the defensive

tion. If it wants the force requisite for the obtaining its end, we reckon it defective; if it has too much, so as to be carried beyond it, we say it is overcharged; and in either case it is imperfect and ill-contrived. If it has just enough to reach the scope, we esteem it right and as it should be. Let us apply this reasoning to the passions. The defence and security of the individual Measure of being the aim of the defensive passions, that passions. security and defence must be the measure of their strength or indulgence. If they are so weak as to prove insufficient for that end, or if they carry us beyond it, i. e. raise unnecessary commotions, or continue longer than is needful they are unfit to answer their original design, and therefore are in an unsound and unnatural state. The exercise of fear or of resentment has nothing desirable in it, nor can we give way to either without painful sensations. Without a certain degree of them, we are naked and exposed. With too high a proportion of them, we are miserable, and often injurious to others. Thus cowardice or timidity, which is the excess of fear, instead of saving us in danger, gives it too formidable an appearance, makes us incapable of attending to the best means of preservation, and disarms us of courage, our natural armour. Fool-hardiness, which is the want of a due measure of fear, leads us heedlessly into danger, and lulls us into a pernicious security. Revenge, i. e. excessive resentment, by the violence of its commotion, robs us of that presence of mind which is often the best guard against injury, and inclines us to pursue the aggressor with more severity than self-defence requires. Pusillanimity, or the want of a just indignation against wrong, leaves us quite ungarded, and tends to sink the mind into a passive enervated tameness. Therefore, "to keep the defensive passions duly proportioned to our dangers, is their natural pitch and tenor."

The

Measure of the private passions.

The private passions lead us to pursue some positive species of private good: that good therefore which is the object and end of each must be the measure of their respective force, and direct their operation. If they are too weak or sluggish to engage us in the pursuit of their several objects, they are evidently deficient; but if they defeat their end by their impetuosity, then they are strained beyond the just tone of nature. Thus vanity, or an excessive passion for applause, betrays into such meannesses and little arts of popularity as makes us forfeit the honour we so anxiously court. On the other hand, a total indifference about the esteem of mankind, removes a strong guard and spur to virtue, and lays the mind open to the most abandoned prosecutions. Therefore, " to keep our private passions and desires proportioned to our wants, is the just measure and pitch of this class of affections."

tive force.

Compara- The defensive and private passions do all agree in general, in their tendency or conduciveness to the interest or good of the individual. Therefore, when there is a collision of interests, as may sometimes happen, that aggregate of good or happiness, which is composed of the particular goods to which they respectively tend, must be the common standard by which their comparative degrees of strength are to be measured: that is to say, if any of them, in the degree in which they prevail, are incompatible with the greatest aggregate of good or most extensive interest of the individual, then are they unequal and disproportionate. For, in judging of a particular system or constitution of powers, we call that the supreme or principal end, in which the aims of the several parts or powers coincide, and to which they are subordinate; and reckon them in due proportion to each other, and right with regard to the whole, when they maintain that subordination of subserviency. There

fore,

fore," to proportion our defensive and private passions in such measure to our dangers and wants as best to secure the individual, and obtain the greatest aggregate of private good or happiness, is their just balance or comparative standard in case of competition."

In like manner as the public or social affec- Measure of the public tions point at the good of others, that good affections. must be the measure of their force. When a particular social affection, as gratitude or friendship, which belongs to a particular social connection, viz. that of a benefactor or of a friend, is too feeble to make us act the grateful or friendly part, that affection, being insufficient to answer its end, is defective and unsound. If on the other hand, a particular passion of this class counteract or defeat the interest it is designed to promote, by its violence or disproportion, then is that passion excessive and irregular. Thus natural affection, if it degenerates into a passionate fondness, not only hinders the parents from judging coolly of the interest of their offspring, but often leads them into a most partial and pernicious indulgence.

social affec

As every kind affection points at the Collision of good of its particular object, it is possible tions. there may be sometimes a collision of interests or goods. Thus the regard due to a friend may interfere with that which we owe to a community. In such a competition of interests, it is evident that the greatest is to be chosen ; and that is the greatest interest which contains the greatest sum or aggregate of public good, greatest in quantity as well as duration. This then is the common standard by which the respective forces and subordinations of the social affections must be adjusted. Therefore we conclude, that "this class of affections are sound and regular when they prompt us to pursue the interest of in-. dividuals in an entire consistency with the public good,"

or,

or, in other words, when they are duly proportioned to the dangers and wants of others, and to the various relations in which we stand to individuals or to society.".:

Thus we have found, by an induction of particulars, the natural pitch or tenor of the different orders of affection, considered apart by themselves. Now as the virtue or perfection of every creature lies in following its nature, or acting suitably to the just proportion and harmony of its several powers; therefore, "the virtue of a creature endowed with such affections as man, must consist in observing or acting agreeably to their natural pitch and tenor." Let this suffice at least for its first rude sketch.

Balance of

it

But, as there are no independent affections affection. in the fabric of the mind, no passion that stands by itself, without some relation to the rest, we cannot pronounce of any one, considered apart, that it is either too strong or too weak. Its strength and just proportion must be measured not only by its subserviency to its own immediate end, but by the respect bears to the whole system of affection. Therefore, we say a passion is too strong, not only when it defeats its own end, but when it impairs the force of other passions, which are equally necessary to form a temper of mind suited to a certain œconomy or state; and too weak, not merely on account of its insufficiency to answer its end, but because it cannot sustain its part or office in the balance of the whole system. Thus the love of life may be too strong when it takes from the regard due to one's country, and will not allow one bravely to encounter dangers, or even death on its account. Again, the love of fame may be too weak when it throws down the fences which render virtue more secure, or weakens the incentives which make it more active and public-spirited.

tion; or rather to say the truth, they are too extensive and too obscure for the human powers to comprehend.

Earthquakes are most common in volcanic countries: where a volcanoe exists, and when for a considerable time it has. intermitted its customary discharges of inflammable matters, shocks of earthquakes begin to be dreaded: this is so regu larly the case, that an earthquake in such a situation and circumstances is frequently the forerunner of an explosion of the volcanoe.

Earthquakes are often preceded by long drought: they do not, however, immediately follow the cessation of dry weather or the fall of rain electrical appearances are observed in the air before the concussion is perceived: the au rora borealis is frequent and brilliant, and bright meteors are often seen to dart from one quarter of the heavens to another, or between the air and the earth. Before the shock comes on, the sea is unusually troubled, without any visible cause, swelling up with great noise in the midst of a profound calm. On land fountains and springs are greatly agi tated the air at the instant of the concussion has been observed to be particularly calm and serene, but afterwards it became cloudy and dark.

The noise accompanying an earthquake sometimes resembles that of a number of carriages driving along the pavement of a street with great rapidity: at other times the noise is like a violent rushing wind, or the explosion of numerous artillery.

The effects of earthquakes on the surface of the earth are various : at one time the surface is instantaneously heaved up perpendicularly, at another it assumes a kind of roiling motion from side to side: great openings or fissures are made in the ground, generally throwing out vast quantities of water with fire and smoke; these last are often emitted where no fissure is perceptible. On the ocean the earthquake is often not less terrible than on the land; the sea

VOL. II.

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swells