having some end constantly in view, but rather from this, that they desire to be always doing something, and feel uneasiness in total inaction.

Nor is this principle confined to childhood; it has great effects in advanced life.

When a man has neither hope, nor fear, nor desire, nor project, nor employment, of body or mind, one might be apt to think him the happiest mortal upon earth, having nothing to do but enjoy himself; but we find him, in fact, the most unhappy.

He is more weary of inaction than ever he was of excessive labour. He is weary of the world, and of his own existence; and is more miserable than the sailor wrestling with a storm, or the soldier mounting a breach.

This dismal state is commonly the lot of the man who has neither exercise of body, nor employment of mind. For the mind, like water, corrupts and putrifies by stagnation, but by running, purifies and refines.

Besides the appetites which nature has given us for useful and necessary purposes, we may create appetites which nature never gave.

The frequent use of things which stimulate the nervous system, produces a languor when their effect is gone off, and a desire to repeat them. By this means a desire of a certain object is created, accompanied by an uneasy sensation. Both are removed for a time by the object desired; but they return after a certain interval. This differs from natural appetite, only in being acquired by custom. Such are the appetites which some men acquire for the use of tobacco, for opiates, and for intoxicating liquors.

These are commonly called habits, and justly. But there are different kinds of habits, even of the active sort, which ought to be distinguished. Some habits

produce only a facility of doing a thing, without any inclination to do it. All arts are habits of this kind, but they cannot be called principles of action. Other habits produce a proneness to do an action, without thought or intention. These we considered before as mechanical principles of action. There are other habits which produce a desire of a certain object, and an uneasy sensation, till it is obtained. It is this last kind only that I call acquired appetites.

As it is best to preserve our natural appetites, in that tone and degree of strength which nature gives them, so we ought to beware of acquiring appetites which nature never gave. They are always useless, and very often hurtful.

Although, as was before observed, there be neither virtue nor vice in acting from appetite, there may be much of either in the management of our appetites.

When appetite is opposed by some principle drawing a contrary way, there must be a determination of the will which shall prevail, and this determination may be, in a moral sense, right or wrong.

Appetite, even in a brute animal, may be restrained by a stronger principle opposed to it. A dog, when he is hungry and has meat set before him, may be kept from touching it by the fear of immediate punishment. In this case his fear operates more strongly than his desire.

Do we attribute any virtue to the dog on this account? I think not. Nor should we ascribe any virtue to a man in a like case. The animal is carried by the

strongest moving force. This requires no exertion, no self-government, but passively to yield to the strongest impulse. This, I think, brutes always do; therefore we attribute to them neither virtue nor vice. We consider them as being neither objects of moral approbation, nor disapprobation.

But it may happen, that, when appetite draws one way, it may be opposed, not by any appetite or passion, but by some cool principle of action, which has authority without any impulsive force: for example, by some interest, which is too distant to raise any passion or emotion; or by some consideration of decency, or of duty.

In cases of this kind, the man is convinced that he ought not to yield to appetite, yet there is not an equal or a greater impulse to oppose it. There are circumstances, indeed, that convince the judgment, but these are not sufficient to determine the will against a strong appetite, without self-government.

I apprehend that brute animals have no power of self-government. From their constitution, they must be led by the appetite or passion which is strongest for the time.

On this account they have, in all ages, and among all nations, been thought incapable of being governed by laws, though some of them may be subjects of discipline.

The same would be the condition of man, if he had no power to restrain appetite, but by a stronger contrary appetite or passion. It would be to no purpose to prescribe laws to him for the government of his actions. You might as well forbid the wind to blow, as forbid him to follow whatever happens to give the strongest present impulse.

Every one knows, that when appetite draws one way, duty, decency, or even interest, may draw the contrary way; and that appetite may give a stronger impulse than any one of these, or even all of them conjoined. Yet it is certain, that in every case of this kind, appetite ought to yield to any of these principles when it stands opposed to them. It is in such cases that selfgovernment is necessary.

The man who suffers himself to be led by appetite to do what he knows he ought not to do, has an immediate and natural conviction that he did wrong, and might have done otherwise; and therefore he condemns himself, and confesses that he yielded to an appetite which ought to have been under his command.

Thus it appears, that though our natural appetites have in themselves neither virtue nor vice, though the acting merely from appetite, when there is no principle of greater authority to oppose it, be a matter indifferent; yet there may be a great deal of virtue or of vice in the management of our appetites; and that the power of self-government is necessary for their regulation.

CHAPTER II.

OF DESIRES.

ANOTHER class of animal principles of action in man, I shall, for want of a better specific name, call desires.

They are distinguished from appetites by this: that there is not an uneasy sensation proper to each, and always accompanying it; and that they are not periodical, but constant, not being sated with their objects for a time, as appetites are.

The desires I have in view, are chiefly these three, the desire of power, the desire of esteem, and the desire of knowledge.

We may, I think, perceive some degree of these principles in brute animals of the more sagacious kind; but in man they are much more conspicuous, and have a larger sphere.

In a herd of black cattle there is a rank and subordination. When a stranger is introduced into the herd, he must fight every one till his rank is settled. Then he yields to the stronger, and assumes authority over the weaker. The case is much the same in the crew of a ship of war.

As soon as men associate together, the desire of superiority discovers itself. In barbarous tribes, as well as among the gregarious kinds of animals, rank is determined by strength, courage, swiftness, or such other qualities. Among civilized nations, many things of a different kind give power and rank; places in government, titles of honor, riches, wisdom, eloquence, virtue, and even the reputation of these. All these are either different species of power, or means of acquiring it; and when they are sought for that end, must be considered as instances of the desire of power.