ble of rising, and which ordinarily do rise, to a pitch at which they gain a complete mastery over the pains and desires of benevolence, so as often to impel men to act in direct opposition to the dictates. of benevolence.

Among these potent pains may be enumerated the pains of hunger, of thirst, of heat, of cold, as well as that endless number produced by wounds, and diseases, including that depression of mind called Melancholy, a disease, under the influence of which, existence becomes a burden, and nothing has any longer any power to give us pleasure. All these pains frequently rise to such a height as to overmaster the usual force of the pains of benevolence; so that men, under their influence, are no longer considered subject to the ordinary laws of moral obligation; and many acts, under those circumstances, assume a permissible character, which otherwise. would be considered wholly inexcusable. On the other hand, many acts performed by persons subjected to the influence of these potent pains, by a hungry or thirsty man, for instance, which, under other circumstances, would be considered as quite matters of course, assume, from the counteracting influence to which the actor is exposed, a character of exalted virtue. Such was the act of Sir Philip Sidney, who, wounded and dying, refused the cup of water brought to him, with those memorable words,

pointing to a wounded soldier gasping with thirst, "Give it to him; his need is greater than mine!" 6. In fact, every degree of simple pain, not moral pain, which a man suffers, is liable to have, and with

certain exceptions presently to be pointed out, does have, an effect, in proportion to its intensity, to diminish the influence of the sentiment of benevolence upon his conduct; and that for the obvious reason, that it impels him to act in a peculiar direction of its own; often and most commonly, in a direction very divergent from that of benevolence. This fact will serve at once to explain the reason of that observation so generally made, that misery produces vice; that competency is the greatest security for virtue; and that poverty often leads directly to crime. Poverty exposes to many pains which tend to neutralize the force of the sentiment of benevolence; while competency protects against those pains. Hence, too, we may learn the futility of all efforts, made or making, to inspire with sentiments of virtue and benevolence, great masses of men, who are kept, at the same time, in a state of starvation; or in a state of social inferiority and disgrace, hardly less painful than starvation itself.

7. Not only does pain of any kind, in proportion to its severity, commonly tend to neutralize the force of the sentiment of benevolence; it gives occasion to the exercise of a sentiment directly opposite to that of benevolence; to wit, the sentiment of Malevolence, whereby we become capable of feeling pain at the pleasure of other sensitive beings, and of feeling pleasure at their pain; from which capacity of pleasure springs a desire to inflict pain upon others. The compass of this sentiment, however, is not equal to that of the sentiment of benevolence; since it embraces only those whom we suppose to have

inflicted pains upon us, or from whom we apprehend the infliction of pains, which apprehension itself amounts to a present pain. The sentiment of Malevolence is not only excited by the infliction upon us of other kinds of pains, but also by the infliction of moral pains, or pains of benevolence, that is, by the infliction of pains upon others who are the objects of our benevolence. When first, or suddenly excited, this sentiment is called anger, or indignation; when it assumes a permanent character, it is called Malevolence, or Hate. The desire of inflicting pain upon others, to which this sentiment gives rise, is commonly called the spirit of retaliation; or when it lasts long, and is carried to excessive lengths, Revenge.

As soon as any sensitive being becomes the object of this sentiment of malevolence, so far as relates to him individually the sentiment of benevolence falls into abeyance, and we take an actual pleasure in his pain. Hence the delight with which the punishment, and even the torture, of a great criminal is regarded; and hence the horrid cruelties, which, under certain circumstances, men find a pleasure in inflicting upon each other.

8. The sentiment of Benevolence, and the sentiment of Malevolence are usually represented as absolutely hostile; and so, in a certain point of view, they are. But as motives of human conduct, these two sentiments often concur to produce a common end. An unprovoked injury that is to say, an injury which the ordinary force of the sentiment of benevolence would have prevented — inflicted upon

a person who is an object of our benevolence, excites in us a pain of benevolence, which impels us to rescue or relieve the injured party; and that pain of benevolence excites in us, at the same time, a malevolent desire, which seeks its gratification by the infliction of some pain upon the party who did the injury.

9. It is in this source that we find the origin of punishments, and of that satisfaction which the infliction of punishment diffuses throughout the community, whether that infliction come from the injured party, from the bystanders, in the shape of what is called Lynch Law, or whether it be administered according to legal forms. This desire for the punishment of offenders is often denominated the sentiment or attribute of justice. What is designated by that respectable epithet is frequently little else than pure malevolence.

As regards legal punishments, however, mere benevolence, without the least mixture of malevolence, may well sanction them; since it is a decided advantage to the criminal himself to be guarantied a protection against the headlong vengeance of the injured party, or the excited hatred of an infuriated mob; which only can be done by delivering him over to the officers of the law, and affixing a penalty to his offence, proportionate to the general idea of its injurious nature.

Moreover, the infliction of punishment upon a criminal, not only produces a particular pleasure to the injured party, and a general pleasure to all who know the fact of the crime and the punishment; but it also has a tendency to prevent the repetition

of the offence, whether by the same party, or by others. It thus becomes a preventive of suffering. The pain of a man, who, by reason of his criminal act, has ceased to be an object of our benevolence, and whose pain therefore does not give us any pain, becomes a means of protecting others, who are objects of our benevolence, from being subjected to injuries which would cause us pain.

10. The sentiment of malevolence has, in different societies, not only very different objects, but even a very different amount of average force. He who, in retaliation, goes beyond what would be prompted by the average force of that sentiment in the society to which he belongs, inflicts, by so doing, a pain of benevolence upon those about him, and becomes, in his turn, an object of moral disapprobation, that is to say, a cause of moral pain, and in consequence, an object also of the sentiment of malevolence.

The force of this sentiment is strongest when excited by a recent injury; and many actions are esteemed permissible in an angry man which would be wholly inexcusable after there had been time for passion to subside. So, in a barbarous state of society, in which laws have hardly been established, and in which each man remains the avenger of his own wrongs and those of his friends and relations, many actions are esteemed permissible and even praiseworthy, which, in more civilized communities, are totally prohibited.

11. The objects of the sentiment of Malevolence are sensitive beings who are the causes to us, voluntarily or involuntarily, of pain. But such as are the