No, surely; we wish him to be a man of real virtue and worth. We may wish for him an honorable station in life; but only with this condition, that he acquit himself honorably in it, and acquire just reputation, by being useful to his country and to mankind. We would a thousand times rather wish him honorably to undergo the labours of Hercules, than to dissolve in pleasure with Sardinapalus.

Such would be the wish of every man of understanding for the friend whom he loves as his own soul. Such things, therefore, he judges to be best for him upon the whole; and if he judges otherwise for himself, it is only because his judgment is perverted by animal pas.

sions and desires.

The sum of what has been said in these three chapters amounts to this:

There is a principle of action in men that are adult and of a sound mind, which, in all ages, has been called reason, and set in opposition to the animal principles which we call the passions. The ultimate object of this principle is what we judge to be good upon the whole. This is not the object of any of our ani mal principles, they being all directed to particular objects, without any comparison with others, or any consideration of their being good or ill upon the whole.

What is good upon the whole cannot even be conceived without the exercise of reason, and therefore cannot be an object to beings that have not some degree of reason.

As soon as we have the conception of this object, we are led, by our constitution, to desire and pursue it. It justly claims a preference to all objects of pursuit that can come in competition with it. In preferring it to any gratification that opposes it, or in submitting to any pain or mortification which it requires, we act according to reason; and every such action is accompanied

with self-approbation, and the approbation of mankind. The contrary actions are accompanied with shame and self-condemnation in the agent, and with contempt in the spectator, as foolish and unreasonable.

The right application of this principle to our conduct requires an extensive prospect of human life, and a correct judgment and estimate of its goods and evils, with respect to their intrinsic worth and dignity, their constancy and duration, and their attainableness. He must be a wise man indeed, if any such man there be, who can perceive, in every instance, or even in every important instance, what is best for him upon the whole, if he have no other rule to direct his conduct.

However, according to the best judgment which wise men have been able to form, this principle leads to the practice of every virtue. It leads directly to the virtues of prudence, temperance and fortitude.

And when we consider ourselves as social creatures, whose happiness or misery is very much connected with that of our fellow men; when we consider, that there are many benevolent affections planted in our constitution, whose exertions make a capital part of our good and enjoyment; from these considerations, this principle leads us also, though more indirectly, to the practice of justice, humanity, and all the social virtues.

It is true, that a regard to our own good cannot, of itself, produce any benevolent affection. But, if such affections be a part of our constitution, and if the exercise of them make a capital part of our happiness, a regard to our own good ought to lead us to cultivate and exercise them, as every benevolent affection makes the good of others to be our own,

CHAP. IV.

DEFECTS OF THIS PRINCIPLE.

HAVING explained the nature of this principle of action, and shown in general the tenor of conduct to which it leads, I shall conclude what relates to it, by pointing out some of its defects, if it be supposed, as it has been by some philosophers, to be the only regulating principle of human conduct.

Upon that supposition, it would neither be a sufficiently plain rule of conduct, nor would it raise the human character to that degree of perfection of which it is capable, nor would it yield so much real happiness as when it is joined with another rational principle of action, to wit, a disinterested regard to duty.

1st, I apprehend the greater part of mankind can never attain such extensive views of human life, and so correct a judgment of good and ill, as the right application of this principle requires. [Note W.]

The authority of the poet before quoted is of weight in this point. "Pauci dignoscere possunt vera bona, remotâ erroris nebulâ." The ignorance of the bulk of mankind concurs with the strength of their passions to lead them into error in this most important point.

Every man, in his calm moments, wishes to know what is best for him on the whole, and to do it. But the difficulty of discovering it clearly, amid such variety of opinions and the importunity of present desires, tempt men to give over the search, and to yield to the present inclination.

Though philosophers and moralists have taken much laudable pains to correct the errors of mankind in this great point, their instructions are known to few ; they have little influence upon the greater part of those

to whom they are known, and sometimes little even upon the philosopher himself.

Speculative discoveries gradually spread from the knowing to the ignorant, and diffuse themselves over all; so that, with regard to them, the world, it may be hoped, will still be growing wiser. But the errors of men, with regard to what is truly good or ill, after being discovered and refuted in every age, are still prevalent.

Men stand in need of a sharper monitor to their duty than a dubious view of distant good. There is reason to believe, that a present sense of duty has, in many cases a stronger influence than the apprehension of distant good would have of itself. And it cannot be doubted, that a sense of guilt and demerit is a more pungent reprover than the bare apprehension of having mistaken our true interest.

The brave soldier, in exposing himself to danger and death, is animated, not by a cold computation of the good and the ill, but by a noble and elevated sense of military duty.

A philosopher shows, by a copious and just induction, what is our real good and what our ill. But this kind of reasoning is not easily apprehended by the bulk of men. It has too little force upon their minds to resist the sophistry of the passions. They are apt to think, that if such rules be good in the general, they may admit of particular exceptions, and that what is good for the greater part, may, to some persons, on account of particular circumstances, be ill.

Thus, I apprehend, that, if we had no plainer rule to direct our conduct in life than a regard to our greatest good, the greatest part of mankind would be fatally misled, even by ignorance of the road to it.

2dly, Though a steady pursuit of our own real good may, in an enlightened mind, produce a kind of virtue

which is entitled to some degree of approbation, yet it can never produce the noblest kind of virtue, which claims our highest love and esteem.

We account him a wise man who is wise for himself; and, if he prosecutes this end through difficulties and temptations that lie in his way, his character is far superior to that of the man who, having the same end in view, is continually starting out of the road to it, from an attachment to his appetites and passions, and doing every day what he knows he shall heartily repent.

Yet, after all, this wise man, whose thoughts and caresare all centered ultimately in himself, who indulges even his social affections only with a view to his own good, is not the man whom we cordially love and esteem.

Like a cunning merchant, he carries his goods to the best market, and watches every opportunity of putting them off to the best account. He does well and wisely. But it is for himself. We owe him nothing upon this account. Even when he does good to others, he means only to serve himself; and therefore has no just claim to their gratitude or affection.

This surely, if it be virtue, is not the noblest kind, but a low and mercenary species of it. It can neither give a noble elevation to the mind that possesses it, nor attract the esteem and love of others.

Our cordial love and esteem is due only to the man whose soul is not contracted within itself, but embraces a more extensive object: who loves virtue, not for her dowry only, but for her own sake: whose benevolence is not selfish, but generous and disinterested: who, forgetful of himself, has the common good at heart, not as the means only, but as the end; who abhors what is base, though he were to be a gainer by it, and loves that which is right, although he should suffer by it.