 and change its character in such fundamental articles4 ,all they can pretend to is1 to give a new direction to those natural passions1 and teach us that we can better satisfy our appetites in an oblique and artificial manner1 than by their headlong and impetuous motion4 ,hence ,i learn to do a service to another1 without bearing him any real kindness2 because ,i foresee that he will return my service1 in expectation of another of the same kind1 and in order to maintain the same correspondence of good offices with me or with others4 ,and accordingly1 after ,i have served him1 and he is in possession of the advantage arising1 from my action1 he is induced to perform his part1 as foreseeing the consequences of his refusal4 ,but though this self-interested commerce of men begins to take place1 and to predominate in society1 it does not entirely abolish the more generous and noble intercourse of friendship and good offices4 ,i may still do services to such persons as ,i love1 and am more particularly acquainted with1 without any prospect of advantage2 and they may make me a return in the same manner1 without any view but that of recompensing my past services4 ,in order1 therefore1 to distinguish those two different sorts of commerce1 the interested and the disinterested1 there is a certain form of words invented for the former1 by which we bind ourselves to the performance of any action4 ,this form of words constitutes what we call a promise1 which is the sanction of the interested commerce of mankind4 ,when a man says he promises any thing1 he in effect expresses a resolution of performing it2 and along with that1 by making use of this form of words11 subjects himself to the penalty of never being trusted again in case of failure4 ,a resolution is the natural act of the mind1 which promises express2 but were there no more than a resolution in the case1 promises would only declare our former motives1 and would not create any new motive or obligation4 ,they are the conventions of men1 which create a new motive1 when experience has taught us that human affairs would be conducted much more for mutual advantage1 were there certain symbols or signs instituted1 by which we might give each other security of our conduct in any particular incident4 ,after these signs are instituted1 whoever uses them is immediately bound by his interest to execute his engagements1 and must never expect to be trusted any more1 if he refuse to perform what he promised4 ,nor is that knowledge1 which is requisite to make mankind sensible of this interest in the institution and observance of promises1 to be esteemed superior to the capacity of human nature1 however savage and uncultivated4 ,there needs but a very little practice of the world1 to make us perceive all these consequences and advantages4 ,the shortest experience of society discovers them to every mortal2 and when each individual perceives the same sense of interest in all his fellows1 he immediately performs his part of any contract1 as being assured that they will not be wanting in theirs4 ,all of them1 by concert1 enter into a scheme of actions1 calculated for common benefit1 and agree to be true to their word2 nor is there any thing requisite to form this concert or convention1 but that every one have a sense of interest in the faithful fulfilling of engagements1 and express that sense to other members of the society4 ,this immediately causes that interest to operate upon them2 and interest is the first obligation to the performance of promises4 ,afterwards a sentiment of morals concurs with interest1 and becomes a new obligation upon mankind4 ,this sentiment of morality1 in the performance of promises1 arises from the same principles as that in the abstinence from the property of others4 ,public interest1 education1 and the artifices of politicians1 have the same effect in both cases4 ,the difficulties that occur to us in supposing a moral obligation to attend promises1 we either surmount or elude4 ,for instance1 the expression of a resolution is not commonly supposed to be obligatory2 and we cannot readily conceive how the making use of a certain form of words should be able to cause any material difference4 ,here1 therefore1 we feign a new act of the mind1 which we call the willing an obligation2 and on this we suppose the morality to depend4 ,but we have proved already1 that there is no such act of the mind1 and consequently1 that promises impose no natural obligation4 ,to confirm this1 we may subjoin some other reflections concerning that will1 which is supposed to enter into a promise1 and to cause its obligation4 ',tis evident1 that the will alone is never supposed to cause the obligation1 but must be expressed by words or signs1 in order to impose a tie upon any man4 ,the expression being once brought in as subservient to the will1 soon becomes the principal part of the promise2 nor will a man be less bound by his word1 though he secretly give a different direction to his intention1 and withhold himself both from a resolution1 and from willing an obligation4 ,but though the expression makes on most occasions the whole of the promise1 yet it does not always so2 and one who should make use of any expression of which he knows not the meaning1 and which he uses without any intention of binding himself1 would not certainly be bound by it4 ,nay1 though he knows its meaning1 yet if he uses it in jest only1 and with such signs as show evidently he has no serious intention of binding himself1 he would not lie under any obligation of performance2 but 'tis necessary that the words be a perfect expression of the will1 without any contrary signs4 ,nay1 even this we must not carry so far as to imagine1 that one1 whom1 by our quickness of understanding1 we conjecture1 from certain signs1 to have an intention of deceiving us1 is not bound by his expression or verbal promise1 if we accept of it2 but must limit this conclusion to those cases where the signs are of a different kind from those of deceit4 ,all these contradictions are easily accounted for1 if the obligation of promises be merely a human invention for the convenience of society2 but will never be explained1 if it be something real and natural1 arising from any action of the mind or body4 ,i shall farther observe1 that1 since every new promise imposes a new obligation of morality on the person who promises1 and since this new obligation arises from his will2 'tis one of the most mysterious and incomprehensible operations that can possibly be imagined1 and may even be compared to transubstantiation1 or holy orders1#h where a certain form of words1 along with a certain intention1 changes entirely the nature of an external object1 and even of a human creature4 ,but though these mysteries be so far alike1 'tis very remarkable that they differ widely in other particulars1 and that this difference may be regarded as a strong proof of the difference of their origins4 ,as the obligation of promises is an invention for the interest of society1 'tis warped into as many different forms as that interest requires1 and even runs into direct contradictions1 rather than lose sight of its object4 ,but as those other monstrous doctrines are mere priestly inventions1 and have no public interest in view1 they are less disturbed in their progress by new obstacles2 and it must be owned1 that1 after the first absurdity1 they follow more directly the current of reason and good sense4 ,theologians clearly perceived1 that the external form of words1 being mere sound1 require an intention to make them have any efficacy2 and that this intention being once considered as a requisite circumstance1 its absence must equally prevent the effect1 whether avowed or concealed1 whether sincere or deceitful4 ,accordingly1 they have commonly determined1 that the intention of the priest makes the sacrament1 and that when he secretly withdraws his intention1 he is highly criminal in himself2 but still destroys the baptism1 or communion1 or holy orders4 ,the terrible consequences of this doctrine were not able to hinder its taking place2 as the inconvenience of a similar doctrine1 with regard to promises1 have prevented that doctrine from establishing itself4 ,men are always more concerned about the present life than the future2 and are apt to think the smallest evil which regards the former1 more important than the greatest which regards the latter4 ,we may draw the same conclusion1 concerning the origin of promises1 from the force which is supposed to invalidate all contracts1 and to free us from their obligation4 ,such a principle is a proof that promises have no natural obligation1 and are mere artificial contrivances for the convenience and advantage of society4 ,if we consider aright of the matter1 force is not essentially different from any other motive of hope or fear1 which may induce us to engage our word1 and lay ourselves under any obligation4 ,a man1 dangerously wounded1 who promises a competent sum to a surgeon to cure him1 would certainly be bound to performance2 though the case be not so much different from that of one who promises a sum to a robber1 as to produce so great a difference in our sentiments of morality1 if these sentiments were not built entirely on public interest and convenience4 #g ,were morality discoverable by reason1 and not by sentiment1 'twould be still more evident that promises could make no alteration upon it4 ,morality is supposed to consist in relation4 ,every new imposition of morality1 therefore1 must arise from some new relation of objects2 and consequently the will could not produce immediately any change in morals1 but could have that effect only by producing a change upon the objects4 ,but as the moral obligation of a promise is the pure effect of the will1 without the least change in any part of the universe1 it follows1 that promises have no natural obligation4 ,should it be said1 that this act of the will1 being in effect a new object1 produces new relations and new duties2 ,i would answer1 that this is a pure sophism1 which may be detected by a very moderate share of accuracy and exactness4 ,to will a new obligation1 is to will a new relation of objects2 and therefore1 if this new relation of objects were formed by the volition itself1 we should1 in effect1 will the volition1 which is plainly absurd and impossible4 ,the will has here no object to which it could tend1 but must return upon itself in infinitum4 ,the new obligation depends upon new relations4 ,the new relations depend upon a new volition4 ,the new volition has for object a new obligation1 and consequently new relations1 and consequently a new volition2 which volition1 again1 has in view a new obligation1 relation and volition1 without any termination4 ',tis impossible1 therefore1 we could ever will a new obligation2 and consequently 'tis impossible the will could ever accompany a promise1 or produce a new obligation of morality4 #h ,i mean so far as holy orders are supposed to produce the indelible ,character4 ,in other respects they are only a legal qualification4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,some ,,farther ,,reflections ,,concerning ,,justice ,,and ,,injustice4 ,we have now run over the three fundamental laws of nature1 that of the stability of possession1 of its transference by consent1 and of the performance of promises4 ',tis on the strict observance of those three laws that the peace and security of human society entirely depend2 nor is there any possibility of establishing a good correspondence among men1 where these are neglected4 ,society is absolutely necessary for the well-being of men2 and these are as necessary to the supports of society4 ,whatever restraint they may impose on the passions of men1 they are the real offspring of those passions1 and are only a more artful and more refined way of satisfying them4 ,nothing is more vigilant and inventive than our passions2 and nothing is more obvious than the convention for the observance of these rules4 ,nature has1 therefore1 trusted this affair entirely to the conduct of men1 and has not placed in the mind any peculiar original principles1 to determine us to a set of actions1 into which the other principles of our frame and constitution were sufficient to lead us4 ,and to convince us the more fully of this truth1 we may here stop a moment1 and1 from a review of the preceding reasonings1 may draw some new arguments1 to prove that those laws1 however necessary1 are entirely artificial1 and of human invention2 and consequently1 that justice is an artificial1 and not a natural virtue4 ,i4 ,the first argument ,i shall make use of is derived from the vulgar definition of justice4 ,justice is commonly defined to be a constant and perpetual will of giving every one his due4 ,in this definition 'tis supposed that there are such things as right and property1 independent of justice1 and antecedent to it2 and that they would have subsisted1 though men had never dreamt of practising such a virtue4 ,i have already observed1 in a cursory manner1 the fallacy of this opinion1 and shall here continue to open up1 a little more distinctly1 my sentiments on that subject4 ,i shall begin with observing1 that this quality1 which we call property1 is like many of the imaginary qualities of the ,peripatetic philosophy1 and vanishes upon a more accurate inspection into the subject1 when considered apart from our moral sentiments1 ',tis evident property does not consist in any of the sensible qualities of the object4 ,for these may continue invariably the same1 while the property changes4 ,property1 therefore1 must consist in some relation of the object4 ,but 'tis not in its relation with regard to other external and inanimate objects4 ,for these may also continue invariably the same1 while the property changes4 ,this quality1 therefore1 consists in the relations of objects to intelligent and rational beings4 ,but 'tis not the external and corporeal relation which forms the essence of property4 ,for that relation may be the same betwixt inanimate objects1 or with regard to brute creatures2 though in those cases it forms no property4 ',tis therefore in some internal relation that the property consists2 that is1 in some influence which the external relations of the object have on the mind and actions4 ,thus1 the external relation which we call occupation or first possession1 is not of itself imagined to be the property of the object1 but only to cause its property4 ,now1 'tis evident this external relation causes nothing in external objects1 and has only an influence on the mind1 by giving us a sense of duty in abstaining from that object1 and in restoring it to the first possessor4 ,these actions are properly what we call justice2 and consequently 'tis on that virtue that the nature of property depends1 and not the virtue on the property4 ,if any one1 therefore1 would assert that justice is a natural virtue1 and injustice a natural vice1 he must assert1 that abstracting from the notions of property and right and obligation1 a certain conduct and train of actions1 in certain external relations of objects1 has naturally a moral beauty or deformity1 and causes an original pleasure or uneasiness4 ,thus1 the restoring a man's goods to him is considered as virtuous1 not because nature has annexed a certain sentiment of pleasure to such a conduct with regard to the property of others1 but because she has annexed that sentiment to such a conduct1 with regard to those external objects of which others have had the first or long possession1 or which they have received by the consent of those who have had first or long possession4 ,if nature has given us no such sentiment1 there is not naturally1 nor antecedent to human conventions1 any such thing as property4 ,now1 though it seems sufficiently evident1 in this dry and accurate consideration of the present subject1 that nature has annexed no pleasure or sentiment of approbation to such a conduct1 yet1 that ,i may leave as little room for doubt as possible1 ,i shall subjoin a few more arguments to confirm my opinion4 ,first1 ,if nature had given us a pleasure of this kind1 it would have been as evident and discernible as on every other occasion2 nor should we have found any difficulty to perceive1 that the consideration of such actions1 in such a situation1 gives a certain pleasure and sentiment of approbation4 ,we should not have been obliged to have recourse to notions of property in the definition of justice1 and at the same time make use of the notions of justice in the definition of pro-property4 ,this deceitful method of reasoning is a plain proof that there are contained in the subject some obscurities and difficulties which we are not able to surmount1 and which we desire to evade by this artifice4 ,secondly1 ,those rules by which properties1 rights and obligations are determined1 have in them no marks of a natural origin1 but many of artifice and contrivance4 ,they are too numerous to have proceeded from nature2 they are changeable by human laws2 and have all of them a direct and evident tendency to public good1 and the support of civil society4 ,this last circumstance is remarkable upon two accounts4 ,first1 ,because1 though the cause of the establishment of these laws had been a regard for the public good1 as much as the public good is their natural tendency1 they would still have been artificial1 as being purposely contrived1 and directed to a certain end4 ,secondly1 ,because1 if men had been endowed with such a strong regard for public good1 they would never have restrained themselves by these rules2 so that the laws of justice arise from natural principles1 in a manner still more oblique and artificial4 ',tis self-love which is their real origin2 and as the self-love of one person is naturally contrary to that of another1 these several interested passions are obliged to adjust themselves after such a manner as to concur in some system of conduct and behaviour4 ,this system1 therefore1 comprehending the interest of each individual1 is of course advantageous to the public1 though it be not intended for that purpose by the inventors4 ,,ii4 ,in the second place1 we may observe1 that all kinds of vice and virtue run insensibly into each other1 and may approach by such imperceptible degrees as will make it very difficult1 if not absolutely impossible1 to determine when the one ends and the other begins2 and from this observation we may derive a new argument for the foregoing principle4 ,for1 whatever may be the case with regard to all kinds of vice and virtue1 'tis certain that rights1 and obligations1 and property1 admit of no such insensible gradation1 but that a man either has a full and perfect property1 or none at all2 and is either entirely obliged to perform any action1 or lies under no manner of obligation4 ,however civil laws may talk of a perfect dominion1 and of an imperfect1 'tis easy to observe1 that this arises from a fiction1 which has no foundation in reason1 and can never enter into our notions of natural justice and equity4 ,a man that hires a horse1 though but for a day1 has as full a right to make use of it for that time1 as he whom we call its proprietor has to make use of it any other day2 and 'tis evident that1 however the use may be bounded in time or degree1 the right itself is not susceptible of any such gradation1 but is absolute and entire1 so far as it extends4 ,accordingly1 we may observe1 that this right both arises and perishes in an instant2 and that a man entirely acquires the property of any object by occupation1 or the consent of the proprietor2 and loses it by his own consent1 without any of that insensible gradation which is remarkable in other qualities and relations4 ,since1 therefore1 this is the case with regard to property1 and rights1 and obligations1 ,i ask1 how it stands with regard to justice and injustice8 ,after whatever manner you answer this question1 you run into inextricable difficulties4 ,if you reply1 that justice and injustice admit of degree1 and run insensibly into each other1 you expressly contradict the foregoing position1 that obligation and property are not susceptible of such a gradation4 ,these depend entirely upon justice and injustice1 and follow them in all their variations4 ,where the justice is entire1 the property is also entire3 where the justice is imperfect1 the property must also be imperfect4 ,and vice versa1 if the property admit of no such variations1 they must also be incompatible with justice4 ,if you assent1 therefore1 to this last proposition1 and assert that justice and injustice are not susceptible of degrees1 you in effect assert that they are not naturally either vicious or virtuous2 since vice and virtue1 moral good and evil1 and indeed all natural qualities1 run insensibly into each other1 and are on many occasions undistinguishable4 ,and here it may be worth while to observe1 that though abstract reasoning and the general maxims of philosophy and law establish this position1 that property1 and right1 and obligation1 admit not of degrees1 yet1 in our common and negligent way of thinking1 we find great difficulty to entertain that opinion1 and do even secretly embrace the contrary principle4 ,an object must either be in the possession of one person or another4 ,an action must either be performed or not4 ,the necessity there is of choosing one side in these dilemmas1 and the impossibility there often is of finding any just medium1 oblige us1 when we reflect on the matter1 to acknowledge that all property and obligations are entire4 ,but1 on the other hand1 when we consider the origin of property and obligation1 and find that they depend on public utility1 and sometimes on the propensity of the imagination1 which are seldom entire on any side1 we are naturally inclined to imagine that these moral relations admit of an insensible gradation4 ,hence it is that in references1 where the consent of the parties leave the referees entire masters of the subject1 they commonly discover so much equity and justice on both sides as induces them to strike a medium1 and divide the difference betwixt the parties4 ,civil judges1 who have not this liberty1 but are obliged to give a decisive sentence on some one side1 are often at a loss how to determine1 and are necessitated to proceed on the most frivolous reasons in the world4 ,half rights and obligations1 which seem so natural in common life1 are perfect absurdities in their tribunal2 for which reason they are often obliged to take half arguments for whole ones1 in order to terminate the affair one way or other4 ,,iii4 ,the third argument of this kind ,i shall make use of may be explained thus4 ,if we consider the ordinary course of human actions1 we shall find that the mind restrains not itself by any general and universal rules1 but acts on most occasions as it is determined by its present motives and inclination4 ,as each action is a particular individual event1 it must proceed from particular principles1 and from our immediate situation within ourselves1 and with respect to the rest of the universe4 ,if on some occasions we extend our motives beyond those very circumstances which gave rise to them1 and form something like general rides for our conduct1 'tis easy to observe that these rules are not perfectly inflexible1 but allow of many exceptions4 ,since1 therefore1 this is the ordinary course of human actions1 we may conclude that the laws of justice1 being universal and perfectly inflexible1 can never be derived from nature1 nor be the immediate offspring of any natural motive or inclination4 ,no action can be either morally good or evil1 unless there be some natural passion or motive to impel us to it1 or deter us from it2 and tis evident that the morality must be susceptible of all the same variations which are natural to the passion4 ,here are two persons who dispute for an estate2 of whom one is rich1 a fool1 and a bachelor2 the other poor1 a man of sense1 and has a numerous family3 the first is my enemy2 the second my friend4 ,whether ,i be actuated in this affair by a view to public or private interest1 by friendship or enmity1 ,i must be induced to do my utmost to procure the estate to the latter4 ,nor would any consideration of the right and property of the persons be able to restrain me1 were ,i actuated only by natural motives1 without any combination or convention with others4 ,for as all property depends on morality1 and as all morality depends on the ordinary course of our passions and actions1 and as these again are only directed by particular motives1 'tis evident such a partial conduct must be suitable to the strictest morality1 and could never be a violation of property4 ,were men1 therefore1 to take the liberty of acting with regard to the laws of society1 as they do in every other affair1 they would conduct themselves1 on most occasions1 by particular judgments1 and would take into consideration the characters and circumstances of the persons1 as well as the general nature of the question4 ,but 'tis easy to observe1 that this would produce an infinite confusion in human society1 and that the avidity and partiality of men would quickly bring disorder into the world1 if not restrained by some general and inflexible principles4 ',twas therefore with a view to this inconvenience1 that men have established those principles1 and have agreed to restrain themselves by general rules1 which are unchangeable by spite and favour1 and by particular views of private or public interest4 ,these rules1 then1 are artificially invented for a certain purpose1 and are contrary to the common principles of human nature1 which accommodate themselves to circumstances1 and have no stated invariable method of operation4 ,nor do ,i perceive how ,i can easily be mistaken in this matter4 ,i see evidently1 that when any man imposes on himself general inflexible rules in his conduct with others1 he considers certain objects as their property1 which he supposes to be sacred and inviolable4 ,but no proposition can be more evident1 than that property is perfectly unintelligible without first supposing justice and injustice2 and that these virtues and vices are as unintelligible1 unless we have motives1 independent of the morality1 to impel us to just actions1 and deter us from unjust ones4 ,let those motives1 therefore1 be what they will1 they must accommodate themselves to circumstances1 and must admit of all the variations which human affairs1 in their incessant revolutions1 are susceptible of4 ,they are1 consequently1 a very improper foundation for such rigid inflexible rules as the laws of nature2 and 'tis evident these laws can only be derived from human conventions1 when men have perceived the disorders that result from following their natural and variable principles4 ,upon the whole1 then1 we are to consider this distinction betwixt justice and injustice1 as having two different foundations1 viz4 that of interest1 when men observe1 that 'tis impossible to live in society without restraining themselves by certain rules2 and that of morality1 when this interest is once observed1 and men receive a pleasure from the view of such actions as tend to the peace of society1 and an uneasiness from such as are contrary to it4 ',tis the voluntary convention and artifice of men which makes the first interest take place2 and therefore those laws of justice are so far to be considered as artificial4 ,after that interest is once established and acknowledged1 the sense of morality in the observance of these rules follows naturally1 and of itself2 though tis certain1 that it is also augmented by a new artifice1 and that the public instructions of politicians1 and the private education of parents1 contribute to the giving us a sense of honour and duty1 in the strict regulation of our actions with regard to the properties of others4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,,of ,,the ,,origin ,,of ,,government4 ,nothing is more certain1 than that men are in a great measure governed by interest1 and that1 even when they extend their concern beyond themselves1 'tis not to any great distance2 nor is it usual for them1 in common life1 to look farther than their nearest friends and acquaintance4 ',tis no less certain1 that 'tis impossible for men to consult their interest in so effectual a manner1 as by an universal and inflexible observance of the rules of justice1 by which alone they can preserve society1 and keep themselves from falling into that wretched and savage condition which is commonly represented as the state of nature4 ,and as this interest which all men have in the upholding of society1 and the observation of the rules of justice1 is great1 so is it palpable and evident1 even to the most rude and uncultivated of the human race2 and 'tis almost impossible for any one who has had experience of society1 to be mistaken in this particular4 ,since1 therefore1 men are so sincerely attached to their interest1 and their interest is so much concerned in the observance of justice1 and this interest is so certain and avowed1 it may be asked1 how any disorder can ever arise in society1 and what principle there is in human nature so powerful as to overcome so strong a passion1 or so violent as to obscure so clear a knowledge8 ,it has been observed1 in treating of the ,passions1 that men are mightily governed by the imagination1 and proportion their affections more to the light under which any object appears to them1 than to its real and intrinsic value4 ,what strikes upon them with a strong and lively idea commonly prevails above what lies in a more obscure light2 and it must be a great superiority of value that is able to compensate this advantage4 ,now1 as every thing that is contiguous to us1 either in space or time1 strikes upon us with such an idea1 it has a proportional effect on the will and passions1 and commonly operates with more force than any object that lies in a more distant and obscure light4 ,though we may be fully convinced1 that the latter object excels the former1 we are not able to regulate our actions by this judgment1 but yield to the solicitations of our passions1 which always plead in favour of whatever is near and contiguous4 ,this is the reason why men so often act in contradiction to their known interest2 and1 in particular1 why they prefer any trivial advantage that is present1 to the maintenance of order in society1 which so much depends on the observance of justice4 ,the consequences of every breach of equity seem to lie very remote1 and and are not liable to counterbalance any immediate advantage that may be reaped from it4 ,they are1 however1 never the less real for being remote2 and as all men are1 in some degree1 subject to the same weakness1 it necessarily happens1 that the violations of equity must become very frequent in society1 and the commerce of men1 by that means1 be rendered very dangerous and uncertain4 ,you have the same propension that ,i have in favour of what is contiguous above what is remote4 ,you are1 therefore1 naturally carried to commit acts of injustice as well as me4 ,your example both pushes me forward in this way by imitation1 and also affords me a new reason for any breach of equity1 by showing me1 that ,i should be the cully of my integrity1 if ,i alone should impose on myself a severe restraint amidst the licentiousness of others4 ,this quality1 therefore1 of human nature1 not only is very dangerous to society1 but also seems1 on a cursory view1 to be incapable of any remedy4 ,the remedy can only come from the consent of men2 and if men be incapable of themselves to prefer remote to contiguous1 they will never consent to any thing which would oblige them to such a choice1 and contradict1 in so sensible a manner1 their natural principles and propensities4 ,whoever chooses the means1 chooses also the end2 and if it be impossible for us to prefer what is remote1 'tis equally impossible for us to submit to any necessity which would oblige us to such a method of acting4 ,but here 'tis observable1 that this infirmity of human nature becomes a remedy to itself1 and that we provide against our negligence about remote objects1 merely because we are naturally inclined to that negligence4 ,when we consider any objects at a distance1 all their minute distinctions vanish1 and we always give the preference to whatever is in itself preferable1 without considering its situation and circumstances4 ,this gives rise to what1 in an improper sense1 we call reason1 which is a principle that is often contradictory to those propensities that display themselves upon the approach of the object4 ,in reflecting on any action which ,i am to perform a twelvemonth hence1 ,i always resolve to prefer the greater good1 whether at that time it will be more contiguous or remote2 nor does any difference in that particular make a difference in my present intentions and resolutions4 ,my distance from the final determination makes all those minute differences vanish1 nor am ,i affected by any thing but the general and more discernible qualities of good and evil4 ,but on my nearer approach1 those circumstances which ,i at first overlooked begin to appear1 and have an influence on my conduct and affections4 ,a new inclination to the present good springs up1 and makes it difficult for me to adhere inflexibly to my first purpose and resolution4 ,this natural infirmity ,i may very much regret1 and ,i may endeavour1 by all possible means1 to free myself from it4 ,i may have recourse to study and reflection within myself2 to the advice of friends2 to frequent meditation1 and repeated resolution3 ,and having experienced how ineffectual all these are1 ,i may embrace with pleasure any other expedient by which ,i may impose a restraint upon myself1 and guard against this weakness4 ,the only1 difficulty1 therefore1 is to find out this expedient1 by which men cure their natural weakness1 and lay themselves under the necessity of observing the laws of justice and equity1 notwithstanding their violent propension to prefer contiguous to remote4 ',tis evident such a remedy can never be effectual without correcting this propensity2 and as 'tis impossible to change or correct any thing material in our nature1 the utmost we can do is to change our circumstances and situation1 and render the observance of the laws of justice our nearest interest1 and their violation our most remote4 ,but this being impracticable with respect to all mankind1 it can only take place with respect to a few1 whom we thus immediately interest in the execution of justice4 ,these are the persons whom we call civil magistrates1 kings and their ministers1 our governors and rulers1 who1 being indifferent persons to the greatest part of the state1 have no interest1 or but a remote one1 in any act of injustice2 and1 being satisfied with their present condition1 and with their part in society1 have an immediate interest in every execution of justice1 which is so necessary to the upholding of society4 ,here1 then1 is the origin of civil government and society4 ,men are not able radically to cure1 either in themselves or others1 that narrowness of soul which makes them prefer the present to the remote4 ,they cannot change their natures4 ,all they can do is to change their situation1 and render the observance of justice the immediate interest of some particular persons1 and its violation their more remote4 ,these persons1 then1 are not only induced to observe those rules in their own conduct1 but also to constrain others to a like regularity1 and enforce the dictates of equity through the whole society4 ,and if it be necessary1 they may also interest others more immediately in the execution of justice1 and create a number of officers1 civil and military1 to assist them in their government4 ,but this execution of justice1 though the principal1 is not the only advantage of government4 ,as violent passion hinders men from seeing distinctly the interest they have in an equitable behaviour towards others1 so it hinders them from seeing that equity itself1 and gives them a remarkable partiality in their own favours4 ,this inconvenience is corrected in the same manner as that above mentioned4 ,the same persons who execute the laws of justice1 will also decide all controversies concerning them2 and1 being indifferent to the greatest part of the society1 will decide them more equitably than every one would in his own case4 ,by means of these two advantages in the execution and decision of justice1 men acquire a security against each other's weakness and passion1 as well as against their own1 and1 under the shelter of their governors1 begin to taste at ease the sweets of society and mutual assistance4 ,but government extends farther its beneficial influence2 and1 not contented to protect men in those conventions they make for their mutual interest1 it often obliges them to make such conventions1 and forces them to seek their own advantage1 by a concurrence in some common end or purpose4 ,there is no quality in human nature which causes more fatal errors in our conduct1 than that which leads us to prefer whatever is present to the distant and remote1 and makes us desire objects more according to their situation than their intrinsic value4 ,two neighbours may agree to drain a meadow1 which they possess in common3 because 'tis easy for them to know each other's mind2 and each must perceive1 that the immediate consequence of his failing in his part1 is the abandoning the whole project4 ,but 'tis very difficult1 and indeed impossible1 that a thousand persons should agree in any such action2 it being difficult for them to concert so complicated a design1 and still more difficult for them to execute it2 while each seeks a pretext to free himself of the trouble and expense1 and would lay the whole burden on others4 ,political society easily remedies both these inconveniences4 ,magistrates find an immediate interest in the interest of any considerable part of their subjects4 ,they need consult nobody but themselves to form any scheme for the promoting of that interest4 ,and as the failure of any one piece in the execution is connected1 though not immediately1 with the failure of the whole1 they prevent that failure1 because they find no interest in it1 either immediate or remote4 ,thus1 bridges are built1 harbours opened1 ramparts raised1 canals formed1 fleets equipped1 and armies disciplined1 every where1 by the care of government1 which1 though composed of men subject to all human infirmities1 becomes1 by one of the finest and most subtile inventions imaginable1 a composition which is in some measure exempted from all these infirmities4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,,of ,,the ,,source ,,of ,,allegiance4 ,though government be an invention very advantageous1 and even in some circumstances absolutely necessary to mankind1 it is not necessary in all circumstances2 nor is it impossible for men to preserve society for some time1 without having recourse to such an invention4 ,men1 'tis true1 are always much inclined to prefer present interest to distant and remote2 nor is it easy for them to resist the temptation of any advantage that they may immediately enjoy1 in apprehension of an evil that lies at a distance from them2 but still this weakness is less conspicuous where the possessions and the pleasures of life are few and of little value1 as they always are in the infancy of society4 ,an ,indian is but little tempted to dispossess another of his hut1 or to steal his bow1 as being already provided of the same advantages2 and as to any superior fortune which may attend one above another in hunting and fishing1 'tis only casual and temporary1 and will have but small tendency to disturb society4 ,and so far am ,i from thinking with some philosophers1 that men are utterly incapable of society without government1 that ,i assert the first rudiments of government to arise from quarrels1 not among men of the same society1 but among those of different societies4 ,a less degree of riches will suffice to this latter effect1 is requisite for the former4 ,men fear nothing from public war and violence but the resistance they meet with1 which1 because they share it in common1 seems less terrible1 and1 because it comes from strangers1 seems less pernicious in its consequences1 than when they are exposed singly against one whose commerce is advantageous to them1 and without whose society 'tis impossible they can subsist4 ,now foreign war1 to a society without government1 necessarily produces civil war4 ,throw any considerable goods among men1 they instantly fall a quarrelling1 while each strives to get possession of what pleases him1 without regard to the consequences4 ,in a foreign war1 the most considerable of all goods1 life and limbs1 are at stake2 and as every one shuns dangerous ports1 seizes the best arms1 seeks excuse for the slightest wounds1 the laws1 which may be well enough observed while men were calm1 can now no longer take place1 when they are in such commotion4 ,this we find verified in the ,american tribes1 where men live in concord and amity among themselves1 without any established government1 and never pay submission to any of their fellows1 except in time of war1 when their captain enjoys a shadow of authority1 which he loses after their return from the field and the establishment of peace with the neighbouring tribes4 ,this authority1 however1 instructs them in the advantages of government1 and teaches them to have recourse to it1 when1 either by the pillage of war1 by commerce1 or by any fortuitous inventions1 their riches and possessions have become so considerable as to make them forget1 on every emergence1 the interest they have in the preservation of peace and justice4 ,hence we may give a plausible reason1 among others1 why all governments are at first monarchical1 without any mixture and variety2 and why republics arise only from the abuses of monarchy and despotic power4 ,camps are the true mothers of cities2 and as war cannot be administered1 by reason of the suddenness of every exigency1 without some authority in a single person1 the same kind of authority naturally takes place in that civil government which succeeds the military4 ,and this reason ,i take to be more natural than the common one derived from patriarchal government1 or the authority of a father1 which is said first to take place in one family1 and to accustom the members of it to the government of a single person4 ,the state of society without government is one of the most natural states of men1 and must subsist with the conjunction of many families1 and long after the first generation4 ,nothing but an increase of riches and possessions could oblige men to quit it2 and so barbarous and uninstructed are all societies on their first formation1 that many years must elapse before these can increase to such a degree as to disturb men in the enjoyment of peace and concord4 ,but though it be possible for men to maintain a small uncultivated society without government1 'tis impossible they should maintain a society of any kind without justice1 and the observance of those three fundamental laws concerning the stability of possession1 its translation by consent1 and the performance of promises4 ,these are therefore antecedent to government1 and are supposed to impose an obligation1 before the duty of allegiance to civil magistrates has once been thought of4 ,nay1 ,i shall go farther1 and assert1 that government1 upon its first establishment1 would naturally be supposed to derive its obligation from those laws of of nature1 and1 in particular1 from that concerning the performance of promises4 ,when men have once perceived the necessity of government to maintain peace and execute justice1 they would naturally assemble together1 would choose magistrates1 determine their power1 and promise them obedience4 ,as a promise is supposed to be a bond or security already in use1 and attended with a moral obligation1 'tis to be considered as the original sanction of government1 and as the source of the first obligation to obedience4 ,this reasoning appears so natural1 that it has become the foundation of our fashionable system of politics1 and is in a manner the creed of a party amongst us1 who pride themselves1 with reason1 on the soundness of their philosophy1 and their liberty of thought4 ',all men1' say they1 'are born free and equal3 government and superiority can only be established by consent3 the consent of men1 in establishing government1 imposes on them a new obligation1 unknown to the laws of nature4 ,men1 therefore1 are bound to obey their magistrates1 only because they promise it2 and if they had not given their word1 either expressly or tacitly1 to preserve allegiance1 it would never have become a part of their moral duty4 ,this conclusion1 however1 when carried so far as to comprehend government in all its ages and situations1 is entirely erroneous2 and ,i maintain1 that though the duty of allegiance be at first grafted on the obligation of promises1 and be for some time supported by that obligation1 yet it quickly takes root of itself1 and has an original obligation and authority1 independent of all contracts4 ,this is a principle of moment1 which we must examine with care and attention1 before we proceed any farther4 ',tis reasonable for those philosophers who assert justice to be a natural virtue1 and antecedent to human conventions1 to resolve all civil allegiance into the obligation of a promise1 and assert that 'tis our own consent alone which binds us to any submission to magistracy4 ,for as all government is plainly an invention of men1 and the origin of most governments is known in history1 'tis necessary to mount higher1 in order to find the source of our political duties1 if we would assert them to have any natural obligation of morality4 ,these philosophers1 therefore1 quickly observe1 that society is as ancient as the human species1 and those three fundamental laws of nature as ancient as society2 so that1 taking advantage of the antiquity and obscure origin of these laws1 they first deny them to be artificial and voluntary inventions of men1 and then seek to ingraft on them those other duties which are more plainly artificial4 ,but being once undeceived in this particular1 and having found that natural as well as civil justice derives its origin from human conventions1 we shall quickly perceive how fruitless it is to resolve the one into the other1 and seek1 in the laws of nature1 a stronger foundation for our political duties than interest and human conventions2 while these laws themselves are built on the very same foundation4 ,on whichever side we turn this subject1 we shall find that these two kinds of duty are exactly on the same footing1 and have the same source both of their first invention and moral obligation4 ,they are contrived to remedy like inconveniences1 and acquire their moral sanction in the same manner1 from their remedying those inconveniences4 ,these are two points which we shall endeavour to prove as distinctly as possible4 ,we have already shown1 that men invented the three fundamental laws of nature1 when they observed the necessity of society to their mutual subsistence1 and found that 'twas impossible to maintain any correspondence together1 without some restraint on their natural appetites4 ,the same self-love1 therefore1 which renders men so incommodious to each other1 taking a new and more convenient direction1 produces the rules of justice1 and is the first motive of their observance4 ,but when men have observed1 that though the rules of justice be sufficient to maintain any society1 yet 'tis impossible for them1 of themselves1 to observe those rules in large and polished societies2 they establish government as a new invention to attain their ends1 and preserve the old1 or procure new advantages1 by a more strict execution of justice4 ,so far1 therefore1 our civil duties are connected with our natural1 that the former are invented chiefly for the sake of the latter2 and that the principal object of government is to constrain men to observe the laws of nature4 ,in this respect1 however1 that law of nature1 concerning the performance of promises1 is only comprised along with the rest2 and its exact observance is to be considered as an effect of the institution of government1 and not the obedience to government as an effect of the obligation of a promise4 ,though the object of our civil duties be the enforcing of our natural1 yet the first#i motive of the invention1 as well as performance of both1 is nothing but self-interest2 and since there is a separate interest in the obedience to government1 from that in the performance of promises1 we must also allow of a separate obligation4 ,to obey the civil magistrate is requisite to preserve order and concord in society4 ,to perform promises is requisite to beget mutual trust and confidence in the common offices of life4 ,the ends1 as well as the means1 are perfectly distinct2 nor is the one subordinate to the other4 ,to make this more evident1 let us consider1 that men will often bind themselves by promises to the performance of what it would have been their interest to perform1 independent of these promises2 as when they would give others a fuller security1 by superadding a new obligation of interest to that which they formerly lay under4 ,the interest in the performance of promises1 besides its moral obligation1 is general1 avowed1 and of the last consequence in life4 ,other interests may be more particular and doubtful2 and we are apt to entertain a greater suspicion1 that men may indulge their humour or passion in acting contrary to them4 ,here1 therefore1 promises come naturally in play1 and are often required for fuller satisfaction and security4 ,but supposing those other interests to be as general and avowed as the interest in the performance of a promise1 they will be regarded as on the same footing1 and men will begin to repose the same confidence in them4 ,now this is exactly the case with regard to our civil duties1 or obedience to the magistrate2 without which no government could subsist1 nor any peace or order be maintained in large societies1 where there are so many possessions on the one hand1 and so many wants1 real or imaginary1 on the other4 ,our civil duties1 therefore1 must soon detach themselves from our promises1 and acquire a separate force and influence4 ,the interest in both is of the very same kind2 'tis general1 avowed1 and prevails in all times and places4 ,there is1 then1 no pretext of reason for founding the one upon the other1 while each of them has a foundation peculiar to itself4 ,we might as well resolve the obligation to abstain from the possessions of others1 into the obligation of a promise1 as that of allegiance4 ,the interests are not more distinct in the one case than the other4 ,a regard to property is not more necessary to natural society1 than obedience is to civil society or government2 nor is the former society more necessary to the being of mankind1 than the latter to their well-being and happiness4 ,in short1 if the performance of promises be advantageous1 so is obedience to government2 if the former interest be general1 so is the latter2 if the one interest be obvious and avowed1 so is the other4 ,and as these two rules are founded on like obligations of interest1 each of them must have a peculiar authority1 independent of the other4 ,but 'tis not only the natural obligations of interest1 which are distinct in promises and allegiance2 but also the moral obligations of honour and conscience3 nor does the merit or demerit of the one depend in the least upon that of the other4 ,and1 indeed1 if we consider the close connexion there is betwixt the natural and moral obligations1 we shall find this conclusion to be entirely unavoidable4 ,our interest is always engaged on the side of obedience to magistracy2 and there is nothing but a great present advantage that can lead us to rebellion1 by making us overlook the remote interest which we have in the preserving of peace and order in society4 ,but though a present interest may thus blind us with regard to our own actions1 it takes not place with regard to those of others2 nor hinders them from appearing in their true colours1 as highly prejudicial to public interest1 and to our own in particular4 ,this naturally gives us an uneasiness1 in considering such seditious and disloyal actions1 and makes us attach to them the idea of vice and moral deformity4 ',tis the same principle which causes us to disapprove of all kinds of private injustice1 and1 in particular1 of the breach of promises4 ,we blame all treachery and breach of faith2 because we consider1 that the freedom and extent of human commerce depend entirely on a fidelity with regard to promises4 ,we blame all disloyalty to magistrates2 because we perceive that the execution of justice1 in the stability of possession1 its translation by consent1 and the performance of promises1 is impossible1 without submission to government4 ,as there are here two interests entirely distinct from each other1 they must give rise to two moral obligations1 equally separate and independent4 ,though there was no such thing as a promise in the world1 government would still be necessary in all large and civilized societies2 and if promises had only their own proper obligation1 without the separate sanction of government1 they would have but little efficacy in such societies4 ,this separates the boundaries of our public and private duties1 and shows that the latter are more dependent on the former1 than the former on the latter4 ,education1 and the artifice of politicians1 concur to bestow a farther morality on loyalty1 and to brand all rebellion with a greater degree of guilt and infamy4 ,nor is it a wonder that politicians should be very industrious in inculcating such notions1 where their interest is so particularly concerned4 ,lest those arguments should not appear entirely conclusive 7as ,i think they are71 ,i shall have recourse to authority1 and shall prove1 from the universal consent of mankind1 that the obligation of submission to government is not derived from any promise of the subjects4 ,nor need any one wonder1 that though ,i have all along endeavoured to establish my system on pure reason1 and have scarce ever cited the judgment even of philosophers or historians on any article1 ,i should now appeal to popular authority1 and oppose the sentiments of the rabble to any philosophical reasoning4 ,for it must be observed1 that the opinions of men1 in this case1 carry with them a peculiar authority1 and are1 in a great measure1 infallible4 ,the distinction of moral good and evil is founded on the pleasure or pain which results from the view of any sentiment or character2 and1 as that pleasure or pain cannot be unknown to the person who feels it1 it follows1#aj that there is just so much vice or virtue in any character as every one places in it1 and that 'tis impossible in this particular we can ever be mistaken4 ,and1 though our judgments concerning the origin of any vice or virtue1 be not so certain as those concerning their degrees1 yet1 since the question in this case regards not any philosophical origin of an obligation1 but a plain matter of fact1 'tis not easily conceived how we can fall into an error4 ,a man who acknowledges himself to be bound to another for a certain sum1 must certainly know whether it be by his own bond1 or that of his father2 whether it be of his mere good will1 or for money lent him2 and under what conditions1 and for what purposes1 he has bound himself4 ,in like manner1 it being certain that there is a moral obligation to submit to government1 because everyone thinks so2 it must be as certain that this obligation arises not from a promise2 since no one1 whose judgment has not been led astray by too strict adherence to a system of philosophy1 has ever yet dreamt of ascribing it to that origin4 ,neither magistrates nor subjects have formed this idea of our civil duties4 ,we find1 that magistrates are so far from deriving their authority1 and the obligation to obedience in their subjects1 from the foundation of a promise or original contract1 that they conceal1 as far as possible1 from their people1 especially from the vulgar1 that they have their origin from thence4 ,were this the sanction of government1 our rulers would never receive it tacitly1 which is the utmost that can be pretended2 since what is given tacitly and insensibly1 can never have such influence on mankind as what is performed expressly and openly4 ,a tacit promise is1 where the will is signified by other more diffuse signs than those of speech2 but a will there must certainly be in the case1 and that can never escape the person's notice who exerted it1 however silent or tacit4 ,but were you to ask the far greatest part of the nation1 whether they had ever consented to the authority of their rulers1 or promised to obey them1 they would be inclined to think very strangely of you2 and would certainly reply1 that the affair depended not on their consent1 but that they were born to such an obedience4 ,in consequence of this opinion1 we frequently see them imagine such persons to be their natural rulers1 as are at that time deprived of all power and authority1 and whom no man1 however foolish1 would voluntarily choose2 and this merely because they are in that line which ruled before1 and in that decree of it which used to succeed3 though perhaps in so distant a period1 that scarce any man alive could ever have given any promise of obedience4 ,has a government1 then1 no authority over such as these1 because they never consented to it1 and would esteem the very attempt of such a free choice a piece of arrogance and impiety8 ,we find by experience1 that it punishes them very freely for what it calls treason and rebellion1 which1 it seems1 according to this system1 reduces itself to common injustice4 ,if you say1 that by dwelling in its dominions1 they in effect consented to the established government1 ,i answer1 that this can only be where they think the affair depends on their choice1 which few or none beside those philosophers have ever yet imagined4 ,it never was pleaded as an excuse for a rebel1 that the first act he performed1 after he came to years of discretion1 was to levy war against the sovereign of the state2 and that1 while he was a child he could not bind himself by his own consent1 and having become a man1 showed plainly1 by the first act he performed1 that he had no design to impose on himself any obligation to obedience4 ,we find1 on the contrary1 that civil laws punish this crime at the same age as any other which is criminal of itself1 without our consent2 that is1 when the person is come to the full use of reason3 whereas to this crime it ought in justice to allow some intermediate time1 in which a tacit consent at least might be supposed4 ,to which we may add1 that a man living under an absolute government would owe it no allegiance2 since1 by its very nature1 it depends not on consent4 ,but as that is as natural and common a government as any1 it must certainly occasion some obligation2 and 'tis plain from experience1 that men who are subjected to it do always think so4 ,this is a clear proof1 that we do not commonly esteem our allegiance to be derived from our consent or promise2 and a farther proof is1 that when our promise is upon any account expressly engaged1 we always distinguish exactly betwixt the two obligations1 and believe the one to add more force to the other1 than in a repetition of the same promise4 ,where no promise is given1 a man looks not on his faith as broken in private matters1 upon account of rebellion2 but keeps those two duties of honour and allegiance perfectly distinct and separate4 ,as the uniting of them was thought by these philosophers a very subtile invention1 this is a convincing proof that 'tis not a true one2 since no man can either give a promise1 or be restrained by its sanction and obligation1 unknown to himself4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,,of ,,the ,,measures ,,of ,,allegiance4 ,those political writers who have had recourse to a promise1 or original contract1 as the source of our allegiance to government1 intended to establish a principle which is perfectly just and reasonable2 though the reasoning upon which they endeavoured to establish it1 was fallacious and sophistical4 ,they would prove1 that our submission to government admits of exceptions1 and that an egregious tyranny in the rulers is sufficient to free the subjects from all ties of allegiance4 ,since men enter into society1 say they1 and submit themselves to government by their free and voluntary consent1 they must have in view certain advantages which they1 propose to reap from it1 and for which they are contented to resign their native liberty4 ,there is therefore something mutual engaged on the part of the magistrate1 viz4 protection and security2 and 'tis only by the hopes he affords of these advantages1 that he can ever persuade men to submit to him4 ,but when1 instead of protection and security1 they meet with tyranny and oppression1 they are freed from their promises1 7as happens in all conditional contracts71 and return to that state of liberty which preceded the institution of government4 ,men would never be so foolish as to enter into such engagements as should turn entirely to the advantage of others1 without any view of bettering their own condition4 ,whoever proposes to draw any profit from our submission1 must engage himself1 either expressly or tacitly1 to make us reap some advantage from his authority2 nor ought he to expect1 that1 without the performance of his part1 we will ever continue in obedience4 ,i repeat it3 ,this conclusion is just1 though the principles be erroneous2 and ,i flatter myself1 that ,i can establish the same conclusion on more reasonable principles4 ,i shall not take such a compass1 in establishing our political duties1 as to assert that men perceive the advantages of government2 that they institute government with a view to those advantages2 that this institution requires a promise of obedience1 which imposes a moral obligation to a certain degree1 but1 being conditional1 ceases to be binding whenever the other contracting party performs not his part of the engagement4 ,i perceive1 that a promise itself arises entirely from human conventions1 and is invented with a view to a certain interest4 ,i seek1 therefore1 some such interest more immediately connected with government1 and which may be at once the original motive to its institution1 and the source of our obedience to it4 ,this interest ,i find to consist in the security and protection which we enjoy in political society1 and which we can never attain when perfectly free and independent4 ,as the interest1 therefore1 is the immediate sanction of government1 the one can have no longer being than the other2 and whenever the civil magistrate carries his oppression so far as to render his authority perfectly intolerable1 we are no longer bound to submit to it4 ,the cause ceases2 the effect must cease also4 ,so far the conclusion is immediate and direct1 concerning the natural obligation which we have to allegiance4 ,as to the moral obligation1 we may observe1 that the maxim would here be false1 that when the cause ceases the effect must cease also4 ,for there is a principle of human nature1 which we have frequently taken notice of1 that men are mightily addicted to general rules1 and that we often carry our maxims beyond those reasons which first induced us to establish them4 ,where cases are similar in many circumstances1 we are apt to put them on the same footing1 without considering that they differ in the most material circumstances1 and that the resemblance is more apparent than real4 ,it may therefore be thought1 that1 in the case of allegiance1 our moral obligation of duty will not cease1 even though the natural obligation of interest1 which is its cause1 has ceased2 and that men may be bound by conscience to submit to a tyrannical government1 against their own and the public interest4 ,and indeed1 to the force of this argument ,i so far submit1 as to acknowledge1 that general rules commonly extend beyond the principles on which they are founded2 and that we seldom make any exception to them1 unless that exception have the qualities of a general rule1 and be founded on very numerous and common instances4 ,now this ,i assert to be entirely the present case4 ,when men submit to the authority of others1 'tis to procure themselves some security against the wickedness and injustice of men1 who are perpetually carried1 by their unruly passions1 and by their present and immediate interest1 to the violation of all the laws of society4 ,but as this imperfection is inherent in human nature1 we know that it must attend men in all their states and conditions2 and that those whom we choose for rulers1 do not immediately become of a superior nature to the rest of mankind1 upon account of their superior power and authority4 ,what we expect from them depends not on a change of their nature1 but of their situation1 when they acquire a more immediate interest in the preservation of order and the execution of justice4 ,but1 besides that this interest is only more immediate in the execution of justice among their subjects2 besides this1 ,i say1 we may often expect1 from the irregularity of human nature1 that they will neglect even this immediate interest1 and be transported by their passions into all the excesses of cruelty and ambition4 ,our general knowledge of human nature1 our observation of the past history of mankind1 our experience of present times2 all these causes must induce us to open the door of exceptions1 and must make us conclude1 that we may resist the more violent effects of supreme power without any crime or injustice4 ,accordingly we may observe1 that this is both the general practice and principle of mankind1 and that no nation that could find any remedy1 ever yet suffered the cruel ravages of a tyrant1 or were blamed for their resistance4 ,those who took up arms against ,dionysius or ,nero1 or ,philip the ,second1 have the favour of every reader in the perusal of their history2 and nothing but the most violent perversion of common sense can ever lead us to condemn them4 ',tis certain1 therefore1 that in all our notions of morals1 we never entertain such an absurdity as that of passive obedience1 but make allowances for resistance in the more flagrant instances of tyranny and oppression4 ,the general opinion of mankind has some authority in all cases2 but in this of morals 'tis perfectly infallible4 ,nor is it less infallible1 because men cannot distinctly explain the principles on which it is founded4 ,few persons can carry on this train of reasoning3 ',government is a mere human invention for the interest of society4 ,where the tyranny of the governor removes this interest1 it also removes the natural obligation to obedience4 ,the moral obligation is founded on the natural1 and therefore must cease where that ceases2 especially where the subject is such as makes us foresee very many occasions wherein the natural obligation may cease1 and causes us to form a kind of general rule for the regulation of our conduct in such occurrences4' ,but though this train of reasoning be too subtile for the vulgar1 'tis certain that all men have an implicit notion of it1 and are sensible that they owe obedience to government merely on account of the public interest2 and1 at the same time1 that human nature is so subject to frailties and passions1 as may easily pervert this institution1 and change their governors into tyrants and public enemies4 ,if the sense of public interest were not our original motive to obedience1 ,i would fain ask1 what other principle is there in human nature capable of subduing the natural ambition of men1 and forcing them to such a submission8 ,imitation and custom are not sufficient4 ,for the question still recurs1 what motive first produces those instances of submission which we imitate1 and that train of actions which produces the custom8 ,there evidently is no other principle than public interest2 and if interest first produces obedience to government1 the obligation to obedience must cease whenever the interest ceases in any great degree1 and in a considerable number of instances4 ,,section ,x4 ,,of ,,the ,,objects ,,of ,,allegiance4 ,but though1 on some occasions1 it may be justifiable1 both in sound politics and morality1 to resist supreme power1 'tis certain that1 in the ordinary course of human affairs1 nothing can be more pernicious and criminal2 and that1 besides the convulsions which always attend revolutions1 such a practice tends directly to the subversion of all government1 and the causing an universal anarchy and confusion among mankind4 ,as numerous and civilized societies cannot subsist without government1 so government is entirely useless without an exact obedience4 ,we ought always to weigh the advantages which we reap from authority1 against the disadvantages3 and by this means we shall become more scrupulous of putting in practice the doctrine of resistance4 ,the common rule requires submission2 and 'tis only in cases of grievous tyranny and oppression1 that the exception can take place4 ,since1 then1 such a blind submission is commonly due to magistracy1 the next question is1 to whom it is due1 and whom we are to regard as our lawful magistrates8 ,in order to answer this question1 let us recollect what we have already established concerning the origin of government and political society4 ,when men have once experienced the impossibility of preserving any steady order in society1 while every one is his own master1 and violates or observes the laws of interest1 according to his present interest or pleasure1 they naturally run into the invention of government1 and put it out of their own power1 as far as possible1 to transgress the laws of society4 ,government1 therefore1 arises from the voluntary convention of men2 and 'tis evident1 that the same convention which establishes government1 will also determine the persons who are to govern1 and will remove all doubt and ambiguity in this particular4 ,and the voluntary consent of men must here have the greater efficacy1 that the authority of the magistrate does at first stand upon the foundation of a promise of the subjects1 by which they bind themselves to obedience1 as in every other contract or engagement4 ,the same promise1 then1 which binds them to obedience1 ties them down to a particular person1 and makes him the object of their allegiance4 ,but when government has been established on this footing for some considerable time1 and the separate interest which we have in submission has produced a separate sentiment of morality1 the case is entirely altered1 and a promise is no longer able to determine the particular magistrate2 since it is no longer considered as the foundation of government4 ,we naturally suppose ourselves born to submission2 and imagine that such particular persons have a right to command1 as we on our part are bound to obey4 ,these notions of right and obligation are derived from nothing but the advantage we reap from government1 which gives us a repugnance to practise resistance ourselves1 and makes us displeased with any instance of it in others4 ,but here 'tis remarkable1 that in this new state of affairs1 the original sanction of government1 which is interest1 is not admitted to determine the persons whom we are to obey1 as the original sanction did at first1 when affairs were on the footing of a promise4 ,a promise fixes and determines the persons1 without any uncertainty3 but 'tis evident1 that if men were to regulate their conduct in this particular1 by the view of a peculiar interest1 either public or private1 they would involve themselves in endless confusion1 and would render all government1 in a great measure1 ineffectual4 ,the private interest of every one is different2 and1 though the public interest in itself be always one and the same1 yet it becomes the source of as great dissensions1 by reason of the different opinions of particular persons concerning it4 ,the same interest1 therefore1 which causes us to submit to magistracy1 makes us renounce itself in the choice of our magistrates1 and binds us down to a certain form of government1 and to particular persons1 without allowing us to aspire to the utmost perfection in either4 ,the case is here the same as in that law of nature concerning the stability of possession4 ',tis highly advantageous1 and even absolutely necessary to society1 that possession should be stable2 and this leads us to the establishment of such a rule3 but we find1 that were we to follow the same advantage1 in assigning particular possessions to particular persons1 we should disappoint our end1 and perpetuate the confusion which that rule is intended to prevent4 ,we must therefore proceed by general rules1 and regulate ourselves by general interests1 in modifying the law of nature concerning the stability of possession4 ,nor need we fear1 that our attachment to this law will diminish upon account of the seeming frivolousness of those interests by which it is determined4 ,the impulse of the mind is derived from a very strong interest2 and those other more minute interests serve only to direct the motion1 without adding any thing to it1 or diminishing from it4 ',tis the same case with government4 ,nothing is more advantageous to society than such an invention2 and this interest is sufficient to make us embrace it with ardour and alacrity2 though we are obliged afterwards to regulate and direct our devotion to government by several considerations which are not of the same importance1 and to choose our magistrates without having in view any particular advantage from the choice4 ,the first of those principles ,i shall take notice of1 as a foundation of the right of magistracy1 is that which gives authority to all the most established governments of the world1 without exception3 ,i mean1 long possession in any one form of government1 or succession of princes4 ',tis certain1 that if we remount to the first origin of every nation1 we shall find1 that there scarce is any race of kings1 or form of a commonwealth1 that is not primarily founded on usurpation and rebellion1 and whose title is not at first worse than doubtful and uncertain4 ,time alone gives solidity to their right2 and1 operating gradually on the minds of men1 reconciles them to any authority1 and makes it seem just and reasonable4 ,nothing causes any sentiment to have a greater influence upon us than custom1 or turns our imagination more strongly to any object4 ,when we have been long accustomed to obey any set of men1 that general instinct or tendency which we have to suppose a moral obligation attending loyalty1 takes easily this direction1 and chooses that set of men for its objects4 ',tis interest which gives the general instinct2 but 'tis custom which gives the particular direction4 ,and here 'tis observable1 that the same length of time has a different influence on our sentiments of morality1 according to its different influence on the mind4 ,we naturally judge of every thing by comparison2 and since1 in considering the fate of kingdoms and republics1 we embrace a long extent of time1 a small duration has not1 in this case1 a like influence on our sentiments1 as when we consider any other object4 ,one thinks he acquires a right to a horse1 or a suit of clothes1 in a very short time2 but a century is scarce sufficient to establish any new government1 or remove all scruples in the minds of the subjects concerning it4 ,add to this1 that a shorter period of time will suffice to give a prince a title to any additional power he may usurp1 than will serve to fix his right1 where the whole is an usurpation4 ,the kings of ,france have not been possessed of absolute power for above two reigns2 and yet nothing will appear more extravagant to ,frenchmen than to talk of their liberties4 ,if we consider what has been said concerning accession1 we shall easily account for this phenomenon4 ,when there is no form of government established by long possession1 the present possession is sufficient to supply its place1 and may be regarded as the second source of all public authority4 ,right to authority is nothing but the constant possession of authority1 maintained by the laws of society and the interests of mankind2 and nothing can be more natural than to join this constant possession to the present one1 according to the principles above mentioned4 ,if the same principles did not take place with regard to the property of private persons1 'twas because these principles were counterbalanced by very strong considerations of interest2 when we observed1 that all restitution would by that means be prevented1 and every violence be authorized and protected4 ,and1 though the same motives may seem to have force with regard to public authority1 yet they are opposed by a contrary interest2 which consists in the preservation of peace1 and the avoiding of all changes1 which1 however they may be easily produced in private affairs1 are unavoidably attended with bloodshed and confusion where the public is interested4 ,any one who1 finding the impossibility of accounting for the right of the present possessor1 by any received system of ethics1 should resolve to deny absolutely that right1 and assert that it is not authorized by morality1 would be justly thought to maintain a very extravagant paradox1 and to shock the common sense and judgment of mankind4 ,no maxim is more conformable1 both to prudence and morals1 than to submit quietly to the government which we find established in the country where we happen to live1 without inquiring too curiously into its origin and first establishment4 ,few governments will bear being examined so rigorously4 ,how many kingdoms are there at present in the world1 and how many more do we find in history1 whose governors have no better foundation for their authority than that of present possession6 ,to confine ourselves to the ,roman and ,grecian empire2 is it not evident1 that the long succession of emperors1 from the dissolution of the ,roman liberty1 to the final extinction of that empire by the ,turks1 could not so much as pretend to any other title to the empire8 ,the election of the senate was a mere form1 which always followed the choice of the legions2 and these were almost always divided in the different provinces1 and nothing but the sword was able to terminate the difference4 ',twas by the sword1 therefore1 that every emperor acquired1 as well as defended1 his right2 and we must either say1 that all the known world1 for so many ages1 had no government1 and owed no allegiance to any one1 or must allow1 that the right of the stronger1 in public affairs1 is to be received as legitimate1 and authorized by morality1 when not opposed by any other title4 ,the right of conquest may be considered as a third source of the title of sovereigns4 ,this right resembles very much that of present possession1 but has rather a superior force1 being seconded by the notions of glory and honour which we ascribe to conquerors1 instead of the sentiments of hatred and detestation which attend usurpers4 ,men naturally favour those they love2 and therefore are more apt to ascribe a right to successful violence1 betwixt one sovereign and another1 than to the successful rebellion of a subject against his sovereign4#aa ,when neither long possession1 nor present possession1 nor conquest take place1 as when the first sovereign who founded any monarchy dies2 in that case1 the right of succession naturally prevails in their stead1 and men are commonly induced to place the son of their late monarch on the throne1 and suppose him to inherit his father's authority4 ,the presumed consent of the father1 the imitation of the succession to private families1 the interest which the state has in choosing the person who is most powerful and has the most numerous followers2 all these reasons lead men to prefer the son of their late monarch to any other person4#ab ,these reasons have some weight2 but ,i am persuaded1 that1 to one who considers impartially of the matter1 'twill appear that there concur some principles of the imagination along with those views of interest4 ,the royal authority seems to be connected with the young prince even in his father's lifetime1 by the natural transition of the thought1 and still more after his death2 so that nothing is more natural than to complete this union by a new relation1 and by putting him actually in possession of what seems so naturally to belong to him4 ,to confirm this1 we may weigh the following phenomena1 which are pretty curious in their kind4 ,in elective monarchies1 the right of succession has no place by the laws and settled custom2 and yet its influence is so natural1 that 'tis impossible entirely to exclude it from the imagination1 and render the subjects indifferent to the son of their deceased monarch4 ,hence1 in some governments of this kind1 the choice commonly falls on one or other of the royal family2 and in some governments they are all excluded4 ,those contrary phenomena proceed from the same principle4 ,where the royal family is excluded1 'tis from a refinement in politics1 which makes people sensible of their propensity to choose a sovereign in that family1 and gives them a jealousy of their liberty1 lest their new monarch1 aided by this propensity1 should establish his family1 and destroy the freedom of elections for the future4 ,the history of ,artaxerxes and the younger ,cyrus1 may furnish us with some reflections to the same purpose4 ,cyrus pretended a right to the throne above his elder brother1 because he was born after his father's accession4 ,i do not pretend that this reason was valid4 ,i would only infer from it1 that he would never have made use of such a pretext1 were it not for the qualities of the imagination above-mentioned1 by which we are naturally inclined to unite by a new relation whatever objects we find already united4 ,artaxerxes had an advantage above his brother1 as being the eldest son1 and the first in succession2 but ,cyrus was more closely related to the royal authority1 as being begot after his father was invested with it4 ,should it here be pretended1 that the view of convenience may be the source of all the right of succession1 and that men gladly take advantage of any rule by which they can fix the successor of their late sovereign1 and prevent that anarchy and confusion which attends all new elections2 to this ,i would answer1 that ,i readily allow that this motive may contribute something to the effect2 but at the same time ,i assert1 that1 without another principle1 'tis impossible such a motive should take place4 ,the interest of a nation requires that the succession to the crown should be fixed one way or other2 but 'tis the same thing to its interest in what way it be fixed2 so that if the relation of blood had not an effect independent of public interest1 it would never have been regarded without a positive law2 and 'twould have been impossible that so many positive laws of different nations could ever have concurred precisely in the same views and intentions4 ,this leads us to consider the fifth source of authority1 viz4 positive laws1 when the legislature establishes a certain form of government and succession of princes4 ,at first sight1 it may be thought that this must resolve into some of the preceding titles of authority4 ,the legislative power1 whence the positive law is derived1 must either be established by original contract1 long possession1 present possession1 conquest1 or succession2 and consequently the positive law must derive its force from some of those principles4 ,but here 'tis remarkable1 that though a positive law can only derive its force from these principles1 yet it acquires not all the force of the principle from whence it is derived1 but loses considerably in the transition1 as it is natural to imagine4 ,for instance1 a government is established for many centuries on a certain system of laws1 forms1 and methods of succession4 ,the legislative power1 established by this long succession1 changes1 all on a sudden1 the whole system of government1 and introduces a new constitution in its stead4 ,i believe few of the subjects will think themselves bound to comply with this alteration1 unless it have an evident tendency to the public good1 but will think themselves still at liberty to return to the ancient government4 ,hence the notion of fundamental laws1 which are supposed to be unalterable by the will of the sovereign2 and of this nature the ,salic law is understood to be in ,france4 ,how far these fundamental laws extend1 is not determined in any government1 nor is it possible it ever should4 ,there is such an insensible gradation from the most material laws to the most trivial1 and from the most ancient laws to the most modern1 that 'twill be impossible to set bounds to the legislative power1 and determine how far it may innovate in the principles of government4 ,that is the work more of imagination and passion than of reason4 ,whoever considers the history of the several nations of the world1 their revolutions1 conquests1 increase and diminution1 the manner in which their particular governments are established1 and the successive right transmitted from one person to another1 will soon learn to treat very lightly all disputes concerning the rights of princes1 and will be convinced that a strict adherence to any general rules1 and the rigid loyalty to particular persons and families1 on which some people set so high a value1 are virtues that hold less of reason than of bigotry and superstition4 ,in this particular1 the study of history confirms the reasonings of true philosophy1 which1 showing us the original qualities of human nature1 teaches us to regard the controversies in politics as incapable of any decision in most cases1 and as entirely subordinate to the interests of peace and liberty4 ,where the public good does not evidently demand a change1 'tis certain that the concurrence of all those titles1 original contract1 long possession1 present possession1 succession1 and positive laws1 forms the strongest title to sovereignty1 and is justly regarded as sacred and inviolable4 ,but when these titles are mingled and opposed in different degrees1 they often occasion perplexity1 and are less capable of solution from the arguments of lawyers and philosophers1 than from the swords of the soldiery4 ,who shall tell me1 for instance1 whether ,germanicus or ,drusus ought to have succeeded ,tiberius1 had he died while they were both alive1 without naming any of them for his successor8 ,ought the right of adoption to be received as equivalent to that of blood1 in a nation where it had the same effect in private families1 and had already1 in two instances1 taken place in the public8 ,ought ,germanicus to be esteemed the eldest son1 because he was born before ,drusus2 or the younger1 because he was adopted after the birth of his brother8 ,ought the right of the elder to be regarded in a nation1 where the eldest brother had no advantage in the succession to private families8 ,ought the ,roman empire at that time to be esteemed hereditary1 because of two examples2 or ought it1 even so early1 to be regarded as belonging to the stronger1 or the present possessor1 as being founded on so recent an usurpation8 ,upon whatever principles we may pretend to answer these and such like questions1 ,i am afraid we shall never be able to satisfy an impartial inquirer1 who adopts no party in political controversies1 and will be satisfied with nothing but sound reason and philosophy4 ,but here an ,english reader will be apt to inquire concerning that famous revolution which has had such a happy influence on our constitution1 and has been attended with such mighty consequences4 ,we have already remarked1 that1 in the case of enormous tyranny and oppression1 'tis lawful to take arms even against supreme power2 and that1 as government is a mere human invention1 for mutual advantage and security1 it no longer imposes any obligation1 either natural or moral1 when once it ceases to have that tendency4 ,but though this general principle be authorized by common sense1 and the practice of all ages1 'tis certainly impossible for the laws1 or even for philosophy1 to establish any particular rules by which we may know when resistance is lawful1 and decide all controversies which may arise on that subject4 ,this may not only happen with regard to supreme power1 but 'tis possible1 even in some constitutions1 where the legislative authority is not lodged in one person1 that there may be a magistrate so eminent and powerful as to oblige the laws to keep silence in this particular4 ,nor would this silence be an effect only of their respect1 but also of their prudence2 since 'tis certain1 that1 in the vast variety of circumstances which occur in all governments1 an exercise of power1 in so great a magistrate1 may at one time be beneficial to the public1 which at another time would be pernicious and tyrannical4 ,but notwithstanding this silence of the laws in limited monarchies1 'tis certain that the people still retain the right of resistance2 since 'tis impossible1 even in the most despotic governments1 to deprive them of it4 ,the same necessity of self-preservation1 and the same motive of public good1 give them the same liberty in the one case as in the other4 ,and we may farther observe1 that in such mixed governments1 the cases wherein resistance is lawful must occur much oftener1 and greater indulgence be given to the subjects to defend themselves by force of arms1 than in arbitrary governments4 ,not only where the chief magistrate enters into measures in themselves extremely pernicious to the public1 but even when he would encroach on the other parts of the constitution1 and extend his power beyond the legal bounds1 it is allowable to resist and dethrone him2 though such resistance and violence may1 in the general tenor of the laws1 be deemed unlawful and rebellious4 ,for1 besides that nothing is more essential to public interest than the preservation of public liberty1 'tis evident1 that if such a mixed government be once supposed to be established1 every part or member of the constitution must have a right of self-defence1 and of maintaining its ancient bounds against the encroachment of every other authority4 ,as matter would have been created in vain1 were it deprived of a power of resistance1 without which no part of it could preserve a distinct existence1 and the whole might be crowded up into a single point2 so 'tis a gross absurdity to suppose1 in any government1 a right without a remedy1 or allow that the supreme power is shared with the people1 without allowing that 'tis lawful for them to defend their share against every invader4 ,those1 therefore1 who would seem to respect our free government1 and yet deny the right of resistance1 have renounced all pretensions to common sense1 and do not merit a serious answer4 ,it does not belong to my present purpose to show1 that these general principles are applicable to the late revolution2 and that all the rights and privileges which ought to be sacred to a free nation1 were at that time threatened with the utmost danger4 ,i am better pleased to leave this controverted subject1 if it really admits of controversy1 and to indulge myself in some philosophical reflections which naturally arise from that important event4 ,first1 ,we may observe1 that should the lords and commons in our constitution1 without any reason from public interest1 either depose the king in being1 or1 after his death1 exclude the prince1 who1 by laws and settled custom1 ought to succeed1 no one would esteem their proceedings legal1 or think themselves bound to comply with them4 ,but should the king1 by his unjust practices1 or his attempts for a tyrannical and despotic power1 justly forfeit his legal1 it then not only becomes morally lawful and suitable to the nature of political society to dethrone him2 but1 what is more1 we are apt likewise to think1 that the remaining members of the constitution acquire a right of excluding his next heir1 and of choosing whom they please for his successor4 ,this is founded on a very singular quality of our thought and imagination4 ,when a king forfeits his authority1 his heir ought naturally to remain in the same situation as if the king were removed by death2 unless by mixing himself in the tyranny1 he forfeit it for himself4 ,but though this may seem reasonable1 we easily comply with the contrary opinion4 ,the deposition of a king1 in such a government as ours1 is certainly an act beyond all common authority2 and an illegal assuming a power for public good1 which1 in the ordinary course of government1 can belong to no member of the constitution4 ,when the public good is so great and so evident as to justify the action1 the commendable use of this license causes us naturally to attribute to the parliament a right of using farther licenses2 and the ancient bounds of the laws being once transgressed with approbation1 we are not apt to be so strict in confining ourselves precisely within their limits4 ,the mind naturally runs on with any train of action which it has begun2 nor do we commonly make any scruple concerning our duty1 after the first action of any kind which we perform4 ,thus at the revolution1 no one who thought the deposition of the father justifiable1 esteemed themselves to be confined to his infant son2 though1 had that unhappy monarch died innocent at that time1 and had his son1 by any accident1 been conveyed beyond seas1 there is no doubt but a regency would have been appointed till he should come to age1 and could be restored to his dominions4 ,as the slightest properties of the imagination have an effect on the judgments of the people1 it shows the wisdom of the laws and of the parliament to take advantage of such properties1 and to choose the magistrates either in or out of a line1 according as the vulgar will most naturally attribute authority and right to them4 ,secondly1 ,though the accession of the ,prince of ,orange to the throne1 might at first give occasion to many disputes1 and his title be contested1 it ought not now to appear doubtful1 but must have acquired a sufficient authority from those three princes who have succeeded him upon the same title4 ,nothing is more usual1 though nothing may1 at first sight1 appear more unreasonable1 than this way of thinking4 ,princes often seem to acquire a right from their successors1 as well as from their ancestors2 and a king who1 during his lifetime1 might justly be deemed an usurper1 will be regarded by posterity as a lawful prince1 because he has had the good fortune to settle his family on the throne1 and entirely change the ancient form of government4 ,julius ,csar is regarded as the first ,roman emperor2 while ,sylla and ,marius1 whose titles were really the same as his1 are treated as tyrants and usurpers4 ,time and custom give authority to all forms of government1 and all successions of princes2 and that power1 which at first was founded only on injustice and violence1 becomes in time legal and obligatory4 ,nor does the mind rest there2 but1 returning back upon its footsteps1 transfers to their predecessors and ancestors that right which it naturally ascribes to the posterity1 as being related together1 and united in the imagination4 ,the present ,king of ,france makes ,hugh ,capet a more lawful prince than ,cromwell2 as the established liberty of the ,dutch is no inconsiderable apology for their obstinate resistance to ,philip the ,second4 #aj ,this proposition must hold strictly true with regard to every quality that is determined merely by sentiment4 ,in what sense we can talk either of a right or a wrong taste in morals1 eloquence1 or beauty1 shall be considered afterwards4 ,in the mean time it may be observed1 that there is such an uniformity in the general sentiments of mankind1 as to render such questions of but small importance4 #aa ,it is not here asserted1 that present possession or conquest are sufficient to give a title against long possession and positive laws3 but only that they have some force1 and will be able to cast the balance where the titles are otherwise equal1 and will even be sufficient sometimes to sanctify the weaker title4 ,what degree of force they have is difficult to determine4 ,i believe all moderate men will allow1 that they have great force in all disputes concerning the rights of princes4 #ab ,to prevent mistakes ,i must observe1 that this case of succession is not the same with that of hereditary monarchies1 where custom has fixed the right of succession4 ,these depend upon the principle of long possession above explained4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,,of ,,the ,,laws ,,of ,,nations4 ,when civil government has been established over the greatest part of mankind1 and different societies have been formed contiguous to each other1 there arises a new set of duties among the neighbouring states1 suitable to the nature of that commerce which they carry on with each other4 ,political writers tell us1 that in every kind of intercourse a body politic is to be considered as one person2 and indeed1 this assertion is so far just1 that different nations1 as well as private persons1 require mutual assistance2 at the same time that their selfishness and ambition are perpetual sources of war and discord4 ,but though nations in this particular resemble individuals1 yet as they are very different in other respects1 no wonder they regulate themselves by different maxims1 and give rise to a new set of rules1 which we call the laws of nations4 ,under this head we may comprise the sacredness of the persons of ambassadors1 the declaration of war1 the abstaining from poisoned arms1 with other duties of that kind1 which are evidently calculated for the commerce that is peculiar to different societies4 ,but though these rules be superadded to the laws of nature1 the former do not entirely abolish the latter2 and one may safely affirm1 that the three fundamental rules of justice1 the stability of possession1 its transference by consent1 and the performance of promises1 are duties of princes as well as of subjects4 ,the same interest produces the same effect in both cases4 ,where possession has no stability1 there must be perpetual war4 ,where property is not transferred by consent1 there can be no commerce4 ,where promises are not observed1 there can be no leagues nor alliances4 ,the advantages1 therefore1 of peace1 commerce1 and mutual succour1 make us extend to different kingdoms the same notions of justice which take place among individuals4 ,there is a maxim very current in the world1 which few politicians are willing to avow1 but which has been authorized by the practice of all ages1 that there is a system of morals calculated for princes1 much more free than that which ought to govern private persons4 ',tis evident this is not to be understood of the lesser extent of public duties and obligations2 nor will any one be so extravagant as to assert1 that the most solemn treaties ought to have no force among princes4 ,for as princes do actually form treaties among themselves1 they must propose some advantage from the execution of them2 and the prospect of such advantage for the future must engage them to perform their part1 and must establish that law of nature4 ,the meaning1 therefore1 of this political maxim is1 that though the morality of princes has the same extent1 yet it has not the same force as that of private persons1 and may lawfully be transgressed from a more trivial motive4 ,however shocking such a proposition may appear to certain philosophers1 'twill be easy to defend it upon those principles1 by which we have accounted for the origin of justice and equity4 ,when men have found by experience that 'tis impossible to subsist without society1 and that 'tis impossible to maintain society1 while they give free course to their appetites2 so urgent an interest quickly restrains their actions1 and imposes an obligation to observe those rules which we call the laws of justice4 ,this obligation of interest rests not here2 but1 by the necessary course of the passions and sentiments1 gives rise to the moral obligation of duty2 while we approve of such actions as tend to the peace of society1 and disapprove of such as tend to its disturbance4 ,the same natural obligation of interest takes place among independent kingdoms1 and gives rise to the same morality2 so that no one of ever so corrupt morals will approve of a prince1 who voluntarily1 and of his own accord1 breaks his word1 or violates any treaty4 ,but here we may observe1 that though the intercourse of different states be advantageous1 and even sometimes necessary1 yet it is not so necessary nor advantageous as that among individuals1 without which 'tis utterly impossible for human nature ever to subsist4 ,since1 therefore1 the natural obligation to justice1 among different states1 is not so strong as among individuals1 the moral obligation which arises from it must partake of its weakness2 and we must necessarily give a greater indulgence to a prince or minister who deceives another1 than to a private gentleman who breaks his word of honour4 ,should it be asked1 what proportion these two species of morality bear to each other8 ,i would answer1 that this is a question to which we can never give any precise answer2 nor is it possible to reduce to numbers the proportion1 which we ought to fix betwixt them4 ,one may safely affirm1 that this proportion finds itself without any art or study of men2 as we may observe on many other occasions4 ,the practice of the world goes farther in teaching us the degrees of our duty1 than the most subtile philosophy which was ever yet invented4 ,and this may serve as a convincing proof1 that all men have an implicit notion of the foundation of those moral rules concerning natural and civil justice1 and are sensible that they arise merely from human conventions1 and from the interest which we have in the preservation of peace and order4 ,for otherwise the diminution of the interest would never produce a relaxation of the morality1 and reconcile us more easily to any transgression of justice among princes and republics1 than in the private commerce of one subject with another4 ,,section ,,xii4 ,,of ,,chastity ,,and ,,modesty4 ,if any difficulty attend this system concerning the laws of nature and nations1 'twill be with regard to the universal approbation or blame which follows their observance or transgression1 and which some may not think sufficiently explained from the general interests of society4 ,to remove1 as far as possible1 all scruples of this kind1 ,i shall here consider another set of duties1 viz4 the modesty and chastity which belong to the fair sex3 and ,i doubt not but these virtues will be found to be still more conspicuous instances of the operation of those principles which ,i have insisted on4 ,there are some philosophers who attack the female virtues with great vehemence1 and fancy they have gone very far in detecting popular errors1 when they can show1 that there is no foundation in nature for all that exterior modesty which we require in the expressions1 and dress1 and behaviour of the fair sex4 ,i believe ,i may spare myself the trouble of insisting on so obvious a subject1 and may proceed1 without farther preparation1 to examine after what manner such notions arise from education1 from the voluntary conventions of men1 and from the interest of society4 ,whoever considers the length and feebleness of human infancy1 with the concern which both sexes naturally have for their offspring1 will easily perceive1 that there must be an union of male and female for the education of the young1 and that this union must be of considerable duration4 ,but1 in order to induce the men to impose on themselves this restraint1 and undergo cheerfully all the fatigues and expenses to which it subjects them1 they must believe that their children are their own1 and that their natural instinct is not directed to a wrong object1 when they give a loose to love and tenderness4 ,now1 if we examine the structure of the human body1 we shall find1 that this security is very difficult to be attained on our part2 and that since1 in the copulation of the sexes1 the principle of generation goes from the man to the woman1 an error may easily take place on the side of the former1 though it be utterly impossible with regard to the latter4 ,from this trivial and anatomical observation is derived that vast difference betwixt the education and duties of the two sexes4 ,were a philosopher to examine the matter a priori1 he would reason after the following manner4 ,men are induced to labour for the maintenance and education of their children1 by the persuasion that they are really their own2 and therefore 'tis reasonable1 and even necessary1 to give them some security in this particular4 ,this security cannot consist entirely in the imposing of severe punishments on any transgressions of conjugal fidelity on the part of the wife2 since these public punishments cannot be inflicted without legal proof1 which 'tis difficult to meet with in this subject4 ,what restraint1 therefore1 shall we impose on women1 in order to counterbalance so strong a temptation as they have to infidelity8 ,there seems to be no restraint possible1 but in the punishment of bad fame or reputation2 a punishment which has a mighty influence on the human mind1 and at the same time is inflicted by the world upon surmises and conjectures1 and proofs that would never be received in any court of judicature4 ,in order1 therefore1 to impose a due restraint on the female sex1 we must attach a peculiar degree of shame to their infidelity1 above what arises merely from its injustice1 and must bestow proportionable praises on their chastity4 ,but though this be a very strong motive to fidelity1 our philosopher would quickly discover that it would not alone be sufficient to that purpose4 ,all human creatures1 especially of the female sex1 are apt to overlook remote motives in favour of any present temptation3 the temptation is here the strongest imaginable2 its approaches are insensible and seducing2 and a woman easily finds1 or flatters herself she shall find1 certain means of securing her reputation1 and preventing all the pernicious consequences of her pleasures4 ',tis necessary1 therefore1 that1 beside the infamy attending such licenses1 there should be some preceding backwardness or dread1 which may prevent their first approaches1 and may give the female sex a repugnance to all expressions1 and postures1 and liberties1 that have an immediate relation to that enjoyment4 ,such would be the reasonings of our speculative philosopher2 but ,i am persuaded that1 if he had not a perfect knowledge of human nature1 he would be apt to regard them as mere chimerical speculations1 and would consider the infamy attending infidelity1 and backwardness to all its approaches1 as principles that were rather to be wished than hoped for in the world4 ,for what means1 would he say1 of persuading mankind that the transgressions of conjugal duty are more infamous than any other kind of injustice1 when 'tis evident they are more excusable1 upon account of the greatness of the temptation8 ,and what possibility of giving a backwardness to the approaches of a pleasure to which nature has inspired so strong a propensity1 and a propensity that 'tis absolutely necessary in the end to comply with1 for the support of the species8 ,but speculative reasonings1 which cost so much pains to philosophers1 are often formed by the world naturally1 and without reflection2 as difficulties which seem unsurmountable in theory1 are easily got over in practice4 ,those who have an interest in the fidelity of women1 naturally disapprove of their infidelity1 and all the approaches to it4 ,those who have no interest are carried along with the stream4 ,education takes possession of the ductile minds of the fair sex in their infancy4 ,and when a general rule of this kind is once established1 men are apt to extend it beyond those principles from which it first arose4 ,thus1 bachelors1 however debauched1 cannot choose but be shocked with any instance of lewdness or impudence in woman4 ,and though all these maxims have a plain reference to generation1 yet women past child-bearing have no more privilege in this respect than those who are in the flower of their youth and beauty4 ,men have undoubtedly an implicit notion1 that all those ideas of modesty and decency have a regard to generation2 since they impose not the same laws1 with the same force1 on the male sex1 where that reason takes not place4 ,the exception is there obvious and extensive1 and founded on a remarkable difference1 which produces a clear separation and disjunction of ideas4 ,but as the case is not the same with regard to the different ages of women1 for this reason1 though men know that these notions are founded on the public interest1 yet the general rule carries us beyond the original principle1 and makes us extend the notions of modesty over the whole sex1 from their earliest infancy to their extremest old age and infirmity4 ,courage1 which is the point of honour among men1 derives its merit in a great measure from artifice1 as well as the chastity of women2 though it has also some foundation in nature1 as we shall see afterwards4 ,as to the obligations which the male sex lie under with regard to chastity1 we may observe that1 according to the general notions of the world1 they bear nearly the same proportion to the obligations of women1 as the obligations of the law of nations do to those of the law of nature4 ',tis contrary to the interest of civil society1 that men should have an entire liberty of indulging their appetites in venereal enjoyment2 but as this interest is weaker than in the case of the female sex1 the moral obligation arising from it must be proportionably weaker4 ,and to prove this we need only appeal to the practice and sentiments of all nations and ages4 ,,part ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,other ,,virtues ,,and ,,vices4 ,,section ,i4 ,,of ,,the ,,origin ,,of ,,the ,,natural ,,virtues ,,and ,,vices4 ,we come now to the examination of such virtues and vices as are entirely natural1 and have no dependence on the artifice and contrivance of men4 ,the examination of these will conclude this system of morals4 ,the chief spring or actuating principle of the human mind is pleasure or pain2 and when these sensations are removed1 both from our thought and feeling1 we are in a great measure incapable of passion or action1 of desire or volition4 ,the most immediate effects of pleasure and pain are the propense and averse motions of the mind2 which are diversified into volition1 into desire and aversion1 grief and joy1 hope and fear1 according as the pleasure or pain changes its situation1 and becomes probable or improbable1 certain or uncertain1 or is considered as out of our power for the present moment4 ,but when1 along with this1 the objects that cause pleasure or pain acquire a relation to ourselves or others1 they still continue to excite desire and aversion1 grief and joy2 but cause1 at the same time1 the indirect passions of pride or humility1 love or hatred1 which in this case have a double relation of impressions and ideas to the pain or pleasure4 ,we have already observed1 that moral distinctions depend entirely on certain peculiar sentiments of pain and pleasure1 and that whatever mental quality in ourselves or others gives us a satisfaction1 by the survey or reflection1 is of course virtuous2 as every thing of this nature that gives uneasiness is vicious4 ,now1 since every quality in ourselves or others which gives pleasure1 always causes pride or love1 as every one that produces uneasiness excites humility or hatred1 it follows1 that these two particulars are to be considered as equivalent1 with regard to our mental qualities1 virtue and the power of producing love or pride1 vice and the power of producing humility or hatred4 ,in every case1 therefore1 we must judge of the one by the other1 and may pronounce any quality of the mind virtuous which causes love or pride1 and any one vicious which causes hatred or humility4 ,if any action be either virtuous or vicious1 'tis only as a sign of some quality or character4 ,it must depend upon durable principles of the mind1 which extend over the whole conduct1 and enter into the personal character4 ,actions themselves1 not proceeding from any constant principle1 have no influence on love or hatred1 pride or humility2 and consequently are never considered in morality4 ,this reflection is self-evident1 and deserves to be attended to1 as being of the utmost importance in the present subject4 ,we are never to consider any single action in our inquiries concerning the origin of morals1 but only the quality or character from which the action proceeded4 ,these alone are durable enough to affect our sentiments concerning the person4 ,actions are indeed better indications of a character than words1 or even wishes and sentiments2 but 'tis only so far as they are such indications1 that they are attended with love or hatred1 praise or blame4 ,to discover the true origin of morals1 and of that love or hatred which arises from mental qualities1 we must take the matter pretty deep1 and compare some principles which have been already examined and explained4 ,we may begin with considering anew the nature and force of sympathy4 ,the minds of all men are similar in their feelings and operations2 nor can any one be actuated by any affection of which all others are not in some degree susceptible4 ,as in strings equally wound up1 the motion of one communicates itself to the rest1 so all the affections readily pass from one person to another1 and beget correspondent movements in every human creature4 ,when ,i see the effects of passion in the voice and gesture of any person1 my mind immediately passes from these effects to their causes1 and forms such a lively idea of the passion as is presently converted into the passion itself4 ,in like manner1 when ,i perceive the causes of any emotion1 my mind is conveyed to the effects1 and is actuated with a like emotion4 ,were ,i present at any of the more terrible operations of surgery1 'tis certain that1 even before it begun1 the preparation of the instruments1 the laying of the bandages in order1 the heating of the irons1 with all the signs of anxiety and concern in the patient and assistants1 would have a great effect upon my mind1 and excite the strongest sentiments of pity and terror4 ,no passion of another discovers itself immediately to the mind4 ,we are only sensible of its causes or effects4 ,from these we infer the passion2 and consequently these give rise to our sympathy4 ,our sense of beauty depends very much on this principle2 and where any object has a tendency to produce pleasure in its possessor1 it is always regarded as beautiful2 as every object that has a tendency to produce pain1 is disagreeable and deformed4 ,thus1 the conveniency of a house1 the fertility of a field1 the strength of a horse1 the capacity1 security1 and swift-sailing of a vessel1 form the principal beauty of these several objects4 ,here the object1 which is denominated beautiful1 pleases only by its tendency to produce a certain effect4 ,that effect is the pleasure or advantage of some other person4 ,now1 the pleasure of a stranger for whom we have no friendship1 pleases us only by sympathy4 ,to this principle1 therefore1 is owing the beauty which we find in every thing that is useful4 ,how considerable a part this is of beauty will easily appear upon reflection4 ,wherever an object has a tendency to produce pleasure in the possessor1 or1 in other words1 is the proper cause of pleasure1 it is sure to please the spectator1 by a delicate sympathy with the possessor4 ,most of the works of art are esteemed beautiful1 in proportion to their fitness for the use of man2 and even many of the productions of nature derive their beauty from that source4 ,handsome and beautiful1 on most occasions1 is not an absolute1 but a relative quality1 and pleases us by nothing but its tendency to produce an end that is agreeable4#a ,the same principle produces1 in many instances1 our sentiments of morals1 as well as those of beauty4 ,no virtue is more esteemed than justice1 and no vice more detested than injustice2 nor are there any qualities which go farther to the fixing the character1 either as amiable or odious4 ,now justice is a moral virtue1 merely because it has that tendency to the good of mankind1 and indeed is nothing but an artificial invention to that purpose4 ,the same may be said of allegiance1 of the laws of nations1 of modesty1 and of good manners4 ,all these are mere human contrivances for the interest of society4 ,and since there is a very strong sentiment of morals1 which in all nations and all ages has attended them1 we must allow that the reflecting on the tendency of characters and mental qualities is sufficient to give us the sentiments of approbation and blame4 ,now1 as the means to an end can only be agreeable where the end is agreeable1 and as the good of society1 where our own interest is not concerned1 or that of our friends1 pleases only by sympathy1 it follows1 that sympathy is the source of the esteem which we pay to all the artificial virtues4 ,thus it appears1 that sympathy is a very powerful principle in human nature1 that it has a great influence on our taste of beauty1 and that it produces our sentiment of morals in all the artificial virtues4 ,from thence we may presume1 that it also gives rise to many of the other virtues1 and that qualities acquire our approbation because of their tendency to the good of mankind4 ,this presumption must become a certainty1 when we find that most of those qualities which we naturally approve of1 have actually that tendency1 and render a man a proper member of society2 while the qualities which we naturally disapprove of have a contrary tendency1 and render any intercourse with the person dangerous or disagreeable4 ,for having found1 that such tendencies have force enough to produce the strongest sentiment of morals1 we can never reasonably1 in these cases1 look for any other cause of approbation or blame2 it being an inviolable maxim in philosophy1 that where any particular cause is sufficient for an effect1 we ought to rest satisfied with it1 and ought not to multiply causes without necessity4 ,we have happily attained experiments in the artificial virtues1 where the tendency of qualities to the good of society is the sole cause of our approbation1 without any suspicion of the concurrence of another principle4 ,from thence we learn the force of that principle4 ,and where that principle may take place1 and the quality approved of is really beneficial to society1 a true philosopher will never require any other principle to account for the strongest approbation and esteem4 ,that many of the natural virtues have this tendency to the good of society1 no one can doubt of4 ,meekness1 beneficence1 charity1 generosity1 clemency1 moderation1 equity1 bear the greatest figure among the moral qualities1 and are commonly denominated the social virtues1 to mark their tendency to the good of society4 ,this goes so far1 that some philosophers have represented all moral distinctions as the effect of artifice and education1 when skilful politicians endeavoured to restrain the turbulent passions of men1 and make them operate to the public good1 by the notions of honour and shame4 ,this system1 however1 is not consistent with experience4 ,for1 first1 ,there are other virtues and vices beside those which have this tendency to the public advantage and loss4 ,secondly1 ,had not men a natural sentiment of approbation and blame1 it could never be excited by politicians1 nor would the words laudable and praiseworthy1 blameable and odious1 be any more intelligible than if they were a language perfectly unknown to us1 as we have already observed4 ,but though this system be erroneous1 it may teach us that moral distinctions arise in a great measure from the tendency of qualities and characters to the interests of society1 and that 'tis our concern for that interest which makes us approve or disapprove of them4 ,now1 we have no such extensive concern for society1 but from sympathy2 and consequently 'tis that principle which takes us so far out of ourselves as to give us the same pleasure or uneasiness in the characters of others1 as if they had a tendency to our own advantage or loss4 ,the only difference betwixt the natural virtues and justice lies in this1 that the good which results from the former arises from every single act1 and is the object of some natural passion2 whereas a single act of justice1 considered in itself1 may often be contrary to the public good2 and 'tis only the concurrence of mankind1 in a general scheme or system of action1 which is advantageous4 ,when ,i relieve persons in distress1 my natural humanity is my motive2 and so far as my succour extends1 so far have ,i promoted the happiness of my fellow-creatures4 ,but if we examine all the questions that come before any tribunal of justice1 we shall find that1 considering each case apart1 it would as often be an instance of humanity to decide contrary to the laws of justice as conformable to them4 ,judges take from a poor man to give to a rich2 they bestow on the dissolute the labour of the industrious2 and put into the hands of the vicious the means of harming both themselves and others4 ,the whole scheme1 however1 of law and justice is advantageous to the society2 and 'twas with a view to this advantage that men1 by their voluntary conventions1 established it4 ,after it is once established by these conventions1 it is naturally attended with a strong sentiment of morals1 which can proceed from nothing but our sympathy with the interests of society4 ,we need no other explication of that esteem which attends such of the natural virtues as have a tendency to the public good4 ,i must farther add1 that there are several circumstances which render this hypothesis much more probable with regard to the natural than the artificial virtues4 ',tis certain1 that the imagination is more affected by what is particular1 than by what is general2 and that the sentiments are always moved with difficulty1 where their objects are in any degree loose and undetermined4 ,now1 every particular act of justice is not beneficial to society1 but the whole scheme or system2 and it may not perhaps be any individual person for whom we are concerned1 who receives benefit from justice1 but the whole society alike4 ,on the contrary1 every particular act of generosity1 or relief of the industrious and indigent1 is beneficial1 and is beneficial to a particular person1 who is not undeserving of it4 ',tis more natural1 therefore1 to think that the tendencies of the latter virtue will affect our sentiments1 and command our approbation1 than those of the former2 and therefore1 since we find that the approbation of the former arises from their tendencies1 we may ascribe1 with better reason1 the same cause to the approbation of the latter4 ,in any number of similar effects1 if a cause can be discovered for one1 we ought to extend that cause to all the other effects which can be accounted for by it2 but much more1 if these other effects be attended with peculiar circumstances1 which facilitate the operation of that cause4 ,before ,i proceed farther1 ,i must observe two remarkable circumstances in this affair1 which may seem objections to the present system4 ,the first may be thus explained4 ,when any quality or character has a tendency to the good of mankind1 we are pleased with it1 and approve of it1 because it presents the lively idea of pleasure2 which idea affects us by sympathy1 and is itself a kind of pleasure4 ,but as this sympathy is very variable1 it may be thought that our sentiments of morals must admit of all the same variations4 ,we sympathize more with persons contiguous to us1 than with persons remote from us2 with our acquaintance1 than with strangers2 with our countrymen1 than with foreigners4 ,but notwithstanding this variation of our sympathy1 we give the same approbation to the same moral qualities in ,china as in ,england4 ,they appear equally virtuous1 and recommend themselves equally to the esteem of a judicious spectator4 ,the sympathy varies without a variation in our esteem4 ,our esteem1 therefore1 proceeds not from sympathy4 ,to this ,i answer1 the approbation of moral qualities most certainly is not derived from reason1 or any comparison of ideas2 but proceeds entirely from a moral taste1 and from certain sentiments of pleasure or disgust1 which arise upon the contemplation and view of particular qualities or characters4 ,now1 'tis evident that those sentiments1 whencever they are derived1 must vary according to the distance or contiguity of the objects2 nor can ,i feel the same lively pleasure from the virtues of a person who lived in ,greece two thousand years ago1 that ,i feel from the virtues of a familiar friend and acquaintance4 ,yet ,i do not say that ,i esteem the one more than the other2 and therefore1 if the variation of the sentiment1 without a variation of the esteem1 be an objection1 it must have equal force against every other system1 as against that of sympathy4 ,but to consider the matter aright1 it has no force at all2 and 'tis the easiest matter in the world to account for it4 ,our situation with regard both to persons and things is in continual fluctuation2 and a man that lies at a distance from us1 may in a little time become a familiar acquaintance4 ,besides1 every particular man has a peculiar position with regard to others2 and 'tis impossible we could ever converse together on any reasonable terms1 were each of us to consider characters and persons only as they appear from his peculiar point of view4 ,in order1 therefore1 to prevent those continual contradictions1 and arrive at a more stable judgment of things1 we fix on some steady and general points of view1 and always1 in our thoughts1 place ourselves in them1 whatever may be our present situation4 ,in like manner1 external beauty is determined merely by pleasure2 and 'tis evident a beautiful countenance cannot give so much pleasure1 when seen at a distance of twenty paces1 as when it is brought nearer us4 ,we say not1 however1 that it appears to us less beautiful2 because we know what effect it will have in such a position1 and by that reflection we correct its momentary appearance4 ,in general1 all sentiments of blame or praise are variable1 according to our situation of nearness or remoteness with regard to the person blamed or praised1 and according to the present disposition of our mind4 ,but these variations we regard not in our general decisions1 but still apply the terms expressive of our liking or dislike1 in the same manner as if we remained in one point of view4 ,experience soon teaches us this method of correcting our sentiments1 or at least of correcting our language1 where the sentiments are more stubborn and unalterable4 ,our servant1 if diligent and faithful1 may excite stronger sentiments of love and kindness than ,marcus ,brutus1 as represented in history2 but we say not1 upon that account1 that the former character is more laudable than the latter4 ,we know that1 were we to approach equally near to that renowned patriot1 he would command a much higher degree of affection and admiration4 ,such corrections are common with regard to all the senses2 and indeed 'twere impossible we could ever make use of language1 or communicate our sentiments to one another1 did we not correct the momentary appearances of things1 and overlook our present situation4 ',tis therefore from the influence of characters and qualities upon those who have an intercourse with any person1 that we blame or praise him4 ,we consider not whether the persons affected by the qualities be our acquaintance or strangers1 countrymen or foreigners4 ,nay1 we overlook our own interest in those general judgments1 and blame not a man for opposing us in any of our pretensions1 when his own interest is particularly concerned4 ,we make allowance for a certain degree of selfishness in men1 because we know it to be inseparable from human nature1 and inherent in our frame and constitution4 ,by this reflection we correct those sentiments of blame which so naturally arise upon any opposition4 ,but however the general principle of our blame or praise may be corrected by those other principles1 'tis certain they are not altogether efficacious1 nor do our passions often correspond entirely to the present theory4 ',tis seldom men heartily love what lies at a distance from them1 and what no way redounds to their particular benefit2 as 'tis no less rare to meet with persons who can pardon another any opposition he makes to their interest1 however justifiable that opposition may be by the general rules of morality4 ,here we are contented with saying1 that reason requires such an impartial conduct1 but that 'tis seldom we can bring ourselves to it1 and that our passions do not readily follow the determination of our judgment4 ,this language will be easily understood1 if we consider what we formerly said concerning that reason which is able to oppose our passion1 and which we have found to be nothing but a general calm determination of the passions1 founded on some distant view or reflection4 ,when we form our judgments of persons merely from the tendency of their characters to our own benefit1 or to that of our friends1 we find so many contradictions to our sentiments in society and conversation1 and such an uncertainty from the incessant changes of our situation1 that we seek some other standard of merit and demerit1 which may not admit of so great variation4 ,being thus loosened from our first station1 we cannot afterwards fix ourselves so commodiously by any means as by a sympathy with those who have any commerce with the person we consider4 ,this is far from being as lively as when our own interest is concerned1 or that of our particular friends2 nor has it such an influence on our love and hatred2 but being equally conformable to our calm and general principles1 'tis said to have an equal authority over our reason1 and to command our judgment and opinion4 ,we blame equally a bad action which we read of in history1 with one performed in our neighbourhood t'other day2 the meaning of which is1 that we know from reflection that the former action would excite as strong sentiments of disapprobation as the latter1 were it placed in the same position4 ,i now proceed to the second remarkable circumstance which ,i proposed to take notice of4 ,where a person is possessed of a character that in its natural tendency is beneficial to society1 we esteem him virtuous1 and are delighted with the view of his character1 even though particular accidents prevent its operation1 and incapacitate him from being serviceable to his friends and country4 ,virtue in rags is still virtue2 and the love which it procures attends a man into a dungeon or desart1 where the virtue can no longer be exerted in action1 and is lost to all the world4 ,now1 this may be esteemed an objection to the present system4 ,sympathy interests us in the good of mankind2 and if sympathy were the source of our esteem for virtue1 that sentiment of approbation could only take place where the virtue actually attained its end1 and was beneficial to mankind4 ,where it fails of its end1 'tis only an imperfect means2 and therefore can never acquire any merit from that end4 ,the goodness of an end can bestow a merit on such means alone as are complete1 and actually produce the end4 ,to this we may reply1 that where any object1 in all its parts1 is fitted to attain any agreeable end1 it naturally gives us pleasure1 and is esteemed beautiful1 even though some external circumstances be wanting to render it altogether effectual4 ',tis sufficient if every thing be complete in the object itself4 ,a house that is contrived with great judgment for all the commodities of life1 pleases us upon that account2 though perhaps we are sensible1 that no one will ever dwell in it4 ,a fertile soil1 and a happy climate1 delight us by a reflection on the happiness which they would afford the inhabitants1 though at present the country be desart and uninhabited4 ,a man1 whose limbs and shape promise strength and activity1 is esteemed handsome1 though condemned to perpetual imprisonment4 ,the imagination has a set of passions belonging to it1 upon which our sentiments of beauty much depend4 ,these passions are moved by degrees of liveliness and strength1 which are inferior to belief1 and independent of the real existence of their objects4 ,where a character is1 in every respect1 fitted to be beneficial to society1 the imagination passes easily from the cause to the effect1 without considering that there are still some circumstances wanting to render the cause a complete one4 ,general rules create a species of probability1 which sometimes influences the judgment1 and always the imagination4 ',tis true1 when the cause is complete1 and a good disposition is attended with good fortune1 which renders it really beneficial to society1 it gives a stronger pleasure to the spectator1 and is attended with a more lively sympathy4 ,we are more affected by it2 and yet we do not say that it is more virtuous1 or that we esteem it more4 ,we know that an alteration of fortune may render the benevolent disposition entirely impotent2 and therefore we separate1 as much as possible1 the fortune from the disposition4 ,the case is the same as when we correct the different sentiments of virtue1 which proceed from its different distances from ourselves4 ,the passions do not always follow our corrections2 but these corrections serve sufficiently to regulate our abstract notions1 and are alone regarded when we pronounce in general concerning the degrees of vice and virtue4 ',tis observed by critics1 that all words or sentences which are difficult to the pronunciation1 are disagreeable to the ear4 ,there is no difference1 whether a man hear them pronounced1 or read them silently to himself4 ,when ,i run over a book with my eye1 ,i imagine ,i hear it all2 and also1 by the force of imagination1 enter into the uneasiness which the delivery of it would give the speaker4 ,the uneasiness is not real2 but1 as such a composition of words has a natural tendency to produce it1 this is sufficient to affect the mind with a painful sentiment1 and render the discourse harsh and disagreeable4 ',tis a similar case1 where any real quality is1 by accidental circumstances1 rendered impotent1 and is deprived of its natural influence on society4 ,upon these principles we may easily remove any contradiction which may appear to be betwixt the extensive sympathy1 on which our sentiments of virtue depend1 and that limited generosity1 which ,i have frequently observed to be natural to men1 and which justice and property suppose1 according to the precedent reasoning4 ,my sympathy with another may give me the sentiment of pain and disapprobation1 when any object is presented that has a tendency to give him uneasiness2 though ,i may not be willing to sacrifice any thing of my own interest1 or cross any of my passions1 for his satisfaction4 ,a house may displease me by being ill-contrived for the convenience of the owner2 and yet ,i may refuse to give a shilling towards the rebuilding of it4 ,sentiments must touch the heart to make them control our passions3 but they need not extend beyond the imagination1 to make them influence our taste4 ,when a building seems clumsy and tottering to the eye1 it is ugly and disagreeable2 though we may be fully assured of the solidity of the workmanship4 ',tis a kind of fear which causes this sentiment of disapprobation2 but the passion is not the same with that which we feel when obliged to stand under a wall that we really think tottering and insecure4 ,the seeming tendencies of objects affect the mind3 and the emotions they excite are of a like species with those which proceed from the real consequences of objects1 but their feeling is different4 ,nay1 these emotions are so different in their feeling1 that they may often be contrary1 without destroying each other2 as when the fortifications of a city belonging to an enemy are esteemed beautiful upon account of their strength1 though we could wish that they were entirely destroyed4 ,the imagination adheres to the general views of things1 and distinguishes the feelings they produce from those which arise from our particular and momentary situation4 ,if we examine the panegyrics that are commonly made of great men1 we shall find1 that most of the qualities which are attributed to them may be divided into two kinds1 viz4 such as make them perform their part in society2 and such as render them serviceable to themselves1 and enable them to promote their own interest4 ,their prudence1 temperance1 frugality1 industry1 assiduity1 enterprise1 dexterity1 are celebrated1 as well as their generosity and humanity4 ,if we ever give an indulgence to any quality that disables a man from making a figure in life1 'tis to that of indolence1 which is not supposed to deprive one of his parts and capacity1 but only suspends their exercise2 and that without any inconvenience to the person himself1 since 'tis1 in some measure1 from his own choice4 ,yet indolence is always allowed to be a fault1 and a very great one1 if extreme3 nor do a man's friends ever acknowledge him to be subject to it1 but in order to save his character in more material articles4 ,he could make a figure1 say they1 if he pleased to give application3 his understanding is sound1 his conception quick1 and his memory tenacious2 but he hates business1 and is indifferent about his fortune4 ,and this a man sometimes may make even a subject of vanity1 though with the air of confessing a fault3 because he may think1 that this incapacity for business implies much more noble qualities2 such as a philosophical spirit1 a fine taste1 a delicate wit1 or a relish for pleasure and society4 ,but take any other case3 suppose a quality that1 without being an indication of any other good qualities1 incapacitates a man always for business1 and is destructive to his interest2 such as a blundering understanding1 and a wrong judgment of every thing in life2 inconstancy and irresolution2 or a want of address in the management of men and business3 these are all allowed to be imperfections in a character2 and many men would rather acknowledge the greatest crimes1 than have it suspected that they are in any degree subject to them4 ',tis very happy1 in our philosophical researches1 when we find the same phenomenon diversified by a variety of circumstances2 and by discovering what is common among them1 can the better assure ourselves of the truth of any hypothesis we may make use of to explain it4 ,were nothing esteemed virtue but what were beneficial to society1 ,i am persuaded that the foregoing explication of the moral sense ought still to be received1 and that upon sufficient evidence3 but this evidence must grow upon us1 when we find other kinds of virtue which will not admit of any explication except from that hypothesis4 ,here is a man who is not remarkably defective in his social qualities2 but what principally recommends him is his dexterity in business1 by which he has extricated himself from the greatest difficulties1 and conducted the most delicate affairs with a singular address and prudence4 ,i find an esteem for him immediately to arise in me3 his company is a satisfaction to me2 and before ,i have any farther acquaintance with him1 ,i would rather do him a service than another whose character is in every other respect equal1 but is deficient in that particular4 ,in this case1 the qualities that please me are all considered as useful to the person1 and as having a tendency to promote his interest and satisfaction4 ,they are only regarded as means to an end1 and please me in proportion to their fitness for that end4 ,the end1 therefore must be agreeable to me4 ,but what makes the end agreeable8 ,the person is a stranger3 ,i am no way interested in him1 nor lie under any obligation to him3 his happiness concerns not me1 farther than the happiness of every human1 and indeed of every sensible creature2 that is1 it affects me only by sympathy4 ,from that principle1 whenever ,i discover his happiness and good1 whether in its causes or effects1 ,i enter so deeply into it1 that it gives me a sensible emotion4 ,the appearance of qualities that have a tendency to promote it1 have an agreeable effect upon my imagination1 and command my love and esteem4 ,this theory may serve to explain1 why the same qualities1 in all cases1 produce both pride and love1 humility and hatred2 and the same man is always virtuous or vicious1 accomplished or despicable to others1 who is so to himself4 ,a person in whom we discover any passion or habit1 which originally is only incommodious to himself1 becomes always disagreeable to us merely on its account2 as1 on the other hand1 one whose character is only dangerous and disagreeable to others1 can never be satisfied with himself1 as long as he is sensible of that disadvantage4 ,nor is this observable only with regard to characters and manners1 but may be remarked even in the most minute circumstances4 ,a violent cough in another gives us uneasiness2 though in itself it does not in the least affect us4 ,a man will be mortified if you tell him he has a stinking breath2 though 'tis evidently no annoyance to himself4 ,our fancy easily changes its situation2 and1 either surveying ourselves as we appear to others1 or considering others as they feel themselves1 we enter1 by that means1 into sentiments which no way belong to us1 and in which nothing but sympathy is able to interest us4 ,and this sympathy we sometimes carry so far1 as even to be displeased with a quality commodious to us1 merely because it displeases others1 and makes us disagreeable in their eyes2 though perhaps we never can have any interest in rendering ourselves agreeable to them4 ,there have been many systems of morality advanced by philosophers in all ages2 but if they are strictly examined1 they may be reduced to two1 which alone merit our attention4 ,moral good and evil are certainly distinguished by our sentiments1 not by reason3 but these sentiments may arise either from the mere species or appearance of characters and passions1 or from reflections on their tendency to the happiness of mankind1 and of particular persons4 ,my opinion is1 that both these causes are intermixed in our judgments of morals2 after the same manner as they are in our decisions concerning most kinds of external beauty3 though ,i am also of opinion1 that reflections on the tendencies of actions have by far the greatest influence1 and determine all the great lines of our duty4 ,there are1 however1 instances in cases of less moment1 wherein this immediate taste or sentiment produces our approbation4 ,wit1 and a certain easy and disengaged behaviour1 are qualities immediately agreeable to others1 and command their love and esteem4 ,some of these qualities produce satisfaction in others by particular original principles of human nature1 which cannot be accounted for3 odiers may be resolved into principles which are more general4 ,this will best appear upon a particular inquiry4 ,as some qualities acquire their merit from their being immediately agreeable to others1 without any tendency to public interest2 so some are denominated virtuous from their being immediately agreeable to the person himself1 who possesses them4 ,each of the passions and operations of the mind has a particular feeling1 which must be either agreeable or disagreeable4 ,the first is virtuous1 the second vicious4 ,this particular feeling constitutes the very nature of the passion2 and therefore needs not be accounted for4 ,but1 however directly the distinction of vice and virtue may seem to flow from the immediate pleasure or uneasiness1 which particular qualities cause to ourselves or others1 'tis easy to observe1 that it has also a considerable dependence on the principle of sympathy so often insisted on4 ,we approve of a person who is possessed of qualities immediately agreeable to those with whom he has any commerce1 though perhaps we ourselves never reaped any pleasure from them4 ,we also approve of one who is possessed of qualities that are immediately agreeable to himself1 though they be of no service to any mortal4 ,to account for this1 we must have recourse to the foregoing principles4 ,thus1 to take a general review of the present hypothesis3 ,every quality of the mind is denominated virtuous which gives pleasure by the mere survey1 as every quality which produces pain is called vicious4 ,this pleasure and this pain may arise from four different sources4 ,for we reap a pleasure from the view of a character which is naturally fitted to be useful to others1 or to the person himself1 or which is agreeable to others1 or to the person himself4 ,one may perhaps be surprised1 that1 amidst all these interests and pleasures1 we should forget our own1 which touch us so nearly on every other occasion4 ,but we shall easily satisfy ourselves on this head1 when we consider1 that every particular person's pleasure and interest being different1 'tis impossible men could ever agree in their sentiments and judgments1 unless they chose some common point of view1 from which they might survey their object1 and which might cause it to appear the same to all of them4 ,now1 in judging of characters1 the only interest or pleasure which appears the same to every spectator1 is that of the person himself whose character is examined1 or that of persons who have a connexion with him4 ,and1 though such interests and pleasures touch us more faintly than our own1 yet1 being more constant and universal1 they counterbalance the latter even in practice1 and are alone admitted in speculation as the standard of virtue and morality4 ,they alone produce that particular feeling or sentiment on which moral distinctions depend4 ,as to the good or ill desert of virtue or vice1 'tis an evident consequence of the sentiments of pleasure or uneasiness4 ,these sentiments produce love or hatred2 and love or hatred1 by the original constitution of human passion1 is attended with benevolence or anger2 that is1 with a desire of making happy the person we love1 and miserable the person we hate4 ,we have treated of this more fully on another occasion4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,of ,,greatness ,,of ,,mind4 ,it may now be proper to illustrate this general system of morals1 by applying it to particular instances of virtue and vice1 and showing how their merit or demerit arises from the four sources here explained4 ,we shall begin with examining the passions of pride and humility1 and shall consider the vice or virtue that lies in their excesses or just proportion4 ,an excessive pride or overweening conceit of ourselves1 is always esteemed vicious1 and is universally hated1 as modesty1 or a just sense of our weakness1 is esteemed virtuous1 and procures the good will of every one4 ,of the four sources of moral distinctions1 this is to be ascribed to the third2 viz4 the immediate agreeableness and disagreeableness of a quality to others1 without any reflections on the tendency of that quality4 ,in order to prove this1 we must have recourse to two principles1 which are very conspicuous in human nature4 ,the first of these is the sympathy and communication of sentiments and passions above mentioned4 ,so close and intimate is the correspondence of human souls1 that no sooner any person approaches me1 than he diffuses on me all his opinions1 and draws along my judgment in a greater or lesser degree4 ,and though1 on many occasions1 my sympathy with him goes not so far as entirely to change my sentiments and way of thinking1 yet it seldom is so weak as not to disturb the easy course of my thought1 and give an authority to that opinion which is recommended to me by his assent and approbation4 ,nor is it any way material upon what subject he and ,i employ our thoughts4 ,whether we judge of an indifferent person1 or of my own character1 my sympathy gives equal force to his decision3 and even his sentiments of his own merit make me consider him in the same light in which he regards himself4 ,this principle of sympathy is of so powerful and insinuating a nature1 that it enters into most of our sentiments and passions1 and often takes place under the appearance of its contrary4 ,for 'tis remarkable1 that when a person opposes me in any thing which ,i am strongly bent upon1 and rouses up my passion by contradiction1 ,i have always a degree of sympathy with him1 nor does my commotion proceed from any other origin4 ,we may here observe an evident conflict or rencounter of opposite principles and passions4 ,on the one side1 there is that passion or sentiment which is natural to me2 and 'tis observable1 that the stronger this passion is1 the greater is the commotion4 ,there must also be some passion or sentiment on the other side2 and this passion can proceed from nothing but sympathy4 ,the sentiments of others can never affect us1 but by becoming in some measure our own2 in which case they operate upon us1 by opposing and increasing our passions1 in the very same manner as if they had been originally derived from our own temper and disposition4 ,while they remain concealed in the minds of others1 they can never have any influence upon us3 and even when they are known1 if they went no farther than the imagination or conception1 that faculty is so accustomed to objects of every different kind1 that a mere idea1 though contrary to our sentiments and inclinations1 would never alone be able to affect us4 ,the second principle ,i shall take notice of is that of comparison1 or the variation of our judgments concerning objects1 according to the proportion they bear to those with which we compare them4 ,we judge more of objects by comparison than by their intrinsic worth and value2 and regard every thing as mean1 when set in opposition to what is superior of the same kind4 ,but no comparison is more obvious than that with ourselves2 and hence it is1 that on all occasions it takes place1 and mixes with most of our passions4 ,this kind of comparison is directly contrary to sympathy in its operation1 as we have observed in treating of compassion and malice4#b ,in all kinds of comparison1 an object makes us always receive from another1 to which it is compared1 a sensation contrary to what arises from itself in its direct and immediate survey4 ,the direct survey of another's pleasure naturally gives us pleasure2 and therefore produces pain1 when compared with our own4 ,his pain1 considered in itself is painful2 but augments the idea of our own happiness1 and gives us pleasure4 ,since then those principles of sympathy1 and a comparison with ourselves1 are directly contrary1 it may be worth while to consider1 what general rules can be formed1 beside the particular temper of the person1 for the prevalence of the one or the other4 ,suppose ,i am now in safety at land1 and would willingly reap some pleasure from this consideration1 ,i must think on the miserable condition of those who are at sea in a storm1 and must endeavour to render this idea as strong and lively as possible1 in order to make me more sensible of my own happiness4 ,but whatever pains ,i may take1 the comparison will never have an equal efficacy1 as if ,i were really on the shore1#c and saw a ship at a distance tost by a tempest1 and in danger every moment of perishing on a rock or sand-bank4 ,but suppose this idea to become still more lively4 ,suppose the ship to be driven so near me1 that ,i can perceive distinctly the horror painted on the countenance of the seamen and passengers1 hear their lamentable cries1 see the dearest friends give their last adieu1 or embrace with a resolution to perish in each other's arms3 no man has so savage a heart as to reap any pleasure from such a spectacle1 or withstand the motions of the tenderest compassion and sympathy4 ',tis evident1 therefore1 there is a medium in this case2 and that1 if the idea be too faint1 it has no influence by comparison2 and on the other hand1 if it be too strong1 it operates on us entirely by sympathy1 which is the contrary to comparison4 ,sympathy being the conversion of an idea into an impression1 demands a greater force and vivacity in the idea than is requisite to comparison4 ,all this is easily applied to the present subject4 ,we sink very much in our own eyes when in the presence of a great man1 or one of a superior genius2 and this humility makes a considerable ingredient in that respect which we pay our superiors1 according to our foregoing reasonings on that passion4#d ,sometimes even envy and hatred arise from the comparison2 but in the greatest part of men1 it rests at respect and esteem4 ,as sympathy has such a powerful influence on the human mind1 it causes pride to have in some measure the same effect as merit2 and1 by making us enter into those elevated sentiments which the proud man entertains of himself1 presents that comparison1 which is so mortifying and disagreeable4 ,our judgment does not entirely accompany him in the flattering conceit in which he pleases himself2 but still is so shaken as to receive the idea it presents1 and to give it an influence above the loose conceptions of the imagination4 ,a man who1 in an idle humour1 would form a notion of a person of a merit very much superior to his own1 would not be mortified by that fiction3 but when a man1 whom we are really persuaded to be of inferior merit1 is presented to us2 if we observe in him any extraordinary degree of pride and self-conceit1 the firm persuasion he has of his own merit1 takes hold of the imagination1 and diminishes us in our own eyes1 in the same manner as if he were really possessed of all the good qualities which he so liberally attributes to himself4 ,our idea is here precisely in that medium which is requisite to make it operate on us by comparison4 ,were it accompanied with belief1 and did the person appear to have the same merit which he assumes to himself1 it would have a contrary effect1 and would operate on us by sympathy4 ,the influence of that principle would then be superior to that of comparison1 contrary to what happens where the person's merit seems below his pretensions4 ,the necessary consequence of these principles is1 that pride1 or an overweening conceit of ourselves1 must be vicious2 since it causes uneasiness in all men1 and presents them every moment with a disagreeable comparison4 ',tis a trite observation in philosophy1 and even in common life and conversation1 that 'tis our own pride1 which makes us so much displeased with the pride of other people2 and that vanity becomes insupportable to us merely because we are vain4 ,the gay naturally associate themselves with the gay1 and the amorous with the amorous2 but the proud never can endure the proud1 and rather seek the company of those who are of an opposite disposition4 ,as we are all of us proud in some degree1 pride is universally blamed and condemned by all mankind1 as having a natural tendency to cause uneasiness in others by means of comparison4 ,and this effect must follow the more naturally1 that those1 who have an ill-grounded conceit of themselves1 are for ever making those comparisons2 nor have they any other method of supporting their vanity4 ,a man of sense and merit is pleased with himself1 independent of all foreign considerations2 but a fool must always find some person that is more foolish1 in order to keep himself in good humour with his own parts and understanding4 ,but though an overweening conceit of our own merit be vicious and disagreeable1 nothing can be more laudable than to have a value for ourselves1 where we really have qualities that are valuable4 ,the utility and advantage of any quality to ourselves is a source of virtue1 as well as its agreeableness to others2 and 'tis certain1 that nothing is more useful to us in the conduct of life1 than a due degree of pride1 which makes us sensible of our own merit1 and gives us a confidence and assurance in all our projects and enterprises4 ,whatever capacity any one may be endowed with1 'tis entirely useless to him1 if he be not acquainted with it1 and form not designs suitable to it4 ',tis requisite on all occasions to know our own force2 and were it allowable to err on either side1 'twould be more advantageous to over-rate our merit1 than to form ideas of it below its just standard4 ,fortune commonly favours the bold and enterprising2 and nothing inspires us with more boldness than a good opinion of ourselves4 ,add to this1 that though pride1 or self-applause1 be sometimes disagreeable to others1 'tis always agreeable to ourselves2 as1 on the other hand1 modesty1 though it give pleasure to every one who observes it1 produces often uneasiness in the person endowed with it4 ,now1 it has been observed1 that our own sensations determine the vice and virtue of any quality1 as well as those sensations1 which it may excite in others4 ,thus1 self-satisfaction and vanity may not only be allowable1 but requisite in a character4 ',tis however certain1 that good breeding and decency require that we should avoid all signs and expressions1 which tend directly to show that passion4 ,we have1 all of us1 a wonderful partiality for ourselves1 and were we always to give vent to our sentiments in this particular1 we should mutually cause the greatest indignation in each other1 not only by the immediate presence of so disagreeable a subject of comparison1 but also by the contrariety of our judgments4 ,in like manner1 therefore1 as we establish the laws of nature1 in order to secure property in society1 and prevent the opposition of self-interest1 we establish the rules of good breeding1 in order to prevent the opposition of men's pride1 and render conversation agreeable and offensive4 ,nothing is more disagreeable than a man's overweening conceit of himself4 ,every one almost has a strong propensity to this vice4 ,no one can well distinguish in himself betwixt the vice and virtue1 or be certain that his esteem of his own merit is well-founded2 for these reasons1 all direct expressions of this passion are condemned2 nor do we make any exception to this rule in favour of men of sense and merit4 ,they are not allowed to do themselves justice openly in words1 no more than other people2 and even if they show a reserve and secret doubt in doing themselves justice in their own thoughts1 they will be more applauded4 ,that impertinent1 and almost universal propensity of men1 to overvalue themselves1 has given us such a prejudice against self-applause1 that we are apt to condemn it by a general rule wherever we meet with it2 and 'tis with some difficulty we give a privilege to men of sense1 even in their most secret thoughts4 ,at least1 it must be owned that some disguise in this particular is absolutely requisite2 and that1 if we harbour pride in our breasts1 we must carry a fair outside1 and have the appearance of modesty and mutual deference in all our conduct and behaviour4 ,we must1 on every occasion1 be ready to prefer others to ourselves2 to treat them with a kind of deference1 even though they be our equals2 to seem always the lowest and least in the company1 where we are not very much distinguished above them2 and if we observe these rules in our conduct1 men will have more indulgence for our secret sentiments1 when we discover them in an oblique manner4 ,i believe no one who has any practice of the world1 and can penetrate into the inward sentiments of men1 will assert that the humility which good-breeding and decency require of us1 goes beyond the outside1 or that a thorough sincerity in this particular is esteemed a real part of our duty4 ,on the contrary1 we may observe1 that a genuine and hearty pride1 or self-esteem1 if well concealed and well founded1 is essential to the character of a man of honour1 and that there is no quality of the mind which is more indispensably requisite to procure the esteem and approbation of mankind4 ,there are certain deferences and mutual submissions which custom requires of the different ranks of men towards each other2 and whoever exceeds in this particular1 if through interest1 is accused of meanness1 if through ignorance1 of simplicity4 ',tis necessary1 therefore1 to know our rank and station in the world1 whether it be fixed by our birth1 fortune1 employments1 talents1 or reputation4 ',tis necessary to feel the sentiment and passion of pride in conformity to it1 and to regulate our actions accordingly4 ,and should it be said1 that prudence may suffice to regulate our actions in this particular1 without any real pride1 ,i would observe1 that here the object of prudence is to conform our actions to the general usage and custom2 and that 'tis impossible those tacit airs of superiority should ever have been established and authorized by custom1 unless men were generally proud1 and unless that passion were generally approved1 when well-grounded4 ,if we pass from common life and conversation to history1 this reasoning acquires new force1 when we observe1 that all those great actions and sentiments which have become the admiration of mankind1 are founded on nothing but pride and self-esteem4 ',go1' says ,alexander the ,great to his soldiers1 when they refused to follow him to the ,indies1 'go tell your countrymen1 that you left ,alexander completing the conquest of the world4' ,this passage was always particularly admired by the prince of ,cond1 as we learn from ,st ,evremond4 ',alexander1' said that prince1 'abandoned by his soldiers1 among barbarians not yet fully subdued1 felt in himself such a dignity and right of empire1 that he could not believe it possible any one could refuse to obey him4 ,whether in ,europe or in ,asia1 among ,greeks or ,persians1 all was indifferent to him2 wherever he found men1 he fancied he had found subjects4' ,in general1 we may observe1 that whatever we call heroic virtue1 and admire under the character of greatness and elevation of mind1 is either nothing but a steady and well-established pride and self-esteem1 or partakes largely of that passion4 ,courage1 intrepidity1 ambition1 love of glory1 magnanimity1 and all the other shining virtues of that kind1 have plainly a strong mixture of self-esteem in them1 and derive a great part of their merit from that origin4 ,accordingly we find1 that many religious declaimers decry those virtues as purely pagan and natural1 and represent to us the excellency of the ,christian religion1 which places humility in the rank of virtues1 and corrects the judgment of the world1 and even of philosophers1 who so generally admire all the efforts of pride and ambition4 ,whether this virtue of humility has been rightly understood1 ,i shall not pretend to determine4 ,i am content with the concession1 that the world naturally esteems a well-regulated pride1 which secretly animates our conduct1 without breaking out into such indecent expressions of vanity as may offend the vanity of others4 ,the merit of pride or self-esteem is derived from two circumstances1 viz4 its utility1 and its agreeableness to ourselves2 by which it capacitates us for business1 and at the same time gives us an immediate satisfaction4 ,when it goes beyond its just bounds1 it loses the first advantage1 and even becomes prejudicial2 which is the reason why we condemn an extravagant pride and ambition1 however regulated by the decorums of good-breeding and politeness4 ,but as such a passion is still agreeable1 and conveys an elevated and sublime sensation to the person who is actuated by it1 the sympathy with that satisfaction diminishes considerably the blame which naturally attends its dangerous influence on our conduct and behaviour4 ,accordingly we may observe1 that an excessive courage and magnanimity1 especially when it displays itself under the frowns of fortune1 contributes in a great measure to the character of a hero1 and will render a person the admiration of posterity1 at the same time that it ruins his affairs1 and leads him into dangers and difficulties with which otherwise he would never have been acquainted4 ,heroism1 or military glory1 is much admired by the generality of mankind4 ,they consider it as the most sublime kind of merit4 ,men of cool reflection are not so sanguine in their praises of it4 ,the infinite confusions and disorder which it has caused in the world1 diminish much of its merit in their eyes4 ,when they would oppose the popular notions on this head1 they always paint out the evils which this supposed virtue has produced in human society2 the subversion of empires1 the devastation of provinces1 the sack of cities4 ,as long as these are present to us1 we are more inclined to hate than admire the ambition of heroes4 ,but when we fix our view on the person himself1 who is the author of all this mischief1 there is something so dazzling in his character1 the mere contemplation of it so elevates the mind1 that we cannot refuse it our admiration4 ,the pain which we receive from its tendency to the prejudice of society1 is overpowered by a stronger and more immediate sympathy4 ,thus1 our explication of the merit or demerit which attends the degrees of pride or self-esteem1 may serve as a strong argument for the preceding hypothesis1 by showing the effects of those principles above explained in all the variations of our judgments concerning that passion4 ,nor will this reasoning be advantageous to us only by showing1 that the distinction of vice and virtue arises from the four principles of the advantage and of the pleasure of the person himself and of others1 but may also afford us a strong proof of some under parts of that hypothesis4 ,no one who duly considers of this matter will make any scruple of allowing1 that any piece of ill-breeding1 or any expression of pride and haughtiness1 is displeasing to us1 merely because it shocks our own pride1 and leads us by sympathy into a comparison which causes the disagreeable passion of humility4 ,now1 as an insolence of this kind is blamed even in a person who has always been civil to ourselves in particular1 nay1 in one whose name is only known to us in history1 it follows that our disapprobation proceeds from a sympathy with others1 and from the reflection that such a character is highly displeasing and odious to every one who converses or has any intercourse with the person possest of it4 ,we sympathize with those people in their uneasiness2 and as their uneasiness proceeds in part from a sympathy with the person who insults them1 we may here observe a double rebound of the sympathy1 which is a principle very similar to what we have observed on another occasion4#e #a ,decentior equus cujus astricta sunt ilia2 sed idem velocior4 ,pulcher aspectu sit athleta1 cujus lacertos exercitatio expressit2 idem certamini paratior4 ,nunquam vero species ab utilitate dividitur4 ,sed hoc quidem discernere1 modici judicii est4--,quinct4 lib4 #h4 #b ,book ,,ii4 ,part ,,ii4 ,sect #h4 #c ,suavi mari magno turbantibus quora ventis ,e terra magnum alterius spectare laborem2 ,non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas1 ,sed quibus ipse malis careas quia cernere suav'est4--,lucret4 #d ,book ,,ii4 ,part ,,ii4 ,sect #aj4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,of ,,goodness ,,and ,,benevolence4 ,having thus explained the origin of that praise and approbation which attends every thing we call great in human affections1 we now proceed to give an account of their goodness1 and show whence its merit is derived4 ,when experience has once given us a competent knowledge of human affairs1 and has taught us the proportion they bear to human passion1 we perceive that the generosity of men is very limited1 and that it seldom extends beyond their friends and family1 or1 at most1 beyond their native country4 ,being thus acquainted with the nature of man1 we expect not any impossibilities from him2 but confine our view to that narrow circle in which any person moves1 in order to form a judgment of his moral character4 ,when the natural tendency of his passions leads him to be serviceable and useful within his sphere1 we approve of his character1 and love his person1 by a sympathy with the sentiments of those who have a more particular connexion with him4 ,we are quickly obliged to forget get our own interest in our judgments of this kind1 by reason of the perpetual contradictions we meet with in society and conversation1 from persons that are not placed in the same situation1 and have not the same interest with ourselves4 ,the only point of view in which our sentiments concur with those of others1 is when we consider the tendency of any passion to the advantage or harm of those who have any immediate connexion or intercourse with the person possessed of it4 ,and though this advantage or harm be often very remote from ourselves1 yet sometimes 'tis very near us1 and interests us strongly by sympathy4 ,this concern we readily extend to other cases that are resembling2 and when these are very remote1 our sympathy is proportionably weaker1 and our praise or blame fainter and more doubtful4 ,the case is here the same as in our judgments concerning external bodies4 ,all objects seem to diminish by their distance2 but though the appearance of objects to our senses be the original standard by which we judge of them1 yet we do not say that they actually diminish by the distance2 but1 correcting the appearance by reflection1 arrive at a more constant and established judgment concerning them4 ,in like manner1 though sympathy be much fainter than our concern for ourselves1 and a sympathy with persons remote from us much fainter than that with persons near and contiguous1 yet we neglect all these differences in our calm judgments concerning the characters of men4 ,besides that we ourselves often change our situation in this particular1 we every day meet with persons who are in a different situation from ourselves1 and who could never converse with us on any reasonable terms1 were we to remain constantly in that situation and point of view which is peculiar to us4 ,the intercourse of sentiments1 therefore1 in society and conversation1 makes us form some general unalterable standard by which we may approve or disapprove of characters and manners4 ,and though the heart does not always take part with those general notions1 or regulate its love and hatred by them1 yet are they sufficient for discourse1 and serve all our purposes in company1 in the pulpit1 on the theatre1 and in the schools4 ,from these principles1 we may easily account for that merit which is commonly ascribed to generosity1 humanity1 compassion1 gratitude1 friendship1 fidelity1 zeal1 disinterestedness1 liberality1 and all those other qualities which form the character of good and benevolent4 ,a propensity to the tender passions makes a man agreeable and useful in all the parts of life1 and gives a just direction to all his other qualities1 which otherwise may become prejudicial to society4 ,courage and ambition1 when not regulated by benevolence1 are fit only to make a tyrant and public robber4 ',tis the same case with judgment and capacity1 and all the qualities of that kind4 ,they are indifferent in themselves to the interests of society1 and have a tendency to the good or ill of mankind1 according as they are directed by these other passions4 ,as love is immediately agreeable to the person who is actuated by it1 and hatred immediately disagreeable1 this may also be a considerable reason why we praise all the passions that partake of the former1 and blame all those that have any considerable share of the latter4 ',tis certain we are infinitely touched with a tender sentiment1 as well as with a great one4 ,the tears naturally start in our eyes at the conception of it2 nor can we forbear giving a loose to the same tenderness towards the person who exerts it4 ,all this seems to me a proof that our approbation has1 in these cases1 an origin different from the prospect of utility and advantage1 either to ourselves or others4 ,to which we may add1 that men naturally1 without reflection1 approve of that character which is most like their own4 ,the man of a mild disposition and tender affections1 in forming a notion of the most perfect virtue1 mixes in it more of benevolence and humanity than the man of courage and enterprise1 who naturally looks upon a certain elevation of the mind as the most accomplished character4 ,this must evidently proceed from an immediate sympathy1 which men have with characters similar to their own4 ,they enter with more warmth into such sentiments1 and feel more sensibly the pleasure which arises from them4 ',tis remarkable1 that nothing touches a man of humanity more than any instance of extraordinary delicacy in love or friendship1 where a person is attentive to the smallest concerns of his friend1 and is willing to sacrifice to them the most considerable interest of his own4 ,such delicacies have little influence on society2 because they make us regard the greatest trifles3 but they are the more engaging the more minute the concern is1 and are a proof of the highest merit in any one who is capable of them4 ,the passions are so contagious1 that they pass with the greatest facility from one person to another1 and produce correspondent movements in all human breasts4 ,where friendship appears in very signal instances1 my heart catches the same passion1 and is warmed by those warm sentiments that display themselves before me4 ,such agreeable1 movements must give me an affection to every one that excites them4 ,this is the case with every thing that is agreeable in any person4 ,the transition from pleasure to love is easy3 but the transition must here be still more easy2 since the agreeable sentiment which is excited by sympathy1 is love itself2 and there is nothing required but to change the object4 ,hence the peculiar merit of benevolence in all its shapes and appearances4 ,hence even its weaknesses are virtuous and amiable2 and a person1 whose grief upon the loss of a friend were excessive1 would be esteemed upon that account4 ,his tenderness bestows a merit1 as it does a pleasure1 on his melancholy4 ,we are not1 however1 to imagine that all the angry passions are vicious1 though they are disagreeable4 ,there is a certain indulgence due to human nature in this respect4 ,anger and hatred are passions inherent in our very frame and constitution4 ,the want of them1 on some occasions1 may even be a proof of weakness and imbecility4 ,and where they appear only in a low degree1 we not only excuse them because they are natural1 but even bestow our applauses on them1 because they are inferior to what appears in the greatest part of mankind4 ,where these angry passions rise up to cruelty1 they form the most detested of all vices4 ,all the pity and concern which we have for the miserable sufferers by this vice1 turns against the person guilty of it1 and produces a stronger hatred than we are sensible of on any other occasion4 ,even when the vice of inhumanity rises not to this extreme degree1 our sentiments concerning it are very much influenced by reflections on the harm that results from it4 ,and we may observe in general1 that if we can find any quality in a person1 which renders him incommodious to those who live and converse with him1 we always allow it to be a fault or blemish1 without any farther examination4 ,on the other hand1 when we enumerate the good qualities of any person1 we always mention those parts of his character which render him a safe companion1 an easy friend1 a gentle master1 an agreeable husband1 or an indulgent father4 ,we consider him with all his relations in society2 and love or hate him1 according as he affects those who have any immediate intercourse with him4 ,and 'tis a most certain rule1 that if there be no relation of life in which ,i could not wish to stand to a particular person1 his character must so far be allowed to be perfect4 ,if he be as little wanting to himself as to others1 his character is entirely perfect4 ,this is the ultimate test of merit and virtue4 #e ,book ,,ii4 ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 #e4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,natural ,,abilities4 ,no distinction is more usual in all systems of ethics1 than that betwixt natural abilities and moral virtues2 where the former are placed on the same footing with bodily endowments1 and are supposed to have no merit or moral worth annexed to them4 ,whoever considers the matter accurately1 will find1 that a dispute upon this head would be merely a dispute of words1 and that1 though these qualities are not altogether of the same kind1 yet they agree in the most material circumstances4 ,they are both of them equally mental qualities3 and both of them equally produce pleasure2 and have of course an equal tendency to procure the love and esteem of mankind4 ,there are few who are not as jealous of their character1 with regard to sense and knowledge1 as to honour and courage2 and much more than with regard to temperance and sobriety4 ,men are even afraid of passing for good-natured1 lest that should be taken for want of understanding2 and often boast of more debauches than they have been really engaged in1 to give themselves airs of fire and spirit4 ,in short1 the figure a man makes in the world1 the reception he meets with in company1 the esteem paid him by his acquaintance2 all these advantages depend almost as much upon his good sense and judgment1 as upon any other part of his character4 ,let a man have the best intentions in the world1 and be the farthest from all injustice and violence1 he will never be able to make himself be much regarded1 without a moderate share1 at least1 of parts and understanding4 ,since then natural abilities1 though perhaps inferior1 yet are on the same footing1 both as to their causes and effects1 with those qualities which we call moral virtues1 why should we make any distinction betwixt them8 ,though we refuse to natural abilities the title of virtues1 we must allow1 that they procure the love and esteem of mankind2 that they give a new lustre to the other virtues2 and that a man possessed of them is much more entitled to our good will and services than one entirely void of them4 ,it may indeed be pretended1 that the sentiment of approbation which those qualities produce1 besides its being inferior1 is also somewhat different from that which attends the other virtues4 ,but this1 in my opinion1 is not a sufficient reason for excluding them from the catalogue of virtues4 ,each of the virtues1 even benevolence1 justice1 gratitude1 integrity1 excites a different sentiment or feeling in the spectator4 ,the characters of ,csar and ,cato1 as drawn by ,sallust1 are both of them virtuous1 in the strictest sense of the word1 but in a different way3 nor are the sentiments entirely the same which arise from them4 ,the one produces love1 the other esteem2 the one is amiable1 the other awful3 we could wish to meet with the one character in a friend1 the other character we would be ambitious of in ourselves4 ,in like manner1 the approbation which attends natural abilities1 may be somewhat different to the feeling from that which arises from the other virtues1 without making them entirely of a different species4 ,and indeed we may observe1 that the natural abilities1 no more than the other virtues1 produce not1 all of them1 the same kind of approbation4 ,good sense and genius beget esteem2 wit and humour excite love4#f ,those who represent the distinction betwixt natural abilities and moral virtues as very material1 may say1 that the former are entirely involuntary1 and have therefore no merit attending them1 as having no dependence on liberty and free will4 ,but to this ,i answer1 first1 ,that many of those qualities which all moralists1 especially the ancients1 comprehend under the title of moral virtues1 are equally involuntary and necessary with the qualities of the judgment and imagination4 ,of this nature are constancy1 fortitude1 magnanimity2 and1 in short1 all the qualities which form the great man4 ,i might say the same1 in some degree1 of the others2 it being almost impossible for the mind to change its character in any considerable article1 or cure itself of a passionate or splenetic temper1 when they are natural to it4 ,the greater degree there is of these blameable qualities1 the more vicious they become1 and yet they are the less voluntary4 ,secondly1 ,i would have any one give me a reason1 why virtue and vice may not be involuntary1 as well as beauty and deformity4 ,these moral distinctions arise from the natural distinctions of pain and pleasure2 and when we receive those feelings from the general consideration of any quality or character1 we denominate it vicious or virtuous4 ,now ,i believe no one will assert1 that a quality can never produce pleasure or pain to the person who considers it1 unless it be perfectly voluntary in the person who possesses it4 ,thirdly1 ,as to free will1 we have shown that it has no place with regard to the actions1 no more than the qualities of men4 ,it is not a just consequence1 that what is voluntary is free4 ,our actions are more voluntary than our judgments2 but we have not more liberty in the one than in the other4 ,but1 though this distinction betwixt voluntary and involuntary1 be not sufficient to justify the distinction betwixt natural abilities and moral virtues1 yet the former distinction will afford us a plausible reason1 why moralists have invented the latter4 ,men have observed1 that1 though natural abilities and moral qualities be in the main on the same footing1 there is1 however1 this difference betwixt them1 that the former are almost invariable by any art or industry2 while the latter1 or at least the actions that proceed from them1 may be changed by the motives of rewards and punishment1 praise and blame4 ,hence legislators and divines and moralists have principally applied themselves to the regulating these voluntary actions1 and have endeavoured to produce additional motives for being virtuous in that particular4 ,they knew1 that to punish a man for folly1 or exhort him to be prudent and sagacious1 would have but little effect2 though the same punishments and exhortations1 with regard to justice and injustice1 might have a considerable influence4 ,but as men1 in common life and conversation1 do not carry those ends in view1 but naturally praise or blame whatever pleases or displeases them1 they do not seem much to regard this distinction1 but consider prudence under the character of virtue as well as benevolence1 and penetration as well as justice4 ,nay1 we find that all moralists1 whose judgment is not perverted by a strict adherence to a system1 enter into the same way of thinking2 and that the ancient moralists1 in particular1 made no scruple of placing prudence at the head of the cardinal virtues4 ,there is a sentiment of esteem and approbation1 which may be excited1 in some degree1 by any faculty of the mind1 in its perfect state and condition2 and to account for this sentiment is the business of philosophers4 ,it belongs to grammarians to examine what qualities are entitled to the denomination of virtue2 nor will they find1 upon trial1 that this is so easy a task as at first sight they may be apt to imagine4 ,the principal reason why natural abilities are esteemed1 is because of their tendency to be useful to the person who is possessed of them4 ',tis impossible to execute any design with success1 where it is not conducted with prudence and discretion2 nor will the goodness of our intentions alone suffice to procure us a happy issue to our enterprises4 ,men are superior to beasts principally by the superiority of their reason2 and they are the degrees of the same faculty1 which set such an infinite difference betwixt one man and another4 ,all the advantages of art are owing to human reason2 and where fortune is not very capricious1 the most considerable part of these advantages must fall to the share of the prudent and sagacious4 ,when it is asked1 whether a quick or a slow apprehension be most valuable8 whether one1 that at first view penetrates into a subject1 but can perform nothing upon study2 or a contrary character1 which must work out every thing by dint of application8 whether a clear head1 or a copious invention8 whether a profound genius1 or a sure judgment8 in short1 what character1 or peculiar understanding1 is more excellent than another8 ',tis evident we can answer none of these questions1 without considering which of those qualities capacitates a man best for the world1 and carries him farthest in any of his undertakings4 ,there are many other qualities of the mind1 whose merit is derived from the same origin4 ,industry1 perseverance1 patience1 activity1 vigilance1 application1 constancy1 with other virtues of that kind1 which 'twill be easy to recollect1 are esteemed valuable upon no other account than their advantage in the conduct of life4 ',tis the same case with temperance1 frugality1 economy1 resolution2 as1 on the other hand1 prodigality1 luxury1 irresolution1 uncertainty1 are vicious1 merely because they draw ruin upon us1 and incapacitate us for business and action4 ,as wisdom and good sense are valued because they are useful to the person possessed of them1 so wit and eloquence are valued because they are immediately agreeable to others4 ,on the other hand1 good humour is loved and esteemed1 because it is immediately agreeable to the person himself4 ',tis evident1 that the conversation of a man of wit is very satisfactory2 as a cheerful good-humoured companion diffuses a joy over the whole company1 from a sympathy with his gaiety4 ,these qualities1 therefore1 being agreeable1 they naturally beget love and esteem1 and answer to all the characters of virtue4 ',tis difficult to tell1 on many occasions1 what it is that renders one man's conversation so agreeable and entertaining1 and another's so insipid and distasteful4 ,as conversation is a transcript of the mind as well as books1 the same qualities which render the one valuable must give us an esteem for the other4 ,this we shall consider afterwards4 ,in the mean time1 it may be affirmed in general1 that all the merit a man may derive from his conversation 7which1 no doubt1 may be very considerable7 arises from nothing but the pleasure it conveys to those who are present4 ,in this view1 cleanliness is also to be regarded as a virtue1 since it naturally renders us agreeable to others1 and is a very considerable source of love and affection4 ,no one will deny that a negligence in this particular is a fault2 and as faults are nothing but smaller vices1 and this fault can have no other origin than the uneasy sensation which it excites in others1 we may in this instance1 seemingly so trivial1 clearly discover the origin of the moral distinction of vice and virtue in other instances4 ,besides all those qualities which render a person lovely or valuable1 there is also a certain je-ne-sai-quoi of agreeable and handsome that concurs to the same effect4 ,in this case1 as well as in that of wit and eloquence1 we must have recourse to a certain sense1 which acts without reflection1 and regards not the tendencies of qualities and characters4 ,some moralists account for all the sentiments of virtue by this sense4 ,their hypothesis is very plausible4 ,nothing but a particular inquiry can give the preference to any other hypothesis4 ,when we find that almost all the virtues have such particular tendencies1 and also find that these tendencies are sufficient alone to give a strong sentiment of approbation1 we cannot doubt1 after this1 that qualities are approved of in proportion to the advantage which results from them4 ,the decorum or indecorum of a quality1 with regard to the age1 or character1 or station1 contributes also to its praise or blame4 ,this decorum depends in a great measure upon experience4 ',tis usual to see men lose their levity as they advance in years4 ,such a degree of gravity1 therefore1 and such years1 are connected together in our thoughts4 ,when we observe1 them separated in any person's character1 this imposes a kind of violence on our imagination1 and is disagreeable4 ,that faculty of the soul which1 of all others1 is of the least consequence to the character1 and has the least virtue or vice in its several degrees1 at the same time that it admits of a great variety of degrees1 is the memory4 ,unless it rise up to that stupendous height as to surprise us1 or sink so low as in some measure to affect the judgment1 we commonly take no notice of its variations1 nor ever mention them to the praise or dispraise of any person4 ',tis so far from being a virtue to have a good memory1 that men generally affect to complain of a bad one2 and1 endeavouring to persuade the world that what they say is entirely of their own invention1 sacrifice it to the praise of genius and judgment4 ,yet1 to consider the matter abstractedly1'twould be difficult to give a reason why the faculty of recalling past ideas with truth and clearness1 should not have as much merit in it as the faculty of placing our present ideas in such an order as to form true propositions and opinions4 ,the reason of the difference certainly must be1 that the memory is exerted without any sensation of pleasure or pain1 and in all its middling degrees serves almost equally well in business and affairs4 ,but the least variations in the judgment are sensibly felt in their consequences2 while at the same time that faculty is never exerted in any eminent degree1 without an extraordinary delight and satisfaction4 ,the sympathy with this utility and pleasure bestows a merit on the understanding2 and the absence of it makes us consider the memory as a faculty very indifferent to blame or praise4 ,before ,i leave this subject of natural abilities1 ,i must observe1 that perhaps one source of the esteem and affection which attends them1 is derived from the importance and weight which they bestow on the person possessed of them4 ,he becomes of greater consequence in life4 ,his resolutions and actions affect a greater number of his fellow-creatures4 ,both his friendship and enmity are of moment4 ,and 'tis easy to observe1 that whoever is elevated1 after this manner1 above the rest of mankind1 must excite in us the sentiments of esteem and approbation4 ,whatever is important engages our attention1 fixes our thought1 and is contemplated with satisfaction4 ,the histories of kingdoms are more interesting than domestic stories2 the histories of great empires more than those of small cities and principalities2 and the histories of wars and revolutions more than those of peace and order4 ,we sympathize with the persons that suffer1 in all the various sentiments which belong to their fortunes4 ,the mind is occupied by the multitude of the objects1 and by the strong passions that display themselves4 ,and this occupation or agitation of the mind is commonly agreeable and amusing4 ,the same theory accounts for the esteem and regard we pay to men of extraordinary parts and abilities4 ,the good and ill of multitudes are connected with their actions4 ,whatever they undertake is important1 and challenges our attention4 ,nothing is to be overlooked and despised that regards them4 ,and where any person can excite these sentiments1 he soon acquires our esteem1 unless other circumstances of his character render him odious and disagreeable4 #f ,love and esteem are at the bottom the same passions1 and arise from like causes4 ,the qualities that produce both are agreeable1 and give pleasure4 ,but where this pleasure is severe and serious2 or where its object is great1 and makes a strong impression2 or where it produces any degree of humility and awe3 in all these cases1 the passion which arises from the pleasure is more properly denominated esteem than love4 ,benevolence attends both2 but is connected with love in a more eminent degree4 ,,section ,v4 ,,some ,,farther ,,reflections ,,concerning ,,the ,,natural ,,virtues4 ,it has been observed1 in treating of the ,passions1 that pride and humility1 love and hatred1 are excited by any advantages or disadvantages of the mind1 body1 or fortune2 and that these advantages or disadvantages have that effect by producing a separate impression of pain or pleasure4 ,the pain or pleasure which arises from the general survey or view of any action or quality of the mind1 constitutes its vice or virtue1 and gives rise to our approbation or blame1 which is nothing but a fainter and more imperceptible love or hatred4 ,we have assigned four different sources of this pain and pleasure2 and1 in order to justify more fully that hypothesis1 it may here be proper to observe1 that the advantages or disadvantages of the body and of fortune1 produce a pain or pleasure from the very same principles4 ,the tendency of any object to be useful to the person possessed of it1 or to others2 to convey pleasure to him or to others2 all these circumstances convey an immediate pleasure to the person who considers the object1 and command his love and approbation4 ,to begin with the advantages of the body2 we may observe a phenomenon which might appear somewhat trivial and ludicrous1 if any thing could be trivial which fortified a conclusion of such importance1 or ludicrous1 which was employed in a philosophical reasoning4 ',tis a general remark1 that those we call good women's men1 who have either signalized themselves by their amorous exploits1 or whose make of body promises any extraordinary vigour of that kind1 are well received by the fair sex1 and naturally engage the affections even of those whose virtue prevents any design of ever giving employment to those talents4 ,here 'tis evident that the ability of such a person to give enjoyment1 is the real source of that love and esteem he meets with among the females2 at the same time that the women who love and esteem him have no prospect of receiving that enjoyment themselves1 and can only be affected by means of their sympathy with one that has a commerce of love with him4 ,this instance is singular1 and merits our attention4 ,another source of the pleasure we receive from considering bodily advantages1 is their utility to the person himself who is possessed of them4 ',tis certain1 that a considerable part of the beauty of men1 as well as of other animals1 consists in such a conformation of members as we find by experience to be attended with strength and agility1 and to capacitate the creature for any action or exercise4 ,broad shoulders1 a lank belly1 firm joints1 taper legs2 all these are beautiful in our species1 because they are signs of force and vigour1 which1 being advantages we naturally sympathize with1 they convey to the beholder a share of that satisfaction they produce in the possessor4 ,so far as to the utility which may attend any quality of the body4 ,as to the immediate pleasure1 'tis certain that an air of health1 as well as of strength and agility1 makes a considerable part of beauty2 and that a sickly air in another is always disagreeable1 upon account of that idea of pain and uneasiness which it conveys to us4 ,on the other hand1 we are pleased with the regularity of our own features1 though it be neither useful to ourselves nor others2 and 'tis necessary for us in some measure to set ourselves at a distance1 to make it convey to us any satisfaction4 ,we commonly consider ourselves as we appear in the eyes of others1 and sympathize with the advantageous sentiments they entertain with regard to us4 ,how far the advantages of fortune produce esteem and approbation from the same principles1 we may satisfy ourselves by reflecting on our precedent reasoning on that subject4 ,we have observed1 that our approbation of those who are possessed of the advantages of fortune1 may be ascribed to three different causes4 ,first1 ,to that immediate pleasure which a rich man gives us1 by the view of the beautiful clothes1 equipage1 gardens1 or houses1 which he possesses4 ,secondly1 ,to the advantage which we hope to reap from him by his generosity and liberality4 ,thirdly1 ,to the pleasure and advantage which he himself reaps from his possessions1 and which produce an agreeable sympathy in us4 ,whether we ascribe our esteem of the rich and great to one or all of these causes1 we may clearly see the traces of those principles which give rise to the sense of vice and virtue4 ,i believe most people1 at first sight1 will be inclined to ascribe our esteem of the rich to self-interest and the prospect of advantage4 ,but as 'tis certain that our esteem or deference extends beyond any prospect of advantage to ourselves1 'tis evident that that sentiment must proceed from a sympathy with those who are dependent on the person we esteem and respect1 and who have an immediate connexion with him4 ,we consider him as a person capable of contributing to the happiness or enjoyment of his fellow-creatures1 whose sentiments with regard to him we naturally embrace4 ,and this consideration will serve to justify my hypothesis in preferring the third principle to the other two1 and ascribing our esteem of the rich to a sympathy with the pleasure and advantage which they themselves receive from their possessions4 ,for as even the other two principles cannot operate to a due extent1 or account for all the phenomena without having recourse to a sympathy of one kind or other1 'tis much more natural to choose that sympathy which is immediate and direct1 than that which is remote and indirect4 ,to which we may add1 that where the riches or power are very great1 and render the person considerable and important1 in the world1 tire esteem attending them may in part be ascribed to another source1 distinct from these three1 viz4 their interesting the mind by a prospect of the multitude and importance of their consequences2 though1 in order to account for the operation of this principle1 we must also have recourse to sympathy1 as we have observed in the preceding section4 ,it may not be amiss1 on this occasion1 to remark the flexibility of our sentiments1 and the several changes they so readily receive from the objects with which they are conjoined4 ,all the sentiments of approbation which attend any particular species of objects1 have a great resemblance to each other1 though derived from different sources2 and1 on the other hand1 those sentiments1 when directed to different objects1 are different to the feeling1 though derived from the same source4 ,thus1 the beauty of all visible objects causes a pleasure pretty much the same1 though it be sometimes derived from the mere species and appearance of the objects2 sometimes from sympathy1 and an idea of their utility4 ,in like manner1 whenever we survey the actions and characters of men1 without any particular interest in them1 the pleasure or pain which arises from the survey 7with some minute differences7 is in the main of the same kind1 though perhaps there be a great diversity in the causes from which it is derived4 ,on the other hand1 a convenient house and a virtuous character cause not the same feeling of approbation1 even though the source of our approbation be the same1 and flow from sympathy and an idea of their utility4 ,there is something very inexplicable in this variation of our feelings2 but 'tis what we have experience of with regard to all our passions and sentiments4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,conclusion ,,of ,,this ,,book4 ,thus1 upon the whole1 ,i am hopeful that nothing is wanting to an accurate proof of this system of ethics4 ,we are certain that sympathy is a very powerful principle in human nature4 ,we are also certain that it has a great influence on our sense of beauty1 when we regard external objects1 as well as when we judge of morals4 ,we find that it has force sufficient to give us the strongest sentiments of approbation1 when it operates alone1 without the concurrence of any other principle2 as in the cases of justice1 allegiance1 chastity1 and good manners4 ,we may observe1 that all the circumstances requisite for its operation are found in most of the virtues1 which have1 for the most part1 a tendency to the good of society1 or to that of the person possessed of them4 ,if we compare all these circumstances1 we shall not doubt that sympathy is the chief source of moral distinctions2 especially when we reflect1 that no objection can be raised against this hypothesis in one case1 which will not extend to all cases4 ,justice is certainly approved of1 for no other reason than because it has a tendency to the public good2 and the public good is indifferent to us1 except so far as sympathy interests us in it4 ,we may presume the like with regard to all the other virtues1 which have a like tendency to the public good4 ,they must derive all their merit from our sympathy with those who reap any advantage from them2 as the virtues1 which have a tendency to the good of the person possessed of them1 derive their merit from our sympathy with him4 ,most people will readily allow1 that the useful qualities of the mind are virtuous1 because of their utility4 ,this way of thinking is so natural1 and occurs on so many occasions1 that few will make any scruple of admitting it4 ,now1 this being once admitted1 the force of sympathy must necessarily be acknowledged4 ,virtue is considered as means to an end4 ,means to an end are only valued so far as the end is valued4 ,but the happiness of strangers affects us by sympathy alone4 ,to that principle1 therefore1 we are to ascribe the sentiment of approbation which arises from the survey of all those virtues that are useful to society1 or to the person possessed of them4 ,these form the most considerable part of morality4 ,were it proper1 in such a subject1 to bribe the reader's assent1 or employ any thing but solid argument1 we are here abundantly supplied with topics to engage the affections4 ,all lovers of virtue 7and such we all are in speculation1 however we may degenerate in practice7 must certainly be pleased to see moral distinctions derived from so noble a source1 which gives us a just notion both of the generosity and capacity of human nature4 ,it requires but very little knowledge of human affairs to perceive1 that a sense of morals is a principle inherent in the soul1 and one of the most powerful that enters into the composition4 ,but this sense must certainly acquire new force when1 reflecting on itself1 it approves of those principles from whence it is derived1 and finds nothing but what is great and good in its rise and origin4 ,those who resolve the sense of morals into original instincts of the human mind1 may defend the cause of virtue with sufficient authority1 but want the advantage which those possess who account for that sense by an extensive sympathy with mankind4 ,according to their system1 not only virtue must be approved of1 but also the sense of virtue3 and not only that sense1 but also the principles from whence it is derived4 ,so that nothing is presented on any side but what is laudable and good4 ,this observation may be extended to justice1 and the other virtues of that kind4 ,though justice be artificial1 the sense of its morality is natural4 ',tis the combination of men in a system of conduct1 which renders any act of justice beneficial to society4 ,but when once it has that tendency1 we naturally approve of it2 and if we did not so1 'tis impossible any combination or convention could ever produce that sentiment4 ,most of the inventions of men are subject to change4 ,they depend upon humour and caprice4 ,they have a vogue for a time1 and then sink into oblivion4 ,it may perhaps be apprehended1 that if justice were allowed to be a human invention1 it must be placed on the same footing4 ,but the cases are widely different4 ,the interest on which justice is founded is the greatest imaginable1 and extends to all times and places4 ,it cannot possibly be served by any other invention4 ,it is obvious1 and discovers itself on the very first formation of society4 ,all these causes render the rules of justice steadfast and immutable2 at least1 as immutable as human nature4 ,and if they were founded on original instincts1 could they have any greater stability8 ,the same system may help us to form a just notion of the happiness1 as well as of the dignity of virtue1 and may interest every principle of our nature in the embracing and cherishing that noble quality4 ,who indeed does not feel an accession of alacrity in his pursuits of knowledge and ability of every kind1 when he considers1 that besides the advantages which immediately result from these acquisitions1 they also give him a new lustre in the eyes of mankind1 and are universally attended with esteem and approbation8 ,and who can think any advantages of fortune a sufficient compensation for the least breach of the social virtues1 when he considers1 that not only his character with regard to others1 but also his peace and inward satisfaction entirely depend upon his strict observance of them2 and that a mind will never be able to bear its own survey1 that has been wanting in its parts to mankind and society8 ,but ,i forbear insisting on this subject4 ,such reflections require a work apart1 very different from the genius of the present4 ,the anatomist ought never to emulate the painter2 nor in his accurate dissections and portraitures of the smaller parts of the human body1 pretend to give his figures any graceful and engaging attitude or expression4 ,there is even something hideous1 or at least minute1 in the views of things which he presents2 and 'tis necessary the objects should be set more at a distance1 and be more covered up from sight1 to make them engaging to the eye and imagination4 ,an anatomist1 however1 is admirably fitted to give advice to a painter2 and 'tis even impracticable to excel in the latter art1 without the assistance of the former4 ,we must have an exact knowledge of the parts1 their situation and connection1 before we can design with any elegance or correctness4 ,and thus the most abstract speculations concerning human nature1 however cold and unentertaining1 become subservient to practical morality2 and may render this latter science more correct in its precepts1 and more persuasive in its exhortations4 ,see ,appendix at the end of the volume4 ,,dialogues ,,concerning ,,natural ,,religion ,,pamphilus ,,to ,,hermippus4 ,it has been remarked1 my ,hermippus1 that though the ancient philosophers conveyed most of their instruction in the form of dialogue1 this method of composition has been little practised in later ages1 and has seldom succeeded in the hands of those who have attempted it4 ,accurate and regular argument1 indeed1 such as is now expected of philosophical inquirers1 naturally throws a man into the methodical and didactic manner2 where he can immediately1 without preparation1 explain the point at which he aims2 and thence proceed1 without interruption1 to deduce the proofs on which it is established4 ,to deliver a 99,,system in conversation1 scarcely appears natural2 and while the dialogue-writer desires1 by departing from the direct style of composition1 to give a freer air to his performance1 and avoid the appearance of ,author and ,reader1 he is apt to run into a worse inconvenience1 and convey the image of ,pedagogue and ,pupil4 ,or1 if he carries on the dispute in the natural spirit of good company1 by throwing in a variety of topics1 and preserving a proper balance among the speakers1 he often loses so much time in preparations and transitions1 that the reader will scarcely think himself compensated1 by all the graces of dialogue1 for the order1 brevity and precision1 which are sacrificed to them4 ,there are some subjects1 however1 to which dialogue-writing is peculiarly adapted1 and where it is still preferable to the direct and simple method of composition4 ,any point of doctrine1 which is so obvious that it scarcely admits of dispute1 but at the same time so important that it cannot be too often inculcated1 seems to require some such method of handling it2 where the novelty of the manner may compensate the triteness of the subject2 where the vivacity of conversation may enforce the precept2 and where the variety of lights1 presented by various personages and characters1 may appear neither tedious nor redundant4 ,any question of philosophy1 on the other hand1 which is so obscure and uncertain1 that human reason1 can reach no fixed determination with regard to it2 if it should be treated at all1 seems to lead us naturally into the style of dialogue and conversation4 ,reasonable men may be allowed to differ1 where no one can reasonably be positive3 ,opposite sentiments1 even without any decision1 afford an agreeable amusement2 and if the subject be curious and interesting1 the book carries us1 in a manner1 into company2 and unites the two greatest and purest pleasures of human life1 study and society4 ,happily1 these circumstances are all to be found in the subject of ,,natural ,,religion4 ,what truth so obvious1 so certain1 as the being of a ,god1 which the most ignorant ages have acknowledged1 for which the most refined geniuses have ambitiously striven to produce new proofs and arguments8 ,what truth so important as this1 which is the ground of all our hopes1 the surest foundation of morality1 the firmest support of society1 and the only principle which ought never to be a moment absent from our thoughts and meditations8 ,but1 in treating of this obvious and important truth1 what obscure questions occur concerning the nature of that ,divine ,being1 his attributes1 his decrees1 his plan of providence8 ,these have been always subjected to the disputations of men2 concerning these human reason has not reached any certain determination4 ,but these are topics so interesting1 that we cannot restrain our restless inquiry with regard to them2 though nothing but doubt1 uncertainty and contradiction1 have as yet been the result of our most accurate researches4 ,this ,i had lately occasion to observe1 while ,i passed1 as usual1 part of the summer season with ,cleanthes1 and was present at those conversations of his with ,philo and ,demea1 of which ,i gave you lately some imperfect account4 ,your curiosity1 you then told me1 was so excited1 that ,i must1 of necessity1 enter into a more exact detail of their reasonings1 and display those various systems which they advanced with regard to so delicate a subject as that of natural religion4 ,the remarkable contrast in their characters still farther raised your expectations2 while you opposed the accurate philosophical turn of ,cleanthes to the careless scepticism of ,philo1 or compared either of their dispositions with the rigid inflexible orthodoxy of ,demea4 ,my youth rendered me a mere auditor of their disputes2 and that curiosity1 natural to the early season of life1 has so deeply imprinted in my memory the whole chain and connexion of their arguments1 that1 ,i hope1 ,i shall not omit or confound any considerable part of them in the recital4 ,,part ,i4 ,after ,i joined the company1 whom ,i found sitting in ,cleanthes's library1 ,demea paid ,cleanthes some compliments on the great care which he took of my education1 and on his unwearied perseverance and constancy in all his friendships4 ,the father of ,pamphilus1 said he1 was your intimate friend3 ,the son is your pupil2 and may indeed be regarded as your adopted son1 were we to judge by the pains which you bestow in conveying to him every useful branch of literature and science4 ,you are no more wanting1 ,i am persuaded1 in prudence than in industry4 ,i shall1 therefore1 communicate to you a maxim1 which ,i have observed with regard to my own children1 that ,i may learn how far it agrees with your practice4 ,the method ,i follow in their education is founded on the saying of an ancient1 ',that students of philosophy ought first to learn logics1 then ethics1 next physics1 last of all the nature of the gods4'#a ,this science of natural theology1 according to him1 being the most profound and abstruse of any1 required the maturest judgment in its students2 and none but a mind enriched with all the other sciences1 can safely be intrusted with it4 ,are you so late1 says ,philo1 in teaching your children the principles of religion8 ,is there no danger of their neglecting1 or rejecting altogether those opinions of which they have heard so little during the whole course of their education8 ,it is only as a science1 replied ,demea1 subjected to human reasoning and disputation1 that ,i postpone the study of ,natural ,theology4 ,to season their minds with early piety1 is my chief care2 and by continual precept and instruction1 and ,i hope too by example1 ,i imprint deeply on their tender minds an habitual reverence for all the principles of religion4 ,while they pass through every other science1 ,i still remark the uncertainty of each part2 the eternal disputations of men2 the obscurity of all philosophy2 and the strange1 ridiculous conclusions1 which some of the greatest geniuses have derived from the principles of mere human reason4 ,having thus tamed their mind to a proper submission and self-diffidence1 ,i have no longer any scruple of opening to them the greatest mysteries of religion2 nor apprehend any danger from that assuming arrogance of philosophy1 which may lead them to reject the most established doctrines and opinions4 ,your precaution1 says1 ,philo1 of seasoning your childrens minds early with piety1 is certainly very reasonable2 and no more than is requisite in this profane and irreligious age4 ,but what ,i chiefly admire in your plan of education1 is your method of drawing advantage from the very principles of philosophy and learning1 which1 by inspiring pride and self-sufficiency1 have commonly1 in all ages1 been found so destructive to the principles of religion4 ,the vulgar1 indeed1 we may remark1 who are unacquainted with science and profound inquiry1 observing the endless disputes of the learned1 have commonly a thorough contempt for philosophy2 and rivet themselves the faster1 by that means1 in the great points of theology which have been taught them4 ,those who enter a little into study and inquiry1 finding many appearances of evidence in doctrines the newest and most extraordinary1 think nothing too difficult for human reason2 and1 presumptuously breaking through all fences1 profane the inmost sanctuaries of the temple4 ,but ,cleanthes will1 ,i hope1 agree with me1 that1 after we have abandoned ignorance1 the surest remedy1 there is still one expedient left to prevent this profane liberty4 ,let ,demea's principles be improved and cultivated3 ,let us become thoroughly sensible of the weakness1 blindness1 and narrow limits of human reason3 ,let us duly consider its uncertainty and endless contrarieties1 even in subjects of common life and practice3 ,let the errors and deceits of our very senses be set before us2 the insuperable difficulties which attend first principles in all systems2 the contradictions which adhere to the very ideas of matter1 cause and effect1 extension1 space1 time1 motion2 and in a word1 quantity of all kinds1 the object of the only science that can fairly pretend to any certainty or evidence4 ,when these topics are displayed in their full light1 as they are by some philosophers and almost all divines2 who can retain such confidence in this frail faculty of reason as to pay any regard to its determinations in points so sublime1 so abstruse1 so remote from common life and experience8 ,when the coherence of the parts of a stone1 or even that composition of parts which renders it extended2 when these familiar objects1 ,i say1 are so inexplicable1 and contain circumstances so repugnant and contradictory2 with what assurance can we decide concerning the origin of worlds1 or trace their history from eternity to eternity8 ,while ,philo pronounced these words1 ,i could observe a smile in the countenance both of ,demea and ,cleanthes4 ,that of ,demea seemed to imply an unreserved satisfaction in the doctrines delivered3 ,but1 in ,cleanthes's features1 ,i could distinguish an air of finesse2 as if he perceived some raillery or artificial malice in the reasonings of ,philo4 ,you propose then1 ,philo1 said ,cleanthes1 to erect religious faith on philosophical scepticism2 and you think1 that if certainty or evidence be expelled from every other subject of inquiry1 it will all retire to these theological doctrines1 and there acquire a superior force and authority4 ,whether your scepticism be as absolute and sincere as you pretend1 we shall learn by and by1 when the company breaks up3 ,we shall then see1 whether you go out at the door or the window2 and whether you really doubt if your body has gravity1 or can be injured by its fall2 according to popular opinion1 derived from our fallacious senses1 and more fallacious experience4 ,and this consideration1 ,demea1 may1 ,i think1 fairly serve to abate our ill-will to this humorous sect of the sceptics4 ,if they be thoroughly in earnest1 they will not long trouble the world with their doubts1 cavils1 and disputes3 ,if they be only in jest1 they are1 perhaps1 bad railers2 but can never be very dangerous1 either to the state1 to philosophy1 or to religion4 ,in reality1 ,philo1 continued he1 it seems certain1 that though a man1 in a flush of humour1 after intense reflection on the many contradictions and imperfections of human reason1 may entirely renounce all belief and opinion1 it is impossible for him to persevere in this total scepticism1 or make it appear in his conduct for a few hours4 ,external objects press in upon him2 passions solicit him2 his philosophical melancholy dissipates2 and even the utmost violence upon his own temper will not be able1 during any time1 to preserve the poor appearance of scepticism4 ,and for what reason impose on himself such a violence8 ,this is a point in which it will be impossible for him ever to satisfy himself1 consistently with his sceptical principles4 ,so that1 upon the whole1 nothing could be more ridiculous than the principles of the ancient ,pyrrhonians2 if in reality they endeavoured1 as is pretended1 to extend1 throughout1 the same scepticism which they had learned from the declamations of their schools1 and which they ought to have confined to them4 ,in this view1 there appears a great resemblance between the sects of the ,stoics and ,pyrrhonians1 though perpetual antagonists2 and both of them seem founded on this erroneous maxim1 ,that what a man can perform sometimes1 and in some dispositions1 he can perform always1 and in every disposition4 ,when the mind1 by ,stoical reflections1 is elevated into a sublime enthusiasm of virtue1 and strongly smit with any species of honour or public good1 the utmost bodily pain and sufferings will not prevail over such a high sense of duty2 and it is possible1 perhaps1 by its means1 even to smile and exult in the midst of tortures4 ,if this sometimes may be the case in fact and reality1 much more may a philosopher1 in his school1 or even in his closet1 work himself up to such an enthusiasm1 and support in imagination the acutest pain or most calamitous event which he can possibly conceive4 ,but how shall he support this enthusiasm itself8 ,the bent of his mind relaxes1 and cannot be recalled at pleasure2 avocations lead him astray2 misfortunes attack him unawares2 and the philosopher sinks by degrees into the plebeian4 ,i allow of your comparison between the ,stoics and ,sceptics1 replied ,philo4 ,but you may observe1 at the same time1 that though the mind cannot1 in ,stoicism1 support the highest flights of philosophy1 yet1 even when it sinks lower1 it still retains somewhat of its former disposition2 and the effects of the ,stoic's reasoning will appear in his conduct in common life1 and through the whole tenor of his actions4 ,the ancient schools1 particularly that of ,zeno1 produced examples of virtue and constancy which seem astonishing to present times4 ,vain ,wisdom all and false ,philosophy4 ,yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm ,pain1 for a while1 or anguish2 and excite ,fallacious ,hope1 or arm the obdurate breast ,with stubborn ,patience1 as with triple steel4 ,in like manner1 if a man has accustomed himself to sceptical considerations on the uncertainty and narrow limits of reason1 he will not entirely forget them when he turns his reflection on other subjects2 but in all his philosophical principles and reasoning1 ,i dare not say in his common conduct1 he will be found different from those1 who either never formed any opinions in the case1 or have entertained sentiments more favourable to human reason4 ,to whatever length any one may push his speculative principles of scepticism1 he must act1 ,i own1 and live1 and converse1 like other men2 and for this conduct he is not obliged to give any other reason1 than the absolute necessity he lies under of so doing4 ,if he ever carries his speculations farther than this necessity constrains him1 and philosophizes either on natural or moral subjects1 he is allured by a certain pleasure and satisfaction which he finds in employing himself after that manner4 ,he considers besides1 that every one1 even in common life1 is constrained to have more or less of this philosophy2 that from our earliest infancy we make continual advances in forming more general principles of conduct and reasoning2 that the larger experience we acquire1 and the stronger reason we are endued with1 we always render our principles the more general and comprehensive2 and that what we call philosophy is nothing but a more regular and methodical operation of the same kind4 ,to philosophize on such subjects1 is nothing essentially different from reasoning on common life2 and we may only expect greater stability1 if not greater truth1 from our philosophy1 on account of its exacter and more scrupulous method of proceeding4 ,but when we look beyond human affairs and the properties of the surrounding bodies3 when we carry our speculations into the two eternities1 before and after the present state of things2 into the creation and formation of the universe2 the existence and properties of spirits2 the powers and operations1 of one universal ,spirit existing without beginning and without end2 omnipotent1 omniscient1 immutable1 infinite and incomprehensible3 ,we must be far removed from the smallest tendency to scepticism not to be apprehensive1 that we have here got quite beyond the reach of our faculties4 ,so long as we confine our speculations to trade1 or morals1 or politics1 or criticism1 we make appeals1 every moment1 to common sense and experience1 which strengthen our philosophical conclusions1 and remove1 at least in part1 the suspicion which we so justly entertain with regard to every reasoning that is very subtile and refined4 ,but1 in theological reasonings1 we have not this advantage2 while1 at the same time1 we are employed upon objects1 which1 we must be sensible1 are too large for our grasp1 and of all others require most to be familiarized to our apprehension4 ,we are like foreigners in a strange country1 to whom every thing must seem suspicious1 and who are in danger every moment of transgressing against the laws and customs of the people with whom they live and converse4 ,we know not how far we ought to trust our vulgar methods of reasoning in such a subject2 since1 even in common life1 and in that province which is peculiarly appropriated to them1 we cannot account for them1 and are entirely guided by a kind of instinct or necessity in employing them4 ,all sceptics pretend1 that1 if reason be considered in an abstract view1 it furnishes invincible arguments against itself3 and that we could never retain any conviction or assurance1 on any subject1 were not the sceptical reasonings so refined and subtile1 that they are not able to counterpoise the more solid and more natural arguments derived from the senses and experience4 ,but it is evident1 whenever our arguments lose this advantage1 and run wide of common life1 that the most refined scepticism comes to be upon a footing with them1 and is able to oppose and counterbalance them4 ,the one has no more weight than the other4 ,the mind must remain in suspense between them2 and it is that very suspense or balance1 which is the triumph of scepticism4 ,but ,i observe1 says ,cleanthes1 with regard to you1 ,philo1 and all speculative sceptics1 that your doctrine and practice are as much at variance in the most abstruse points of theory as in the conduct of common life4 ,wherever evidence discovers itself1 you adhere to it1 notwithstanding your pretended scepticism2 and ,i can observe1 too1 some of your sect to be as decisive as those who make greater professions of certainty and assurance4 ,in reality1 would not a man be ridiculous1 who pretended to reject ,newton's explication of the wonderful phenomenon of the rainbow1 because that explication gives a minute anatomy of the rays of light2 a subject1 forsooth1 too refined for human comprehension8 ,and what would you say to one1 who1 having nothing particular to object to the arguments of ,copernicus and ,galilo for the motion of the earth1 should withhold his assent1 on that general principle1 that these subjects were too magnificent and remote to be explained by the narrow and fallacious reason of mankind8 ,there is indeed a kind of brutish and ignorant scepticism1 as you well observed1 which gives the vulgar a general prejudice against what they do not easily understand1 and makes them reject every principle which requires elaborate reasoning to prove and establish it4 ,this species of scepticism is fatal to knowledge1 not to religion2 since we find1 that those who make greatest profession of it1 give often their assent1 not only to the great truths of ,theism and natural theology1 but even to the most absurd tenets which a traditional superstition has recommended to them4 ,they firmly believe in witches1 though they will not believe nor attend to the most simple proposition of ,euclid4 ,but the refined and philosophical sceptics fall into an inconsistence of an opposite nature4 ,they push their researches into the most abstruse corners of science2 and their assent attends them in every step1 proportioned to the evidence which they meet with4 ,they are even obliged to acknowledge1 that the most abstruse and remote objects are those which are best explained by philosophy4 ,light is in reality anatomized3 ,the true system of the heavenly bodies is discovered and ascertained4 ,but the nourishment of bodies by food is still an inexplicable mystery3 ,the cohesion of the parts of matter is still incomprehensible4 ,these sceptics1 therefore1 are obliged1 in every question1 to consider each particular evidence apart1 and proportion their assent to the precise degree of evidence which occurs4 ,this is their practice in all natural1 mathematical1 moral1 and political science4 ,and why not the same1 ,i ask1 in the theological and religious8 ,why must conclusions of this nature be alone rejected on the general presumption of the insufficiency of human reason1 without any particular discussion of the evidence8 ,is not such an unequal conduct a plain proof of prejudice and passion8 ,our senses1 you say1 are fallacious2 our understanding erroneous2 our ideas1 even of the most familiar objects1 extension1 duration1 motion1 full of absurdities and contradictions4 ,you defy me to solve the difficulties1 or reconcile the repugnancies which you discover in them4 ,i have not capacity for so great an undertaking3 ,i have not leisure for it3 ,i perceive it to be superfluous4 ,your own conduct1 in every circumstance1 refutes your principles1 and shows the firmest reliance on all the received maxims of science1 morals1 prudence1 and behaviour4 ,i shall never assent to so harsh an opinion as that of a celebrated writer1#b who says1 that the ,sceptics are not a sect of philosophers3 ,they are only a sect of liars4 ,i may1 however1 affirm 7,i hope without offence71 that they are a sect of jesters or railers4 ,but for my part1 whenever ,i find myself disposed to mirth and amusement1 ,i shall certainly choose my entertainment of a less perplexing and abstruse nature4 ,a comedy1 a novel1 or at most a history1 seems a more natural recreation than such metaphysical subtilties and abstractions4 ,in vain would the sceptic make a distinction between science and common life1 or between one science and another4 ,the arguments employed in all1 if just1 are of a similar nature1 and contain the same force and evidence4 ,or if there be any difference among them1 the advantage lies entirely on the side of theology and natural religion4 ,many principles of mechanics are founded on very abstruse reasoning2 yet no man who has any pretensions to science1 even no speculative sceptic1 pretends to entertain the least doubt with regard to them4 ,the ,copernican system contains the most surprising paradox1 and the most contrary to our natural conceptions1 to appearances1 and to our very senses3 yet even monks and inquisitors are now constrained to withdraw their opposition to it4 ,and shall ,philo1 a man of so liberal a genius and extensive knowledge1 entertain any general undistinguished scruples with regard to the religious hypothesis1 which is founded on the simplest and most obvious arguments1 and1 unless it meets with artificial obstacles1 has such easy access and admission into the mind of man8 ,and here we may observe1 continued he1 turning himself towards ,demea1 a pretty curious circumstance in the history of the sciences4 ,after the union of philosophy with the popular religion1 upon the first establishment of ,christianity1 nothing was more usual1 among all religious teachers1 than declamations against reason1 against the senses1 against every principle derived merely from human research and inquiry4 ,all the topics of the ancient academics were adopted by the fathers2 and thence propagated for several ages in every school and pulpit throughout ,christendom4 ,the ,reformers embraced the same principles of reasoning1 or rather declamation2 and all panegyrics on the excellency of faith1 were sure to be interlarded with some severe strokes of satire against natural reason4 ,a celebrated prelate too1#c of the ,romish communion1 a man of the most extensive learning1 who wrote a demonstration of ,christianity1 has also composed a treatise1 which contains all the cavils of the boldest and most determined ,pyrrhonism4 ,locke seems to have been the first ,christian who ventured openly to assert1 that faith was nothing but a species of reason2 that religion was only a branch of philosophy2 and that a chain of arguments1 similar to that which established any truth in morals1 politics1 or physics1 was always employed in discovering all the principles of theology1 natural and revealed4 ,the ill use which ,bayle and other libertines made of the philosophical scepticism of the fathers and first reformers1 still farther propagated the judicious sentiment of ,mr ,locke3 ,and it is now in a manner avowed1 by all pretenders to reasoning and philosophy1 that ,atheist and ,sceptic are almost synonymous4 ,and as it is certain that no man is in earnest when he professes the latter principle1 ,i would fain hope that there are as few who seriously maintain the former4 ,don't you remember1 said ,philo1 the excellent saying of ,lord ,bacon on this head8 ,that a little philosophy1 replied ,cleanthes1 makes a man an ,atheist3 ,a great deal converts him to religion4 ,that is a very judicious remark too1 said ,philo4 ,but what ,i have in my eye is another passage1 where1 having mentioned ,david's fool1 who said in his heart there is no ,god1 this great philosopher observes1 that the ,atheists now-a-days have a double share of folly2 for they are not contented to say in their hearts there is no ,god1 but they also utter that impiety with their lips1 and are thereby guilty of multiplied indiscretion and imprudence4 ,such people1 though they were ever so much in earnest1 cannot1 methinks1 be very formidable4 ,but though you should rank me in this class of fools1 ,i cannot forbear communicating a remark that occurs to me1 from the history of the religious and irreligious scepticism with which you have entertained us4 ,it appears to me1 that there are strong symptoms of priestcraft in the whole progress of this affair4 ,during ignorant ages1 such as those which followed the dissolution of the ancient schools1 the priests perceived1 that ,atheism1 ,deism1 or heresy of any kind1 could only proceed from the presumptuous questioning of received opinions1 and from a belief that human reason was equal to every thing4 ,education had then a mighty influence over the minds of men1 and was almost equal in force to those suggestions of the senses and common understanding1 by which the most determined sceptic must allow himself to be governed4 ,but at present1 when the influence of education is much diminished1 and men1 from a more open commerce of the world1 have learned to compare the popular principles of different nations and ages1 our sagacious divines have changed their whole system of philosophy1 and talk the language of ,stoics1 ,platonists1 and ,peripatetics1 not that of ,pyrrhonians and ,academics4 ,if we distrust human reason1 we have now no other principle to lead us into religion4 ,thus1 sceptics in one age1 dogmatists in another2 whichever system best suits the purpose of these reverend gentlemen1 in giving them an ascendant over mankind1 they are sure to make it their favourite principle1 and established tenet4 ,it is very natural1 said ,cleanthes1 for men to embrace those principles1 by which they find they can best defend their doctrines2 nor need we have any recourse to priestcraft to account for so reasonable an expedient4 ,and1 surely nothing can afford a stronger presumption1 that any set of principles are true1 and ought to be embraced1 than to observe that they tend to the confirmation of true religion1 and serve to confound the cavils of ,atheists1 ,libertines1 and ,freethinkers of all denominations4 #a ,chrysippus apud ,plut4 de repug4 ,stoicorum4 #b ,l'art de penser4 #c ,mons4 ,huet4 ,,part ,,ii4 ,i must own1 ,cleanthes1 said ,demea1 that nothing can more surprise me1 than the light in which you have all along put this argument4 ,by the whole tenor of your discourse1 one would imagine that you were maintaining the ,being of a ,god1 against the cavils of ,atheists and ,infidels2 and were necessitated to become a champion for that fundamental principle of all religion4 ,but this1 ,i hope1 is not by any means a question among us4 ,no man1 no man at least of common sense1 ,i am persuaded1 ever entertained a serious doubt with regard to a truth so certain and self-evident4 ,the question is not concerning the 99,,being1 but the ,,nature of 99,,god4 ,this1 ,i affirm1 from the infirmities of human understanding1 to be altogether incomprehensible and unknown to us4 ,the essence of that supreme ,mind1 his attributes1 the manner of his existence1 the very nature of his duration2 these1 and every particular which regards so divine a ,being1 are mysterious to men4 ,finite1 weak1 and blind creatures1 we ought to humble ourselves in his august presence2 and1 conscious of our frailties1 adore in silence his infinite perfections1 which eye hath not seen1 ear hath not heard1 neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive4 ,they are covered in a deep cloud from human curiosity3 ,it is profaneness to attempt penetrating through these sacred obscurities3 ,and1 next to the impiety of denying his existence1 is the temerity of prying into his nature and essence1 decrees and attributes4 ,but lest you should think that my piety has here got the better of my philosophy1 ,i shall support my opinion1 if it needs any support1 by a very great authority4 ,i might cite all the divines1 almost1 from the foundation of ,christianity1 who have ever treated of this or any other theological subject3 ,but ,i shall confine myself1 at present1 to one equally celebrated for piety and philosophy4 ,it is ,father ,malebranche1 who1 ,i remember1 thus expresses himself4#a ',one ought not so much1' says he1 'to call ,god a spirit1 in order to express positively what he is1 as in order to signify that he is not matter4 ,he is a ,being infinitely perfect3 ,of this we cannot doubt4 ,but in the same manner as we ought not to imagine1 even supposing him corporeal1 that he is clothed with a human body1 as the ,anthropomorphites asserted1 under colour that that figure was the most perfect of any2 so1 neither ought we to imagine that the spirit of ,god has human ideas1 or bears any resemblance to our spirit1 under colour that we know nothing more perfect than a human mind4 ,we ought rather to believe1 that as he comprehends the perfections of matter without being material4444 he comprehends also the perfections of created spirits without being spirit1 in the manner we conceive spirit3 ,that his true name is1 ,he that is2 or1 in other words1 ,being without restriction1 ,all ,being1 the ,being infinite and universal4' ,after so great an authority1 ,demea1 replied ,philo1 as that which you have produced1 and a thousand more which you might produce1 it would appear ridiculous in me to add my sentiment1 or express my approbation of your doctrine4 ,but surely1 where reasonable men treat these subjects1 the question can never be concerning the ,being1 but only the ,nature1 of the ,deity4 ,the former truth1 as you well observe1 is unquestionable and self-evident4 ,nothing exists without a cause2 and the original cause of this universe 7whatever it be7 we call ,god2 and piously ascribe to him every species of perfection4 ,whoever scruples this fundamental truth1 deserves every punishment which can be inflicted among philosophers1 to wit1 the greatest ridicule1 contempt1 and disapprobation4 ,but as all perfection is entirely relative1 we ought never to imagine that we comprehend the attributes of this divine ,being1 or to suppose that his perfections have any analogy or likeness to the perfections of a human creature4 ,wisdom1 ,thought1 ,design1 ,knowledge2 these we justly ascribe to him2 because these words are honourable among men1 and we have no other language or other conceptions by which we can express our adoration of him4 ,but let us beware1 lest we think that our ideas anywise correspond to his perfections1 or that his attributes have any resemblance to these qualities among men4 ,he is infinitely superior to our limited view and comprehension2 and is more the object of worship in the temple1 than of disputation in the schools4 ,in reality1 ,cleanthes1 continued he1 there is no need of having recourse to that affected scepticism so displeasing to you1 in order to come at this determination4 ,our ideas reach no farther than our experience3 ,we have no experience of divine attributes and operations3 ,i need not conclude my syllogism3 ,you can draw the inference yourself4 ,and it is a pleasure to me 7and ,i hope to you too7 that just reasoning and sound piety here concur in the same conclusion1 and both of them establish the adorably mysterious and incomprehensible nature of the ,supreme ,being4 ,not to lose any time in circumlocutions1 said ,cleanthes1 addressing himself to ,demea1 much less in replying to the pious declamations of ,philo2 ,i shall briefly explain how ,i conceive this matter4 ,look round the world3 contemplate the whole and every part of it3 ,you will find it to be nothing but one great machine1 subdivided into an infinite number of lesser machines1 which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond what human senses and faculties can trace and explain4 ,all these various machines1 and even their most minute parts1 are adjusted to each other with an accuracy which ravishes into admiration all men who have ever contemplated them4 ,the curious adapting of means to ends1 throughout all nature1 resembles exactly1 though it much exceeds1 the productions of human contrivance2 of human design1 thought1 wisdom1 and intelligence4 ,since therefore the effects resemble each other1 we are led to infer1 by all the rules of analogy1 that the causes also resemble2 and that the ,author of ,nature is somewhat similar to the mind of man1 though possessed of much larger faculties1 proportioned to the grandeur of the work which he has executed4 ,by this argument a posteriori1 and by this argument alone1 do we prove at once the existence of a ,deity1 and his similarity to human mind and intelligence4 ,i shall be so free1 ,cleanthes1 said ,demea1 as to tell you1 that from the beginning ,i could not approve of your conclusion concerning the similarity of the ,deity to men2 still less can ,i approve of the mediums by which you endeavour to establish it4 ,what6 ,no demonstration of the ,being of ,god6 ,no abstract arguments6 ,no proofs a priori6 ,are these1 which have hitherto been so much insisted on by philosophers1 all fallacy1 all sophism8 ,can we reach no farther in this subject than experience and probability8 ,i will not say that this is betraying the cause of a ,deity2 ,but surely1 by this affected candour1 you give advantages to ,atheists1 which they never could obtain by the mere dint of argument and reasoning4 ,what ,i chiefly scruple in this subject1 said ,philo1 is not so much that all religious arguments are by ,cleanthes reduced to experience1 as that they appear not to be even the most certain and irrefragable of that inferior kind4 ,that a stone will fall1 that fire will burn1 that the earth has solidity1 we have observed a thousand and a thousand times2 and when any new instance of this nature is presented1 we draw without hesitation the accustomed inference4 ,the exact similarity of the cases gives us a perfect assurance of a similar event2 and a stronger evidence is never desired nor sought after4 ,but wherever you depart1 in the least1 from the similarity of the cases1 you diminish proportionably the evidence2 and may at last bring it to a very weak analogy1 which is confessedly liable to error and uncertainty4 ,after having experienced the circulation of the blood in human creatures1 we make no doubt that it takes place in ,titius and ,mvius3 ,but from its circulation in frogs and fishes1 it is only a presumption1 though a strong one1 from analogy1 that it takes place in men and other animals4 ,the analogical reasoning is much weaker1 when we infer the circulation of the sap in vegetables from our experience that the blood circulates in animals2 and those1 who hastily followed that imperfect analogy1 are found1 by more accurate experiments1 to have been mistaken4 ,if we see a house1 ,cleanthes1 we conclude1 with the greatest certainty1 that it had an architect or builder2 because this is precisely that species of effect which we have experienced to proceed from that species of cause4 ,but surely you will not affirm1 that the universe bears such a resemblance to a house1 that we can with the same certainty infer a similar cause1 or that the analogy is here entire and perfect4 ,the dissimilitude is so striking1 that the utmost you can here pretend to is a guess1 a conjecture1 a presumption concerning a similar cause2 and how that pretension will be received in the world1 ,i leave you to consider4 ,it would surely be very ill received1 replied ,cleanthes2 and ,i should be deservedly blamed and detested1 did ,i allow1 that the proofs of a ,deity amounted to no more than a guess or conjecture4 ,but is the whole adjustment of means to ends in a house and in the universe so slight a resemblance8 ,the economy of final causes8 ,the order1 proportion1 and arrangement of every part8 ,steps of a stair are plainly contrived1 that human legs may use them in mounting2 and this inference is certain and infallible4 ,human legs are also contrived for walking and mounting2 and this inference1 ,i allow1 is not altogether so certain1 because of the dissimilarity which you remark2 but does it1 therefore1 deserve the name only of presumption or conjecture8 ,good ,god6 cried ,demea1 interrupting him1 where are we8 ,zealous defenders of religion allow1 that the proofs of a ,deity fall short of perfect evidence6 ,and you1 ,philo1 on whose assistance ,i depended in proving the adorable mysteriousness of the ,divine ,nature1 do you assent to all these extravagant opinions of ,cleanthes8 ,for what other name can ,i give them8 or1 why spare my censure1 when such principles are advanced1 supported by such an authority1 before so young a man as ,pamphilus8 ,you seem not to apprehend1 replied ,philo1 that ,i argue with ,cleanthes in his own way2 and1 by showing him the dangerous consequences of his tenets1 hope at last to reduce him to our opinion4 ,but what sticks most with you1 ,i observe1 is the representation which ,cleanthes has made of the argument a posteriori2 and finding that that argument is likely to escape your hold and vanish into air1 you think it so disguised1 that you can scarcely believe it to be set in its true light4 ,now1 however much ,i may dissent1 in other respects1 from the dangerous principles of ,cleanthes1 ,i must allow that he has fairly represented that argument2 and ,i shall endeavour so to state the matter to you1 that you will entertain no farther scruples with regard to it4 ,were a man to abstract from every thing which he knows or has seen1 he would be altogether incapable1 merely from his own ideas1 to determine what kind of scene the universe must be1 or to give the preference to one state or situation of things above another4 ,for as nothing which he clearly conceives could be esteemed impossible or implying a contradiction1 every chimera of his fancy would be upon an equal footing2 nor could he assign any just reason why he adheres to one idea or system1 and rejects the others which are equally possible4 ,again2 after he opens his eyes1 and contemplates the world as it really is1 it would be impossible for him at first to assign the cause of any one event1 much less of the whole of things1 or of the universe4 ,he might set his fancy a rambling2 and she might bring him in an infinite variety of reports and representations4 ,these would all be possible2 but being all equally possible1 he would never of himself give a satisfactory account for his preferring one of them to the rest4 ,experience alone can point out to him the true cause of any phenomenon4 ,now1 according to this method of reasoning1 ,demea1 it follows1 7and is1 indeed1 tacitly allowed by ,cleanthes himself71 that order1 arrangement1 or the adjustment of final causes1 is not of itself any proof of design2 but only so far as it has been experienced to proceed from that principle4 ,for aught we can know a priori1 matter may contain the source or spring of order originally within itself1 as well as mind does2 and there is no more difficulty in conceiving1 that the several elements1 from an internal unknown cause1 may fall into the most exquisite arrangement1 than to conceive that their ideas1 in the great universal mind1 from a like internal unknown cause1 fall into that arrangement4 ,the equal possibility of both these suppositions is allowed4 ,but1 by experience1 we find1 7according to ,cleanthes71 that there is a difference between them4 ,throw several pieces of steel together1 without shape or form2 they will never arrange themselves so as to compose a watch4 ,stone1 and mortar1 and wood1 without an architect1 never erect a house4 ,but the ideas in a human mind1 we see1 by an unknown1 inexplicable economy1 arrange themselves so as to form the plan of a watch or house4 ,experience1 therefore1 proves1 that there is an original principle of order in mind1 not in matter4 ,from similar effects we infer similar causes4 ,the adjustment of means to ends is alike in the universe1 as in a machine of human contrivance4 ,the causes1 therefore1 must be resembling4 ,i was from the beginning scandalized1 ,i must own1 with this resemblance1 which is asserted1 between the ,deity and human creatures2 and must conceive it to imply such a degradation of the ,supreme ,being as no sound ,theist could endure4 ,with your assistance1 therefore1 ,demea1 ,i shall endeavour to defend what you justly call the adorable mysteriousness of the ,divine ,nature1 and shall refute this reasoning of ,cleanthes1 provided he allows that ,i have made a fair representation of it4 ,when ,cleanthes had assented1 ,philo1 after a short pause1 proceeded in the following manner4 ,that all inferences1 ,cleanthes1 concerning fact1 are founded on experience2 and that all experimental reasonings are founded on the supposition that similar causes prove similar effects1 and similar effects similar causes2 ,i shall not at present much dispute with you4 ,but observe1 ,i entreat you1 with what extreme caution all just reasoners proceed in the transferring of experiments to similar cases4 ,unless the cases be exactly similar1 they repose no perfect confidence in applying their past observation to any particular phenomenon4 ,every alteration of circumstances occasions a doubt concerning the event2 and it requires new experiments to prove certainly1 that the new circumstances are of no moment or importance4 ,a change in bulk1 situation1 arrangement1 age1 disposition of the air1 or surrounding bodies2 any of these particulars may be attended with the most unexpected consequences3 ,and unless the objects be quite familiar to us1 it is the highest temerity to expect with assurance1 after any of these changes1 an event similar to that which before fell under our observation4 ,the slow and deliberate steps of philosophers here1 if any where1 are distinguished from the precipitate march of the vulgar1 who1 hurried on by the smallest similitude1 are incapable of all discernment or consideration4 ,but can you think1 ,cleanthes1 that your usual phlegm and philosophy have been preserved in so wide a step as you have taken1 when you compared to the universe houses1 ships1 furniture1 machines1 and1 from their similarity in some circumstances1 inferred a similarity in their causes8 ,thought1 design1 intelligence1 such as we discover in men and other animals1 is no more than one of the springs and principles of the universe1 as well as heat or cold1 attraction or repulsion1 and a hundred others1 which fall under daily observation4 ,it is an active cause1 by which some particular parts of nature1 we find1 produce alterations on other parts4 ,but can a conclusion1 with any propriety1 be transferred from parts to the whole8 ,does not the great disproportion bar all comparison and inference8 ,from observing the growth of a hair1 can we learn any thing concerning the generation of a man8 ,would the manner of a leaf's blowing1 even though perfectly known1 afford us any instruction concerning the vegetation of a tree8 ,but1 allowing that we were to take the operations of one part of nature upon another1 for the foundation of our judgment concerning the origin of the whole1 7which never can be admitted71 yet why select so minute1 so weak1 so bounded a principle1 as the reason and design of animals is found to be upon this planet8 ,what peculiar privilege has this little agitation of the brain which we call thought1 that we must thus make it the model of the whole universe8 ,our partiality in our own favour does indeed present it on all occasions2 but sound philosophy ought carefully to guard against so natural an illusion4 ,so far from admitting1 continued ,philo1 that the operations of a part can afford us any just conclusion concerning the origin of the whole1 ,i will not allow any one part to form a rule for another part1 if the latter be very remote from the former4 ,is there any reasonable ground to conclude1 that the inhabitants of other planets possess thought1 intelligence1 reason1 or any thing similar to these faculties in men8 ,when nature has so extremely diversified her manner of operation in this small globe1 can we imagine that she incessantly copies herself throughout so immense a universe8 ,and if thought1 as we may well suppose1 be confined merely to this narrow corner1 and has even there so limited a sphere of action1 with what propriety can we assign it for the original cause of all things8 ,the narrow views of a peasant1 who makes his domestic economy the rule for the government of kingdoms1 is in comparison a pardonable sophism4 ,but were we ever so much assured1 that a thought and reason1 resembling the human1 were to be found throughout the whole universe1 and were its activity elsewhere vastly greater and more commanding than it appears in this globe2 yet ,i cannot see1 why the operations of a world constituted1 arranged1 adjusted1 can with any propriety be extended to a world which is in its embryo-state1 and is advancing towards that constitution and arrangement4 ,by observation1 we know somewhat of the economy1 action1 and nourishment of a finished animal2 but we must transfer with great caution that observation to the growth of a foetus in the womb1 and still more to the formation of an animalcule in the loins of its male parent4 ,nature1 we find1 even from our limited experience1 possesses an infinite number of springs and principles1 which incessantly discover themselves on every change of her position and situation4 ,and what new and unknown principles would actuate her in so new and unknown a situation as that of the formation of a universe1 we cannot1 without the utmost temerity1 pretend to determine4 ,a very small part of this great system1 during a very short time1 is very imperfectly discovered to us2 and do we thence pronounce decisively concerning the origin of the whole8 ,admirable conclusion6 ,stone1 wood1 brick1 iron1 brass1 have not1 at this time1 in this minute globe of earth1 an order or arrangement without human art and contrivance2 therefore the universe could not originally attain its order and arrangement1 without something similar to human art4 ,but is a part of nature a rule for another part very wide of the former8 ,is it a rule for the whole8 ,is a very small part a rule for the universe8 ,is nature in one situation1 a certain rule for nature in another situation vastly different from the former8 ,and can you blame me1 ,cleanthes1 if ,i here imitate the prudent reserve of ,simonides1 who1 according to the noted story1 being asked by ,hiero1 ,what ,god was8 desired a day to think of it1 and then two days more2 and after that manner continually prolonged the term1 without ever bringing in his definition or description8 ,could you even blame me1 if ,i had answered at first1 that ,i did not know1 and was sensible that this subject lay vastly beyond the reach of my faculties8 ,you might cry out sceptic and rallier1 as much as you pleased3 but having found1 in so many other subjects much more familiar1 the imperfections and even contradictions of human reason1 ,i never should expect any success from its feeble conjectures1 in a subject so sublime1 and so remote from the sphere of our observation4 ,when two species of objects have always been observed to be conjoined together1 ,i can infer1 by custom1 the existence of one wherever ,i see the existence of the other2 and this ,i call an argument from experience4 ,but how this argument can have place1 where the objects1 as in the present case1 are single1 individual1 without parallel1 or specific resemblance1 may be difficult to explain4 ,and will any man tell me with a serious countenance1 that an orderly universe must arise from some thought and art like the human1 because we have experience of it8 ,to ascertain this reasoning1 it were requisite that we had experience of the origin of worlds2 and it is not sufficient1 surely1 that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art and contrivance4 ,philo was proceeding in this vehement manner1 somewhat between jest and earnest1 as it appeared to me1 when he observed some signs of impatience in ,cleanthes1 and then immediately stopped short4 ,what ,i had to suggest1 said ,cleanthes1 is only that you would not abuse terms1 or make use of popular expressions to subvert philosophical reasonings4 ,you know1 that the vulgar often distinguish reason from experience1 even where the question relates only to matter of fact and existence2 though it is found1 where that reason is properly analyzed1 that it is nothing but a species of experience4 ,to prove by experience the origin of the universe from mind1 is not more contrary to common speech1 than to prove the motion of the earth from the same principle4 ,and a caviller might raise all the same objections to the ,copernican system1 which you have urged against my reasonings4 ,have you other earths1 might he say1 which you have seen to move8 ,have4444 ,yes6 cried ,philo1 interrupting him1 we have other earths4 ,is not the moon another earth1 which we see to turn round its centre8 ,is not ,venus another earth1 where we observe the same phenomenon8 ,are not the revolutions of the sun also a confirmation1 from analogy1 of the same theory8 ,all the planets1 are they not earths1 which revolve about the sun8 ,are not the satellites moons1 which move round ,jupiter and ,saturn1 and along with these primary planets round the sun8 ,these analogies and resemblances1 with others which ,i have not mentioned1 are the sole proofs of the ,copernican system2 and to you it belongs to consider1 whether you have any analogies of the same kind to support your theory4 ,in reality1 ,cleanthes1 continued he1 the modern system of astronomy is now so much received by all inquirers1 and has become so essential a part even of our earliest education1 that we are not commonly very scrupulous in examining the reasons upon which it is founded4 ,it is now become a matter of mere curiosity to study the first writers on that subject1 who had the full force of prejudice to encounter1 and were obliged to turn their arguments on every side in order to render them popular and convincing4 ,but if we peruse ,galilo's famous ,dialogues concerning the system of the world1 we shall find1 that that great genius1 one of the sublimest that ever existed1 first bent all his endeavours to prove1 that there was no foundation for the distinction commonly made between elementary and celestial substances4 ,the schools1 proceeding from the illusions of sense1 had carried this distinction very far2 and had established the latter substances to be ingenerable1 incorruptible1 unalterable1 impassible2 and had assigned all the opposite qualities to the former4 ,but ,galilo1 beginning with the moon1 proved its similarity in every particular to the earth2 its convex figure1 its natural darkness when not illuminated1 its density1 its distinction into solid and liquid1 the variations of its phases1 the mutual illuminations of the earth and moon1 their mutual eclipses1 the inequalities of the lunar surface1 c4 ,after many instances of this kind1 with regard to all the planets1 men plainly saw that these bodies became proper objects of experience2 and that the similarity of their nature enabled us to extend the same arguments and phenomena from one to the other4 ,in this cautious proceeding of the astronomers1 you may read your own condemnation1 ,cleanthes2 or rather may see1 that the subject in which you are engaged exceeds all human reason and inquiry4 ,can you pretend to show any such similarity between the fabric of a house1 find the generation of a universe8 ,have you ever seen nature in any such situation as resembles the first arrangement of the elements8 ,have worlds ever been formed under your eye2 and have you had leisure to observe the whole progress of the phenomenon1 from the first appearance of order to its final consummation8 ,if you have1 then cite your experience1 and deliver your theory4 #a ,recherche de la ,verit1 liv4 #c1 cap4 #i4 ,,part ,,iii4 ,how the most absurd argument1 replied ,cleanthes1 in the hands of a man of ingenuity and invention1 may acquire an air of probability6 ,are you not aware1 ,philo1 that it became necessary for ,copernicus and his first disciples to prove the similarity of the terrestrial and celestial matter2 because several philosophers1 blinded by old systems1 and supported by some sensible appearances1 had denied this similarity8 but that it is by no means necessary1 that ,theists should prove the similarity of the works of ,nature to those of ,art2 because this similarity is self-evident and undeniable8 ,the same matter1 a like form2 what more is requisite to show an analogy between their causes1 and to ascertain the origin of all things from a divine purpose and intention8 ,your objections1 ,i must freely tell you1 are no better than the abstruse cavils of those philosophers who denied motion2 and ought to be refuted in the same manner1 by illustrations1 examples and instances1 rather than by serious argument and philosophy4 ,suppose1 therefore1 that an articulate voice were heard1 in the clouds1 much louder and more melodious than any which human art could ever reach3 ,suppose1 that this voice were extended in the same instant over all nations1 and spoke to each nation in its own language and dialect3 ,suppose1 that the words delivered not only contain a just sense and meaning1 but convey some instruction altogether worthy of a benevolent ,being1 superior to mankind3 ,could you possibly hesitate a moment concerning the cause of this voice8 and must you not instantly ascribe it to some design or purpose8 ,yet ,i cannot see but all the same objections 7if they merit that appellation7 which lie against the system of ,theism1 may also be produced against this inference4 ,might you not say1 that all conclusions concerning fact were founded on experience3 that when we hear an articulate voice in the dark1 and thence infer a man1 it is only the resemblance of the effects which leads us to conclude that there is a like resemblance in the cause3 but that this extraordinary voice1 by its loudness1 extent1 and flexibility to all languages1 bears so little analogy to any human voice1 that we have no reason to suppose any analogy in their causes3 and consequently1 that a rational1 wise1 coherent speech proceeded1 you know not whence1 from some accidental whistling of the winds1 not from any divine reason or intelligence8 ,you see clearly your own objections in these cavils1 and ,i hope too you see clearly1 that they cannot possibly have more force in the one case than in the other4 ,but to bring the case still nearer the present one of the universe1 ,i shall make two suppositions1 which imply not any absurdity or impossibility4 ,suppose that there is a natural1 universal1 invariable language1 common to every individual of human race2 and that books are natural productions1 which perpetuate themselves in the same manner with animals and vegetables1 by descent and propagation4 ,several expressions of our passions contain a universal language3 all brute animals have a natural speech1 which1 however limited1 is very intelligible to their own species4 ,and as there are infinitely fewer parts and less contrivance in the finest composition of eloquence1 than in the coarsest organized body1 the propagation of an ,iliad or neid is an easier supposition than that of any plant or animal4 ,suppose1 therefore1 that you enter into your library1 thus peopled by natural volumes1 containing the most refined reason and most exquisite beauty2 could you possibly open one of them1 and doubt1 that its original cause bore the strongest analogy to mind and intelligence8 ,when it reasons and discourses2 when it expostulates1 argues1 and enforces its views and topics2 when it applies sometimes to the pure intellect1 sometimes to the affections2 when it collects1 disposes1 and adorns every consideration suited to the subject2 could you persist in asserting1 that all this1 at the bottom1 had really no meaning2 and that the first formation of this volume in the loins of its original parent proceeded not from thought and design8 ,your obstinacy1 ,i know1 reaches not that degree of firmness3 even your sceptical play and wantonness would be abashed at so glaring an absurdity4 ,but if there be any difference1 ,philo1 between this supposed case and the real one of the universe1 it is all to the advantage of the latter4 ,the anatomy of an animal affords many stronger instances of design than the perusal of ,livy or ,tacitus2 and any objection which you start in the former case1 by carrying me back to so unusual and extraordinary a scene as the first formation of worlds1 the same objection has place on the supposition of our vegetating library4 ,choose1 then1 your party1 ,philo1 without ambiguity or evasion2 assert either that a rational volume is no proof of a rational cause1 or admit of a similar cause to all the works of nature4 ,let me here observe too1 continued ,cleanthes1 that this religious argument1 instead of being weakened by that scepticism so much affected by you1 rather acquires force from it1 and becomes more firm and undisputed4 ,to exclude all argument or reasoning of every kind1 is either affectation or madness4 ,the declared profession of every reasonable sceptic is only to reject abstruse1 remote1 and refined arguments2 to adhere to common sense and the plain instincts of nature2 and to assent1 wherever any reasons strike him with so full a force that he cannot1 without the greatest violence1 prevent it4 ,now the arguments for ,natural ,religion are plainly of this kind2 and nothing but the most perverse1 obstinate metaphysics can reject them4 ,consider1 anatomize the eye2 survey its structure and contrivance2 and tell me1 from your own feeling1 if the idea of a contriver does not immediately flow in upon you with a force like that of sensation4 ,the most obvious conclusion1 surely1 is in favour of design2 and it requires time1 reflection1 and study1 to summon up those frivolous1 though abstruse objections1 which can support ,infidelity4 ,who can behold the male and female of each species1 the correspondence of their parts and instincts1 their passions1 and whole course of life before and after generation1 but must be sensible1 that the propagation of the species is intended by ,nature8 ,millions and millions of such instances present themselves through every part of the universe2 and no language can convey a more intelligible irresistible meaning1 than the curious adjustment of final causes4 ,to what degree1 therefore1 of blind dogmatism must one have attained1 to reject such natural and such convincing arguments8 ,some beauties in writing we may meet with1 which seem contrary to rules1 and which gain the affections1 and animate the imagination1 in opposition to all the precepts of criticism1 and to the authority of the established masters of art4 ,and if the argument for ,theism be1 as you pretend1 contradictory to the principles of logic2 its universal1 its irresistible influence proves clearly1 that there may be arguments of a like irregular nature4 ,whatever cavils may be urged1 an orderly world1 as well as a coherent1 articulate speech1 will still be received as an incontestable proof of design and intention4 ,it sometimes happens1 ,i own1 that the religious arguments have not their due influence on an ignorant savage and barbarian2 not because they are obscure and difficult1 but because he never asks himself any question with regard to them4 ,whence arises the curious structure of an animal8 ,from the copulation of its parents4 ,and these whence8 ,from their parents8 ,a few removes set the objects at such a distance1 that to him they are lost in darkness and confusion2 nor is he actuated by any curiosity to trace them farther4 ,but this is neither dogmatism nor scepticism1 but stupidity3 a state of mind very different from your sifting1 inquisitive disposition1 my ingenious friend4 ,you can trace causes from effects3 ,you can compare the most distant and remote objects3 and your greatest errors proceed not from barrenness of thought and invention1 but from too luxuriant a fertility1 which suppresses your natural good sense1 by a profusion of unnecessary scruples and objections4 ,here ,i could observe1 ,hermippus1 that ,philo was a little embarrassed and confounded3 ,but while he hesitated in delivering an answer1 luckily for him1 ,demea broke in upon the discourse1 and saved his countenance4 ,your instance1 ,cleanthes1 said he1 drawn from books and language1 being familiar1 has1 ,i confess1 so much more force on that account3 but is there not some danger too in this very circumstance2 and may it not render us presumptuous1 by making us imagine we comprehend the ,deity1 and have some adequate idea of his nature and attributes8 ,when ,i read a volume1 ,i enter into the mind and intention of the author3 ,i become him1 in a manner1 for the instant2 and have an immediate feeling and conception of those ideas which revolved in his imagination while employed in that composition4 ,but so near an approach we never surely can make to the ,deity4 ,his ways are not our ways4 ,his attributes are perfect1 but incomprehensible4 ,and this volume of nature contains a great and inexplicable riddle1 more than any intelligible discourse or reasoning4 ,the ancient ,platonists1 you know1 were the most religious and devout of all the ,pagan philosophers2 yet many of them1 particularly ,plotinus1 expressly declare1 that intellect or understanding is not to be ascribed to the ,deity2 and that our most perfect worship of him consists1 not in acts of veneration1 reverence1 gratitude1 or love2 but in a certain mysterious self-annihilation1 or total extinction of all our faculties4 ,these ideas are1 perhaps1 too far stretched2 but still it must be acknowledged1 that1 by representing the ,deity as so intelligible and comprehensible1 and so similar to a human mind1 we are guilty of the grossest and most narrow partiality1 and make ourselves the model of the whole universe4 ,all the sentiments of the human mind1 gratitude1 resentment1 love1 friendship1 approbation1 blame1 pity1 emulation1 envy1 have a plain reference to the state and situation of man1 and are calculated for preserving the existence and promoting the activity of such a being in such circumstances4 ,it seems1 therefore1 unreasonable to transfer such sentiments to a supreme existence1 or to suppose him actuated by them2 and the phenomena besides of the universe will not support us in such a theory4 ,all our ideas derived from the senses are confessedly false and illusive2 and cannot therefore be supposed to have place in a supreme intelligence3 ,and as the ideas of internal sentiment1 added to those of the external senses1 compose the whole furniture of human understanding1 we may conclude1 that none of the materials of thought are in any respect similar in the human and in the divine intelligence4 ,now1 as to the manner of thinking2 how can we make any comparison between them1 or suppose them any wise resembling8 ,our thought is fluctuating1 uncertain1 fleeting1 successive1 and compounded2 and were we to remove these circumstances1 we absolutely annihilate its essence1 and it would in such a case be an abuse of terms to apply to it the name of thought or reason4 ,at least if it appear more pious and respectful 7as it really is7 still to retain these terms1 when we mention the ,supreme ,being1 we ought to acknowledge1 that their meaning1 in that case1 is totally incomprehensible2 and that the infirmities of our nature do not permit us to reach any ideas which in the least correspond to the ineffable sublimity of the ,divine attributes4 ,,part ,,iv4 ,it seems strange to me1 said ,cleanthes1 that you1 ,demea1 who are so sincere in the cause of religion1 should still maintain the mysterious1 incomprehensible nature of the ,deity1 and should insist so strenuously that he has no manner of likeness or resemblance to human creatures4 ,the ,deity1 ,i can readily allow1 possesses many powers and attributes of which we can have no comprehension3 ,but if our ideas1 so far as they go1 be not just1 and adequate1 and correspondent to his real nature1 ,i know not what there is in this subject worth insisting on4 ,is the name1 without any meaning1 of such mighty importance8 ,or how do you mystics1 who maintain the absolute incomprehensibility of the ,deity1 differ from ,sceptics or ,atheists1 who assert1 that the first cause of all is unknown and unintelligible8 ,their temerity must be very great1 if1 after rejecting the production by a mind1 ,i mean a mind resembling the human1 7for ,i know of no other71 they pretend to assign1 with certainty1 any other specific intelligible cause3 ,and their conscience must be very scrupulous indeed1 if they refuse to call the universal unknown cause a ,god or ,deity2 and to bestow on him as many sublime eulogies and unmeaning epithets as you shall please to require of them4 ,who could imagine1 replied ,demea1 that ,cleanthes1 the calm philosophical ,cleanthes1 would attempt to refute his antagonists by affixing a nickname to them2 and1 like the common bigots and inquisitors of the age1 have recourse to invective and declamation1 instead of reasoning8 ,or does he not perceive1 that these topics are easily retorted1 and that ,anthropomorphite is an appellation as invidious1 and implies as dangerous consequences1 as the epithet of ,mystic1 with which he has honoured us8 ,in reality1 ,cleanthes1 consider what it is you assert when you represent the ,deity as similar to a human mind and understanding4 ,what is the soul of man8 ,a composition of various faculties1 passions1 sentiments1 ideas2 united1 indeed1 into one self or person1 but still distinct from each other4 ,when it reasons1 the ideas1 which are the parts of its discourse1 arrange themselves in a certain form or order2 which is not preserved entire for a moment1 but immediately gives place to another arrangement4 ,new opinions1 new passions1 new affections1 new feelings arise1 which continually diversify the mental scene1 and produce in it the greatest variety and most rapid succession imaginable4 ,how is this compatible with that perfect immutability and simplicity which all true ,theists ascribe to the ,deity8 ,by the same act1 say they1 he sees past1 present1 and future3 ,his love and hatred1 his mercy and justice1 are one individual operation3 ,he is entire in every point of space2 and complete in every instant of duration4 ,no succession1 no change1 no acquisition1 no diminution4 ,what he is implies not in it any shadow of distinction or diversity4 ,and what he is this moment he ever has been1 and ever will be1 without any new judgment1 sentiment1 or operation4 ,he stands fixed in one simple1 perfect state3 nor can you ever gay1 with any propriety1 that this act of his is different from that other2 or that this judgment or idea has been lately formed1 and will give place1 by succession1 to any different judgment or idea4 ,i can readily allow1 said ,cleanthes1 that those who maintain the perfect simplicity of the ,supreme ,being1 to the extent in which you have explained it1 are complete ,mystics1 and chargeable with all the consequences which ,i have drawn from their opinion4 ,they are1 in a word1 ,atheists1 without knowing it ,for though it be allowed1 that the ,deity possesses attributes of which we have no comprehension1 yet ought we never to ascribe to him any attributes which are absolutely incompatible with that intelligent nature essential to him4 ,a mind1 whose acts and sentiments and ideas are not distinct and successive2 one1 that is wholly simple1 and totally immutable1 is a mind which has no thought1 no reason1 no will1 no sentiment1 no love1 no hatred2 or1 in a word1 is no mind at all4 ,it is an abuse of terms to give it that appellation2 and we may as well speak of limited extension without figure1 or of number without composition4 ,pray consider1 said ,philo1 whom you are at present inveighing against4 ,you are honouring with the appellation of ,atheist all the sound1 orthodox divines1 almost1 who have treated of this subject2 and you will at last be1 yourself1 found1 according to your reckoning1 the only sound ,theist in the world4 ,but if idolaters be ,atheists1 as1 ,i think1 may justly be asserted1 and ,christian ,theologians the same1 what becomes of the argument1 so much celebrated1 derived from the universal consent of mankind8 ,but because ,i know you are not much swayed by names and authorities1 ,i shall endeavour to show you1 a little more distinctly1 the inconveniences of that ,anthropomorphism1 which you have embraced2 and shall prove1 that there is no ground to suppose a plan of the world to be formed in the ,divine mind1 consisting of distinct ideas1 differently arranged1 in the same manner as an architect forms in his head the plan of a house which he intends to execute4 ,it is not easy1 ,i own1 to see what is gained by this supposition1 whether we judge of the matter by ,reason or by ,experience4 ,we are still obliged to mount higher1 in order to find the cause of this cause1 which you had assigned as satisfactory and conclusive4 ,if ,reason 7,i mean abstract reason1 derived from inquiries a priori7 be not alike mute with regard to all questions concerning cause and effect1 this sentence at least it will venture to pronounce1 ,that a mental world1 or universe of ideas1 requires a cause as much1 as does a material world1 or universe of objects2 and1 if similar in its arrangement1 must require a similar cause4 ,for what is there in this subject1 which should occasion a different conclusion or inference8 ,in an abstract view1 they are entirely alike2 and no difficulty attends the one supposition1 which is not common to both of them4 ,again1 when we will needs force ,experience to pronounce some sentence1 even on these subjects which lie beyond her sphere1 neither can she perceive any material difference in this particular1 between these two kinds of worlds2 but finds them to be governed by similar principles1 and to depend upon an equal variety of causes in their operations4 ,we have specimens in miniature of both of them4 ,our own mind resembles the one2 a vegetable or animal body the other4 ,let experience1 therefore1 judge from these samples4 ,nothing seems more delicate1 with regard to its causes1 than thought2 and as these causes never operate in two persons after the same manner1 so we never find two persons who think exactly alike4 ,nor indeed does the same person think exactly alike at any two different periods of time4 ,a difference of age1 of the disposition of his body1 of weather1 of food1 of company1 of books1 of passions2 any of these particulars1 or others more minute1 are sufficient to alter the curious machinery of thought1 and communicate to it very different movements and operations4 ,as far as we can judge1 vegetables and animal bodies are not more delicate in their motions1 nor depend upon a greater variety or more curious adjustment of springs and principles4 ,how1 therefore1 shall we satisfy ourselves concerning the cause of that ,being whom you suppose the ,author of ,nature1 or1 according to your system of ,anthropomorphism1 the ideal world1 into which you trace the material8 ,have we not the same reason to trace that ideal world into another ideal world1 or new intelligent principle8 ,but if we stop1 and go no farther2 why go so far8 why not stop at the material world8 ,how can we satisfy ourselves without going on in infinitum8 ,and1 after all1 what satisfaction is there in that infinite progression8 ,let us remember the story of the ,indian philosopher and his elephant4 ,it was never more applicable than to the present subject4 ,if the material world rests upon a similar ideal world1 this ideal world must rest upon some other2 and so on1 without end4 ,it were better1 therefore1 never to look beyond the present material world4 ,by supposing it to contain the principle of its order within itself1 we really assert it to be ,god2 and the sooner we arrive at that ,divine ,being1 so much the better4 ,when you go one step beyond the mundane system1 you only excite an inquisitive humour which it is impossible ever to satisfy4 ,to say1 that the different ideas which compose the reason of the ,supreme ,being1 fall into order of themselves1 and by their own nature1 is really to talk without any precise meaning4 ,if it has a meaning1 ,i would fain know1 why it is not as good sense to say1 that the parts of the material world fall into order of themselves and by their own nature4 ,can the one opinion be intelligible1 while the other is not so8 ,we have1 indeed1 experience of ideas which fall into order of themselves1 and without any known cause4 ,but1 ,i am sure1 we have a much larger experience of matter which does the same2 as1 in all instances of generation and vegetation1 where the accurate analysis of the cause exceeds all human comprehension4 ,we have also experience of particular systems of thought and of matter which have no order2 of the first in madness1 of the second in corruption4 ,why1 then1 should we think1 that order is more essential to one than the other8 ,and if it requires a cause in both1 what do we gain by your system1 in tracing the universe of objects into a similar universe of ideas8 ,the first step which we make leads us on for ever4 ,it were1 therefore1 wise in us to limit all our inquiries to the present world1 without looking farther4 ,no satisfaction can ever be attained by these speculations1 which so far exceed the narrow bounds of human understanding4 ,it was usual with the ,peripatetics1 you know1 ,cleanthes1 when the cause of any phenomenon was demanded1 to have recourse to their faculties1 or occult qualities2 and to say1 for instance1 that bread1 nourished by its nutritive faculty1 and senna purged by its purgative4 ,but it has been discovered1 that this subterfuge was nothing but the disguise of ignorance2 and that these philosophers1 though less ingenuous1 really said the same thing with the sceptics or the vulgar1 who fairly confessed that they knew not the cause of these phenomena4 ,in like manner1 when it is asked1 what cause produces order in the ideas of the ,supreme ,being2 can any other reason be assigned by you1 ,anthropomorphites1 than that it is a rational faculty1 and that such is the nature of the ,deity8 ,but why a similar answer will not be equally satisfactory in accounting for the order of the world1 without having recourse to any such intelligent creator as you insist on1 may be difficult to determine4 ,it is only to say1 that such is the nature of material objects1 and that they are all originally possessed of a faculty of order and proportion4 ,these are only more learned and elaborate ways of confessing our ignorance2 nor has the one hypothesis any real advantage above the other1 except in its greater conformity to vulgar prejudices4 ,you have displayed this argument with great emphasis1 replied ,cleanthes3 ,you seem not sensible how easy it is to answer it4 ,even in common life1 if ,i assign a cause for any event1 is it any objection1 ,philo1 that ,i cannot assign the cause of that cause1 and answer every new question which may incessantly be started8 ,and what philosophers could possibly submit to so rigid a rule8 philosophers1 who confess ultimate causes to be totally unknown2 and are sensible1 that the most refined principles into which they trace the phenomena1 are still to them as inexplicable as these phenomena themselves are to the vulgar4 ,the order and arrangement of nature1 the curious adjustment of final causes1 the plain use and intention of every part and organ2 all these bespeak in the clearest language an intelligent cause or author4 ,the heavens and the earth join in the same testimony3 ,the whole chorus of ,nature raises one hymn to the praises of its ,creator4 ,you alone1 or almost alone1 disturb this general harmony4 ,you start abstruse doubts1 cavils1 and objections3 ,you ask me1 what is the cause of this cause8 ,i know not2 ,i care not2 that concerns not me4 ,i have found a ,deity2 and here ,i stop my inquiry4 ,let those go farther1 who are wiser or more enterprising4 ,i pretend to be neither1 replied ,philo3 ,and for that very reason1 ,i should never perhaps have attempted to go so tar2 especially when ,i am sensible1 that ,i must at last be contented to sit down with the same answer1 which1 without farther trouble1 might have satisfied me from the beginning4 ,if ,i am still to remain in utter ignorance of causes1 and can absolutely give an explication of nothing1 ,i shall never esteem it any advantage to shove off for a moment a difficulty1 which1 you acknowledge1 must immediately1 in its full force1 recur upon me4 ,naturalists indeed very justly explain particular effects by more general causes1 though these general causes themselves should remain in the end totally inexplicable2 but they never surely thought it satisfactory to explain a particular effect by a particular cause1 which was no more to be accounted for than the effect itself4 ,an ideal system1 arranged of itself1 without a precedent design1 is not a whit more explicable than a material one1 which attains its order in a like manner2 nor is there any more difficulty in the latter supposition than in the former4 ,,part ,v4 ,but to show you still more inconveniences1 continued ,philo1 in your ,anthropomorphism1 please to take a new survey of your principles4 ,like effects prove like causes4 ,this is the experimental argument2 and this1 you say too1 is the sole theological argument4 ,now1 it is certain1 that the liker the effects are which are seen1 and the liker the causes which are inferred1 the stronger is the argument4 ,every departure on either side diminishes the probability1 and renders the experiment less conclusive4 ,you cannot doubt of the principle2 neither ought you to reject its consequences4 ,all the new discoveries in astronomy1 which prove the immense grandeur and magnificence of the works of ,nature1 are so many additional arguments for a ,deity1 according to the true system of ,theism2 but1 according to your hypothesis of experimental ,theism1 they become so many objections1 by removing the effect still farther from all resemblance to the effects of human art and contrivance4 ,for1 if ,lucretius1#a even following the old system of the world1 could exclaim1 ,quis regere immensi summam1 quis habere profundi ,indu manu validas potis est moderanter habenas8 ,quis pariter coelos omnes convertere8 et omnes ,ignibus theriis terras suffire feraces8 ,omnibus inque locis esse omni tempore prsto8 ,if ,tully#b esteemed this reasoning so natural1 as to put it into the mouth of his ,epicurean3 ',quibus enim oculis animi intueri potuit vester ,plato fabricam illam tanti operis1 qua construi a ,deo atque dificari mundum facit8 qu molito8 qu ferramenta8 qui vectes8 qu machin8 qui minstri tanti muneris fuerunt8 quemadmodum autem obedire et parere voluntati architecti aer1 ignis1 aqua1 terra potuerunt8' ,if this argument1 ,i say1 had any force in former ages1 how much greater must it have at present1 when the bounds of ,nature are so infinitely enlarged1 and such a magnificent scene is opened to us8 ,it is still more unreasonable to form our idea of so unlimited a cause from our experience of the narrow productions of human design and invention4 ,the discoveries by microscopes1 as they open a new universe in miniature1 are still objections1 according to you1 arguments1 according to me4 ,the farther we push our researches of this kind1 we are still led to infer the universal cause of all to be vastly different from mankind1 or from any object of human experience and observation4 ,and what say you to the discoveries in anatomy1 chemistry1 botany8444 ,these surely are no objections1 replied ,cleanthes2 they only discover new instances of art and contrivance4 ,it is still the image of mind reflected on us from innumerable objects4 ,add1 a mind like the human1 said ,philo4 ,i know of no other1 replied ,cleanthes4 ,and the liker the better1 insisted ,philo4 ,to be sure1 said ,cleanthes4 ,now1 ,cleanthes1 said ,philo1 with an air of alacrity and triumph1 mark the consequences4 ,first1 ,by this method of reasoning1 you renounce all claim to infinity in any of the attributes of the ,deity4 ,for1 as the cause ought only to be proportioned to the effect1 and the effect1 so far as it falls under our cognizance1 is not infinite2 what pretensions have we1 upon your suppositions1 to ascribe that attribute to the ,divine ,being8 ,you will still insist1 that1 by removing him so much from all similarity to human creatures1 we give in to the most arbitrary hypothesis1 and at the same time weaken all proofs of his existence4 ,secondly1 ,you have no reason1 on your theory1 for ascribing perfection to the ,deity1 even in his finite capacity1 or for supposing him free from every error1 mistake1 or incoherence1 in his undertakings4 ,there are many inexplicable difficulties in the works of ,nature1 which1 if we allow a perfect author to be proved a priori1 are easily solved1 and become only seeming difficulties1 from the narrow capacity of man1 who cannot trace infinite relations4 ,but according to your method of reasoning1 these difficulties become all real2 and perhaps will be insisted on1 as new instances of likeness to human art and contrivance4 ,at least1 you must acknowledge1 that it is impossible for us to tell1 from our limited views1 whether this system contains any great faults1 or deserves any considerable praise1 if compared to other possible1 and even real systems4 ,could a peasant1 if the neid were read to him1 pronounce that poem to be absolutely faultless1 or even assign to it its proper rank among the productions of human wit1 he1 who had never seen any other production8 ,but were this world ever so perfect a production1 it must still remain uncertain1 whether all the excellences of the work can justly be ascribed to the workman4 ,if we survey a ship1 what an exalted idea must we form of the ingenuity of the carpenter who framed so complicated1 useful1 and beautiful a machine8 ,and what surprise must we feel1 when we find him a stupid mechanic1 who imitated others1 and copied an art1 which1 through a long succession of ages1 after multiplied trials1 mistakes1 corrections1 deliberations1 and controversies1 had been gradually improving8 ,many worlds might have been botched and bungled1 throughout an eternity1 ere this system was struck out2 much labour lost1 many fruitless trials made2 and a slow1 but continued improvement carried on during infinite ages in the art of world-making4 ,in such subjects1 who can determine1 where the truth2 nay1 who can conjecture where the probability lies1 amidst a great number of hypotheses which may be proposed1 and a still greater which may be imagined8 ,and what shadow of an argument1 continued ,philo1 can you produce1 from your hypothesis1 to prove the unity of the ,deity8 ,a great number of men join in building a house or ship1 in rearing a city1 in framing a commonwealth2 why may not several deities combine in contriving and framing a world8 ,this is only so much greater similarity to human affairs4 ,by sharing the work among several1 we may so much farther limit the attributes of each1 and get rid of that extensive power and knowledge1 which must be supposed in one deity1 and which1 according to you1 can only serve to weaken the proof of his existence4 ,and if such foolish1 such vicious creatures as man1 can yet often unite in framing and executing one plan1 how much more those deities or demons1 whom we may suppose several degrees more perfect6 ,to multiply causes without necessity1 is indeed contrary to true philosophy3 but this principle applies not to the present case4 ,were one deity antecedently proved by your theory1 who were possessed of every attribute requisite to the production of the universe2 it would be needless1 ,i own1 7though not absurd71 to suppose any other deity existent4 ,but while it is still a question1 ,whether all these attributes are united in one subject1 or dispersed among several independent beings1 by what phenomena in nature can we pretend to decide the controversy8 ,where we see a body raised in a scale1 we are sure that there is in the opposite scale1 however concealed from sight1 some counterpoising weight equal to it2 but it is still allowed to doubt1 whether that weight be an aggregate of several distinct bodies1 or one uniform united mass4 ,and if the weight requisite very much exceeds any thing which we have ever seen conjoined in any single body1 the former supposition becomes still more probable and natural4 ,an intelligent being of such vast power and capacity as is necessary to produce the universe1 or1 to speak in the language of ancient philosophy1 so prodigious an animal exceeds all analogy1 and even comprehension4 ,but farther1 ,cleanthes3 ,men are mortal1 and renew their species by generation2 and this is common to all living creatures4 ,the two great sexes of male and female1 says ,milton1 animate the world4 ,why must this circumstance1 so universal1 so essential1 be excluded from those numerous and limited deities8 ,behold1 then1 the theogony of ancient times brought back upon us4 ,and why not become a perfect ,anthropomorphite8 ,why not assert the deity or deities to be corporeal1 and to have eyes1 a nose1 mouth1 ears1 c48 ,epicurus maintained1 that no man had ever seen reason but in a human figure2 therefore the gods must have a human figure4 ,and this argument1 which is deservedly so much ridiculed by ,cicero1 becomes1 according to you1 solid and philosophical4 ,in a word1 ,cleanthes1 a man who follows your hypothesis is able perhaps to assert1 or conjecture1 that the universe1 sometime1 arose from something like design3 but beyond that position he cannot ascertain one single circumstance2 and is left afterwards to fix every point of his theology by the utmost license of fancy and hypothesis4 ,this world1 for aught he knows1 is very faulty and imperfect1 compared to a superior standard2 and was only the first rude essay of some infant deity1 who afterwards abandoned it1 ashamed of his lame performance3 it is the work only of some dependent1 inferior deity2 and is the object of derision to his superiors3 it is the production of old age and dotage in some superannuated deity2 and ever since his death1 has run on at adventures1 from the first impulse and active force which it received from him4 ,you justly give signs of horror1 ,demea1 at these strange suppositions2 but these1 and a thousand more of the same kind1 are ,cleanthes's suppositions1 not mine4 ,from the moment the attributes of the ,deity are supposed finite1 all these have place4 ,and ,i cannot1 for my part1 think that so wild and unsettled a system of theology is1 in any respect1 preferable to none at all4 ,these suppositions ,i absolutely disown1 cried ,cleanthes3 they strike me1 however1 with no horror1 especially when proposed in that rambling way in which they drop from you4 ,on the contrary1 they give me pleasure1 when ,i see1 that1 by the utmost indulgence of your imagination1 you never get rid of the hypothesis of design in the universe1 but are obliged at every turn to have recourse to it4 ,to this concession ,i adhere steadily2 and this ,i regard as a sufficient foundation for religion4 #a ,lib4 xi4 #ajid4 #b ,de ,nat ,deor4 lib4 i4 ,,part ,,vi4 ,it must be a slight fabric1 indeed1 said ,demea1 which can be erected on so tottering a foundation4 ,while we are uncertain whether there is one deity or many2 whether the deity or deities1 to whom we owe our existence1 be perfect or imperfect1 subordinate or supreme1 dead or alive1 what trust or confidence can we repose in them8 ,what devotion or worship address to them8 ,what veneration or obedience pay them8 ,to all the purposes of life the theory of religion becomes altogether useless3 and even with regard to speculative consequences1 its uncertainty1 according to you1 must render it totally precarious and unsatisfactory4 ,to render it still more unsatisfactory1 said ,philo1 there occurs to me another hypothesis1 which must acquire an air of probability from the method of reasoning so much insisted on by ,cleanthes4 ,that like effects arise from like causes3 this principle he supposes the foundation of all religion4 ,but there is another principle of the same kind1 no less certain1 and derived from the same source of experience2 that where several known circumstances are observed to be similar1 the unknown will also be found similar4 ,thus1 if we see the limbs of a human body1 we conclude that it is also attended with a human head1 though hid from us4 ,thus1 if we see1 through a chink in a wall1 a small part of the sun1 we conclude1 that1 were the wall removed1 we should see the whole body4 ,in short1 this method of reasoning is so obvious and familiar1 that no scruple can ever be made with regard to its solidity4 ,now1 if we survey the universe1 so far as it falls under our knowledge1 it bears a great resemblance to an animal or organized body1 and seems actuated with a like principle of life and motion4 ,a continual circulation of matter in it produces no disorder3 a continual waste in every part is incessantly repaired3 the closest sympathy is perceived throughout the entire system3 and each part or member1 in performing its proper offices1 operates both to its own preservation and to that of the whole4 ,the world1 therefore1 ,i infer1 is an animal2 and the ,deity is the soul of the world1 actuating it1 and actuated by it4 ,you have too much learning1 ,cleanthes1 to be at all surprised at this opinion1 which1 you know1 was maintained by almost all the ,theists of antiquity1 and chiefly prevails in their discourses and reasonings4 ,for though1 sometimes1 the ancient philosophers reason from final causes1 as if they thought the world the workmanship of ,god2 yet it appears rather their favourite notion to consider it as his body1 whose organization renders it subservient to him4 ,and it must be confessed1 that1 as the universe resembles more a human body than it does the works of human art and contrivance1 if our limited analogy could ever1 with any propriety1 be extended to the whole of nature1 the inference seems juster in favour of the ancient than the modern theory4 ,there are many other advantages1 too1 in the former theory1 which recommended it to the ancient theologians4 ,nothing more repugnant to all their notions1 because nothing more repugnant to common experience1 than mind without body2 a mere spiritual substance1 which fell not under their senses nor comprehension1 and of which they had not observed one single instance throughout all nature4 ,mind and body they knew1 because they felt both3 an order1 arrangement1 organization1 or internal machinery1 in both1 they likewise knew1 after the same manner3 and it could not but seem reasonable to transfer this experience to the universe2 and to suppose the divine mind and body to be also coeval1 and to have1 both of them1 order and arrangement naturally inherent in them1 and inseparable from them4 ,here1 therefore1 is a new species of ,anthropomorphism1 ,cleanthes1 on which you may deliberate2 and a theory which seems not liable to any considerable difficulties4 ,you are too much superior1 surely1 to systematical prejudices1 to find any more difficulty in supposing an animal body to be1 originally1 of itself1 or from unknown causes1 possessed of order and organization1 than in supposing a similar order to belong to mind4 ,but the vulgar prejudice1 that body and mind ought always to accompany each other1 ought not1 one should think1 to be entirely neglected2 since it is founded on vulgar experience1 the only guide which you profess to follow in all these theological inquiries4 ,and if you assert1 that our limited experience is an unequal standard1 by which to judge of the unlimited extent of nature2 you entirely abandon your own hypothesis1 and must thenceforward adopt our ,mysticism1 as you call it1 and admit of the absolute incomprehensibility of the ,divine ,nature4 ,this theory1 ,i own1 replied ,cleanthes1 has never before occurred to me1 though a pretty natural one2 and ,i cannot readily1 upon so short an examination and reflection1 deliver any opinion with regard to it4 ,you are very scrupulous1 indeed1 said ,philo3 were ,i to examine any system of yours1 ,i should not have acted with half that caution and reserve1 in starting objections and difficulties to it4 ,however1 if any thing occur to you1 you will oblige us by proposing it4 ,why then1 replied ,cleanthes1 it seems to me1 that1 though the world does1 in many circumstances1 resemble an animal body2 yet is the analogy also defective in many circumstances the most material3 no organs of sense2 no seat of thought or reason2 no one precise origin of motion and action4 ,in short1 it seems to bear a stronger resemblance to a vegetable than to an animal1 and your inference would be so far inconclusive in favour of the soul of the world4 ,but1 in the next place1 your theory seems to imply the eternity of the world2 and that is a principle1 which1 ,i think1 can be refuted by the strongest reasons and probabilities4 ,i shall suggest an argument to this purpose1 which1 ,i believe1 has not been insisted on by any writer4 ,those1 who reason from the late origin of arts and sciences1 though their inference wants not force1 may perhaps be refuted by considerations derived from the nature of human society1 which is in continual revolution1 between ignorance and knowledge1 liberty and slavery1 riches and poverty2 so that it is impossible for us1 from our limited experience1 to foretel with assurance what events may or may not be expected4 ,ancient learning and history seem to have been in great danger of entirely perishing after the inundation of the barbarous nations2 and had these convulsions continued a little longer1 or been a little more violent1 we should not probably have now known what passed in the world a few centuries before us4 ,nay1 were it not for the superstition of the ,popes1 who preserved a little jargon of ,latin1 in order to support the appearance of an ancient and universal church1 that tongue must have been utterly lost2 in which case1 the ,western world1 being totally barbarous1 would not have been in a fit disposition for receiving the ,greek language and learning1 which was conveyed to them after the sacking of ,constantinople4 ,when learning and books had been extinguished1 even the mechanical arts would have fallen considerably to decay2 and it is easily imagined1 that fable or tradition might ascribe to them a much later origin than the true one4 ,this vulgar argument1 therefore1 against the eternity of the world1 seems a little precarious4 ,but here appears to be the foundation of a better argument4 ,lucullus was the first that brought cherry-trees from ,asia to ,europe2 though that tree thrives so well in many ,european climates1 that it grows in the woods without any culture4 ,is it possible1 that throughout a whole eternity1 no ,european had ever passed into ,asia1 and thought of transplanting so delicious a fruit into his own country8 ,or if the tree was once transplanted and propagated1 how could it ever afterwards perish8 ,empires may rise and fall1 liberty and slavery succeed alternately1 ignorance and knowledge give place to each other2 but the cherry-tree will still remain in the woods of ,greece1 ,spain and ,italy1 and will never be affected by the revolutions of human society4 ,it is not two thousand years since vines were transplanted into ,france1 though there is no climate in the world more favourable to them4 ,it is not three centuries since horses1 cows1 sheep1 swine1 dogs1 corn1 were known in ,america4 ,is it possible1 that during the revolutions of a whole eternity1 there never arose a ,columbus1 who might open the communication between ,europe and that continent8 ,we may as well imagine1 that all men would wear stockings for ten thousand years1 and never have the sense to think of garters to tie them4 ,all these seem convincing proofs of the youth1 or rather infancy1 of the world2 as being founded on the operation of principles more constant and steady than those by which human society is governed and directed4 ,nothing less than a total convulsion of the elements will ever destroy all the ,european animals and vegetables which are now to be found in the ,western world4 ,and what argument have you against such convulsions8 replied ,philo4 ,strong and almost incontestable proofs may be traced over the whole earth1 that every part of this globe has continued for many ages entirely covered with water4 ,and though order were supposed inseparable from matter1 and inherent in it2 yet may matter be susceptible of many and great revolutions1 through the endless periods of eternal duration4 ,the incessant changes1 to which every part of it is subject1 seem to intimate some such general transformations2 though1 at the same time1 it is observable1 that all the changes and corruptions of which we have ever had experience1 are but passages from one state of order to another2 nor can matter ever rest in total deformity and confusion4 ,what we see in the parts1 we may infer in the whole2 at least1 that is the method of reasoning on which you rest your whole theory4 ,and were ,i obliged to defend any particular system of this nature1 which ,i never willingly should do1 ,i esteem none more plausible than that which ascribes an eternal inherent principle of order to the world1 though attended with great and continual revolutions and alterations4 ,this at once solves all difficulties2 and if the solution1 by being so general1 is not entirely complete and satisfactory1 it is at least a theory that we must sooner or later have recourse to1 whatever system we embrace4 ,how could things have been as they are1 were there not an original inherent principle of order somewhere1 in thought or in matter8 ,and it is very indifferent to which of these we give the preference4 ,chance has no place1 on any hypothesis1 sceptical or religious4 ,every thing is surely governed by steady1 inviolable laws4 ,and were the inmost essence of things laid open to us1 we should then discover a scene1 of which1 at present1 we can have no idea4 ,instead of admiring the order of natural beings1 we should clearly see that it was absolutely impossible for them1 in the smallest article1 ever to admit of any other disposition4 ,were any one inclined to revive the ancient ,pagan ,theology1 which maintained1 as we learn from ,hesiod1 that this globe was governed by #cj1jjj deities1 who arose from the unknown powers of nature3 you would naturally object1 ,cleanthes1 that nothing is gained by this hypothesis2 and that it is as easy to suppose all men animals1 beings more numerous1 but less perfect1 to have sprung immediately from a like origin4 ,push the same inference a step farther1 and you will find a numerous society of deities as explicable as one universal deity1 who possesses within himself the powers and perfections of the whole society4 ,all these systems1 then1 of ,scepticism1 ,polytheism1 and ,theism1 you must allow1 on your principles1 to be on a like footing1 and that no one of them has any advantage over the others4 ,you may thence learn the fallacy of your principles4 ,,part ,,vii4 ,but here1 continued ,philo1 in examining the ancient system of the soul of the world1 there strikes me1 all on a sudden1 a new idea1 which1 if just1 must go near to subvert all your reasoning1 and destroy even your first inferences1 on which you repose such confidence4 ,if the universe bears a greater likeness to animal bodies and to vegetables1 than to the works of human art1 it is more probable that its cause resembles the cause of the former than that of the latter1 and its origin ought rather to be ascribed to generation or vegetation1 than to reason or design4 ,your conclusion1 even according to your own principles1 is therefore lame and defective4 ,pray open up this argument a little farther1 said ,demea1 for ,i do not rightly apprehend it in that concise manner in which you have expressed it4 ,our friend ,cleanthes1 replied ,philo1 as you have heard1 asserts1 that since no question of fact can be proved otherwise than by experience1 the existence of a ,deity admits not of proof from any other medium4 ,the world1 says he1 resembles the works of human contrivance2 therefore its cause must also resemble that of the other4 ,here we may remark1 that the operation of one very small part of nature1 to wit man1 upon another very small part1 to wit that inanimate matter lying within his reach1 is the rule by which ,cleanthes judges of the origin of the whole2 and he measures objects1 so widely disproportioned1 by the same individual standard4 ,but to waive all objections drawn from this topic1 ,i affirm1 that there are other parts of the universe 7besides the machines of human invention7 which bear still a greater resemblance to the fabric of the world1 and which1 therefore1 afford a better conjecture concerning the universal origin of this system4 ,these parts are animals and vegetables4 ,the world plainly resembles more an animal or a vegetable1 than it does a watch or a knitting-loom4 ,its cause1 therefore1 it is more probable1 resembles the cause of the former4 ,the cause of the former is generation or vegetation4 ,the cause1 therefore1 of the world1 we may infer to be something similar or analogous to generation or vegetation4 ,but how is it conceivable1 said ,demea1 that the world can arise from any thing similar to vegetation or generation8 ,very easily1 replied ,philo4 ,in like manner as a tree sheds its seed into the neighbouring fields1 and produces other trees2 so the great vegetable1 the world1 or this planetary system1 produces within itself certain seeds1 which1 being scattered into the surrounding chaos1 vegetate into new worlds4 ,a comet1 for instance1 is the seed of a world2 and after it has been fully ripened1 by passing from sun to sun1 and star to star1 it is at last tossed into the unformed elements which every where surround this universe1 and immediately sprouts up into a new system4 ,or if1 for the sake of variety 7for ,i see no other advantage71 we should suppose this world to be an animal2 a comet is the egg of this animal3 and in like manner as an ostrich lays its egg in the sand1 which1 without any farther care1 hatches the egg1 and produces a new animal2 so 444 ,i understand you1 says ,demea3 ,but what wild1 arbitrary suppositions are these6 ,what data have you for such extraordinary conclusions8 ,and is the slight1 imaginary resemblance of the world to a vegetable or an animal sufficient to establish the same inference with regard to both8 ,objects1 which are in general so widely different1 ought they to be a standard for each other8 ,right1 cries ,philo3 ,this is the topic on which ,i have all along insisted4 ,i have still asserted1 that we have no data to establish any system of cosmogony4 ,our experience1 so imperfect in itself1 and so limited both in extent and duration1 can afford us no probable conjecture concerning the whole of things4 ,but if we must needs fix on some hypothesis2 by what rule1 pray1 ought we to determine our choice8 ,is there any other rule than the greater similarity of the objects compared8 ,and does not a plant or an animal1 which springs from vegetation or generation1 bear a stronger resemblance to the world1 than does any artificial machine1 which arises from reason and design8 ,but what is this vegetation and generation of which you talk1 said ,demea8 ,can you explain their operations1 and anatomize that fine internal structure on which they depend8 ,as much1 at least1 replied ,philo1 as ,cleanthes can explain the operations of reason1 or anatomize that internal structure on which it depends4 ,but without any such elaborate disquisitions1 when ,i see an animal1 ,i infer1 that it sprang from generation2 and that with as great certainty as you conclude a house to have been reared by design4 ,these words1 generation1 reason1 mark only certain powers and energies in nature1 whose effects are known1 but whose essence is incomprehensible2 and one of these principles1 more than the other1 has no privilege for being made a standard to the whole of nature4 ,in reality1 ,demea1 it may reasonably be expected1 that the larger the views are which we take of things1 the better will they conduct us in our conclusions concerning such extraordinary and such magnificent subjects4 ,in this little corner of the world alone1 there are four principles1 reason1 instinct1 generation1 vegetation1 which are similar to each other1 and are the causes of similar effects4 ,what a number of other principles may we naturally suppose in the immense extent and variety of the universe1 could we travel from planet to planet1 and from system to system1 in order to examine each part of this mighty fabric8 ,any one of these four principles above mentioned1 7and a hundred others which lie open to our conjecture71 may afford us a theory by which to judge of the origin of the world2 and it is a palpable and egregious partiality to confine our view entirely to that principle by which our own minds operate4 ,were this principle more intelligible on that account1 such a partiality might be somewhat excuseable3 ,but reason1 in its internal fabric and structure1 is really as little known to us as instinct or vegetation2 and1 perhaps1 even that vague1 undeterminate word1 ,nature1 to which the vulgar refer every thing1 is not at the bottom more inexplicable4 ,the effects of these principles are all known to us from experience2 but the principles themselves1 and their manner of operation1 are totally unknown2 nor is it less intelligible1 or less conformable to experience1 to say1 that the world arose by vegetation1 from a seed shed by another world1 than to say that it arose from a divine reason or contrivance1 according to the sense in which ,cleanthes understands it4 ,but methinks1 said ,demea1 if the world had a vegetative quality1 and could sow the seeds of new worlds into the infinite chaos1 this power would be still an additional argument for design in its author4 ,for whence could arise so wonderful a faculty but from design8 ,or how can order spring from any thing which perceives not that order which it bestows8 ,you need only look around you1 replied ,philo1 to satisfy yourself with regard to this question4 ,a tree bestows order and organization on that tree which springs from it1 without knowing the order2 an animal in the same manner on its offspring2 a bird on its nest2 and instances of this kind are even more frequent in the world than those of order1 which arise from reason and contrivance4 ,to say1 that all this order in animals and vegetables proceeds ultimately from design1 is begging the question2 nor can that great point be ascertained otherwise than by proving1 a priori1 both that order is1 from its nature1 inseparably attached to thought2 and that it can never of itself1 or from original unknown principles1 belong to matter4 ,but farther1 ,demea2 this objection which you urge can never be made use of by ,cleanthes1 without renouncing a defence which he has already made against one of my objections4 ,when ,i inquired concerning the cause of that supreme reason and intelligence into which he resolves every thing2 he told me1 that the impossibility of satisfying such inquiries could never be admitted as an objection in any species of philosophy4 ,we must stop somewhere1 says he2 nor is it ever within the reach of human capacity to explain ultimate causes1 of show the last connections of any objects4 ,it is sufficient1 if any steps1 so far as we go1 are supported by experience and observation4 ,now1 that vegetation and generation1 as well as reason1 are experienced to be principles of order in nature1 is undeniable4 ,if ,i rest my system of cosmogony on the former1 preferably to the latter1 it is at my choice4 ,the matter seems entirely arbitrary4 ,and when ,cleanthes asks me what is the cause of my great vegetative or generative faculty1 ,i am equally entitled to ask him the cause of his great reasoning principle4 ,these questions we have agreed to forbear on both sides2 and it is chiefly his interest on the present occasion to stick to this agreement4 ,judging by our limited and imperfect experience1 generation has some privileges above reason3 for we see every day the latter arise from the former1 never the former from the latter4 ,compare1 ,i beseech you1 the consequences on both sides4 ,the world1 say ,i1 resembles an animal2 therefore it is an animal1 therefore it arose from generation4 ,the steps1 ,i confess1 are wide2 yet there is some small appearance of analogy in each step4 ,the world1 says ,cleanthes1 resembles a machine2 therefore it is a machine1 therefore it arose from design4 ,the steps are here equally wide1 and the analogy less striking4 ,and if he pretends to carry on my hypothesis a step farther1 and to infer design or reason from the great principle of generation1 on which ,i insist2 ,i may1 with better authority1 use the same freedom to push farther his hypothesis1 and infer a divine generation or theogony from his principle of reason4 ,i have at least some faint shadow of experience1 which is the utmost that can ever be attained in the present subject4 ,reason1 in innumerable instances1 is observed to arise from the principle of generation1 and never to arise from any other principle4 ,hesiod1 and all the ancient mythologists1 were so struck with this analogy1 that they universally explained the origin of nature from an animal birth1 and copulation4 ,plato too1 so far as he is intelligible1 seems to have adopted some such notion in his ,timus4 ,the ,brahmins assert1 that the world arose from an infinite spider1 who spun this whole complicated mass from his bowels1 and annihilates afterwards the whole or any part of it1 by absorbing it again1 and resolving it into his own essence4 ,here is a species of cosmogony1 which appears to us ridiculous2 because a spider is a little contemptible animal1 whose operations we are never likely to take for a model of the whole universe4 ,but still here is a new species of analogy1 even in our globe4 ,and were there a planet wholly inhabited by spiders1 7which is very possible71 this inference would there appear as natural and irrefragable as that which in our planet ascribes the origin of all things to design and intelligence1 as explained by ,cleanthes4 ,why an orderly system may not be spun from the belly as well as from the brain1 it will be difficult for him to give a satisfactory reason4 ,i must confess1 ,philo1 replied ,cleanthes1 that of all men living1 the task which you have undertaken1 of raising doubts and objections1 suits you best1 and seems1 in a manner1 natural and unavoidable to you4 ,so great is your fertility of invention1 that ,i am not ashamed to acknowledge myself unable1 on a sudden1 to solve regularly such out-of-the-way difficulties as you incessantly start upon me3 though ,i clearly see1 in general1 their fallacy and error4 ,and ,i question not1 but you are yourself1 at present1 in the same case1 and have not the solution so ready as the objection3 while you must be sensible1 that common sense and reason are entirely against you2 and that such whimsies as you have delivered1 may puzzle1 but never can convince us4 ,,part ,,viii4 ,what you ascribe to the fertility of my invention1 replied ,philo1 is entirely owing to the nature of the subject4 ,in subjects adapted to the narrow compass of human reason1 there is commonly but one determination1 which carries probability or conviction with it2 and to a man of sound judgment1 all other suppositions1 but that one1 appear entirely absurd and chimerical4 ,but in such questions as the present1 a hundred contradictory views may preserve a kind of imperfect analogy2 and invention has here full scope to exert itself4 ,without any great effort of thought1 ,i believe that ,i could1 in an instant1 propose other systems of cosmogony1 which would have some faint appearance of truth2 though it is a thousand1 a million to one1 if either yours or any one of mine be the true system4 ,for instance1 what if ,i should revive the old ,epicurean hypothesis8 ,this is commonly1 and ,i believe justly1 esteemed the most absurd system that has yet been proposed2 yet ,i know not whether1 with a few alterations1 it might not be brought to bear a faint appearance of probability4 ,instead of supposing matter infinite1 as ,epicurus did1 let us suppose it finite4 ,a finite number of particles is only susceptible of finite transpositions3 and it must happen1 in an eternal duration1 that every possible order or position must be tried an infinite number of times4 ,this world1 therefore1 with all its events1 even the most minute1 has before been produced and destroyed1 and will again be produced and destroyed1 without any bounds and limitations4 ,no one1 who has a conception of the powers of infinite1 in comparison of finite1 will ever scruple this determination4 ,but this supposes1 said ,demea1 that matter can acquire motion1 without any voluntary agent or first mover4 ,and where is the difficulty1 replied ,philo1 of that supposition8 ,every event1 before experience1 is equally difficult and incomprehensible2 and every event1 after experience1 is equally easy and intelligible4 ,motion1 in many instances1 from gravity1 from elasticity1 from electricity1 begins in matter1 without any known voluntary agent3 and to suppose always1 in these cases1 an unknown voluntary agent1 is mere hypothesis2 and hypothesis attended with no advantages4 ,the beginning of motion in matter itself is as conceivable a priori as its communication from mind and intelligence4 ,besides1 why may not motion have been propagated by impulse through all eternity1 and the same stock of it1 or nearly the same1 be still upheld in the universe8 ,as much is lost by the composition of motion1 as much is gained by its resolution4 ,and whatever the causes are1 the fact is certain1 that matter is1 and always has been1 in continual agitation1 as far as human experience or tradition reaches4 ,there is not probably1 at present1 in the whole universe1 one particle of matter at absolute rest4 ,and this very consideration too1 continued ,philo1 which we have stumbled on in the course of the argument1 suggests a new hypothesis of cosmogony1 that is not absolutely absurd and improbable4 ,is there a system1 an order1 an economy of things1 by which matter can preserve that perpetual agitation which seems essential to it1 and yet maintain a constancy in the forms which it produces8 ,there certainly is such an economy2 for this is actually the case with the present world4 ,the continual motion of matter1 therefore1 in less than infinite transpositions1 must produce this economy or order2 and by its very nature1 that order1 when once established1 supports itself1 for many ages1 if not to eternity4 ,but wherever matter is so poized1 arranged1 and adjusted1 as to continue in perpetual motion1 and yet preserve a constancy in the forms1 its situation must1 of necessity1 have all the same appearance of art and contrivance which we observe at present4 ,all the parts of each form must have a relation to each other1 and to the whole2 and the whole itself must have a relation to the other parts of the universe2 to the element in which the form subsists2 to the materials with which it repairs its waste and decay2 and to every other form which is hostile or friendly4 ,a defect in any of these particulars destroys the form2 and the matter of which it is composed is again set loose1 and is thrown into irregular motions and fermentations1 till it unite itself to some other regular form4 ,if no such form be prepared to receive it1 and if there be a great quantity of this corrupted matter in the universe1 the universe itself is entirely disordered2 whether it be the feeble embryo of a world in its first beginnings that is thus destroyed1 or the rotten carcase of one languishing in old age and infirmity4 ,in either case1 a chaos ensues2 till finite1 though innumerable revolutions produce at last some forms1 whose parts and organs are so adjusted as to support the forms amidst a continued succession of matter4 ,suppose 7for we shall endeavour to vary the expression71 that matter were thrown into any position1 by a blind1 unguided force2 it is evident that this first position must1 in all probability1 be the most confused and most disorderly imaginable1 without any resemblance to those works of human contrivance1 which1 along with a symmetry of parts1 discover an adjustment of means to ends1 and a tendency to self-preservation4 ,if the actuating force cease after this operation1 matter must remain for ever in disorder1 and continue an immense chaos1 without any proportion or activity4 ,but suppose that the actuating force1 whatever it be1 still continues in matter1 this first position will immediately give place to a second1 which will likewise in all probability be as disorderly as the first1 and so on through many successions of changes and revolutions4 ,no particular order or position ever continues a moment unaltered4 ,the original force1 still remaining in activity1 gives a perpetual restlessness to matter4 ,every possible situation is produced1 and instantly destroyed4 ,if a glimpse or dawn of order appears for a moment1 it is instantly hurried away1 and confounded1 by that never-ceasing force which actuates every part of matter4 ,thus the universe goes on for many ages in a continued succession of chaos and disorder4 ,but is it not possible that it may settle at last1 so as not to lose its motion and active force 7for that we have supposed inherent in it71 yet so as to preserve an uniformity of appearance1 amidst the continual motion and fluctuation of its parts8 ,this we find to be the case with the universe at present4 ,every individual is perpetually changing1 and every part of every individual2 and yet the whole remains1 in appearance1 the same4 ,may we not hope for such a position1 or rather be assured of it1 from the eternal revolutions of unguided matter2 and may not this account for all the appearing wisdom and contrivance which is in the universe8 ,let us contemplate the subject a little1 and we shall find1 that this adjustment1 if attained by matter of a seeming stability in the forms1 with a real and perpetual revolution or motion of parts1 affords a plausible1 if not a true solution of the difficulty4 ,it is in vain1 therefore1 to insist upon the uses of the parts in animals or vegetables1 and their curious adjustment to each other4 ,i would fain know1 how an animal could subsist1 unless its parts were so adjusted8 ,do we not find1 that it immediately perishes whenever this adjustment ceases1 and that its matter corrupting tries some new form8 ,it happens indeed1 that the parts of the world are so well adjusted1 that some regular form immediately lays claim to this corrupted matter3 and if it were not so1 could the world subsist8 ,must it not dissolve as well as the animal1 and pass through new positions and situations1 till in great1 but finite succession1 it fall at last into the present or some such order8 ,it is well1 replied ,cleanthes1 you told us1 that this hypothesis was suggested on a sudden1 in the course of the argument4 ,had you had leisure to examine it1 you would soon have perceived the insuperable objections to which it is exposed4 ,no form1 you say1 can subsist1 unless it possess those powers and organs requisite for its subsistence3 some new order or economy must be tried1 and so on1 without intermission2 till at last some order1 which can support and maintain itself1 is fallen upon4 ,but according to this hypothesis1 whence arise the many conveniences and advantages which men and all animals possess8 ,two eyes1 two ears1 are not absolutely necessary for the subsistence of the species4 ,human race might have been propagated and preserved1 without horses1 dogs1 cows1 sheep1 and those innumerable fruits and products which serve to our satisfaction and enjoyment4 ,if no camels had been created for the use of man in the sandy deserts of ,africa and ,arabia1 would the world have been dissolved8 ,if no loadstone had been framed to give that wonderful and useful direction to the needle1 would human society and the human kind have been immediately extinguished8 ,though the maxims of ,nature be in general very frugal1 yet instances of this kind are far from being rare2 and any one of them is a sufficient proof of design1 and of a benevolent design1 which gave rise to the order and arrangement of the universe4 ,at least1 you may safely infer1 said ,philo1 that the foregoing hypothesis is so far incomplete and imperfect1 which ,i shall not scruple to allow4 ,but can we ever reasonably expect greater success in any attempts of this nature8 ,or can we ever hope to erect a system of cosmogony1 that will be liable to no exceptions1 and will contain no circumstance repugnant to our limited and imperfect experience of the analogy of ,nature8 ,your theory itself cannot surely pretend to any such advantage1 even though you have run into ,anthropomorphism1 the better to preserve a conformity to common experience4 ,let us once more put into trial4 ,in all instances which we have ever seen1 ideas are copied from real objects1 and are ectypal1 not archetypal1 to express myself in learned terms3 ,you reverse this order1 and give thought the precedence4 ,in all instances which we have ever seen1 thought has no influence upon matter1 except where that matter is so conjoined with it as to have an equal reciprocal influence upon it4 ,no animal can move immediately any thing but the members of its own body2 and indeed1 the equality of action and re-action seems to be an universal law of nature3 ,but your theory implies a contradiction to this experience4 ,these instances1 with many more1 which it were easy to collect1 7particularly the supposition of a mind or system of thought that is eternal1 or1 in other words1 an animal ingenerable and immortal72 these instances1 ,i say1 may teach all of us sobriety in condemning each other1 and let us see1 that as no system of this kind ought ever to be received from a slight analogy1 so neither ought any to be rejected on account of a small incongruity4 ,for that is an inconvenience from which we can justly pronounce no one to be exempted4 ,all religious systems1 it is confessed1 are subject to great and insuperable difficulties4 ,each disputant triumphs in his turn2 while he carries on an offensive war1 and exposes the absurdities1 barbarities1 and pernicious tenets of his antagonist4 ,but all of them1 on the whole1 prepare a complete triumph for the ,sceptic2 who tells them1 that no system ought ever to be embraced with regard to such subjects3 ,for this plain reason1 that no absurdity ought ever to be assented to with regard to any subject4 ,a total suspense of judgment is here our only reasonable resource4 ,and if every attack1 as is commonly observed1 and no defence1 among ,theologians1 is successful2 how complete must be his victory1 who remains always1 with all mankind1 on the offensive1 and has himself no fixed station or abiding city1 which he is ever1 on any occasion1 obliged to defend8 ,,part ,,ix4 ,but if so many difficulties attend the argument a posteriori1 said ,demea1 had we not better adhere to that simple and sublime argument a priori1 which1 by offering to us infallible demonstration1 cuts off at once all doubt and difficulty8 ,by this argument1 too1 we may prove the ,,infinity of the ,divine attributes1 which1 ,i am afraid1 can never be ascertained with certainty from any other topic4 ,for how can an effect1 which either is finite1 or1 for aught we know1 may be so2 how can such an effect1 ,i say1 prove an infinite cause8 ,the unity too of the ,divine ,nature1 it is very difficult1 if not absolutely impossible1 to deduce merely from contemplating the works of nature2 nor will the uniformity alone of the plan1 even were it allowed1 give us any assurance of that attribute4 ,whereas the argument a priori4444 ,you seem to reason1 ,demea1 interposed ,cleanthes1 as if those advantages and conveniences in the abstract argument were full proofs of its solidity4 ,but it is first proper1 in my opinion1 to determine what argument of this nature you choose to insist on2 and we shall afterwards1 from itself1 better than from its useful consequences1 endeavour to determine what value we ought to put upon it4 ,the argument1 replied ,demea1 which ,i would insist on1 is the common one4 ,whatever exists must have a cause or reason of its existence2 it being absolutely impossible for any thing to produce itself1 or be the cause of its own existence4 ,in mounting up1 therefore1 from effects to causes1 we must either go on in tracing an infinite succession1 without any ultimate cause at all2 or must at last have recourse to some ultimate cause1 that is necessarily existent3 ,now1 that the first supposition is absurd1 may be thus proved4 ,in the infinite chain or succession of causes and effects1 each single effect is determined to exist by the power and efficacy of that cause which immediately preceded2 but the whole eternal chain or succession1 taken together1 is not determined or caused by any thing2 and yet it is evident that it requires a cause or reason1 as much as any particular object which begins to exist in time4 ,the question is still reasonable1 why this particular succession of causes existed from eternity1 and not any other succession1 or no succession at all4 ,if there be no necessarily existent being1 any supposition which can be formed is equally possible2 nor is there any more absurdity in ,nothing's having existed from eternity1 than there is in that succession of causes which constitutes the universe4 ,what was it1 then1 which determined ,something to exist rather than ,nothing1 and bestowed being on a particular possibility1 exclusive of the rest8 ,external causes1 there are supposed to be none4 ,chance is a word without a meaning4 ,was it ,nothing8 ,but that can never produce any thing4 ,we must1 therefore1 have recourse to a necessarily existent ,being1 who carries the ,,reason of his existence in himself1 and who cannot be supposed not to exist1 without an express contradiction4 ,there is1 consequently1 such a ,being2 that is1 there is a ,deity4 ,i shall not leave it to ,philo1 said ,cleanthes1 though ,i know that the starting objections is his chief delight1 to point out the weakness of this metaphysical reasoning4 ,it seems to me so obviously ill-grounded1 and at the same time of so little consequence to the cause of true piety and religion1 that ,i shall myself venture to show the fallacy of it4 ,i shall begin with observing1 that there is an evident absurdity in pretending to demonstrate a matter of fact1 or to prove it by any arguments a priori4 ,nothing is demonstrable1 unless the contrary implies a contradiction4 ,nothing1 that is distinctly conceivable1 implies a contradiction4 ,whatever we conceive as existent1 we can also conceive as non-existent4 ,there is no being1 therefore1 whose non-existence implies a contradiction4 ,consequently there is no being1 whose existence is demonstrable4 ,i propose this argument as entirely decisive1 and am willing to rest the whole controversy upon it4 ,it is pretended that the ,deity is a necessarily existent being2 and this necessity of his existence is attempted to be explained by asserting1 that if we knew his whole essence or nature1 we should perceive it to be as impossible for him not to exist1 as for twice two not to be four4 ,but it is evident that this can never happen1 while our faculties remain the same as at present4 ,it will still be possible for us1 at any time1 to conceive the non-existence of what we formerly conceived to exist2 nor can the mind ever lie under a necessity of supposing any object to remain always in being2 in the same manner as we lie under a necessity of always conceiving twice two to be four4 ,the words1 therefore1 necessary existence1 have no meaning2 or1 which is the same thing1 none that is consistent4 ,but farther1 why may not die material universe be the necessarily existent ,being1 according to this pretended explication of necessity8 ,we dare not affirm that we know all the qualities of matter2 and for aught we can determine1 it may contain some qualities1 which1 were they known1 would make its non-existence appear as great a contradiction as that twice two is five4 ,i find only one argument employed to prove1 that the material world is not the necessarily existent ,being2 and this argument is derived from the contingency both of the matter and the form of the world4 ',any particle of matter1' it is said1#a 'may be conceived to be annihilated2 and any form may be conceived to be altered4 ,such an annihilation or alteration1 therefore1 is not impossible4' ,but it seems a great partiality not to perceive1 that the same argument extends equally to the ,deity1 so far as we have any conception of him2 and that the mind can at least imagine him to be non-existent1 or his attributes to be altered4 ,it must be some unknown1 inconceivable qualities1 which can make his non-existence appear impossible1 or his attributes unalterable3 ,and no reason can be assigned1 why these qualities may not belong to matter4 ,as they are altogether unknown and inconceivable1 they can never be proved incompatible with it4 ,add to this1 that in tracing an eternal succession of objects1 it seems absurd to inquire for a general cause or first author4 ,how can any thing1 that exists from eternity1 have a cause1 since that relation implies a priority in time1 and a beginning of existence8 ,in such a chain1 too1 or succession of objects1 each part is caused by that which preceded it1 and causes that which succeeds it4 ,where then is the difficulty8 ,but the ,,whole1 you say1 wants a cause4 ,i answer1 that the uniting of these parts into a whole1 like the uniting of several distinct countries into one kingdom1 or several distinct members into one body1 is performed merely by an arbitrary act of the mind1 and has no influence on the nature of things4 ,did ,i show you the particular causes of each individual in a collection of twenty particles of matter1 ,i should think it very unreasonable1 should you afterwards ask me1 what was the cause of the whole twenty4 ,this is sufficiently explained in explaining the cause of the parts4 ,though the reasonings which you have urged1 ,cleanthes1 may well excuse me1 said ,philo1 from starting any farther difficulties1 yet ,i cannot forbear insisting still upon another topic4 ,it is observed by arithmeticians1 that the products of #i compose always either #i1 or some lesser product of #i1 if you add together all the characters of which any of the former products is composed4 ,thus1 of #ah1 #bg1 #cf1 which are products of #i1 you make #i by adding #a to #h1 #b to #g1 #c to #f4 ,thus1 #cfi is a product also of #i2 and if you add #c1 #f1 and #i1 you make #ah1 a lesser product of #i4b ,to a superficial observer1 so wonderful a regularity may be admired as the effect either of chance or design3 but a skilful algebraist immediately concludes it to be the work of necessity1 and demonstrates1 that it must for ever result from the nature of these numbers4 ,is it not probable1 ,i ask1 that the whole economy of the universe is conducted by a like necessity1 though no human algebra can furnish a key which solves the difficulty8 ,and instead of admiring the order of natural beings1 may it not happen1 that1 could we penetrate into the intimate nature of bodies1 we should clearly see why it was absolutely impossible they could ever admit of any other disposition8 ,so dangerous is it to introduce this idea of necessity into the present question6 and so naturally does it afford an inference directly opposite to the religious hypothesis6 ,but dropping all these abstractions1 continued ,philo1 and confining ourselves to more familiar topics1 ,i shall venture to add an observation1 that the argument a priori has seldom been found very convincing1 except to people of a metaphysical head1 who have accustomed themselves to abstract reasoning1 and who1 finding from mathematics1 that the understanding frequently leads to truth through obscurity1 and1 contrary to first appearances1 have transferred the same habit of thinking to subjects where it ought not to have place4 ,other people1 even of good sense and the best inclined to religion1 feel always some deficiency in such arguments1 though they are not perhaps able to explain distinctly where it lies2 a certain proof that men ever did1 and ever will derive their religion from other sources than from this species of reasoning4 #a ,dr ,clarke4 #b ,rpublique des ,lettres1 ,aot #afhe4 ,,part ,x4 ,it is my opinion1 ,i own1 replied ,demea1 that each man feels1 in a manner1 the truth of religion within his own breast1 and1 from a consciousness of his imbecility and misery1 rather than from any reasoning1 is led to seek protection from that ,being1 on whom he and all nature is dependent4 ,so anxious or so tedious are even the best scenes of life1 that futurity is still the object of all our hopes and fears4 ,we incessantly look forward1 and endeavour1 by prayers1 adoration1 and sacrifice1 to appease those unknown powers1 whom we find1 by experience1 so able to afflict and oppress us4 ,wretched creatures that we are6 what resource for us amidst the innumerable ills of life1 did not religion1 suggest some methods of atonement1 and appease those terrors with which we are incessantly agitated and tormented8 ,i am indeed persuaded1 said ,philo1 that the best1 and indeed the only method of bringing every one to a due sense of religion1 is by just representations of the misery and wickedness of men4 ,and for that purpose a talent of eloquence and strong imagery is more requisite than that of reasoning and argument4 ,for is it necessary to prove what every one feels within himself8 ,it is only necessary to make us feel it1 if possible1 more intimately and sensibly4 ,the people1 indeed1 replied ,demea1 are sufficiently convinced of this great and melancholy truth4 ,the miseries of life2 the unhappiness of man2 the general corruptions of our nature2 the unsatisfactory enjoyment of pleasures1 riches1 honours2 these phrases have become almost proverbial in all languages4 ,and who can doubt of what all men declare from their own immediate feeling and experience8 ,in this point1 said ,philo1 the learned are perfectly agreed with the vulgar2 and in all letters1 sacred and profane1 the topic of human misery has been insisted on with the most pathetic eloquence that sorrow and melancholy could inspire4 ,the poets1 who speak from sentiment1 without a system1 and whose testimony has therefore the more authority1 abound in images of this nature4 ,from ,homer down to ,dr ,young1 the whole inspired tribe have ever been sensible1 that no other representation of things would suit the feeling and observation of each individual4 ,as to authorities1 replied ,demea1 you need not seek them4 ,look round this library of ,cleanthes4 ,i shall venture to affirm1 that1 except authors of particular sciences1 such as chemistry or botany1 who have no occasion to treat of human life1 there is scarce one of those innumerable writers1 from whom the sense of human misery has not1 in some passage or other1 extorted a complaint and confession of it4 ,at least1 the chance is entirely on that side2 and no one author has ever1 so far as ,i can recollect1 been so extravagant as to deny it4 ,there you must excuse me1 said ,philo3 ,leibnitz has denied it2 and is perhaps the first#a who ventured upon so bold and paradoxical an opinion2 at least1 the first who made it essential to his philosophical system4 ,and by being the first1 replied ,demea1 might he not have been sensible of his error8 ,for is this a subject in which philosophers can propose to make discoveries especially in so late an age8 ,and can any man hope by a simple denial 7for the subject scarcely admits of reasoning71 to bear down the united testimony of mankind1 founded on sense and consciousness8 ,and why should man1 added he1 pretend to an exemption from the lot of all other animals8 ,the whole earth1 believe me1 ,philo1 is cursed and polluted4 ,a perpetual war is kindled amongst all living creatures4 ,necessity1 hunger1 want1 stimulate the strong and courageous3 ,fear1 anxiety1 terror1 agitate the weak and infirm4 ,the first entrance into life gives anguish to the new-born infant and to its wretched parent3 ,weakness1 impotence1 distress1 attend each stage of that life3 and it is at last finished in agony and horror4 ,observe too1 says ,philo1 the curious artifices of ,nature1 in order to embitter the life of every living being4 ,the stronger prey upon the weaker1 and keep them in perpetual terror and anxiety4 ,the weaker too1 in their turn1 often prey upon the stronger1 and vex and molest them without relaxation4 ,consider that innumerable race of insects1 which either are bred on the body of each animal1 or1 flying about1 infix their stings in him4 ,these insects have others still less than themselves1 which torment them4 ,and thus on each hand1 before and behind1 above and below1 every animal is surrounded with enemies1 which incessantly seek his misery and destruction4 ,man alone1 said ,demea1 seems to be1 in part1 an exception to this rule4 ,for by combination in society1 he can easily master lions1 tigers1 and bears1 whose greater strength and agility naturally enable them to prey upon him4 ,on the contrary1 it is here chiefly1 cried ,philo1 that the uniform and equal maxims of ,nature are most apparent4 ,man1 it is true1 can1 by combination1 surmount all his real enemies1 and become master of the whole animal creation3 but does he not immediately raise up to himself imaginary enemies1 the demons of his fancy1 who haunt him with superstitious terrors1 and blast every enjoyment of life8 ,his pleasure1 as he imagines1 becomes1 in their eyes1 a crime3 his food and repose give them umbrage and offence3 his very sleep and dreams furnish new materials to anxious fear3 and even death1 his refuge from every other ill1 presents only the dread of endless and innumerable woes4 ,nor does the wolf molest more the timid flock1 than superstition does the anxious breast of wretched mortals4 ,besides1 consider1 ,demea3 ,this very society1 by which we surmount those wild beasts1 our natural enemies2 what new enemies does it not raise to us8 ,what wo and misery does it not occasion8 ,man is the greatest enemy of man4 ,oppression1 injustice1 contempt1 contumely1 violence1 sedition1 war1 calumny1 treachery1 fraud2 by these they mutually torment each other2 and they would soon dissolve that society which they had formed1 were it not for the dread of still greater ills1 which must attend their separation4 ,but though these external insults1 said ,demea1 from animals1 from men1 from all the elements1 which assault us1 form a frightful catalogue of woes1 they are nothing in comparison of those which arise within ourselves1 from the distempered condition of our mind and body4 ,how many lie under the lingering torment of diseases8 ,hear the pathetic enumeration of the great poet4 ,intestine stone and ulcer1 colic-pangs1 ,demoniac frenzy1 moping melancholy1 ,and moon-struck madness1 pining atrophy1 ,marasmus1 and wide-wasting pestilence4 ,dire was the tossing1 deep the groans3 99,,despair ,tended the sick1 busiest from couch to couch4 ,and over them triumphant 99,,death his dart ,shook3 but delay'd to strike1 though oft invok'd ,with vows1 as their chief good and final hope4 ,the disorders of the mind1 continued ,demea1 though more secret1 are not perhaps less dismal and vexatious4 ,remorse1 shame1 anguish1 rage1 disappointment1 anxiety1 fear1 dejection1 despair2 who has ever passed through life without cruel inroads from these tormentors8 ,how many have scarcely ever felt any better sensations8 ,labour and poverty1 so abhorred by every one1 are the certain lot of the far greater number2 and those few privileged persons1 who enjoy ease and opulence1 never reach contentment or true felicity4 ,all the goods of life united would not make a very happy man2 but all the ills united would make a wretch indeed2 and any one of them almost 7and who can be free from every one87 nay often the absence of one good 7and who can possess all87 is sufficient to render life ineligible4 ,were a stranger to drop on a sudden into this world1 ,i would show him1 as a specimen of its ills1 an hospital full of diseases1 a prison crowded with malefactors and debtors1 a field of battle strewed with carcases1 a fleet foundering in the ocean1 a nation languishing under tyranny1 famine1 or pestilence4 ,to turn the gay side of life to him1 and give him a notion of its pleasures2 whether should ,i conduct him8 to a ball1 to an opera1 to court8 ,he might justly think1 that ,i was only showing him a diversity of distress and sorrow4 ,there is no evading such striking instances1 said ,philo1 but by apologies1 which still farther aggravate the charge4 ,why have all men1 ,i ask1 in all ages1 complained incessantly of the miseries of life84444 ,they have no just reason1 says one3 these complaints proceed only from their discontented1 repining1 anxious disposition4444 ,and can there possibly1 ,i reply1 be a more certain foundation of misery1 than such a wretched temper8 ,but if they were really as unhappy as they pretend1 says my antagonist1 why do they remain in life84444 ,not satisfied with life1 afraid of death4 ,this is the secret chain1 say ,i1 that holds us4 ,we are terrified1 not bribed to the continuance of our existence4 ,it is only a false delicacy1 he may insist1 which a few refined spirits indulge1 and which has1 spread these complaints among the whole1 nice of mankinds4444 ,and what is this delicacy1 ,i ask1 which you blame8 ,is it any thing but a greater sensibility to all the pleasures and pains of life8 and if the man of a delicate1 refined temper1 by being so much more alive than the rest of the world1 is only so much more unhappy1 what judgment must we form in general of human life8 ,let men remain at rest1 says our adversary1 and they will be easy4 ,they are willing artificers of their own misery4444 ,no6 reply ,i3 an anxious languor follows their repose2 disappointment1 vexation1 trouble1 their activity and ambition4 ,i can observe something like what you mention in some others1 replied ,cleanthes3 but ,i confess ,i feel little or nothing of it in myself1 and hope that it is not so common as you represent it4 ,if you feel not human misery yourself1 cried ,demea1 ,i congratulate you on so happy a singularity4 ,others1 seemingly the most prosperous1 have not been ashamed to vent their complaints in the most melancholy strains4 ,let us attend to the great1 the fortunate emperor1 ,charles ,v41 when1 tired with human grandeur1 he resigned all his extensive dominions into the hands of his son4 ,in the last harangue which he made on that memorable occasion1 he publicly avowed1 that the greatest prosperities which he had ever enjoyed1 had been mixed with so many adversities1 that he might truly say he had never enjoyed any satisfaction or contentment4 ,but did the retired life1 in which he sought for shelter1 afford him any greater happiness8 ,if we may credit his son's account1 his repentance commenced the very day of his resignation4 ,cicero's fortune1 from small beginnings1 rose to the greatest lustre and renown2 yet what pathetic complaints of the ills of life do his familiar letters1 as well as philosophical discourses1 contain8 ,and suitably to his own experience1 he introduces ,cato1 the great1 the fortunate ,cato1 protesting in his old age1 that had he a new life in his offer1 he would reject the present4 ,ask yourself1 ask any of your acquaintance1 whether they would live over again the last ten or twenty years of their life4 ,no6 but the next twenty1 they say1 will be better3 ,and from the dregs of life1 hope to receive ,what the first sprightly running could not give4 ,thus at last they find 7such is the greatness of human misery1 it reconciles even contradictions71 that they complain at once of the shortness of life1 and of its vanity and sorrow4 ,and is it possible1 ,cleanthes1 said ,philo1 that after all these reflections1 and infinitely more1 which might be suggested1 you can still persevere in your ,anthropomorphism1 and assert the moral attributes of the ,deity1 his justice1 benevolence1 mercy1 and rectitude1 to be of the same nature with these virtues in human creatures8 ,his power we allow is infinite3 whatever he wills is executed3 but neither man nor any other animal is happy3 therefore he does not will their happiness4 ,his wisdom is infinite3 he is never mistaken in choosing the means to any end3 but the course of ,nature tends not to human or animal felicity3 therefore it is not established for that purpose4 ,through the whole compass of human knowledge1 there are no inferences more certain and infallible than these4 ,in what respect1 then1 do his benevolence and mercy resemble the benevolence and mercy of men8 ,epicurus's old questions are yet unanswered4 ,is he willing to prevent evil1 but not able8 then is he impotent4 ,is he able1 but not willing8 then is he malevolent ,is he both able and willing8 whence then is evil8 ,you ascribe1 ,cleanthes 7and ,i believe justly71 a purpose and intention to ,nature4 ,but what1 ,i beseech you1 is the object of that curious artifice and machinery1 which she has displayed in all animals8 ,the preservation alone of individuals1 and propagation of the species4 ,it seems enough for her purpose1 if such a rank be barely upheld in the universe1 without any care or concern for the happiness of the members that compose it4 ,no resource for this purpose3 no machinery1 in order merely to give pleasure or ease3 no fund of pure joy and contentment3 no indulgence1 without some want or necessity accompanying it4 ,at least1 the few phenomena of this nature are overbalanced by opposite phenomena of still greater importance4 ,our sense of music1 harmony1 and indeed beauty of all kinds1 gives satisfaction1 without being absolutely necessary to the preservation and propagation of the species4 ,but what racking pains1 on the other hand1 arise from gouts1 gravels1 megrims1 toothaches1 rheumatisms1 where the injury to the animal machinery is either small or incurable8 ,mirth1 laughter1 play1 frolic1 seem gratuitous satisfactions1 which have no farther tendency3 spleen1 melancholy1 discontent1 superstition1 are pains of the same nature4 ,how then does the ,divine benevolence display itself1 in the sense of you ,anthropomorphites8 ,none but we ,mystics1 as you were pleased to call us1 can account for this strange mixture of phenomena1 by deriving it from attributes1 infinitely perfect1 but incomprehensible4 ,and have you at last1 said ,cleanthes smiling1 betrayed your intentions1 ,philo8 ,your long agreement with ,demea did indeed a little surprise me2 but ,i find you were all the while erecting a concealed battery against me4 ,and ,i must confess1 that you have now fallen upon a subject worthy of your noble spirit of opposition and controversy4 ,if you can make out the present point1 and prove mankind to be unhappy or corrupted1 there is an end at once of all religion4 ,for to what purpose establish the natural attributes of the ,deity1 while the moral are still doubtful and uncertain8 ,you take umbrage very easily1 replied ,demea1 at opinions the most innocent1 and the most generally received1 even amongst the religious and devout themselves3 and nothing can be more surprising than to find a topic like this1 concerning the wickedness and misery of man1 charged with no less than ,atheism and profaneness4 ,have not all pious divines and preachers1 who have indulged their rhetoric on so fertile a subject2 have they not easily1 ,i say1 given a solution of any difficulties which may attend it8 ,this world is but a point in comparison of the universe2 this life but a moment in comparison of eternity4 ,the present evil phenomena1 therefore1 are rectified in other regions1 and in some future period of existence4 ,and the eyes of men1 being then opened to larger views of things1 see the whole connection of general laws2 and trace with adoration1 the benevolence and rectitude of the ,deity1 through all the mazes and intricacies of his providence4 ,no6 replied ,cleanthes1 ,no6 ,these arbitrary suppositions can never be admitted1 contrary to matter of fact1 visible and uncontroverted4 ,whence can any cause be known but from its known effects8 ,whence can any hypothesis be proved but from the apparent phenomena8 ,to establish one hypothesis upon another1 is building entirely in the air2 and the utmost we ever attain1 by these conjectures and fictions1 is to ascertain the bare possibility of our opinion2 but never can we1 upon such terms1 establish its reality4 ,the only method of supporting ,divine benevolence1 and it is what ,i willingly embrace1 is to deny absolutely the misery and wickedness of man4 ,your representations are exaggerated2 your melancholy views mostly fictitious2 your inferences contrary to fact and experience4 ,health is more common than sickness2 pleasure than pain2 happiness than misery4 ,and for one vexation which we meet with1 we attain1 upon computation1 a hundred enjoyments4 ,admitting your position1 replied ,philo1 which yet is extremely doubtful1 you must at the same time allow1 that if pain be less frequent than pleasure1 it is infinitely more violent and durable4 ,one hour of it is often able to outweigh a day1 a week1 a month of our common insipid enjoyments2 and how many days1 weeks1 and months1 are passed by several in the most acute torments8 ,pleasure1 scarcely in one instance1 is ever able to reach ecstasy and rapture2 and in no one instance can it continue for any time at its highest pitch and altitude4 ,the spirits evaporate1 the nerves relax1 the fabric is disordered1 and the enjoyment quickly degenerates into fatigue and uneasiness4 ,but pain often1 good ,god1 how often6 rises to torture and agony2 and the longer it continues1 it becomes still more genuine agony and torture4 ,patience is exhausted1 courage languishes1 melancholy seizes us1 and nothing terminates our misery but the removal of its cause1 or another event1 which is the sole cure of all evil1 but which1 from our natural folly1 we regard with still greater horror and consternation4 ,but not to insist upon these topics1 continued ,philo1 though most obvious1 certain1 and important2 ,i must use the freedom to admonish you1 ,cleanthes1 that you have put the controversy upon a most dangerous issue1 and are unawares introducing a total scepticism into the most essential articles of natural and revealed theology4 ,what6 no method of fixing a just foundation for religion1 unless we allow the happiness of human life1 and maintain a continued existence even in this world1 with all our present pains1 infirmities1 vexations1 and follies1 to be eligible and desirable6 ,but this is contrary to every one's feeling and experience3 ,it is contrary to an authority so established as nothing can subvert4 ,no decisive proofs can ever be produced against this authority2 nor is it possible for you to compute1 estimate and compare1 all the pains and all the pleasures in the lives of all men and of all animals3 ,and thus1 by your resting the whole system of religion on a point1 which1 from its very nature1 must for ever be uncertain1 you tacitly confess1 that that system is equally uncertain4 ,but allowing you what never will be believed1 at least what you never possibly can prove1 that animal1 or at least human happiness1 in this life1 exceeds its misery1 you have yet done nothing3 ,for this is not1 by any means1 what we expect from infinite power1 infinite wisdom1 and infinite goodness4 ,why is there any misery at all in the world8 ,not by chance surely4 ,from some cause then4 ,is it from the intention of the ,deity8 ,but he is perfectly benevolent4 ,is it contrary to his intention8 ,but he is almighty4 ,nothing can shake the solidity of this reasoning1 so short1 so clear1 so decisive2 except we assert1 that these subjects exceed all human capacity1 and that our common measures of truth and falsehood are not applicable to them2 a topic which ,i have all along insisted on1 but which you have1 from the beginning1 rejected with scorn and indignation4 ,but ,i will be contented to retire still from this intrenchment1 for ,i deny that you can ever force me in it4 ,i will allow1 that pain or misery in man is compatible with infinite power and goodness in the ,deity1 even in your sense of these attributes3 ,what are you advanced by all these concessions8 ,a mere possible compatibility is not sufficient4 ,you must prove these pure1 unmixt1 and uncontrollable attributes from the present mixt and confused phenomena1 and from these alone4 ,a hopeful undertaking6 ,were the phenomena ever so pure and unmixt1 yet being finite1 they would be insufficient for that purpose4 ,how much more1 where they are also so jarring and discordant6 ,here1 ,cleanthes1 ,i find myself at ease in my argument4 ,here ,i triumph4 ,formerly1 when we argued concerning the natural attributes of intelligence and design1 ,i needed all my sceptical and metaphysical subtilty to elude your grasp4 ,in many views of the universe1 and of its parts1 particularly the latter1 the beauty and fitness of final causes strike us with such irresistible force1 that all objections appear 7what ,i believe they really are7 mere cavils and sophisms2 nor can we then imagine how it was ever possible for us to repose any weight on them4 ,but there is no view of human life1 or of the condition of mankind1 from which1 without the greatest violence1 we can infer the moral attributes1 or learn that infinite benevolence1 conjoined with infinite power and infinite wisdom1 which we must discover by the eyes of faith alone4 ,it is your turn now to tug the labouring oar1 and to support your philosophical subtilties against the dictates of plain reason and experience4 #a ,that sentiment had been maintained by ,dr ,king1 and some few others1 before ,leibnitz1 though by none of so great fame as that ,german philosopher4 ,,part ,,xi4 ,i scruple not to allow1 said ,cleanthes1 that ,i have been apt to suspect the frequent repetition of the word infinite1 which we meet with in all theological writers1 to savour more of panegyric than of philosophy2 and that any purposes of reasoning1 and even of religion1 would be better served1 were we to rest contented with more accurate and more moderate expressions4 ,the terms1 admirable1 excellent1 superlatively great1 wise1 and holy2 these sufficiently fill the imaginations of men2 and any thing beyond1 besides that it leads into absurdities1 has no influence on the affections or sentiments4 ,thus1 in the present subject1 if we abandon all human analogy1 as seems your intention1 ,demea1 ,i am afraid we abandon all religion1 and retain no conception of the great object of our adoration4 ,if we preserve human analogy1 we must for ever find it impossible to reconcile any mixture of evil in the universe with infinite attributes2 much less can we ever prove the latter from the former4 ,but supposing the ,author of ,nature to be finitely perfect1 though far exceeding mankind1 a satisfactory account may then be given of natural and moral evil1 and every untoward phenomenon be explained and adjusted4 ,a less evil may then be chosen1 in order to avoid a greater2 inconveniences be submitted to1 in order to reach a desirable end2 and in a word1 benevolence1 regulated by wisdom1 and limited by necessity1 may produce just such a world as the present4 ,you1 ,philo1 who are so prompt at starting views1 and reflections1 and analogies1 ,i would gladly hear1 at length1 without interruption1 your opinion of this new theory2 and if it deserve our attention1 we may afterwards1 at more leisure1 reduce it into form4 ,my sentiments1 replied ,philo1 are not worth being made a mystery of2 and therefore1 without any ceremony1 ,i shall deliver what occurs to me with regard to the present subject4 ,it must1 ,i think1 be allowed1 that if a very limited intelligence1 whom we shall suppose utterly unacquainted with the universe1 were assured1 that it were the production of a very good1 wise1 and powerful ,being1 however finite1 he would1 from his conjectures1 form beforehand a different notion of it from what we find it to be by experience2 nor would he ever imagine1 merely from these attributes of the cause1 of which he is informed1 that the effect could be so full of vice and misery and disorder1 as it appears in this life4 ,supposing now1 that this person were brought into the world1 still assured that it was the workmanship of such a sublime and benevolent ,being2 he might1 perhaps1 be surprised at the disappointment2 but would never retract his former belief1 if founded on any very solid argument2 since such a limited intelligence must be sensible of his own blindness and ignorance1 and must allow1 that there may be many solutions of those phenomena1 which will for ever escape his comprehension4 ,but supposing1 which is the real case with regard to man1 that this creature is not antecedently convinced of a supreme intelligence1 benevolent1 and powerful1 but is left to gather such a belief from the appearances of things2 this entirely alters the case1 nor will he ever find any reason for such a conclusion4 ,he may be fully convinced of the narrow limits of his understanding2 but this will not help him in forming an inference concerning the goodness of superior powers1 since he must form that inference from what he knows1 not from what he is ignorant of4 ,the more you exaggerate his weakness and ignorance1 the more diffident you render him1 and give him the greater suspicion that such subjects are beyond the reach of his faculties4 ,you are obliged1 therefore1 to reason with him merely from the known phenomena1 and to drop every arbitrary supposition or conjecture4 ,did ,i show you a house or palace1 where there was not one apartment convenient or agreeable2 where the windows1 doors1 fires passages1 stairs1 and the whole economy of the building1 were the source of noise1 confusion1 fatigue1 darkness1 and the extremes of heat and cold2 you would certainly blame the contrivance1 without any farther examination4 ,the architect would in vain display his subtilty1 and prove to you1 that if this door or that window were altered1 greater ills would ensue4 ,what he says may be strictly true3 ,the alteration of one particular1 while the other parts of the building remain1 may only augment the inconveniences4 ,but still you would assert in general1 that1 if the architect had had skill and good intentions1 he might have formed such a plan of the whole1 and might have adjusted the parts in such a manner1 as would have remedied all or most of these inconveniences4 ,his ignorance1 or even your own ignorance of such a plan1 will never convince you of the impossibility of it4 ,if you find any inconveniences and deformities in the building1 you will always1 without entering into any detail1 condemn the architect4 ,in short1 ,i repeat the question3 ,is the world1 considered in general1 and as it appears to us in this life1 different from what a man1 or such a limited being1 would1 beforehand1 expect from a very powerful1 wise1 and benevolent ,deity8 ,it must be strange prejudice to assert the contrary4 ,and from thence ,i conclude1 that however consistent the world may be1 allowing certain suppositions and conjectures1 with the idea of such a ,deity1 it can never afford us an inference concerning his existence4 ,the consistence is not absolutely denied1 only the inference4 ,conjectures1 especially where infinity is excluded from the ,divine attributes1 may perhaps be sufficient to prove a consistence1 but can never be foundations for any inference4 ,there seem to be four circumstances1 on which depend all1 or the greatest part of the ills1 that molest sensible creatures2 and it is not impossible but all these circumstances may be necessary and unavoidable4 ,we know so little beyond common life1 or even of common life1 that1 with regard to the economy of a universe1 there is no conjecture1 however wild1 which may not be just2 nor any one1 however plausible1 which may not be erroneous4 ,all that belongs to human understanding1 in this deep ignorance and obscurity1 is to be sceptical1 or at least cautious1 and not to admit of any hypothesis whatever1 much less of any which is supported by no appearance of probability4 ,now1 this ,i assert to be the case with regard to all the causes of evil1 and the circumstances on which it depends4 ,none of them appear to human reason in the least degree necessary or unavoidable2 nor can we suppose them such1 without the utmost license of imagination4 ,the first circumstance which introduces evil1 is that contrivance or economy of the animal creation1 by which pains1 as well as pleasures1 are employed to excite all creatures to action1 and make them vigilant in the great work of self-preservation4 ,now pleasure alone1 in its various degrees1 seems to human understanding sufficient for this purpose4 ,all animals might be constantly in a state of enjoyment3 but when urged by any of the necessities of nature1 such as thirst1 hunger1 weariness2 instead of pain1 they might feel a diminution of pleasure1 by which they might be prompted to seek that object which is necessary to their subsistence4 ,men pursue pleasure as eagerly as they avoid pain2 at least1 they might have been so constituted4 ,it seems1 therefore1 plainly possible to carry on the business of life without any pain4 ,why then is any animal ever rendered susceptible of such a sensation8 ,if animals can be free from it an hour1 they might enjoy a perpetual exemption from it2 and it required as particular a contrivance of their organs to produce that feeling1 as to endow them with sight1 hearing1 or any of the senses4 ,shall we conjecture1 that such a contrivance was necessary1 without any appearance of reason8 and shall we build on that conjecture as on the most certain truth8 ,but a capacity of pain would not alone produce pain1 were it not for the second circumstance1 viz4 the conducting of the world by general laws2 and this seems nowise necessary to a very perfect ,being4 ,it is true1 if every thing were conducted by particular volitions1 the course of nature would be perpetually broken1 and no man could employ his reason in the conduct of life4 ,but might not other particular volitions remedy this inconvenience8 ,in short1 might not the ,deity exterminate all ill1 wherever it were to be found2 and produce all good1 without any preparation1 or long progress of causes and effects8 ,besides1 we must consider1 that1 according to the present economy of the world1 the course of nature1 though supposed exactly regular1 yet to us appears not so1 and many events are uncertain1 and many disappoint our expectations4 ,health and sickness1 calm and tempest1 with an infinite number of other accidents1 whose causes are unknown and variable1 have a great influence both on the fortunes of particular persons and on the prosperity of public societies2 and indeed all human life1 in a manner1 depends on such accidents4 ,a being1 therefore1 who knows the secret springs of the universe1 might easily1 by particular volitions1 turn all these accidents to the good of mankind1 and render the whole world happy1 without discovering himself in any operation4 ,a fleet1 whose purposes were salutary to society1 might always meet with a fair wind4 ,good princes enjoy sound health and long life4 ,persons born to power and authority1 be framed with good tempers and virtuous dispositions4 ,a few such events as these1 regularly and wisely conducted1 would change the face of the world2 and yet would no more seem to disturb the course of nature1 or confound human conduct1 than the present economy of things1 where the causes are secret1 and variable1 and compounded4 ,some small touches given to ,caligula's brain in his infancy1 might have converted him into a ,trajan4 ,one wave1 a little higher than the rest1 by burying ,csar and his fortune in the bottom of the ocean1 might have restored liberty to a considerable part of mankind4 ,there may1 for aught we know1 be good reasons why ,providence interposes not in this manner2 but they are unknown to us2 and though the mere supposition1 that such reasons exist1 may be sufficient to save the conclusion concerning the ,divine attributes1 yet surely it can never be sufficient to establish that conclusion4 ,if every thing in the universe be conducted by general laws1 and if animals be rendered susceptible of pain1 it scarcely seems possible but some ill must arise in the various shocks of matter1 and the various concurrence and opposition of general laws2 but this ill would be very rare1 were it not for the third circumstance1 which ,i proposed to mention1 viz4 the great frugality with which all powers and faculties are distributed to every particular being4 ,so well adjusted are the organs and capacities of all animals1 and so well fitted to their preservation1 that1 as far as history or tradition reaches1 there appears not to be any single species which has yet been extinguished in the universe4 ,every animal has the requisite endowments2 but these endowments are bestowed with so scrupulous an economy1 that any considerable diminution must entirely destroy the creature4 ,wherever one power is increased1 there is a proportional abatement in the others4 ,animals which excel in swiftness are commonly defective in force4 ,those which possess both are either imperfect in some of their senses1 or are oppressed with the most craving wants4 ,the human species1 whose chief excellency is reason and sagacity1 is of all others the most necessitous1 and the most deficient in bodily advantages2 without clothes1 without arms1 without food1 without lodging1 without any convenience of life1 except what they owe to their own skill and industry4 ,in short1 nature seems to have formed an exact calculation of the necessities of her creatures2 and1 like a rigid master1 has afforded them little more powers or endowments than what are strictly sufficient to supply those necessities4 ,an indulgent parent would have bestowed a large stock1 in order to guard against accidents1 and secure the happiness and welfare of the creature in the most unfortunate concurrence of circumstances4 ,every course of life would not have been so surrounded with precipices1 that the least departure from the true path1 by mistake or necessity1 must involve us in misery and ruin4 ,some reserve1 some fund1 would have been provided to ensure happiness2 nor would the powers and the necessities have been adjusted with so rigid an economy4 ,the ,author of ,nature is inconceivably powerful3 his force is supposed great1 if not altogether inexhaustible3 nor is there any reason1 as far as we can judge1 to make him observe this strict frugality in his dealings with his creatures4 ,it would have been better1 were his power extremely limited1 to have created fewer animals1 and to have endowed these with more faculties for their happiness and preservation4 ,a builder is never esteemed prudent1 who undertakes a plan beyond what his stock will enable him to finish4 ,in order to cure most of the ills of human life1 ,i require not that man should have the wings of the eagle1 the swiftness of the stag1 the force of the ox1 the arms of the lion1 the scales of the crocodile or rhinoceros2 much less do ,i demand the sagacity of an angel or cherubim4 ,i am contented to take an increase in one single power or faculty of his soul4 ,let him be endowed with a greater propensity to industry and labour2 a more vigorous spring and activity of mind2 a more constant bent to business and application4 ,let the whole species possess naturally an equal diligence with that which many individuals are able to attain by habit and reflection2 and the most beneficial consequences1 without any allay of ill1 is the immediate and necessary result of this endowment4 ,almost all the moral1 as well as natural evils of human life1 arise from idleness2 and were our species1 by the original constitution of their frame1 exempt from this vice or infirmity1 the perfect cultivation of land1 the improvement of arts and manufactures1 the exact execution of every office and duty1 immediately follow2 and men at once may fully reach that state of society1 which is so imperfectly attained by the best regulated government4 ,but as industry is a power1 and the most valuable of any1 ,nature seems determined1 suitably to her usual maxims1 to bestow it on men with a very sparing hand2 and rather to punish him severely for his deficiency in it1 than to reward him for his attainments4 ,she has so contrived his frame1 that nothing but the most violent necessity can oblige him to labour2 and she employs all his other wants to overcome1 at least in part1 the want of diligence1 and to endow him with some share of a faculty of which she has thought fit naturally to bereave him4 ,here our demands may be allowed very humble1 and therefore the more reasonable4 ,if we required the endowments of superior penetration and judgment1 of a more delicate taste of beauty1 of a nicer sensibility to benevolence and friendship2 we might be told1 that we impiously pretend to break the order of ,nature2 that we want to exalt ourselves into a higher rank of being2 that the presents which we require1 not being suitable to our state and condition1 would only be pernicious to us4 ,but it is hard2 ,i dare to repeat it1 it is hard1 that being placed in a world so full of wants and necessities1 where almost every being and element is either our foe or refuses its assistance 444 we should also have our own temper to struggle with1 and should be deprived of that faculty which can alone fence against these multiplied evils4 ,the fourth circumstance1 whence arises the misery and ill of the universe1 is the inaccurate workmanship of all the springs and principles of the great machine of nature4 ,it must be acknowledged1 that there are few parts of the universe1 which seem not to serve some purpose1 and whose removal would not produce a visible defect and disorder in the whole4 ,the parts hang all together2 nor can one be touched without affecting the rest1 in a greater or less degree4 ,but at the same time1 it must be observed1 that none of these parts or principles1 however useful1 are so accurately adjusted1 as to keep precisely within those bounds in which their utility consists2 but they are1 all of them1 apt1 on every occasion1 to run into the one extreme or the other4 ,one would imagine1 that this grand production had not received the last hand of the maker2 so little finished is every part1 and so coarse are the strokes with which it is executed4 ,thus1 the winds are requisite to convey the vapours along the surface of the globe1 and to assist men in navigation3 but how oft1 rising up to tempests and hurricanes1 do they become pernicious8 ,rains are necessary to nourish all the plants and animals of the earth3 but how often are they defective8 how often excessive8 ,heat is requisite to all life and vegetation2 but is not always found in the due proportion4 ,on the mixture and secretion of the humours and juices of the body depend the health and prosperity of the animal3 but the parts perform not regularly their proper function4 ,what more useful than all the passions of the mind1 ambition1 vanity love1 anger8 ,but how oft do they break their bounds1 and cause the greatest convulsions in society8 ,there is nothing so advantageous in the universe1 but what frequently becomes pernicious1 by its excess or defect2 nor has ,nature guarded1 with the requisite accuracy1 against all disorder or confusion4 ,the irregularity is never perhaps so great as to destroy any species2 but is often sufficient to involve the individuals in ruin and misery4 ,on the concurrence1 then1 of these four circumstances1 does all or the greatest part of natural evil depend4 ,were all living creatures incapable of pain1 or were the world administered by particular volitions1 evil never could have found access into the universe3 and were animals endowed with a large stock of powers and faculties1 beyond what strict necessity requires2 or were the several springs and principles of the universe so accurately framed as to preserve always the just temperament and medium2 there must have been very little ill in comparison of what we feel at present4 ,what then shall we pronounce on this occasion8 ,shall we say that these circumstances are not necessary1 and that they might easily have been altered in the contrivance of the universe8 ,this decision seems too presumptuous for creatures so blind and ignorant4 ,let us be more modest in our conclusions4 ,let us allow1 that1 if the goodness of the ,diety 7,i mean a goodness like the human7 could be established on any tolerable reasons a priori1 these phenomena1 however untoward1 would not be sufficient to subvert that principle2 but might easily1 in some unknown manner1 be reconcileable to it4 ,but let us still assert1 that as this goodness is not antecedently established1 but must be inferred from the phenomena1 there can be no grounds for such an inference1 while there are so many ills in the universe1 and while these ills might so easily have been remedied1 as far as human understanding can be allowed to judge on such a subject4 ,i am ,sceptic enough to allow1 that the bad appearances1 notwithstanding all my reasonings1 may be compatible with such attributes as you suppose2 but surely they can never prove these attributes4 ,such a conclusion cannot result from ,scepticism1 but must arise from the phenomena1 and from our confidence in the reasonings which we deduce from these phenomena4 ,look round this universe4 ,what an immense profusion of beings1 animated and organized1 sensible and active6 ,you admire this prodigious variety and fecundity4 ,but inspect a little more narrowly these living existences1 the only beings worth regarding4 ,how hostile and destructive to each other6 ,how insufficient all of them for their own happiness6 ,how contemptible or odious to the spectator6 ,the whole presents nothing but the idea of a blind ,nature1 impregnated by a great vivifying principle1 and pouring forth from her lap1 without discernment or parental care1 her maimed and abortive children6 ,here the ,manichan system occurs as a proper hypothesis to solve the difficulty3 and no doubt1 in some respects1 it is very specious1 and has more probability than the common hypothesis1 by giving a plausible account of the strange mixture of good and ill which appears in life4 ,but if we consider1 on the other hand1 the perfect uniformity and agreement of the parts of the universe1 we shall not discover in it any marks of the combat of a malevolent with a benevolent being4 ,there is indeed an opposition of pains and pleasures in the feelings of sensible creatures3 but are not all the operations of ,nature carried on by an opposition of principles1 of hot and cold1 moist and dry1 light and heavy8 ,the true conclusion is1 that the original ,source of all things is entirely indifferent to all these principles2 and has no more regard to good above ill1 than to heat above cold1 or to drought above moisture1 or to light above heavy4 ,there may four hypotheses be framed concerning the first causes of the universe3 that they are endowed with perfect goodness2 that they have perfect malice2 that they are opposite1 and have both goodness and malice2 that they have neither goodness nor malice4 ,mixt phenomena can never prove the two former unmixt principles2 and the uniformity and steadiness of general laws seem to oppose the third4 ,the fourth1 therefore1 seems by far the most probable4 ,what ,i have said concerning natural evil will apply to moral1 with little or no variation2 and we have no more reason to infer1 that the rectitude of the ,supreme ,being resembles human rectitude1 than that his benevolence resembles the human4 ,nay1 it will be thought1 that we have still greater cause to exclude from him moral sentiments1 such as we feel them2 since moral evil1 in the opinion of many1 is much more predominant above moral good than natural evil above natural good4 ,but even though this should not be allowed1 and though the virtue which is in mankind should be acknowledged much superior to the vice1 yet so long as there is any vice at all in the universe1 it will very much puzzle you ,anthropomorphites1 how to account for it4 ,you must assign a cause for it1 without having recourse to the first cause4 ,but as every effect must have a cause1 and that cause another1 you must either carry on the progression in infinitum1 or rest on that original principle1 who is the ultimate cause of all things4444 ,hold6 hold6 cried ,demea3 ,whither does your imagination hurry you8 ,i joined in alliance with you1 in order to prove the incomprehensible nature of the ,divine ,being1 and refute the principles of ,cleanthes1 who would measure every thing by human rule and standard4 ,but ,i now find you running into all the topics of the greatest libertines and infidels1 and betraying that holy cause which you seemingly espoused4 ,are you secretly1 then1 a more dangerous enemy than ,cleanthes himself8 ,and are you so late in perceiving it8 replied ,cleanthes4 ,believe me1 ,demea1 your friend ,philo1 from the beginning1 has been amusing himself at both our expense2 and it must be confessed1 that the injudicious reasoning of our vulgar theology has given him but too just a handle of ridicule4 ,the total infirmity of human reason1 the absolute incomprehensibility of the ,divine ,nature1 the great and universal misery1 and still greater wickedness of men2 these are strange topics1 surely1 to be so fondly cherished by orthodox divines and doctors4 ,in ages of stupidity and ignorance1 indeed1 these principles may safely be espoused2 and perhaps no views of things are more proper to promote superstition1 than such as encourage the blind amazement1 the diffidence1 and melancholy of mankind4 ,but at present4444 ,blame not so much1 interposed ,philo1 the ignorance of these reverend gentlemen4 ,they know how to change their style with the times4 ,formerly it was a most popular theological topic to maintain1 that human life was vanity and misery1 and to exaggerate all the ills and pains which are incident to men4 ,but of late years1 divines1 we find1 begin to retract this position2 and maintain1 though still with some hesitation1 that there are more goods than evils1 more pleasures than pains1 even in this life4 ,when religion stood entirely upon temper and education1 it was thought proper to encourage melancholy2 as indeed mankind never have recourse to superior powers so readily as in that disposition4 ,but as men have now learned to form principles1 and to draw consequences1 it is necessary to change the batteries1 and to make use of such arguments as will endure at least some scrutiny and examination4 ,this variation is the same 7and from the same causes7 with that which ,i formerly remarked with regard to ,scepticism4 ,thus ,philo continued to the last his spirit of opposition1 and his censure of established opinions4 ,but ,i could observe that ,demea did not at all relish the latter part of the discourse2 and he took occasion soon after1 on some pretence or other1 to leave the company4 ,,part ,,xii4 ,after ,demea's departure1 ,cleanthes and ,philo continued the conversation in the following manner4 ,our friend1 ,i am afraid1 said ,cleanthes1 will have little inclination to revive this topic of discourse1 while you are in company2 and to tell truth1 ,philo1 ,i should rather wish to reason with either of you apart on a subject so sublime and interesting4 ,your spirit of controversy1 joined to your abhorence of vulgar superstition1 carries you strange lengths1 when engaged in an argument2 and there is nothing so sacred and venerable1 even in your own eyes1 which you spare on that occasion4 ,i must confess1 replied ,philo1 that ,i am less cautious on the subject of ,natural ,religion than on any other2 both because ,i know that ,i can never1 on that head1 corrupt the principles of any man of common sense2 and because no one1 ,i am confident1 in whose eyes ,i appear a man of common sense1 will ever mistake my intentions4 ,you1 in particular1 ,cleanthes1 with whom ,i live in unreserved intimacy2 you are sensible1 that notwithstanding the freedom of my conversation1 and my love of singular arguments1 no one has a deeper sense of religion impressed on his mind1 or pays more profound adoration to the ,divine ,being1 as he discovers himself to reason1 in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice of nature4 ,a purpose1 an intention1 a design1 strikes every where the most careless1 the most stupid thinker2 and no man can be so hardened in absurd systems1 as at all times to reject it4 ,that ,nature does nothing in vain1 is a maxim established in all the schools1 merely from the contemplation of the works of ,nature1 without any religious purpose2 and1 from a firm conviction of its truth1 an anatomist1 who had observed a new organ or canal1 would never be satisfied till he had also discovered its use and intention4 ,one great foundation of the ,copernican system is the maxim1 ,that ,nature acts by the simplest methods1 and chooses the most proper means to any end2 and astronomers often1 without thinking of it1 lay this strong foundation of piety and religion4 ,the same thing is observable in other parts of philosophy3 ,and thus all the sciences almost lead us insensibly to acknowledge a first intelligent ,author2 and their authority is often so much the greater1 as they do not directly profess that intention4 ,it is with pleasure ,i hear ,galen reason concerning the structure of the human body4 ,the anatomy of a man1 says he1#a discovers above #fjj different muscles2 and whoever duly considers these1 will find1 that1 in each of them1 ,nature must have adjusted at least ten different circumstances1 in order to attain the end which she proposed2 proper figure1 just magnitude1 right disposition of the several ends1 upper and lower position of the whole1 the due insertion of the several nerves1 veins1 and arteries3 ,so that1 in the muscles alone1 above #fjjj several views and intentions must have been formed and executed4 ,the bones he calculates to be #bhd3 ,the distinct purposes aimed at in the structure of each1 above forty4 ,what a prodigious display of artifice1 even in these simple and homogeneous parts6 ,but if we consider the skin1 ligaments1 vessels1 glandules1 humours1 the several limbs and members of the body2 how must our astonishment rise upon us1 in proportion to the number and intricacy of the parts so artificially adjusted6 ,the farther we advance in these researches1 we discover new scenes of art and wisdom3 ,but descry still1 at a distance1 farther scenes beyond our reach2 in the fine internal structure of the parts1 in the economy of the brain1 in the fabric of the seminal vessels4 ,all these artifices are repeated in every different species of animal1 with wonderful variety1 and with exact propriety1 suited to the different intentions of ,nature in framing each species4 ,and if the infidelity of ,galen1 even when these natural sciences were still imperfect1 could not withstand such striking appearances1 to what pitch of pertinacious obstinacy must a philosopher in this age have attained1 who can now doubt of a ,supreme ,intelligence6 ,could ,i meet with one of this species 7who1 ,i thank ,god1 are very rare71 ,i would ask him3 ,supposing there were a ,god1 who did not discover himself immediately to our senses1 were it possible for him to give stronger proofs of his existence1 than what appear on the whole face of ,nature8 ,what indeed could such a ,divine ,being do1 but copy the present economy of things2 render many of his artifices so plain1 that no stupidity could mistake them2 afford glimpses of still greater artifices1 which demonstrate his prodigious superiority above our narrow apprehensions2 and conceal altogether a great many from such imperfect creatures8 ,now1 according to all rules of just reasoning1 every fact must pass for undisputed1 when it is supported by all the arguments which its nature admits of2 even though these arguments be not1 in themselves1 very numerous or forcible3 ,how much more1 in the present case1 where no human imagination can compute their number1 and no understanding estimate their cogency6 ,i shall farther add1 said ,cleanthes1 to what you have so well urged1 that one great advantage of the principle of ,theism1 is1 that it is the only system of cosmogony which can be rendered intelligible and complete1 and yet can throughout preserve a strong analogy to what we every day see and experience in the world4 ,the comparison of the universe to a machine of human contrivance1 is so obvious and natural1 and is justified by so many instances of order and design in ,nature1 that it must immediately strike all unprejudiced apprehensions1 and procure universal approbation4 ,whoever attempts to weaken this theory1 cannot pretend to succeed by establishing in its place any other that is precise and determinate3 ,it is sufficient for him if he start doubts and difficulties2 and by remote and abstract views of things1 reach that suspense of judgment1 which is here the utmost boundary of his wishes4 ,but1 besides that this state of mind is in itself unsatisfactory1 it can never be steadily maintained against such striking appearances as continually engage us into the religious hypothesis4 ,a false1 absurd system1 human nature1 from the force of prejudice1 is capable of adhering to with obstinacy and perseverance3 ,but no system at all1 in opposition to a theory supported by strong and obvious reason1 by natural propensity1 and by early education1 ,i think it absolutely impossible to maintain or defend4 ,so little1 replied ,philo1 do ,i esteem this suspense of judgment in the present case to be possible1 that ,i am apt to suspect there enters somewhat of a dispute of words into this controversy2 more than is usually imagined4 ,that the works of ,nature bear a great analogy to the productions of art1 is evident2 and according to all the rules of good reasoning1 we ought to infer1 if we argue at all concerning them1 that their causes have a proportional analogy4 ,but as there are also considerable differences1 we have reason to suppose a proportional difference in the causes2 and in particular1 ought to attribute a much higher degree of power and energy to the supreme cause1 than any we have ever observed in mankind4 ,here then the existence of a 99,,deity is plainly ascertained by reason3 and if we make it a question1 whether1 on account of these analogies1 we can properly call him a mind or intelligence1 notwithstanding the vast difference which may reasonably be supposed between him and human minds2 what is this but a mere verbal controversy8 ,no man can deny the analogies between the effects3 ,to restrain ourselves from inquiring concerning the causes is scarcely possible4 ,from this inquiry1 the legitimate conclusion is1 that the causes have also an analogy3 ,and if we are not contented with calling the first and supreme cause a 99,,god or 99,,deity1 but desire to vary the expression2 what can we call him but 99,,mind or ,,thought1 to which he is justly supposed to bear a considerable resemblance8 ,all men of sound reason are disgusted with verbal disputes1 which abound so much in philosophical and theological inquiries2 and it is found1 that the only remedy for this abuse must arise from clear definitions1 from the precision of those ideas which enter into any argument1 and from the strict and uniform use of those terms which are employed4 ,but there is a species of controversy1 which1 from the very nature of language and of human ideas1 is involved in perpetual ambiguity1 and can never1 by any precaution or any definitions1 be able to reach a reasonable certainty or precision4 ,these are the controversies concerning the degrees of any quality or circumstance4 ,men may argue to all eternity1 whether ,hannibal be a great1 or a very great1 or a superlatively great man1 what degree of beauty ,cleopatra possessed1 what epithet of praise ,livy or ,thucydides is entitled to1 without bringing the controversy to any determination4 ,the disputants may here agree in their sense1 and differ in the terms1 or vice versa2 yet never be able to define their terms1 so as to enter into each other's meaning3 ,because the degrees of these qualities are not1 like quantity or number1 susceptible of any exact mensuration1 which may be the standard in the controversy4 ,that the dispute concerning ,theism is of this nature1 and consequently is merely verbal1 or perhaps1 if possible1 still more incurably ambiguous1 will appear upon the slightest inquiry4 ,i ask the ,theist1 if he does not allow1 that there is a great and immeasurable1 because incomprehensible difference between the human and the divine mind3 ,the more pious he is1 the more readily will he assent to the affirmative1 and the more will he be disposed to magnify the difference3 ,he will even assert1 that the difference is of a nature which cannot be too much magnified4 ,i next turn to the ,atheist1 who1 ,i assert1 is only nominally so1 and can never possibly be in earnest2 and ,i ask him1 whether1 from the coherence and apparent sympathy in all the parts of this world1 there be not a certain degree of analogy among all the operations of ,nature1 in every situation and in every age2 whether the rotting of a turnip1 the generation of an animal1 and the structure of human thought1 be not energies that probably bear some remote analogy to each other3 ,it is impossible he can deny it3 ,he will readily acknowledge it4 ,having obtained this concession1 ,i push him still farther in his retreat2 and ,i ask him1 if it be not probable1 that the principle which first arranged1 and still maintains order in this universe1 bears not also some remote inconceivable analogy to the other operations of ,nature1 and1 among the rest1 to the economy of human mind and thought4 ,however reluctant1 he must give his assent4 ,where then1 cry ,i to both these antagonists1 is the subject of your dispute8 ,the ,theist allows1 that the original intelligence is very different from human reason3 ,the ,atheist allows1 that the original principle of order bears some remote analogy to it4 ,will you quarrel1 ,gentlemen1 about the degrees1 and enter into a controversy1 which admits not of any precise meaning1 nor consequently of any determination8 ,if you should be so obstinate1 ,i should not be surprised to find you insensibly change sides2 while the ,theist1 on the one hand1 exaggerates the dissimilarity between the ,supreme ,being1 and frail1 imperfect1 variable1 fleeting1 and mortal creatures2 and the ,atheist1 on the other1 magnifies the analogy among all the operations of ,nature1 in every period1 every situation1 and every position4 ,consider then1 where the real point of controversy lies2 and if you cannot lay aside your disputes1 endeavour1 at least1 to cure yourselves of your animosity4 ,and here ,i must also acknowledge1 ,cleanthes1 that as the works of ,nature have a much greater analogy to the effects of our art and contrivance1 than to those of our benevolence and justice1 we have reason to infer1 that the natural attributes of the ,deity have a greater resemblance to those of men1 than his moral have to human virtues4 ,but what is the consequence8 ,nothing but this1 that the moral qualities of man are more defective in their kind than his natural abilities4 ,for1 as the ,supreme ,being is allowed to be absolutely and entirely perfect1 whatever differs most from him1 departs the farthest from the supreme standard of rectitude and perfection4#b ,these1 ,cleanthes1 are my unfeigned sentiments on this subject2 and these sentiments1 you know1 ,i have ever cherished and maintained4 ,but in proportion to my veneration for true religion1 is my abhorrence of vulgar superstitions2 and ,i indulge a peculiar pleasure1 ,i confess1 in pushing such principles1 sometimes into absurdity1 sometimes into impiety4 ,and you are sensible1 that all bigots1 notwithstanding their great aversion to the latter above the former1 are commonly equally guilty of both4 ,my inclination1 replied ,cleanthes1 lies1 ,i own1 a contrary way4 ,religion1 however corrupted1 is still better than no religion at all4 ,the doctrine of a future state is so strong and necessary a security to morals1 that we never ought to abandon or neglect it4 ,for if and temporary rewards and punishments have so great an effect1 as we daily find2 how much greater must be expected from such as are infinite and eternal8 ,how happens it then1 said ,philo1 if vulgar superstition be so salutary to society1 that all history abounds so much with accounts of its pernicious consequences on public affairs8 ,factions1 civil wars1 persecutions1 subversions of government1 oppression1 slavery2 these are the dismal consequences which always attend its prevalency over the minds of men4 ,if the religious spirit be ever mentioned in any historical narration1 we are sure to meet afterwards with a detail of the miseries which attend it4 ,and no period of time can be happier or more prosperous1 than those in which it is never regarded or heard of4 ,the reason of this observation1 replied ,cleanthes1 is obvious4 ,the proper office of religion is to regulate the heart of men1 humanize their conduct1 infuse the spirit of temperance1 order1 and obedience2 and as its operation is silent1 and only enforces the motives of morality and justice1 it is in danger of being overlooked1 and confounded with these other motives4 ,when it distinguishes itself1 and acts as a separate principle over men1 it has departed from its proper sphere1 and has become only a cover to faction and ambition4 ,and so will all religion1 said ,philo1 except the philosophical and rational kind4 ,your reasonings are more easily eluded than my facts4 ,the inference is not just1 because finite and temporary rewards and punishments have so great influence1 that therefore such as are infinite and eternal must have so much greater4 ,consider1 ,i beseech you1 the attachment which we have to present things1 and the little concern which we discover for objects so remote and uncertain4 ,when divines are declaiming against the common behaviour and conduct of the world1 they always represent this principle as the strongest imaginable 7which indeed it is72 and describe almost all human kind as lying under the influence of it1 and sunk into the deepest lethargy and unconcern about their religious interests4 ,yet these same divines1 when they refute their speculative antagonists1 suppose the motives of religion to be so powerful1 that1 without them1 it were impossible for civil society to subsist2 nor are they ashamed of so palpable a contradiction4 ,it is certain1 from experience1 that the smallest grain of natural honesty and benevolence has more effect on men's conduct1 than the most pompous views suggested by theological theories and systems4 ,a man's natural inclination works incessantly upon him2 it is for ever present to the mind1 and mingles itself with every view and consideration3 whereas religious motives1 where they act at all1 operate only by starts and bounds2 and it is scarcely possible for them to become altogether habitual to the mind4 ,the force of the greatest gravity1 say the philosophers1 is infinitely small1 in comparison of that of the least impulse3 yet it is certain1 that the smallest gravity will1 in the end1 prevail above a great impulse2 because no strokes or blows can be repeated with such constancy as attraction and gravitation4 ,another advantage of inclination3 ,it engages on its side all the wit and ingenuity of the mind2 and when set in opposition to religious principles1 seeks every method and art of eluding them3 ,in which it is almost always successful4 ,who can explain the heart of man1 or account for those strange salvos and excuses1 with which people satisfy themselves1 when they follow their inclinations in opposition to their religious duty8 ,this is well understood in the world2 and none but fools ever repose less trust in a man1 because they hear1 that from study and philosophy1 he has entertained some speculative doubts with regard to theological subjects4 ,and when we have to do with a man1 who makes a great profession of religion and devotion1 has this any other effect upon several1 who pass for prudent1 than to put them on their guard1 lest they be cheated and deceived by him8 ,we must farther consider1 that philosophers1 who cultivate reason and reflection1 stand less in need of such motives to keep them under the restraint of morals2 and that the vulgar1 who alone may need them1 are utterly incapable of so pure a religion as represents the ,deity to be pleased with nothing but virtue in human behaviour4 ,the recommendations to the ,divinity are generally supposed to be either frivolous observances1 or rapturous ecstasies1 or a bigotted credulity4 ,we need not run back into antiquity1 or wander into remote regions1 to find instances of this degeneracy4 ,amongst ourselves1 some have been guilty of that atrociousness1 unknown to the ,egyptian and ,grecian superstitions1 of declaiming in express terms1 against morality2 and representing it as a sure forfeiture of the ,divine favour1 if the least trust or reliance be laid upon it4 ,but even though superstition or enthusiasm should not put itself in direct opposition to morality2 the very diverting of the attention1 the raising up a new and frivolous species of merit1 the preposterous distribution which it makes of praise and blame1 must have the most pernicious consequences1 and weaken extremely men's attachment to the natural motives of justice and humanity4 ,such a principle of action likewise1 not being any of the familiar motives of human conduct1 acts only by intervals on the temper2 and must be roused by continual efforts1 in order to render the pious zealot satisfied with his own conduct1 and make him fulfil his devotional task4 ,many religious exercises are entered into with seeming fervour1 where the heart1 at the time1 feels cold and languid3 ,a habit of dissimulation is by degrees contracted2 and fraud and falsehood become the predominant principle4 ,hence the reason of that vulgar observation1 that the highest zeal in religion and the deepest hypocrisy1 so far from being inconsistent1 are often or commonly united in the same individual character4 ,the bad effects of such habits1 even in common life1 are easily imagined2 but where the interests of religion are concerned1 no morality can be forcible enough to bind the enthusiastic zealot4 ,the sacredness of the cause sanctifies every measure which can be made use of to promote it4 ,the steady attention alone to so important an interest as that of eternal salvation1 is apt to extinguish the benevolent affections1 and beget a narrow1 contracted selfishness4 ,and when such a temper is encouraged1 it easily eludes all the general precepts of charity and benevolence4 ,thus1 the motives of vulgar superstition have no great influence on general conduct2 nor is their operation favourable to morality1 in the instances where they predominate4 ,is there any maxim in politics more certain and infallible1 than that both the number and authority of priests should be confined within very narrow limits2 and that the civil magistrate ought1 for ever1 to keep his fasces and axes from such dangerous hands8 ,but if the spirit of popular religion were so salutary to society1 a contrary maxim ought to prevail4 ,the greater number of priests1 and their greater authority and riches1 will always augment the religious spirit4 ,and though the priests have the guidance of this spirit1 why may we not expect a superior sanctity of life1 and greater benevolence and moderation1 from persons who are set apart for religion1 who are continually inculcating it upon others1 and who must themselves imbibe a greater share of it8 ,whence comes it then1 that1 in fact1 the utmost a wise magistrate can propose with regard to popular religions1 is1 as far as possible1 to make a saving game of it1 and to prevent their pernicious consequences with regard to society8 ,every expedient which he tries for so humble a purpose is surrounded with inconveniences4 ,if he admits only one religion among his subjects1 he must sacrifice1 to an uncertain prospect of tranquillity1 every consideration of public liberty1 science1 reason1 industry1 and even his own independency4 ,if he gives indulgence to several sects1 which is the wiser maxim1 he must preserve a very philosophical indifference to all of them1 and carefully restrain the pretensions of the prevailing sect2 otherwise he can expect nothing but endless disputes1 quarrels1 factions1 persecutions1 and civil commotions4 ,true religion1 ,i allow1 has no such pernicious consequences3 but we must treat of religion1 as it has commonly been found in the world2 nor have ,i any thing to do with that speculative tenet of ,theism1 which1 as it is a species of philosophy1 must partake of the beneficial influence of that principle1 and at the same time must lie under a like inconvenience1 of being always confined to very few persons4 ,oaths are requisite in all courts of judicature2 but it is a question whether their authority arises from any popular religion4 ,it is the solemnity and importance of the occasion1 the regard to reputation1 and the reflecting on the general interests of society1 which are the chief restraints upon mankind4 ,customhouse oaths and political oaths are but little regarded even by some who pretend to principles of honesty and religion2 and a ,quaker's asseveration is with us justly put upon the same footing with the oath of any other person4 ,i know1 that ,polybius#c ascribes the infamy of ,greek faith to the prevalency of the ,epicurean philosophy3 but ,i know also1 that ,punic faith had as bad a reputation in ancient times as ,irish evidence has in modern2 though we cannot account for these vulgar observations by the same reason4 ,not to mention that ,greek faith was infamous before the rise of the ,epicurean philosophy2 and ,euripides1#d in a passage which ,i shall point out to you1 has glanced a remarkable stroke of satire against his nation1 with regard to this circumstance4 ,take care1 ,philo1 replied ,cleanthes1 take care3 push not matters too far3 allow not your zeal against false religion to undermine your veneration for the true4 ,forfeit not this principle1 the chief1 the only great comfort in life2 and our principal support amidst all the attacks of adverse fortune4 ,the most agreeable reflection1 which it is possible for human imagination to suggest1 is that of genuine ,theism1 which represents us as the workmanship of a ,being perfectly good1 wise1 and powerful2 who created us for happiness2 and who1 having implanted in us immeasurable desires of good1 will prolong our existence to all eternity1 and will transfer us into an infinite variety of scenes1 in order to satisfy those desires1 and render our felicity complete and durable4 ,next to such a ,being himself 7if the comparison be allowed71 the happiest lot which we can imagine1 is that of being under his guardianship and protection4 ,these appearances1 said ,philo1 are most engaging and alluring2 and with regard to the true philosopher1 they are more than appearances4 ,but it happens here1 as in the former case1 that1 with regard to the greater part of mankind1 the appearances are deceitful1 and that the terrors of religion commonly prevail above its comforts4 ,it is allowed1 that men never have recourse to devotion so readily as when dejected with grief or depressed with sickness4 ,is not this a proof1 that the religious spirit is not so nearly allied to joy as to sorrow8 ,but men1 when afflicted1 find consolation in religion1 replied ,cleanthes4 ,sometimes1 said ,philo3 but it is natural to imagine1 that they will form a notion of those unknown beings1 suitably to the present gloom and melancholy of their temper1 when they betake themselves to the contemplation of them4 ,accordingly1 we find the tremendous images to predominate in all religions2 and we ourselves1 after having employed the most exalted expression in our descriptions of the ,deity1 fall into the flattest contradiction in affirming that the damned are infinitely superior in number to the elect4 ,i shall venture to affirm1 that there never was a popular religion1 which represented the state of departed souls in such a light1 as would render it eligible for human kind that there should be such a state4 ,these fine models of religion are the mere product of philosophy4 ,for as death lies between the eye and the prospect of futurity1 that event is so shocking to ,nature1 that it must throw a gloom on all the regions which lie beyond it2 and suggest to the generality of mankind the idea of ,cerberus and ,furies2 devils1 and torrents of fire and brimstone4 ,it is true1 both fear and hope enter into religion2 because both these passions1 at different times1 agitate the human mind1 and each of them forms a species of divinity suitable to itself4 ,but when a man is in a cheerful disposition1 he is fit for business1 or company1 or entertainment of any kind2 and he naturally applies himself to these1 and thinks not of religion4 ,when melancholy and dejected1 he has nothing to do but brood upon the terrors of the invisible world1 and to plunge himself still deeper in affliction4 ,it may indeed happen1 that after he has1 in this manner1 engraved the religious opinions deep into his thought and imagination1 there may arrive a change of health or circumstances1 which may restore his good humour1 and1 raising cheerful prospects of futurity1 make him run into the other extreme of joy and triumph4 ,but still it must be acknowledged1 that1 as terror is the primary principle of religion1 it is the passion which always predominates in it1 and admits but of short intervals of pleasure4 ,not to mention1 that these fits of excessive1 enthusiastic joy1 by exhausting the spirits1 always prepare the way for equal fits of superstitious terror and dejection2 nor is there any state of mind so happy as the calm and equable4 ,but this state it is impossible to support1 where a man thinks that he lies in such profound darkness and uncertainty1 between an eternity of happiness and an eternity of misery4 ,no wonder that such an opinion disjoints the ordinary frame of the mind1 and throws it into the utmost confusion4 ,and though that opinion is seldom so steady in its operation as to influence all the actions2 yet it is apt to make a considerable breach in the temper1 and to produce that gloom and melancholy so remarkable in all devout people4 ,it is contrary to common sense to entertain apprehensions or terrors upon account of any opinion whatsoever1 or to imagine that we run any risk hereafter1 by the freest use of our reason4 ,such a sentiment implies both an absurdity and an inconsistency4 ,it is an absurdity to believe that the ,deity has human passions1 and one of the lowest of human passions1 a restless appetite for applause4 ,it is an inconsistency to believe1 that1 since the ,deity has this human passion1 he has not others also2 and1 in particular1 a disregard to the opinions of creatures so much inferior4 ,to know ,god1 says ,seneca1 is to worship him4 ,all other worship is indeed absurd1 superstitious1 and even impious4 ,it degrades him to the low condition of mankind1 who are delighted with entreaty1 solicitation1 presents1 and flattery4 ,yet is this impiety the smallest of which superstition is guilty4 ,commonly1 it depresses the ,deity far below the condition of mankind2 and represents him as a capricious demon1 who exercises his power without reason and without humanity6 ,and were that ,divine ,being disposed to be offended at the vices and follies of silly mortals1 who are his own workmanship1 ill would it surely fare with the votaries of most popular superstitions4 ,nor would any of human race merit his favour1 but a very few1 the philosophical ,theists1 who entertain1 or rather indeed endeavour to entertain1 suitable notions of his ,divine perfections3 ,as the only persons entitled to his compassion and indulgence would be the philosophical ,sceptics1 a sect almost equally rare1 who1 from a natural diffidence of their own capacity1 suspend1 or endeavour to suspend1 all judgment with regard to such sublime and such extraordinary subjects4 ,if the whole of ,natural ,theology1 as some people seem to maintain1 resolves itself into one simple1 though somewhat ambiguous1 at least undefined proposition1 ,that the cause or causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence3 ,if this proposition be not capable of extension1 variation1 or more particular explication3 ,if it affords no inference that affects human life1 or can be the source of any action or forbearance3 ,and if the analogy1 imperfect as it is1 can be carried no farther than to the human intelligence1 and cannot be transferred1 with any appearance of probability1 to the other qualities of the mind2 if this really be the case1 what can the most inquisitive1 contemplative1 and religious man do more than give a plain1 philosophical assent to the proposition1 as often as it occurs1 and believe that the arguments on which it is established exceed the objections which lie against it8 ,some astonishment1 indeed1 will naturally arise from the greatness of the object2 some melancholy from its obscurity2 some contempt of human reason1 that it can give no solution more satisfactory with regard to so extraordinary and magnificent a question4 ,but believe me1 ,cleanthes1 the most natural sentiment which a well-disposed mind will feel on this occasion1 is a longing desire and expectation that ,heaven would be pleased to dissipate1 at least alleviate1 this profound ignorance1 by affording some more particular revelation to mankind1 and making discoveries of the nature1 attributes1 and operations of the ,divine object of our faith4 ,a person1 seasoned with a just sense of the imperfections of natural reason1 will fly to revealed truth with the greatest avidity3 ,while the haughty ,dogmatist1 persuaded that he can erect a complete system of ,theology by the mere help of philosophy1 disdains any further aid1 and rejects this adventitious instructor4 ,to be a philosophical ,sceptic is1 in a man of letters1 the first and most essential step towards being a sound1 believing ,christian2 a proposition which ,i would willingly recommend to the attention of ,pamphilus3 ,and ,i hope ,cleanthes will forgive me for interposing so far in the education and instruction of his pupil4 ,cleanthes and ,philo pursued not this conversation much farther3 and as nothing ever made greater impression on me1 than all the reasonings of that day1 so ,i confess1 that1 upon a serious review of the whole1 ,i cannot but think1 that ,philo's principles are more probable than ,demea's2 but that those of ,cleanthes approach still nearer to the truth4 #a ,de ,formatione ,foetus4 #b ,it seems evident that the dispute between the ,sceptics and ,dogmatists is entirely verbal1 or at least regards only the degrees of doubt and assurance which we ought to indulge with regard to all reasoning2 and such disputes are commonly1 at the bottom1 verbal1 and admit not of any precise determination4 ,no philosophical ,dogmatist denies that there are difficulties both with regard to the senses and to all science1 and that these difficulties are in a regular1 logical method1 absolutely insolvable4 ,no ,sceptic denies that we lie under an absolute necessity1 notwithstanding these difficulties1 of thinking1 and believing1 and reasoning1 with regard to all kinds of subjects1 and even of frequently assenting with confidence and security4 ,the only difference1 then1 between these sects1 if they merit that name1 is1 that the ,sceptic1 from habit1 caprice1 or inclination1 insists most on the difficulties2 the ,dogmatist1 for like reasons1 on the necessity4 #c ,lib4 vi4 cap4 #ed4 #d ,iphigenia in ,tauride4 ,,appendix ,,to ,,the ,,treatise ,,of ,,human ,,nature4 ,there is nothing ,i would more willingly lay hold of1 than an opportunity of confessing my errors2 and should esteem such a return to truth and reason to be more honourable than the most unerring judgment4 ,a man who is free from mistakes can pretend to no praises1 except from the justness of his understanding2 but a man who corrects his mistakes shows at once the justness of his understanding1 and the candour and ingenuity of his temper4 ,i have not yet been so fortunate as to discover any very considerable mistakes in the reasonings delivered in the preceding volumes1 except on one article2 but ,i have found by experience1 that some of my expressions have not been so well chosen as to guard against all mistakes in the readers2 and 'tis chiefly to remedy this defect ,i have subjoined the following ,appendix4 ,we can never be induced to believe any matter of fact except where its cause or its effect is present to us2 but what the nature is of that belief which arises from the relation of cause and effect1 few have had the curiosity to ask themselves4 ,in my opinion this dilemma is inevitable4 ,either the belief is some new idea1 such as that of reality or existence1 which we join to the simple conception of an object1 or it is merely a peculiar feeling or sentiment4 ,that it is not a new idea1 annexed to the simple conception1 may be evinced from these two arguments4 ,first1 ,we have no abstract idea of existence1 distinguishable and separable from the idea of particular objects4 ',tis impossible1 therefore1 that this idea of existence can be annexed to the idea of any object1 or form the difference betwixt a simple conception and belief4 ,secondly1 ,the mind has the command over all its ideas1 and can separate1 unite1 mix1 and vary them1 as it pleases2 so that1 if belief consisted merely in a new idea annexed to the conception1 it would be in a man's power to believe what he pleased4 ,we may therefore conclude1 that belief consists merely in a certain feeling or sentiment2 in something that depends not on the will1 but must arise from certain determinate causes and principles of which we are not masters4 ,when we are convinced of any matter of fact1 we do nothing but conceive it1 along with a certain feeling1 different from what attends the mere reveries of the imagination4 ,and when we express our incredulity concerning any fact1 we mean1 that the arguments for the fact produce not that feeling4 ,did not the belief consist in a sentiment different from our mere conception1 whatever objects were presented by the wildest imagination would be on an equal footing with the most established truths founded on history and experience4 ,there is nothing but the feeling or sentiment to distinguish the one from the other4 ,this1 therefore1 being regarded as an undoubted truth1 that belief is nothing but a peculiar feeling1 different from the simple conception1 the next question that naturally occurs is1 what is the nature of this feeling or sentiment1 and whether it be analogous to any other sentiment of the human mind8 ,this question is important4 ,for if it be not analogous to any other sentiment1 we must despair of explaining its causes1 and must consider it as an original principle of the human mind4 ,if it be analogous1 we may hope to explain its causes from analogy1 and trace it up to more general principles4 ,now1 that there is a greater firmness and solidity in the conceptions1 which are the objects of conviction and assurance1 than in the loose and indolent reveries of a castle-builder1 every one will readily own4 ,they strike upon us with more force2 they are more present to us2 the mind has a firmer hold of them1 and is more actuated and moved by them4 ,it acquiesces in them2 and1 in a manner1 fixes and reposes itself on them4 ,in short1 they approach nearer to the impressions1 which are immediately present to us2 and are therefore analogous to many other operations of the mind4 ,there is not1 in my opinion1 any possibility of evading this conclusion1 but by asserting that belief1 beside the simple conception1 consists in some impression or feeling1 distinguishable from the conception4 ,it does not modify the conception1 and render it more present and intense3 it is only annexed to it1 after the same manner that will and desire are annexed to particular conceptions of good and pleasure4 ,but the following considerations will1 ,i hope1 be sufficient to remove this hypothesis4 ,first1 ,it is directly contrary to experience1 and our immediate consciousness8 ,all men have ever allowed reasoning to be merely an operation of our thoughts or ideas2 and however those ideas may be varied to the feeling1 there is nothing ever enters into our conclusions but ideas1 or our fainter conceptions4 ,for instance1 ,i hear at present a person's voice with whom ,i am acquainted1 and this sound comes from the next room4 ,this impression of my senses immediately conveys my thoughts to the person1 along with all the surrounding objects4 ,i paint them out to myself as existent at present1 with the same qualities and relations that ,i formerly knew them possessed of4 ,these ideas take faster hold of my mind1 than the ideas of an enchanted castle4 ,they are different to the feeling2 but there is no distinct or separate impression attending them4 ',tis the same case when ,i recollect the several incidents of a journey1 or the events of any history4 ,every particular fact is there the object of belief4 ,its idea is modified differently from the loose reveries of a castle-builder3 but no distinct impression attends every distinct idea1 or conception of matter of fact4 ,this is the subject of plain experience4 ,if ever this experience can be disputed on any occasion1 'tis when the mind has been agitated with doubts and difficulties2 and afterwards1 upon taking the object in a new point of view1 or being presented with a new argument1 fixes and reposes itself in one settled conclusion and belief4 ,in this case there is a feeling distinct and separate from the conception4 ,the passage from doubt and agitation to tranquillity and repose1 conveys a satisfaction and pleasure to the mind4 ,but take any other case4 ,suppose ,i see the legs and thighs of a person in motion1 while some interposed object conceals the rest of his body4 ,here 'tis certain1 the imagination spreads out the whole figure4 ,i give him a head and shoulders1 and breast and neck4 ,these members ,i conceive and believe him to be possessed of4 ,nothing can be more evident1 than that this whole operation is performed by the thought or imagination alone4 ,the transition is immediate4 ,the ideas presently strike us4 ,their customary connexion with the present impression varies them and modifies them in a certain manner1 but produces no act of the mind1 distinct from this peculiarity of conception4 ,let any one examine his own mind1 and he will evidently find this to be the truth4 ,secondly1 ,whatever may be the case1 with regard to this distinct impression1 it must be allowed that the mind has a firmer hold1 or more steady conception of what it takes to be matter of fact than of fictions4 ,why then look any farther1 or multiply suppositions without necessity8 ,thirdly1 ,we can explain the causes of the firm conception1 but not those of any separate impression4 ,and not only so1 but the causes of the firm conception exhaust the whole subject1 and nothing is left to produce any other effect4 ,an inference concerning a matter of fact is nothing but the idea of an object that is frequently conjoined1 or is associated with a present impression4 ,this is the whole of it4 ,every part is requisite to explain1 from analogy1 the more steady conception2 and nothing remains capable of producing any distinct impression4 ,fourthly1 ,the effects of belief1 in influencing the passions and imagination1 can all be explained from the firm conception2 and there is no occasion to have recourse to any other principle4 ,these arguments1 with many others1 enumerated in the foregoing volumes1 sufficiently prove1 that belief only modifies the idea or conception2 and renders it different to the feeling1 without producing any distinct impression4 ,thus1 upon a general view of the subject1 there appear to be two questions of importance1 which we may venture to recommend to the consideration of philosophers1 ,whether there be any thing to distinguish belief from the simple conception1 beside the feeling or sentiment8 ,and1 ,whether this feeling be any thing but a firmer conception1 or a faster hold1 that we take of the object8 ,if1 upon impartial inquiry1 the same conclusion that ,i have formed be assented to by philosophers1 the next business is to examine the analogy which there is betwixt belief and other acts of the mind1 and find the cause of the firmness and strength of conception2 and this ,i do not esteem a difficult task4 ,the transition from a present impression1 always enlivens and strengthens any idea4 ,when any object is presented1 the idea of its usual attendant immediately strikes us1 as something real and solid4 ',tis felt rather than conceived1 and approaches the impression1 from which it is derived1 in its force and influence4 ,this ,i have proved at large1 and cannot add any new arguments4 ,i had entertained some hopes1 that however deficient our theory of the intellectual world might be1 it would be free from those contradictions and absurdities1 which seem to attend every explication1 that human reason can give of the material world4 ,but upon a more strict review of the section concerning personal identity1 ,i find myself involved in such a labyrinth1 that1 ,i must confess1 ,i neither know how to correct my former opinions1 nor how to render them consistent4 ,if this be not a good general reason for scepticism1 'tis at least a sufficient one 7if ,i were not already abundantly supplied7 for me to entertain a diffidence and modesty in all my decisions4 ,i shall propose the arguments on both sides1 beginning with those that induced me to deny the strict and proper identity and simplicity of a self or thinking being4 ,when we talk of self or subsistence1 we must have an idea annexed to these terms1 otherwise they are altogether unintelligible4 ,every idea is derived from preceding impressions2 and we have no impression of self or substance1 as something simple and individual4 ,we have1 therefore1 no idea of them in that sense4 ,whatever is distinct1 is distinguishable1 and whatever is distinguishable1 is separable by the thought or imagination4 ,all perceptions are distinct4 ,they are1 therefore1 distinguishable1 and separable1 and may be conceived1 as separately existent1 and may exist separately1 without any contradiction or absurdity4 ,when ,i view this table and that chimney1 nothing is present to me but particular perceptions1 which are of a like nature with all the other perceptions4 ,this is the doctrine of philosophers4 ,but this table1 which is present to me1 and that chimney1 may1 and do exist separately4 ,this is the doctrine of the vulgar1 and implies no contradiction4 ,there1 is no contradiction1 therefore1 in extending the same doctrine to all the perceptions4 ,in general1 the following reasoning seems satisfactory4 ,all ideas are borrowed from preceding perceptions4 ,our ideas of objects1 therefore1 are derived from that source4 ,consequently no proposition can be intelligible or consistent with regard to objects1 which is not so with regard to perceptions4 ,but 'tis intelligible and consistent to say1 that objects exist distinct and independent1 without any common simple substance or subject of inhesion4 ,this proposition1 therefore1 can never be absurd with regard to perceptions4 ,when ,i turn my reflection on myself1 ,i never can perceive this self without some one or more perceptions2 nor can ,i ever perceive any thing but the perceptions4 ',tis the composition of these1 therefore1 which forms the self4 ,we can conceive a thinking being to have either many or few perceptions4 ,suppose the mind to be reduced even below the life of an oyster4 ,suppose it to have only one perception1 as of thirst or hunger4 ,consider it in that situation4 ,do you conceive any thing but merely that perception8 ,have you any notion of self or substance8 ,if not1 the addition of other perceptions can never give you that notion4 ,the annihilation which some people suppose to follow upon death1 and which entirely destroys this self1 is nothing but an extinction of all particular perceptions2 love and hatred1 pain and pleasure1 thought and sensation4 ,these1 therefore1 must be the same with self1 since the one cannot survive the other4 ,is self the same with substance8 ,if it be1 how can that question have place1 concerning the subsistence of self1 under a change of substance8 ,if they be distinct1 what is the difference betwixt them8 ,for my part1 ,i have a notion of neither1 when conceived distinct from particular perceptions4 ,philosophers begin to be reconciled to the principle1 that we have no idea of external substance1 distinct from the ideas of particular qualities4 ,this must pave the way for a like principle with regard to the mind1 that we have no notion of it1 distinct from the particular perception4 ,so far ,i seem to be attended with sufficient evidence4 ,but having thus loosened all our particular perceptions1 when ,i proceed to explain the principle of connexion1 which binds them together1 and makes us attribute to them a real simplicity and identity1 ,i am sensible that my account is very defective1 and that nothing but the seeming evidence of the precedent reasonings could have induced me to receive it4 ,if perceptions are distinct existences1 they form a whole only by being connected together4 ,but no connexions among distinct existences are ever discoverable by human understanding4 ,we only feel a connexion or determination of the thought to pass from one object to another4 ,it follows1 therefore1 that the thought alone feels personal identity1 when reflecting on the train of past perceptions that compose a mind1 the ideas of them are felt to be connected together1 and naturally introduce each other4 ,however extraordinary this conclusion may seem1 it need not surprise us4 ,most philosophers seem inclined to think1 that personal identity arises from consciousness1 and consciousness is nothing but a reflected thought or perception4 ,the present philosophy1 therefore1 has so far a promising aspect4 ,but all my hopes vanish1 when ,i come to explain the principles that unite our successive perceptions in our thought or consciousness4 ,i cannot discover any theory1 which gives me satisfaction on this head4 ,in short1 there are two principles which ,i cannot render consistent1 nor is it in my power to renounce either of them1 viz4 that all our distinct perceptions are distinct existences1 and that the mind never perceives any real connexion among distinct existences4 ,did our perceptions either inhere in something simple and individual1 or did the mind perceive some real connexion among them1 there would be no difficulty in the case4 ,for my part1 ,i must plead the privilege of a sceptic1 and confess1 that this difficulty is too hard for my understanding4 ,i pretend not1 however1 to pronounce it absolutely insuperable4 ,others1 perhaps1 or myself1 upon more mature reflections1 may discover some hypothesis that will reconcile those contradictions4 ,i shall also take this opportunity of confessing two other errors of less importance1 which more mature reflection has discovered to me in my reasoning4 ,the first may be found in ,vol4 ,i4 page #he1 where ,i say1 that the distance betwixt two bodies is known1 among other things1 by the angles which the rays of light flowing from the bodies make with each other4 ',tis certain1 that these angles are not known to the mind1 and consequently can never discover the distance4 ,the second error may be found in ,vol4 ,i4 p4 #acb1 where ,i say1 that two ideas of the same object can only be different by their different degrees of force and vivacity4 ,i believe there are other differences among ideas1 which cannot properly be comprehended under these terms4 ,had ,i said1 that two ideas of the same object can only be different by their different feeling1 ,i should have been nearer the truth4 ,,end ,,of ,,volume ,,second4