wands and gold sticks that are symbols of the dignity of office; this love of our own cane does not render every other walking stick, which we may see in a shop, or in the hands of others, of much greater value in our conception, than if we had been in the habit of walking without any support. If then it be, as is asserted, precisely in the same manner, that we acquire our affection for the living beings around us,-who, otherwise, would have been as indifferent to our regard, as it is possible for a snuff-box or a cane to be,— why is not the effect confined, or nearly confined, to those immediately around us, with whom the associations of pleasure have been formed? Beyond the circle to which the magic of association spreads, every thing should be as before, or at least very nearly as before. For the stranger whom we have never seen, in the same manner as for the snuff-box of another, we should retain feelings that scarcely pass beyond indifference; and should as little look with affection on all mankind, in consequence of the pleasure which has attended our intimacy with a few-if affection be in itself foreign to our nature, and the result of factitious circumstances, as we should look with a covetous eye on every walking stick, because we should feel sorrow, far beyond its intrinsic worth, on the loss of our own. If, indeed, man be naturally more precious to our affection than the paltry baubles of a toyshop, we may suppose, in his case, a more extensive diffusion of every feeling of regard. But to ascribe to man any original title to our love, independent of the use which we may learn to derive from him, as from a machine that may be instrumental to our convenience, would be to abandon the very principle on which the whole strange system of moral selfishness is founded.

Even as a theory, then, of mere affection, the selfish theory is inadequate. But however widely affection may be supposed to be spread, in consequence of the association and ready suggestion of pleasures received from a few individuals only-though it were admitted, that, by the remembrance of these, we might be led to love all the individuals of mankind, and loving them to wish their happiness--it must still be remembered, that the only influence of affection, as mere affection, is to render the happiness of others desirable, like the attainment of any other object of desire. Instead of wishing merely the gratification of our sensual appetites,-of our intellectual curiosity,-of our ambition, we have now other wishes to mingle with these that relate to the happiness of others; and, we may regret, that the happiness of others has not been produced by certain actions, in the same way, as we may regret, that we have not attained the objects of any of our other wishes,—that we are not the possessors of a fortunate ticket in the lottery, or have not had the majority of votes in an election to some office of honour or emolument. But joy and regret are all which we can feel, even in love itself; and obligation, virtue, merit, the self-complacency or remorse of conscience, are as little explained by the growth of mere love and hatred, as if every object of these affections had remained indifferent to us.

We have considered, then, the selfish system in two aspects: first, as it represents mankind as universally, in every hour and minute of their waking existence, intent on one sole object, their own convenience,-incapable of feeling any disinterested affection for another; and, therefore, when appearing to wish the happiness of a father, or wife, or son, or friend, wishing at heart only their own. We have afterwards considered that less sordid modification of the system, which supposes us, indeed, to have been, originally, as selfish as the other represents us to be for the whole course of our life;

but which does a little more justice to the feelings of our maturer years, by admitting, that we become susceptible of affections that prompt us to act, even when our own convenience is not the immediate object before our eyes; and in our examination of both forms of the doctrine, we have seen, how incapable it is of explaining those notions of obligation, virtue, merit, that constitute the moral phenomena, which a theory that professes to be a theory of morals, ought as little to omit,-as a theory of light to omit all notice of the radiant fluid, the properties of which it professes to examine, while it confines its attention to the forms of the mirrors or lenses which variously reflect or transmit it.

After these two lights, in which the system commonly distinguished by the name of the Selfish System of Morals has been considered by us, there remains still one other light, in which it is to be viewed; that in which the obligation of virtue is supposed to consist merely in an exclusive regard to our own individual eternity of happiness, in another life; and virtue itself to consist in obedience to the will of the Supreme Being; not on account of the moral excellence of that Supreme Being, or of his bounty to us, which might seem of itself to demand compliances, that are the only possible expressions of the gratitude of dependent creatures, to him from whom their power as well as their happiness is derived, but without any such views of reverence or gratitude, at least without any such views, as are in the slightest degree necessary to the virtue of their motives,-merely on account of the power which the Ruler of the universe possesses, to give or withhold the happiness which is our only object. This form of the selfish system, which has been embraced by many theological writers of undoubted piety and purity, is notwithstanding, I cannot but think, as degrading to the human character, as any other form of the doctrine of absolute selfishness; or rather, it is in itself the most degrading of all the forms which the selfish system can assume because, while the selfishness which it maintains is as absolute and unremitting, as if the objects of personal gain were to be found in the wealth or honours, or sensual pleasures of this earth; this very selfishness is rendered more offensive, by the noble image of the Deity which is continually presented to our mind, and presented in all his benevolence, not to be loved, but to be courted with a mockery of affection. The sensualist of the common system of selfishness, who never thinks of any higher object in the pursuit of the little pleasures which he is miserable enough to regard as happiness, seems to me, even in the brutal stupidity in which he is sunk, a being more worthy of esteem than the selfish of another life; to whose view God is ever present, but who view him always only to feel constantly in their heart, that in loving him who has been the dispenser of all the blessings which they have enjoyed, and who has revealed himself in the glorious character of the diffuser of an immortality of happiness, they love not the Giver himself, but only the gifts which they have received, or the gifts that are promised. Yet, such is the influence of the mere admission of the being of a God, and of the images of holiness and delight which that divine name is sufficient to suggest; that while the common system of the universal selfishness of virtue has been received by the virtuous themselves, with an indignant horror that was itself almost a confutation of the system; the equally universal selfishness of the doctrine of these theological moralists, has been received, not merely without any emotion of disgust, but with the approbation and assent of no small portion of those, who, in opposition to the very doctrine which they have embraced, are truly in VOL. II.

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their hearts disinterested lovers of man, and equally disinterested lovers and worshippers of God.

The doctrine of the absolute selfishness of our homage to God, and of our social virtues, considered as the mere conformity of our wills to the command of Him who is the dispenser of eternal happiness and eternal misery, for the sole reason of his power of thus dispensing happiness or misery, and not on account of his own transcendent excellence, that of itself might seem to demand such a conformity,—is a doctrine of very old date. But the writer who in modern times has led to the widest diffusion of this doctrine, is Archdeacon Paley, the most popular of all our ethical writers; and one of the most judicious in the mere details of ethics, however false and dangerous I consider his leading doctrines to be. Virtue, he defines to be, "the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness."* The last part of the definition is the most important part of the whole; for, the knowledge of this everlasting happiness he supposes to be all which constitutes moral obligation; meaning by obligation, not any feeling of moral love, but the influence of happiness as an object of physical desire, and of pain as an object of physical aversion; one or other of which is to follow our obedience or disobedience to the command of the Power who is the supreme dispenser of both. The will of God is our rule, he says, but " private happiness is our motive," and therefore our obligation. In short, the inducement or temptation to be virtuous, which is all that constitutes our obligation to be virtuous, is precisely of the same kind with the inducements or temptations to vice, which may be said in like manner to constitute an obligation to be vicious. The only difference is, that a good man, that is to say, a person whom we distinguish by the flattering title of good, is more prudent than those whom we have chosen to denominate wicked. Both act from an obligation which may be said to be moral in one case as much as in the other; since in neither is disinterestedness of affection necessary to virtue; and in both there is that desire of pleasure which is sufficient to constitute an inducenient, and therefore, in his acceptation of the word, which he regards as synonymous with inducement, an obligation. That we have a moral sentiment of obligation, virtue, merit, which is very different from the mere inducements of pleasure, near or remote, I surely need not attempt to demonstrate to you, after the remarks already made on the selfish system in general. The doctrine of Paley differs, as you perceive, from the general selfish system, only by the peculiar importance which it very justly gives to everlasting happiness and misery, when compared with the brief pains or pleasures of this life. In the scale of selfish gain, it is a greater quantity of physical enjoyment which it has in view. It is a sager selfishness, but it is not less absolute selfishness which it maintains; and it is therefore subject to all the objections which I urged before at great length, and which it would now therefore be idle to repeat.

One great answer obviously presents itself to all those selfish systems which convert the whole of virtue into prudence; and make the differences of virtue and vice in every respect precisely the same in kind, as those of speculators in the market of commerce, who have employed their capital more or less advantageously, in the different bargains that have been offered to them. All those systems are of course intended to be faithful pictures of our feelings. The virtue which they profess to explain is the virtue which

* Mor. and Pol. Philosophy, Vol. I. p. 42. Lond. 1818.

we feel; and if we felt no moral approbation of certain actions, no moral disapprobation of certain other actions, it would be manifestly absurd to speak of virtue or of vice. It is to our consciousness then, that we must look for determining the fidelity of the picture ;--and what features does our consciousness exhibit? If two individuals were to expose themselves to the same peril, for the same common friend, and if we could be made to understand, that the one had no other motive for this apparently generous exposure, than the wish of securing a certain amount of happiness to himself, at some time, either near or remote-on earth, or after he has quitted earth; -the other no motive but that of saving a life which was dearer to him than his own,-in which case would our feeling of moral approbation more strongly arise? Is it the more selfish of the two whom alone we should consider as the moral hero; or rather, is it not only, in thinking of him who forgot every thing but the call of friendship, and the disinterested feeling of duty which prompted him to obey the call,-that we should feel any moral approbation whatever? It is precisely in proportion as selfish happiness is absent from the mind of the agent, or is supposed to be absent from it, in any sacrifice which is made for another, that the moral admiration arises;and what then can we think of a theory of this very moral admiration, which asserts it to arise only when it does not arise, and not to arise only when it does arise? We should not hesitate long in rejecting a theory of fluidity which should ascribe congelation to an increase of heat, and liquefaction to a diminution of it;-and as little ought we to hesitate in rejecting a theory of virtue that supposes the moral approbation which gives birth to our very notion of virtue, to arise only when the immediate motive of the agent has been the view of his own happiness in this or any other world,-and to be precluded, therefore, by the very generosity of the agent, in every case in which he thought only of the happiness of others which he could increase, of the misery of others which he could relieve.

That part of the system of Dr. Paley, then, which makes the sole motive to virtue the happiness of the agent himself, is false as a picture of the feelings of moral approbation and disapprobation for which it professes to account. The other part of his system of virtue, however, which resolves it into conformity to the will of God, as obeyed from this motive of personal gain, may merit a little fuller investigation.

LECTURE LXXX.

EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM, CONCLUDED; EXAMINATION OF DR. SMITH'S SYSTEM.

GENTLEMEN, In the close of my last Lecture, after examining different modifications of the selfish system, I proceeded to consider one form of it which has not usually been ranked with the others, but which is not less absolutely selfish; since it supposes the sole motive to virtue to be the view of our own personal advantage: the only difference being, that, instead of fixing its

desires on the quantity of pleasure which can be enjoyed in this life, it extends them to the greater quantity of pleasure which may be enjoyed by us in the everlasting life that awaits us, having still, however, no other motive than the desire of this personal enjoyment, and the corresponding fear of pain, in the actions which may seem, but only seem, to arise from a disinterested love of God, or a disinterested love of those whom God has committed to our affection.

The greater or less quantity of pleasure, however, which is coveted by us, either in intensity or duration, does not alter the nature of the principle which covets it: if the perception of the means of gratifying our own individual appetite for enjoyment, whether the pleasure be great or slight, near or remote, brief or everlasting, be all which constitutes what is in that case strangely termed moral obligation; and the system of Paley, therefore, to which I particularly alluded,—a system which defines virtue to be "the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, for the sake of everlasting happiness," and which makes, not the love of God, nor the love of mankind, but this love of everlasting happiness, the motive and sole obligation to the good which otherwise we should have had as little moral desire of producing or promoting, as of producing an equal or greater amount of evil,—must be allowed to be, in its very essence, as truly selfish, as if it had defined virtue to be the pursuit of mere wealth, or fame, or of the brief dignities, or still briefer pleasures of this mortal existence.

If the most prudent labourer after his own selfish interest, without the slightest regard for the happiness of others, unless as that happiness may be instrumental to his own, be constantly actuated by the same moral motive which influences the most generous lovers of mankind, how strange an illusion is all moral sentiment, which views, with such different feelings, objects that are in every moral respect precisely the same? But it is in our emotions alone, that our notions of morality have their rise; and how illusive, therefore, and radically false, I should rather say, must be that system which is founded on the absolute similarity of feelings that are recognised by every bosom as absolutely dissimilar.

Though I trust, then, it is sufficiently evident to you, from the results of the long discussion in which we have been engaged, that the moral obligation to virtue is not, as Paley says, the mere inducement of pleasure held out to us by power which we cannot disobey, without losing the pleasure, and encountering pain, but an inducement of a nobler kind;-since pleasure, though it may lead us to be virtuous, may surely, as mere pleasure, if there be no essential distinction of it, as pure or impure, right or wrong, often lead us into what we are at present accustomed to denominate vice; and though I shall, therefore, not repeat, in application to this enlarged selfishness, which extends its interested view through immortality, the objections previously urged against that more limited selfishness which looks only to the surface of the earth, and to the few years in which we are to be moving along it; it may be of importance to make a few remarks on that other part of the doctrine of this celebrated moralist, which makes conformity to the will of God the rule of virtue.

That virtuous actions--those actions which excite in us the feeling of moral approval, are conformable to the will of God, there can be no reason to doubt; since the very universality of this approval may be regarded as a sort of expression of the divine approbation. As little can we doubt, that,

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