THE

WORKS

WILLIAM PALEY, D. D.

ARCHDEACON OF CARLISLE:

COMPRISING THE

ADDITIONAL VOLUME OF SERMONS
FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1825.
WITH
A MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE.

COMPLETE IN SIX VOLUMES.
VOL. III.

CAMBRIDGE:
PUBLISHED BY HILLIARD AND BROWN,
BOOKSELLERS TO THE UNIVERSITY.
AHD SOLD BY BILLIARD, GRAY, LITTLE ft WILKINS, RICHARDSON, LORD ft
HOLBROOK, LINCOLN ft EDMANDS, CROCKER ft BREWSTER, MUNROE ft
FRANCIS, GRAY ft BOWEN, CARTER ft HENDEE, AND PEIRCE ft WILLIAMS,
BOSTON; G. ft C. ft H. CABVILL, NEW YORK; JOHN GRIGG, AND CAREY *
BART, PHILADELPHIA ; AND J. JEWETT, BALTIMORE.
MDCCCXXX.

hhc3 v,5

PRINCIPLES OF
MORAL AND POLITICAL
PHILOSOPHY.

TO THE
RIGHT REVEREND
EDMUND LAW, D. D.
LORD BISHOP OF CARLISLE.

My Lord,
Had the obligations which I owe to your Lordship's kind
ness been much less, or much fewer, than they are ; had per
sonal gratitude left any place in my mind for deliberation or for
inquiry ; in selecting a name which every reader might confess
to be prefixed with propriety to a work, that, in many of its
parts, bears no obscure relation to the general principles of
natural and revealed rehgion, I should have found myself di
rected by many considerations to that of the Bishop of Carl
isle. A long life spent in the most interesting of all hmnan
pursuits, the investigation of moral and rehgious truth, in
constant and unwearied endeavours to advance the discovery,
communication, and success of both ; a life so occupied, and
arrived at that period which renders every Ufe venerable, com
mands respect by a title which no virtuous mind will dispute,
which no mind sensible of the importance of these studies to
the supreme concernments of mankind wiU not rejoice to see
acknowledged. Whatever difference, or whatever opposition,
some who peruse your Lordship's writings may perceive be-

DEDICATION.

tween your conclusions and their own, the good and wise of all
persuasions wiU revere that industry, which has for its object
the illustration or defence of our common Christianity. Your
Lordship's researches have never lost sight of one purpose,
namely, to recover the simplicity of the gospel from beneath
that load of unauthorized additions, which the ignorance of
some ages, and the learning of others, the superstition of
weak, and the craft of designing men, have (unhappily for its
interest) heaped upon it. And this purpose, I am convinced,
was dictated by the purest motive ; by a firm, and, I think, a
just opinion, by whatever renders religion more rational, renders
it more credible : that he who, by a dUigent and faithful exam
ination of the original records, dismisses from the system one
article which contradicts the apprehension, the experience, or
the reasoning of mankind, does more towards recommending
the beUef, and, with the behef, the influence of Chrfetianity to
the understandings and consciences of serious inquirers, and
through them to universal reception and authority, than can
be effected by a thousand contenders for creeds and ordinan
ces of human establishment.
When the doctrine of transubstantiation had taken posses
sion of the Christian world, it was not without the industiy of
learned men that it came at length to be discovered, that no
such doctrine was contained in the New Testament. But
had those excellent persons done nothing more by their discov
ery, than abolished an innocent superstition, or changed some
directions in the ceremonial of public worship, they had mer
ited little of that veneration, with which the gratitude of Pro
testant churches remembers their services. What they did
for mankind was this : they exonerated Christianity of a
weight*which sunk it. If indolence or timidity had checked
these exertions, or suppressed the fruit and pubUcation of
these inquiries, is it too much to affirm, that infidelity would
at this day have been universal ?

DEDICATION. ^ Vll
I do not mean, my, Lord, by the mention of this example,
to insinuate, that any popular opinion which your Lordship
may have encountered, ought to be compared with transub
stantiation, or that the assurance with which we reject that
extravagant absurdity, is attainable in the controversies in
which your Lordship has been engaged : but I mean, by call
ing to mind those great reformers of the public faith, to ob
serve, or rather to express my own persuasion, that to restore
the purity, is most effectually to promote the progress of Chris
tianity ; and that the same virtuous motive which hath sanc
tified their labours, suggested yours. At a time when some
men appear not to perceive any good, and others to suspect
an evil tendency, in that spirit of examination, and research
which is gone forth in Christian countries, this testimony is
become due, not only to the probity of your Lordship's views,
but to the general cause of intellectual and rehgious hberty.
That your Lordship's hfe may be prolonged in health and
honour ; that it may continue to afford an instructive proof,
how serene and easy old age can be made by the memory of
important and well-intended labours, by the possession of pub
lic and deserved esteem, by the presence of many grateful rel
atives ; above all, by the resources of religion, by an unshaken
confidence in the designs of a ' faithful Creator,' and a settled
trust in the truth and in the promises of Christianity ; is the
fervent prayer of,
My Lord,
Your Lordship's dutiful.
Most obliged,
And most devoted Servant,
WILLIAM PALEY.
Carlisle, Feb. 10, 1785.

YOL. III.

PREFACE.

In the treatises that I have met with upon the subject of morals,
Tappear to.myself to have remarked the following imperfections ;
—either that the principle was erroneous, or that it was indis
tinctly explained, gr that the rules deduced from it were not suf
ficiently adapted to real life and to actual situations. The writ
ings of Grotius, and the larger work of Puffendorff", are of too
forensic a cast, too much mixed up with civil law and with the
jurisprudence of Germany, to answer precisely the design of -a
system of ethics, — the direction of private consciences in the
general conduct of human life. Perhaps, indeed, they are not
to be regarded as institutes of morality calculated to instruct an
individual in his duty, so much as a species of law books and law
authorities, suitedlo the practice ofthose courts of justice, whose
decisions are regulated by general principles of natural equity,
in conjunction with the maxims of the Roman code : of which
kind, I understand, there are many upon the Continent. To
which may be added, concerning both these authors, that they
are more occupied in describing the rights and usages of inde
pendent communities, than is necessary in a work which profess
es not to adjust the correspondence of nations, but to delineate
the offices of domestic life. The profiision also of classical quo
tations, with which many of their pages aboupd, seems to me a
fault from which it will not be easy to excuse them. If these
extracts be intended as decorations of style, the composition is
overloaded with ornaments of one kind. To any thing more than
ornament they can make no cleum. To propose them as serious

arguments, gravely to attempt to establish or fortify a moral
duty by the testimony of a Greek or Roman poet, is to trifle with
the attention of the reader, or rather to take it off from all just
principles of reasoning in morals.
Of our own writers in this branch of philosophy, I find none
that I think perfectly free from the three objections which I have
stated. There is likewise a fourth property observable almost
in all of them, namely, that they divide too much of the law of
nature from the precepts of revelation ; some authors industri
ously declining the mention of scripture authorities, as belonging
to a different province ; and others reserving them for a separate
volume : which appears to me much the same defect, as if a com
mentator on the laws of England should content himself with
stating upon each head the common law of the land, without tak
ing any notice of acts of parliament ; or should choose to give his
readers the common law in one book, and the statute law in
another. ' When the obligations of morality are taught,' says a
pious and celebrated writer, ' let the sanctions of Christianity
never be forgotten : by which it wilt be shown that they giye
strength and lustre to each other : religion will appear to be the
voice of reason, and morality will be the will of God.'*
The manner also in which modern writers have treated of sub
jects of morality, is in my judgment liable to much exception.
It has become of late a fashion to deliver moral institutes in
strings or series of detached propositions, without subjoining a
continued argument or regular dissertation to any of them. This
sententious, apophthegmatizing style, by crowding propositions
and paragraphs too fast upon the mind, and by carrying the eye
of the reader from subject to subject in too quick a succession,
gains not a sufficient hold upon the attention, to leave either the
memory furnished, or the understanding satisfied. However
useful a syllabus of topics or a series of propositions may be
in the hands of a lecturer, or as a guide to a student, who is sup
posed to consult other books, or to institute upon each subject
researches of his own, the method is by no means convenient for
* Preface to ' The Preceptor,' by Dr Johnson.

PREFACE. XI
ordinary readers ; because few readers are such thinkers as to
want only a hint tp set their thoughts at work upon ; or such as
will pause and tarry at every proposition, till they have traced
out its dependency, proof, relation, and consequences, before
they permit themselves to, step on to another. A respectable
writer of this class* has comprised his doctrine of slavery in the
three following propositions : — •
* No one is born a slave, because every one is born with all
his original rights.'
' No one can become a slave, because no one from being a
person can, in the language of the Roman law, become a thing
or subject of property.'
' The supposed property of the master in the slave, therefore^
is matter of usurpation, not of right.'
It may be possible to deduce from these few adages such a
theory of the primitive rights of human nature, as will evince
the illegality of slavery ; but surely an author requires too
much of his reader, when he expects him to make these deduc
tions for himself ; or to supply, perhaps from some remote chap^
ter of the same treatise, the several proofs and explanations
which are necessary to render the meaning and truth of these
assertions intelligible.
There is a fault, the opposite of this, which some moralists
who have adopted a different, and I think a better plan of com
position, have not always been careful to avoid ; namely, the
dwelling upon verbal and elementary distinctions with a labour
and prolixity proportioned much more to the subtlety of the
question, than to its value and importance in the prosecution of
the subject. A writer upon the law of nature,"f whose explica
tions in every part of philosophy, though always diffuse, are of
ten very successful, has employed three long sections in en
deavouring to prove that ' permissions are not laws.' The dis
cussion of this controversy, however essential it might be to dia
lectic precision, was certainl y not necessary to the progress of
* Dr Ferguson, author of "Institutes of Moral Philosophy,' 1767.
t Dr Rutherford, author of ' Institutes of Natural Law.'

PREPACE.

a work designed to describe the duties and obligations of civil
life. The reader becomes impatient when he is detained by
disquisitions which have no other object than the settling of
terms and phrases ; and, what is worse, they for whose use
such books are chiefly intended, will not be persuaded to read
them at all.
I am led to propose these strictures, not by any propensity to
depreciate the labours of my predecessors, much less to invite a
comparison between the merits of their performances and my
own i but solely by the consideration, that when a writer offers
a book to the pubhc, upon a subject on which the public are
already in possession of many others, he is bound by a kind of
literary justice to inform his readers, distinctly and specifically,
what it is he professes to supply, and what he expects to im
prove. The imperfections above enumerated are those which
I have endeavoured to avoid or remedy. Of the execution, the
reader must judge : but this was the design.
Concerning the principle of morals it would be premature to
speak ; but concerning the manner of unfolding and explaining
that principle, I have somewhat which I wish to be remarked.
An experience of nine years in the office of a public tutor in
one of the universities, and in that department of education to
which these chapters relate, afforded me frequent occasions to
observe, that, in discoursing to young minds upon topics of mo
rality, it required much more pains to make them perceive the
difficulty, than to understand the solution ; that, unless the sub
ject was so drawn up to a point, as to exhibit the full force of
an objection, or the exact place of a doubt, before any expla
nation was entered upon, — in other words, unless some curios
ity was excited before it was attempted to be satisfied, the la
bour of the teacher was lost. When information was not desir
ed, it was seldom, I found, retained. I have made this obser
vation my guide in the following work : that is, upon each oc
casion I have endeavoured, before I suffered myself to proceed
in the disquisition, to put the reader in complete possession of the
question ; and to do it in the way that I thought most likely to
stir up his own doubts and solicitude about it.

PREFACE.

In purSiiing the principle of morals through the detail of cases
to which it is applicable, I have had in view to accommodate
both the choice of the subjects, and the manner of handling
theih, to the situations which arise in the life of an inhabitant of
this country in these times. This is the thing that I think to
be principally wanting in former treatises ; and perhaps the
chief advantage which will be found in mine. I have examined
no doubts, I have discussed no obscurities, I have encountered
no errours, I have adverted to no controversies, but what I
have seen actually to exist. If some of the questions treated
of appear to a more instructed reader minute or puerile, I de
sire such reader to be assured that I have found them occasions
of difficulty to young minds ; and what I have observed in
young minds, I should expect to meet with in all who approach
these subjects for the first tiine. Upon each article of human
duty, I have combined with the conclusions of reason the de
clarations of scripture, when they are to be had, as of co-ordi
nate authority, and as both terminating iii the same sanctions.
In thie manner of the work, I have endeavoured so to attem
per the 6J)positc plans above animadverted upon, as that the
reader may not accuse me either of too much haste, or too
much delay. I have bestowed upon each subject enough of dis
sertation to give a body and substance to the chapter in which
it is treated of, as well as coherence and perspicuity: on the
other hand, I have seldom, I hope, exercised the patience of the
reader by the length aiid prolixity of my essays, or disappointed
that patience at last by the tenuity and unimportance of the
conclusion. There are two particulars in the following work for which it
may be thought necessary that I should offer some excuse.
The first of which is, that I have scarcely ever referred to any
other book, or mentioned th« name of the author whose thoughts;
and sbittfetimes, possibly, whose very expressions I have adopted.
My method of waiting has constantly been this : to extract what
I could from my bwn stbres and iriy 6\^n rfeflecfibils in the first

place ; to put down that, and afterwards to consult upon each
subject such readings as fell in my way : which order, I am
convinced, is the only one whereby any person can keep his
thoughts from sliding into other men's trains. The effect of
such a plan upon the production itself will be, that, whilst some
parts in matter or manner may be new, others will be little else
than a repetition of the old. I make no pretensions to perfect
originality: I claim to be something more than a mere compiler.
Much, no doubt, is borrowed ; but the fact is, that the notes for
this work having been prepared for some years, and such things
having been from time to time inserted in them as appeared to
me worth preserving, and such insertions made commonly with
out the name of the author from whom they were taken, I
should, at this time, have found a difficulty in recovering those
names with sufficient exactness to be able to render to every
man his own. Nor, to speak the truth, did it appear to me
worth while to repeat the search merely for this purpose. When
authorities are relied upon, names must be produced : when a
discovery has been made in science, it may be unjust to borrow
the invention without acknowledging the author. But in an ar
gumentative treatise, and upon a subject which allows no place
for discovery or invention, properly so called ; and in which all
that can belong to a writer is his mode of reasoning, or his judg
ment of probabilities ; I should have thought it superfluous, had
it been, easier to me than it was, to have interrupted my text, or
crowded my margin, with references to every author • whose
sentiments I have made use of. There is, however, one work
to which I owe so much, that it would be ungrateful not to con
fess the obligation ; I mean the writings of the late Abraham
Tucker, Esq. part of which were published by himself, and the
remainder since his death, under the title of ' The Light of
Nature pursued, by Edward Search, Esq.' I have found in
this writer more original thinking and observation upon the
several subjects that he has taken in hand, than in any other,
not to say, than in all others put together. His talent also for
illustration is unrivalled. But his thoughts are diffused through

PREFACE.

a long, various, and irregular work. I shall account it no
mean praise, if I have been sometimes able to dispose into
method, to collect into heads and articles, or to exhibit in more
compact and tangible masses, what, in that otherwise excellent
performance, is spread over too much surface.
The next circumstance/or which some apology may be expect
ed, is the joining of moral and political philosophy together, or
the addition of a book of politics to a system of ethics. Against
this objection, if it be made one, I might defend myself by the
example of many approved writers, who have treated de officiis
hominis et civis, or, as some choose to express it, ' of the rights
and obligations of man, in his individual and social capacity,' in
the same book. I might allege, also, that the part a member of
.the commonwealth shall take in political contentions, the vote
he shall give, the councils he shall approve, the support he shall
afford, or the opposition he shall make, to any system of public
measures, — is as much a question of personal duty, as much
concerns the conscience of the individual who deliberates, as
the determination of any doubt which relates to the conduct of
private life ; that consequently political philosophy is, properly
speaking, a continuation of moral philosophy ; or rather indeed
a part of it, supposing moral philosophy to have for its aim
the information of the human conscience in every deliberation
that is likely to come before it. I might avail myself of these
excuses, if I wanted them ; but the vindication upon which I
rely is the following : In stating the principle of morals, the rea
der will observe that I have employed some industry in ex
plaining the theory, and showing the necessity of general rules ;
without the full and constant consideration of which, I am per
suaded that no system of moral philosophy can be satisfactory
or consistent. This foundation being laid, or rather this habit
being formed, the discussion of political subjects, to which,
more than to almost any other, general rules are applicable, be
came clear and easy. Whereas, had these topics been assign
ed to a distinct work, it would have been necessary to have
repeated the same rudiments, to have estabhshed over again the
VOL. 111. 3

same principles, as those which we had already exemplified, and
rendered familiar to the reader, in the former part of this. In a-
word, if there appear to any one too great a diversity, or too
wide a distance, between the subjects treated of in the course
of the present volume, let him be reminded, that the doctrine of
general rules pervades and connects the whole.
It may not be improper, however, to admonish the reader, that,
under the name of politics, he is not to look for those occa
sional controversies, which the occurrences of the present day,
or any temporary situation of public afiairs, may excite ; and
most of which, if not beneath the dignity, it is beside the pur
pose, of a philosophical institution to advert to. He will per
ceive that the several disquisitions are framed with a reference
to the condition of this country, and of this government : but it
seemed to me to belong to the design of a work like the follow
ing, not so much to discuss each altercated point with the par
ticularity of a political pamphlet upon the subject, as to deliver
those universal principles, and to exhibit that mode and train of
reasoning in politics, by the due application of which every
man might be enabled to attain to just conclusions of his own.
I am not ignorant of an objection that has been advanced against
all abstract speculations concerning the origin, principle, or
limitation of civil authority ; namely, that such speculations pos
sess little or no influence upon the conduct either of the state
or of the subject, of the governours or the governed; nor are at
tended with any useful consequences to either; that in times of
tranquillity they are not wanted ; in times of confusion they are
never heard. This representation, however, in my opinion, is not
just. Times of tumult, it is true, are not the times to learn ; but
the choice which men make of their side and party, in the most
critical occasions of the commonwealth, may nevertheless depend
upon the lessons they' have received, the books they have read,
and the opinions they have imbibed, in seasons of leisure and
quietness. Some judicious persons, who were present at Geneva
during the troubles which lately convulsed that city, thought
they perceived, in the contentions there carrying on, the oper-

PREFACE. XVU
ation of that political theory, which the writings of Rousseau, and
the unbounded esteem in which these writings are holden by
his countrymen, had diffused amongst the people. Throughout
the political disputes that have within these few years taken
place in Great Britain, in her sister kingdom, and in her foreign
dependencies, it was impossible not to observe, in the language
of party, inj;he resolutions of public meetings, in debate, in
conversation, in the general strain ofthose fugitive and diurnal
addresses to the public which such occasions call forth, the pre-
valency of those ideas of civil authority which are displayed in
the works of Mr Locke. The credit of that great name, the
courage and liberality of his principles, the skill and clearness
"with which his arguments are proposed, no less than the weight
of the arguments themselves, have given a reputation and cur
rency to his opinions, of which I am persuaded, in any unsettled
state of public affairs, the influence would be felt. As this is not
a place for examining the truth or tendency of these doctrines, I
would not be understood, by what I have said, to express any
judgment concerning either. I mean only to remark, that such
doctrines are not without effect ; and that it is of practical im
portance to have the principles from which the obligations of
social union, and the extent of civil obedience, are derived,
rightly explained and well understood. Indeed, as far as I have
observed, in political beyond all other subjects, where men are
without some fundamental and scientific principles to resort to,
they are liable to have their understandings played upon by
cant phrases and unmeaning terms, of which every party in
every country possesses a vocabulary. We appear astonished
when we see the multitude led away by souiids ; but we ghould
remember that, if sounds work miracles, it is always upon igno
rance. The influence of names is in exact proportion to the
want of knowledge.
These are the observations with which I have judged it expe
dient to prepare the attention of my reader. Concerning the
personal motives which engaged me in the following attempt, it
is not necessary that I say much; the nature of my academical

situation, a great deal of leisure since my retirement from it, the
recommendation of an honoured and excellent friend, the author
ity of the venerable prelate to whom these labours are inscribed,
the not perceiving in what way I could employ my time or talents
better, and my disapprobation, in literary men, of that fastidious
indolence, which sits stil] because it disdains to do little, were the
considerations that directed my thoughts to this design. Nor
have I repented of the undertaking. Whatever be the fate or
reception of this work, it owes its author nothing. In sickness
and in health I have found in it that which can alone alleviate
the one, or give enjoyment to the other, — occupation and en
gagement.

CONTENTS.

BOOK L
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS.
Ghap. I. Definition and Use of the Science . . . Page 1
II. The Law of Honour  ib.
III. The Law of the Land  2
IV. The Scriptures  3
V. The Moral Sense  5
VI. Human Happiness  11
VII. Virtue  21
BOOK IL
MORAL OBLIGATION.
Chap. I. The Question, Why am I obliged to keep my Word ?
considered  28
II. What we mean, when we say a Man is obliged to do
a thing  29
III. The Question, Why am I obliged to keep my Word .'
resumed  30
IV. The Will of God  32
V. The Divine Benevolence  34
VI. Utility  36
VIL The Necessity of General Rules .... 37
VIII. The Consideration of General Consequences pur
sued  -39
IX. Of Right  42
X. The Division of Rights  43
XI. The General Rights of Mankind .... 47

XX CONTENTS.
BOOK m.
RELATIVE DUTIES.
PART I.
OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE DETERMINATE.
^Chap. I. Of Property .  53
¦ II. The Use of the Institution of Property ... 54
III. The History of Property  56
IV. In what the Right of Property is founded ... 57
V. Promises  .61
VI. Contracts  71
VIL Contracts of Sale  72
VIII. Contracts of Hazard  75
IX. Contracts of lending of inconsumable Property . . 76
X. Contracts concerning the lending of Money . . 78
XI. Contracts of Labour — Service  82
XII. Contracts of Labour — Commissions .... 85
XIII. Contracts of Labour — Partnership .... 87
XIV. Contracts of Labour — Offices  88
XV. Lies  90
XVI. Oaths  93
XVII. Oath in Evidence  98
XVIII. Oath of Allegiance  99
XIX. Oath against Bribery in the Election of Members of
Parliament  102
XX. Oath against Simony  i5.
XXI. Oaths to observe local Statutes  105
XXII. Subscription to Articles of Religion . . . .106
XXIII. Wills  107
BOOK IIL
PART II.
OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE INDETERMINATE, AND OF THE
CRIMES OPPOSITE TO THESE.
Chap. I. Charity  113
II. Charity— The Treatment of our Domestics and De
pendants .... . . 114

CONTENTS.

'

XXI

III. Slavery • . . . .
IV. Charity — Professional Assistance

115 117
V. Charity — Pecuniary Bounty
VI. Resentment
119127
VII. Anger ....
VIII. Revenge 
IX. DueUing ....
X. Litigation ....
XI. Gratitude ....
ib.
129132 135137
Xn. Slander . ^ . .
139
BOOK III,
PART III.
OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH RESULT FROM THE CONSTITUTION OF
THE SEXES, AND OF THE CRIMES OPPOSED TO THESE.
Chap. I. Of the Public Use of Marriage Institutions . . 141
II. Fornication  142
III. Seduction  147
IV. Adultery . ...".... 149
V. Incest  152
VI. Polygamy  153
VIL Divorce  157
" VIII. Marriage  163
IX. Of the Duty of Parents  166
X. The Rights of Parents  177
XI. The Duty of Children  178
BOOK IV.
DUTIES TO OURSELVES.
Chap. I. The Rights of Self-Defence
II. Drunkenness
III. Suicide
183185190
CONTENTS.

BOOK V.
DUTIES TOWARDS GOD.
Chap. I. Division of these Duties  196
II. Of the Duty and of the Efficacy of Prayer, so far as the
same appear fl-om the Light of Nature . . . 197
III. Of the Duty and Efficacy of Prayer, as represented
in Scripture  202
IV. Of Private Prayer, Family Prayer, and Public Wor
ship  205
V. Of Forms of Prayer in Public Worship . . .210
VI. Of the Use of Sabbatical Institutions .... 214
VII. Of the Scripture Account of Sabbatical Institutions . 216
VIII. By what Acts and Omissions the Duty of the Chris
tian Sabbath is violated  226
IX. Of Reverencing the Deity  228

BOOK VI.

ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL KNOWLEDGE.

Chap. I. Of the Origin of Civil Government ....
II. How Subjection to Civil Government is maintained .
III. The Duty of Submission to Civil Government explained
IV. Of the Duty of Civil Obedience, as stated in the Chris
tian Scriptures
V. Of Civil Liberty
VI. Of differeht Forma of Government
VII. Of the British Constitution
VIII. Of the Administration of Justice
IX. Of Crimes and Punishments
X. Of Religious Establishments, and of Toleration
XI. Of Population and Provision ; and of Agriculture and
Commerce, as subservient thereto.
XII. Of War, and of Military Establishments

235239 244 254260
264 272
293311328349379

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK I.

PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS.

CHAPTER I.
DEFINITION AND USE OF THE SCIENCE.
Moral Philosophy, Morality, Ethics, Casuistry, Natural
Law, mean aU the same thing ; namely, that science idhich
ieojihes men their duty and the reasons of it.
The use of such a study depends upon this, that, without
it, the rules of life, by which men. are ordinarily governed, of
tentimes mislead them, through a defect either in the rule, or
in the application.
These rules are, the Law of Honour, the Law of the Land,
and the Scriptures.

CHAPTER II.
THE LAW OF HONOUR.
The Law of Honour is a system of rules constructed by
people of fashion, and calculated to facilitate their intercourse
with one another ; and for no other puipose.
Consequently, nothhig is adverted to by the Law of Hon-
ovir, but what tends to incommode this intercourse.
VOL. III. . 1

2 THE LAW OF THE LAND.
Hence this law only prescribes -and regulates the duties be
twixt equals ; omitting such as relate to the Supreme Being,
as well as those which we owe to our inferiours.
For which reason, profaneness, neglect of public worship or
private devotion, cruelty to servants, rigorous treatment of ten
ants or other dependants, want of charity to the poor, injuries
done to tradesmen by insolvency or delay of payment, with
numberless examples of the same kind, are accounted no
breaches of honour ; because a man is not a less agreeable
companion for these vices, nor the worse to deal with, in those
concerns which are usually transacted between one gentle
man and another.
Again'; the Law of Honour, being constituted by men oc
cupied in the pursuit of pleasure, and for the mutual conven-
iency of such men, will be found, as might be expected from
the character and design of the law makers, to be, in most in
stances, favourable to the hcentious indulgence of the natural
passions. Thus it allows of fornication, adidtery, drunkenness, prodi-
gahty, dueUing, and of revenge in the extreme ; and lays no
stress upon the virtues opposite to these.

CHAPTER III.
THE LAW OF THE LAND.
That part of mankuid, who are beneath the Law of Hon
our, often make the Law of the Land their ixde of hfe ; that
is, they are satisfied with themselves, so long as they do or
omit nothing, for the doing or omitting of which the law can
punish them. "^
Whereas every system of human laws, considered as a rule
of life, laboius under the two following defects :
I. Human laws omit many duties, as not objects of compul
sion ; such as piety to GodJ bounty to the poor, forgiveness of
injuries, education of children, gratitude to benefactors.
The law never speaks but to command, nor commands but
where it can compel; consequently those duties, which by
their nature must be voluntary, are left out of the statute-
book, as lying beyond the reach of its operation and authority.

THE SCRIPTURES. 3
II. Human laws permit, or, which is the same thing, suffer
to go unpunished, many crimes, because they are incapable of
being defined by any previous description— Of which nature
are luxury, prodigaUty, partiality in voting at those elections
in which the qualifications of the candidate ought to determine
the success, caprice in the disposition of men's fortunes at their
death, disrespect to parents, and a multitude of similar exam
ples. For, this is the alternative : either the law must define be
forehand and vsdth precision the offences which it punishes, or
it must be left to the discretion of the magistrate, to deter
mine upon each particular accusation, whether it constitute
that offence which the law designed to punish, or not ; which
is, in effect, leaving to the magistrate to punish or not to pun
ish, at his pleasure, the individual who is brought before him ;
which is just so much tyranny. Where, therefore, as in the
instances above mentioned, the distinction between right and
wrong is of too subtile or of too secret a nature to be ascertain
ed by any preconcerted language, the law of most countries,
especially of free states, rather than commit the liberty of the
subject to the discretion of the magistrate, leaves men in such
cases to themselves.

CHAPTER IV.
THE SCRIPTURES.
Whoever expects to find in the Scriptures a specific du-ec-
tion for every moral doubt that arises, looks for more than he
will meet with. And to what a magnitude such a detail of
particular precepts would have enlarged the sacred volume,
may be partly understood from the follovsdng consideration : —
The laws of this country, including the acts of the legislature,
and the decisions of our supreme courts of justice, are not con
tained in fewer than fifty folio volumes ; and yet it is pot
once in ten attempts that you can find the case you look for,
in any law book whatever ; to say nothing of those numerous
points of conduct, concerning which the law professes not to
prescribe or determine any thing. Had then the same partic
ularity, which obtains in human laws so far as they go, been

4 THE SCRIPTURES.
attempted in the Scriptures, throughout the whole extent of
morality, it is manifest they would have been by much too
bulky to be either read or circulated ; or rather, as St John
says, ' even the world itself could not contain the books that
should be written.'
Morality is taught in Scripture in this wise. — General rules
are laid down, of piety, justice, benevolence, and purity : such
as, woishippuig God in spuit and in truth; doing as we
would be done by ; loving our neighbour as ourselves ; forgiv
ing others, as we expect forgiveness from God ; that mercy is
better than sacrifice ; that not that which entereth into a man
(nor, by parity of reason, any ceremonial pollutions,) but that
which proceedeth from the heart, defileth him. These rules
are occasionally illustrated, either by fictitious' examples, as
in the parable of the gbod Samaritan ; and of the cruel ser
vant, who refused to his feUow servant that indulgence and
compassion which his master had shown to him : or in instan
ces which actually presented thetnselves, as in Christ's re
proof of his disciples at the Samaritan village ; his praise of
the poor widow, who cast in her last mite ; his censm'e of the
Pharisees who chose out the chief rooms, — and of the tradition,
whereby they evaded the command to sustain their in,digent
parents : or, lastly, in the resolution of questions, which
those who were about our Saviour proposed to him ; as his
answer to the young man who asked him, ' What lack I yet ?'
and to the honest scribe, who had found out, even in that age
and country, that ' to love God and his neighbour, was more
than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifice.'
And this is in truth the way in which all practical sciences
are taught, as Arithmetic, Grammar, Navigation, and the
hke. — Rules are laid down, and examples are subjoined ; not
that these examples are the cases, much less all the cases
which -ivill actually occur, but by v.-ay only of explaining the
principle of the rule, and as so many specimens of the method
of applying it. The chief difference is, that the examples in
Scripture are not annexed to the rules with the didactic regu
larity to which we are now-a-days accustomed, but delivered
dispersedly, as particular occasions suggested them ; which
gave them, however, (especially to those who heard them, and
were present to the occasions which produced them,) an ener
gy and persuasion, much beyond what the same or any in
stances would have appeared with, in their places in a system.

THE MORAL SENSE. 5
Beside this, the Scriptui-es commonly presuppose, in the per
sons to whom they speak, a linowledge of the principles of na-
tm'al justice ; and are employed not so much to teach new
rules of moraUty, as to enforce the practice of it by new sanc
tions, and by a greater certainty ; which last seems to be
the proper business of a revelation from God, and what was
most wanted.
Thus the 'unjust, covenant bieakers, and extortioners,'
are condemned in Scriptm-e, supposing it kno\\Ti, or leaving it,
where it admits of •doubt, to morahsts to determine, what in
justice, extortion, or breach of covenant are.
The above considerations are intended to prove that the
Scriptures do not supersede the use of the science of which we
profess to treat, and at the same time to acquit them of any
charge of imperfection or insufficiency on that account.

CHAPTER V.
THE MORAL SENSE.
'The father of Caius Toranius had been proscribed by
the triumvirate. Caius Toranius, coming over to the inter
ests of that party, discovered to the oflicers, who were hi pur
suit of his father's life, the place where he concealed himself,
and gave them withal a description, by which they might.
distinguish his person, when they found huii. The old man,
more anxious for the safety and fortunes of his soii, than
about the httle that might remain of his own hfe, began im
mediately to inquire of the officers who seized hun, whether
his son was well, whether he had done his duty to the satisfac
tion of his generals. That son, rephed one of the officers, so
dear to thy affections, betrayed thee to us ; . by his information
thou art apprehended, and diest. The officer with this struck
a poniard to his heart, and the unhappy parent fell, not so
much affected by his fate, as by the means to which he owed
it.'* * ' Caius Toranius triumvirum partes secutiis, proscriptl patris sui prsetoiii et
ornati viri latebras, aitatem, notasque corporis, quibus agnosci posset, centunombua
edidit, qui eum persecuti sunt. Senex de filii magis vita, et incrementis, quam de
reliquo spiritu suo sollicitns, an incolumis esset, et an imperatoribus satisfaceret, in-
terrogare eos ccepit. E quibus uniis : Ab illo, inquit, quern tantopere diligis, demon-

6 THE MORAL SENSE,
Now the question is, whether, if this story were related to
the wild boy caught some years ago in the woods of Hanover,
or to a savage vsdthout experience, and without instruction, cut
off in his infancy from all intercourse with his species, and,
consequently, imder no possible influence of example, authori
ty, education, sympathy, or habit ; whether, I say, such a one
would feel, upon the relation, any degree of that sentim,ent of
disapprobation of Toranius's conduct which we feel, or not.
They who maintain the existence of a moral sense ; of in
nate maxims ; of a natural' conscience ; that the love of virtue
and hatred of vice are instinctive ; or the perception of right
and wrong iatuitive, (all which are only different ways of
expressing the same opinion,) aflirm that he would.
They who deny the existence of a moral sense, <fcc. affirm
that he would not. —
And, upon this, issue is joined.
As the experiment has never been made, and, from the diffi
culty of procuring a subject, (not to mention the impossibUity
of proposing the question to him, if we had one,) is never hke-
ly to be made, what would be the event, can only be judged
of fi-om probable reasons.
They who contend for the affirmative, obseiTe, that we ap
prove examples of generosity, gratitude, fidehty, <fcc. and con-
derim the contrary, instantly, vsdthout dehberation, without
having any interest of our own concerned in them, oft-times
without being conscious of, or able to give any reason for, our
approbation ; that this approbation is uniform and universal ;
the same sorts of conduct being approved or disapproved in all
ages and countries of the world ; circumstances, say they,
which strongly indicate the operation of an instinct or moral
sense. On the other hand, answers have been given to most of
these arguments, by the patrons of the opposite system : and,
Fu'st, as to the uniform,ity above alleged, they controvert
the fact. They remark, from authentic accounts of historians
and travellers, that there is scarcely a single vice which, in
some age or country of the world, has not been countenanced
by pubhc opinion ; that in one country, it is esteemed an of
fice of piety in children to sustain their aged parents ; in an-
stratus nostro ministerio, filii indicio occideria : protinusque pectus ejus gladio tra-
jecit. Collapsus itaque est infelix, auctore Ciedis, quam ipsa CBede, miserior.' Va-
I.ER. Max. lib. ix. cap. 11.

THE MORAL SENSE. 7
other, to dispatch them out of the way ; that suicide, in one
age of the world, has been heroism, is in another felony ; that
theft,, which is punished by most laws, by the laws of Sparta
was not unfrequently rewarded ; that the promiscuous com
merce of the sexes, although condemned by the regulations
and censure of all civilized nations, is practised "by the savages
of the tropical regions, withom reserve, compunction, or dis
grace ; that crimes, of which it is no longer permitted us even
to speak, have had their advocates amongst the sages of very
renowned tunes ; that, if an uihabitant of the polished nations
of Europe be delighted with the appearance, wherever he
meets with it, of happiness, tranquillity, and comfort, a wild
American is no less diverted with the writhings and contor
tions of a victim at the stake ; that even amongst oiyselves,
and in the present improved state of moral knowledge, we are
far from a perfect consent in our opinions or feelings ; that
you shall hear duelling alternately reprobated and applauded,
according to the sex, age, or station of the person you converse
with ; that the forgiveness of injuries and insults is account
ed by one sort of people magnanimity, by another meanness ;
that in the above instances, and perhaps in most others, moral
approbation follows the fashions and institutions of the coun
try we five in ; which fashions also and institutions themselves
have grown out of the exigencies, the climate, situation, or lo
cal cucumstances of the country; or have been set up by the
authority'of an arbitrary chieftain, or the unaccountable caprice
of the miiltitude: — all which, they observe, looks very Uttle like
the steady harid and indeUble characters of natm'e. But,
Secondly, because, after these exceptions and abatements, it
cannot be denied but that some sorts of actions command and
receive the esteem of mankind m,ore than others ; and that
the approbation of them is general, though not universal : as
to this they say, that the general approbation of virtue, even
in instances where we have no interest of our own to induce
us to it, may be accounted for, without the assistance of a mo
ral sense, thus :
' Having experienced, in some instance, a particular conduct
to be beneficial to ourselves, or observed that it would be so, a
sentunent of approbation rises up in our muids ; which senti
ment afterwards accompanies the idea or mention of the same
conduct, although the private advantage which first excited it
no longer exist.'

8 THE MORAL SENSE.
And this continuance of the passion, after the reason of it
has ceased, is nothing more, say they, than what happens m
other cases ; especiaRy in the love of money, which is in no
person so eager, as it is oftentimes found to be ui a rich old
miser, without family to provide for, or friend to oblige by it,
and to whom consequently it is no longer (and he may be
sensible of it too) of any real use or value : yet is this man as
much overjoyed with gain, and mortified by losses, as he was
the first day he opened his shop, and when his very subsistence
depended upon his success in it.
By these means, the custom of approving certain actions
com/menced ; and when once. such a custom hath got footing
in the world, ^t is no difficult thing to explain how it is trans
mitted and continued ; for then the greatest part of those who
approve of vutue, approve of it from authority, by unitation,
and fi'om a habit of approving such and such actions, inculca
ted in early youth, and receiving, as men grow up, continual
accessions of strength and vigour, from censure and encourage
ment, from the books they read, the conversation they hear,
the current application of epithets, the general turn of lan
guage, and the various other causes by which it universally
comes to pass, that a society of men, touched in the feeblest
degree with the same passion, soon communicate to one anoth
er a great degree of it.* This is the case with most of us at
present ; and is the cause also, that the process of association,
described in the last paragraph but one, is httle now either
perceived' or wanted.
Amongst the causes assigned for the continuance and dif
fusion of the same moral sentiments amongst maJnkind, we
have mentioned imitation. The efficacy of this principle is
most obseiTable in children ; indeed, if there be any thing in
them which deserves the name of an instinct, it is their pro
pensity to imitation. Now there is nothing which children
imitate or apply more readily than expressions of affection and
aversion, of approbation, hatred, resentment, and the hke ; and
when these passions antl expressions are once connected, which
* * From instat^ces of popular tumults, seditions, factions, panics, and of all pas
sions, which are shared with a multitude, we may learn the influence of society in ex
citing and supporting any emotion ; while the most ungovernable disorders are raised,
vfQ find, by that means, from the slightest and most frivolous occasions. He must be
more or less tlian man, who kmdies not in the common blaze. What wonder, dien,
tliat moi"il sentiinents are found of such influence in life, tliough springing from prin
ciples, which may appear, at first sight, somewhat small and delicate ?'
Hume's Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, Sect. IX. j>. 326.

THE MORAL SENSE. 9
they soon will be by the same association which unites words
with their ideas, the passion will follow the expression, and
attach upon the object to which the child has been accustomed
to apply the epithet. In a word, when almost every thing else
is learned by imitation, can we wonder to find the same cause
concerned in the generation of our moral sentiments '?
Another considerable objection to the system of moral in
stincts is this, that there are no maxims in the science, which
can well be deemed innate, as none perhaps, can be assigned,
which are absolutely and universally true; in other words,
which do not bend to circumstances. Veracity, which seems,
if any be, a natural duty, is. excused in many cases, towards
an enemy, a thief, or a madman. The obhgation of promises,
which is a first principle in morahty, depends upon the circum
stances under which they were made : they may have been
unlawful, or become so since, or inconsistent with former prom
ises, or erroneous, or extorted ; under till which cases, instances
may be suggested, where the obligation to perform the promise
would be very dubious, and so of most other general rules,
when they come to be actually apphed.
An argument has also been proposed on the same side of
the question of this kind. Together with the instinct, there
must have been implanted, it is said, a clear and precise idea
of the object upon which it was to attach. The instinct and
the idea of the object are inseparable even in imagination, and
as necessarily accompany each other as any correlative ideas
whatever ; that is, ui plauier terms, if we be prompted by na
ture to the approbation of particular actions, we must have
received also from nature a distinct conception of the action we
are thus prompted to approve ; which we certainly have not
received. But as this argument bears alike agaiiist all instincts, and
against thefr existence in brutes as well as in men, it will
hardly, I suppose, produce conviction, though it may be diffi
cult to find an answer to it.
Upon the whole, it seems to me, either that there exist no
such instincts as compose what is called the moral sense, or
that they are not now to be distinguished fi-om prejudices and
habits ; on which account they cannot be depended upon in
moral reasoning : I mean that it is not a safe way of arguing,
to assume certain principles as so many dictates, impulses, and
instincts of nature, and then to draw conclusions from these
VOL. III. 2

10 THE MORAL SENSE.
principles, as to the rectitude or wrongness of actions, indepen
dent of the tendency of such actions, or of any other considera
tion whatever.
Aristotle lays down, as a fundamental and self-evident max
im, that nature intended barbarians to be slaves ; and proceeds
to deduce from this maxim a train of conclusions, calculated to
justify the policy which then prevailed. And I question wheth
er the same maxim be not still self-evident to the company of
merchants trading to the coast of Africa.
Nothing is so soon made as a maxim ; and it appears fi'om
the example of Aristotle, that authority and convenience, edu
cation, prejudice, .and general practice, have no small share in
the making of them ; and that the laws of custom are very apt
to be mistaken for the order of nature.
For which reason, I suspect, that a system of morahty, built
upon instincts, wiH only find, out reasons and excuses for opin
ions and practices already estabhshed, — will seldom correct or
reform either.
But fiirther, suppose we admit the existence of these instincts,
what, it may be asked, is their authority ? No man, you say,
can act in deUberate opposition to them, without a secret re
morse of conscience. But this remorse may be borne with :
— and if the sinner choose to bear with it, for the sake of the
pleasure or profit which he expects from his wickedness ; or
finds the pleasure of the sin to exceed the remorse of conscience,
of which he alone is the judge, and concerning which, when
he feels them both together, he can hardly be mistaken, the
moral-instinct-man, so far as I can understand, has nothing
more to offer.
For if he allege that these instincts are so many indications
of the will of God, and consequently presages of what we are
to look for hereafter ; this, I answer, is to resort to a rule and
a motive, ulteriour to the mstincts themselves, and at which
rule and motive we shall by and by arrive by a surer road: — I
say surer, so long as there remains a controversy whether
there be any instinctive maxims at all; or any difficulty in
. ascertauiing what maxims are instinctive.
This celebrated question, therefore, becomes in our system a
question of pure curiosity; and as such, we dismiss it to the
determination of those who are more inquisitive, than we are
concerned to be, about the natural history and constitution of
the human species.

( 11 )
CHAPTER VI.
HUMAN HAPPINESS.
The word happy is a relative term; that is, when we call a
man happy, we mean that he is happier than some others,
with whom we compare him ; than the generaUty of others ;
or than he himself was in some other situation: thus, speak
ing of one who has just compassed the object of a long pmsuit,
' Now,' we say, ' he is happy;' and in a hke comparative sense,
compared, that is, with the general lot of mankind, we call a
man happy who possesses health and competency.
In strictness, any condition may be denominated happy, in
which the amount or aggregate of pleasure exceeds that of
pain ; and the degree of happiness depends upon the quantity
of this excess.
And the greatest quantity of it ordinarily attainable in hu
man Ufe, is what we mean by happiness, when we inquii'e or
pronounce what hmnan happiness consists in.*
In which inquiry I will omit much usual declamation- on
the dignity and capacity of our nature ; the superiority of the
soul to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our con
stitution; upon the worthiuess, refinement, and delicacy of
some satisfactions, or the meanness, grossness and sensuahty
* If any positive signification, distinct from what we mean by pleasure, can be af
fixed to the term * happiness,' I should take it to denote a certain state of die nervous
system in that part of the human frame in which we feel joy and grief, passions and
affections. Whether this part be the heart, which the turn of most languages would
lead us to believe; or the diaphragm, as Buffon; or the upper orifice of the stomach,
as Van Helmont thought; or rather be a kind of fine net-work, lining tlie whole re
gion of the precordia, as others have imagined : it is possible, not only that each painful
sensation may violently shake and disturb the fibres at the time, but tliat a series of
such may at length so derange tlie veiy texture of die system, as to produce a perpet
ual irritation, which will show itself by fretfuhiess, impatience, and restlessness. It ,
is possible also, on the other hand, that a succession of pleasurable sensations may
have such aii effect upon tliis subtile organization, as to cause tlie fibres to relax, and
return into their place and order, and thereby to recover, or, if not lost, to presene
that harmonious conformation which gives to the mind its sense of complacency and
satisfaction. This state may be denominated happiness, and is bo far distinguishable
from pleasure, tliat it does not refer to any particular object of enjoyment, or consists,
like pleasure, in the gratification of one or more of the senses, but is rather tlie sec
ondary effect which such objects and gratifications produce upon the nervous system,
or the state in which tliey leave it. These conjectures belong not, however, to our
province. The comparative sense, in which we have explained the term, happiness,
is nioie populaiyand is sufficient for the purpose of tlie present chapter.

12 HUMAN HAPPINESS.
of Others ; because I hold that pleasures differ in nothing, but
in continuance and intensity ; from a just computation of which,
confirmed by what we observe of the apparent cheerfulness,
tranquUhty, and contentment, of men of different tastes, tem
pers, stations, and pursuits, every question concerning human
happiness must receive its decision.
It wiU be our business to show, if we can,
I. What Human happiness does not consist in :
II. What it does consist in.
First, then, happiness does not consist in the pleasm'es of
sense, in whatever profusion or variety they be enjoyed. By
the pleasures of sense, I mean, as well the anunal gratifica
tions of eating, drinking, and that by which the species is con
tinued, as the more refined pleasures of music, painting, archi
tecture, gardening, splendid shows, theatric exhibitions, and
the pleasures, lastly, of active sports, as of hunting, shooting,
fishing, &c. For,
1st. These pleasures continue but a little while at a time.
This is true of them all, especially of the grosser sort of them.
Laying aside the preparation, and the expectation, and com
puting strictly the actual sensation, we shall be surprised to
find how inconsiderable a portion of our time they occupy, how
few hours in the four and twenty they are able to fill up.
2dly, These pleasures, by repetition, lose theu relish. It is
a property of the machine, for which we knew no remedy, that
the organs, by which we perceive pleasure, are blunted and
benmnbed by being frequently exercised in the same way.
There is hardly any one who has not found the difference be
tween a gratification, when new, and when famUiar ; or any
pleasure which does not become indifferent as it grows habitual.
3dly, The eagerness for high and intense dehghts takes
away the relish from aU others; and as such dehghts fall rarely
in our way, the greater part of our time becomes fi-om this-
cause empty and uneasy.
There is hardly any delusion by which men are greater suf
ferers in thek happiness, than by their expecting too much
fi-om what is called pleasure ; that is, fi-om those intense de
hghts, which vulgarly engross the name of pleasure. The ve
ry expectation spoils them. When they do come, we ai-e of
ten engaged in taking pains to persuade ourselves how much
we are pleased, rather than enjoying any pleasure which
springs naturally out of the object. And whenever we depend

HUMAN HAPPINESS. 13
upon being vastly delighted, we always go home secretly griev
ed at missing om- aim. Likewise, as has been observed just
now, when this humoin of being prodigiously dehghted has
once taken hold of the imagination, it hinders us from provi
ding for, or acquiescing in, those gently soothing engagements,
the due variety and succession of which are the only things
that supply a continued streaim of happiness.
What I have been able to observe of that part of manldnd,
whose professed pursuit is pleasure^ and who are withheld in
the pursuit by no restraints of fortune, or scruples of conscience,
corresponds sufficiently with this account. I have commonly
remarked, in such men, a restless and inextinguishable passion
for variety ; a great part of their time to be vacant, and so much
of it hksome ; and that, with whatever eagerness and expect
ation they set out, they become, by degrees, fastidious in their
choice of pleasure, languid in the enjoyment, yet miserable
uiider the want of it.
The truth seems to be, that there is a limit at which these
pleasui'es soon arrive, and from which they ever afterwards de-
chne. They are by necessity of short duration, as the organs
cannot hold on their emotions beyond a certain length of time;
and if you endeavour to compensate for this imiperfection in
their nature by the frequency with which you repeat them,
you suffer more than you gain, by the fatigue of the faculties,
and the diminution of sensibility.
We have said nothuig in this account of the loss of oppor
tunities, or the decay of faculties, which, whenever they happen,
leave the voluptuary destitute and desperate; teased by desires
that can never be gratified, and the memory of pleasures which
must return no more.
It wiU also be allowed by those who haVe experienced it, and
perhaps by those alone, that pleasure which is purchased by
the incumbrance of our fortune, is purchased too dear ; the plea
sure never compensating for the perpetual irritation of embar
rassed circumstances.
These pleasm-es, after all, have their Value; and as the young
are always too eager iri then pursuit of them, the old are some-
tiines too remiss : that is, too studious of their ease to be at the
pains for them which they really deserve.
Secondly, Neither does happuiess consist in an exemption
from pain, labour, care, business, suspense, molestation, and
'those evils which are without;' such a state being usually at-

14 HUMAN HAPPINESS.
tended, not with ease, but with depression of spirits, a tasteless-
ness in all our ideas, imaginai-y anxieties, and the whole train
of hypochondriacal affections.
For which reason, the expectations of those, who retire from
their shops and counting-houses, to enjoy the remainder of theii-
days in leisure and tranquilhty, are seldom answered by the
effect; much less of such, as, in a fit of chagrin, shut themselves
up in cloisters and hermitages, or quit the world, and their sta
tions in it, for sohtude and repose.
Where there exists a known external cause of imeasiness,
the cause may be removed, and the uneasiness vdU cease.
But those imaginary distresses which men feel for want of real
ones (and which are equally tormenting, and so far equally
real,) as they depend upon no single or assignable subject of
uneasiness, admit oftentunes of no apphcation or rehef.
Hence a inoderate pain, upon which the attention may fas
ten and spend itself, is to many a refreshment : as a fit of the
gout wiU sometimes cure the spleen. And the same of any
less violent agitation of the mind, as a Uterary controversy, a
law-suit, a contested election, and, above aU, gaming ; the pas
sion for which, in men of fortune and hberal minds, is only to
be accounted for on this principle.
Thirdly, Neither does happiness consist in greatness, rank,
or elevated station.
Were it true that aU superiority afforded pleasure, it would
.follow, that by how much we were the greater, that is, the
more persons we were superiour to, in the same proportion, so
far as depended upon this cause, we should be the happier;
but so it is, that no superiority yields any satisfaction, save that
which we possess or obtain over those with whom we unmedi- .
ately compai-e ourselves. The shepherd perceives no pleasure
in his superiority over his dog; the farmer, in his superiority
over the shepherd ; the lord, in his superiority over the farmer ;
nor the king, lastly, in his superiority over the lord. Superiori
ty, where there is no competition, is seldom contemplated ; what
most men are quite unconscious of
But if the same shepherd can run, fight, or wrestle, better
than the peasants of his village ; if the farmer can show better
cattle, if he keep a better horse, or be supposed to have a longer
pm-se than any farmer in the bundled ; if the lord have more
interest in an electioii, greater favour at court, a better house,
or larger estate than any nobleman in the country ; if the king

HUMAN HAPPINESS. 15
possess a more extensive territory, a more powerful fleet or aimy,
a more splendid establishment, more loyal subjects, or more
weight and authority in adjustuig the affairs of nations, than
any prince in Europe : in all these cases, the parties feel an ac
tual satisfaction in their superiority.
Now the conclusion that follows from hence is this ; that the
pleasures of ambition, which* are supposed to be peculiar to
high stations, are in reahty common to all conditions. The
farrier who shoes a horse better, and who is in greater request
for his skiU than any man-within ten miles of hun, possesses,
for all that I can see, the delight of distinction and of excelling,
as truly and substantially as the statesman, the soldier, and
the scholar, who tiave fiUed Europe with the reputation of their
wisdom, then valom-, or their knowledge.
No superiority appears to be of any account, but superiority
over a rival. This, it is manifest, may exist wherever rivalships
do ; and rivalships faU out amongst men of aU ranks and de
grees. The object of emulation, the dignity or magnitude of
this object, makes no difference ; as it is not what either pos
sesses that constitutes the pleasure, but what one possesses more
than the other.
Philosophy smiles at the contempt with which the rich and
great speak of the petty strifes and competitions of the poor ;
not reflecting that these strifes and competitions are just as rea
sonable as their own, and the pleasurfe, which success affords,
the same.
Our position is, that happiness does not consist in great
ness. And this position we make out by showing, that even
what are supposed to be the pecuhar advantages of greatness,
the pleasures of ambition and superiority, are in reaUty common
to all conditions. But whether the pursuits of ambition be
ever wise, whether they contribute more to the happiness or
misery of the pursuers, is a different question ; and a question
concerning which we may be aUowed to entertain great doubt.
The. pleasure of success is exquisite ; so also is the anxiety of
the pursuit,, and the pam of disappointment ; — and what is, the
worst ^art of the account, the pleasure is short-lived. We soon
cease to look back upon those whom we have left behind ;
new contests are engaged in, new prospects unfold themselves ;
a succession of struggles is kept up, whilst there is a rival left
within the' compass of om- views and profession ; and when
there is none, the pleasure with the pui-suit is at an end.

16 HUMAN HAPPINESS.
II. We have-seen what happuiess does not consist in. We
are next to consider in what it does consist.
In the conduct of life, the great matter is, to know before
hand, what wiU please us, and what pleashres wiU hold out.
So far as we know this, our choice wiU be justified by the event.
And this knowledge is more scarce and difficult than at first
sight it may seem to be : for sometimes, pleasures, which are
wonderfuUy aUuring and flattering in the prospect, turn out in
the possession extremely insipid ; or do not hold out as vve ex
pected ; at other times, pleasures start up, which never entered
into our calculation ; and which we might have missed of by
not foreseeing : whence we have reason to beUeve, that we ac-
tuaUy do miss of many pleasures from the salme cause. I say,
to know ' beforehand,' for, after the experiment is tried, it is
commonly unpracticable to retreat or change ; besides that
shifting and changing is apt to generate a habit of restlessness,
which is destructive of the happiness of every condition.
By reason of the original diversity of taste, -capacity, and
constitution, observable in the human species, and the stiU
greater variety, which habit and fashion have introduced in
these particulars, it is impossible to propose any plan of happi
ness, which will succeed to aU, or any method of hfe which is
universaUy eUgible or practicable.
All that can be said is, that there 'remains a presmnption
in favour of those conditions of life, in which .men generally
appear most cheerful and contented. For though the apparent
happiness of mankind be not always a ti-ue measme of their
i-eal happiness, it is the best measure we have.
Taking this for my guide, I am incUned to beUeve that
happiness consists,
I. In the exercise of the social affections.
Those persons commonly possess good spirits, who have
about them many objects of affection and endearment, as
wife, children, kindred, friends. And to the want of these
may be imputed the peevishness of monks, and of such as
lead a monastic hfe.
Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domestic
affections, and equally refi-eshing to the spirits, is the pleasure
which results from acts of bounty and beneficence, exercised
either in giving money, or in imparting to those who want it
the assistance of our sldU and profession.
Another main article of human happiness is,

HUMAN HAPPINESS. 17
II. The exercise of our faculties, either of body or mind,
in the pursuit of some engaging end.
It seems to be true, that no plenitude of present gratifications
can make the possessor happy for a continuance, unless he
have something in reserve, — something to hope for, and look
forward to. This I conclude to be the case, from comparing
the alacrity and sphits of men who are engaged in any pursuit
which interests them, with the dejection and ennui of alniost
aU, who are either born to so much that they want nothing
more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and
drained the sources of them.
It is this intolerable vacuity of mind, which carries the rich
arid great to the horse-course and the gaming-table ; and of
ten engages them iu contests and pursuits, of which the suc
cess bears no proportion to the solicitude and expense with
which it is sought. An election for a disputed borough shall
cost the parties twenty or thirty thousand pounds each, — to say
nothing of the anxiety, humiliation, and fatigue of the canvass ;
when a seat in the house of commons, of exactly the same
value, may be had for a tenth part of the money, and with no
trouble. I do not mention this to blame the rich and great,
(perhaps they cannot do better,) but in confirmation of what I
have advanced.
Hope, which thus appears to be of so much importance to
om- happiness, is of two kinds ; where there is something to be
done towards attaining the object of our hope, and where there
is nothing to be done. The first alone is of any value ; the
latter being apt to corrupt into impatience, having no power
but to sit still and wait, which soon grows tiresome.
The doctruie deUvered under this head may be readUy ad
mitted; but how to provide ourselves with a succession of
pleasurable engagements, is the difficulty. This requii-es tv.o
things ; judgment in the choice of ends adapted to our oppor
tunities ; and a command of imaguiation, so as to be able,
when the judgment has made choice of an end, to transfer a
pleasure to the means : after which the end may be forgotten
as soon as we wUl.
Hence those pleasures are most valuable, not which are
most exquisite in the fruition, but which are most productive
of engagement and activity in the pursuit.
A man who is in earnest m his endeavours after the happi
ness of a future state, has, in this respect, an advantage over
VOL. III. 3

18 HUMAN HAPPINESS.
all the world ; for he has constantly before his eyes an object
of supreme importance, productive of perpetual engagement
and activity, and of which the pursuit (which can be said of no
pursuit besides) lasts him to his Ufe's end. Yet even he must
have many ends, beside the/ar end : but then they will con
duct to that, be subordinate, and in some way or other capable
of being referred to that, and derive their satisfaction, or an ad
dition of satisfaction, from that.
Engagement is every thing. The more significant, how
ever, our engagements are, the better : such as the planning
of laws, institutions, manufactures, charities, unprovements,
public works ; and the endeavouring, by our interest, address,
solicitations, and activity, to carry them into effect : or, upon a
smaller scale, the procuring of a maintenance and fortune for
our families by a course of industry and apphcation to our caU-
ings, which forms and gives motion to the common occupations
of life ; training up a child ; prosecuting a scheme for his fu
ture estabUshment ; making ourselves masters of a language
or a science ; unproving or managing an estate ; labouring af
ter a piece of preferment ; and lastly, any engagement, which
is innocent, is better than none ; as the Avriting of a book, the
building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging of
a fish-pond, — even the raising of a cucumber or a tulip. ,
Whilst our minds are taken up with the objects or business
before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object or
business be : when the mind is absent, and the thoughts are
wandering to something else than what is passing in the place
in which we are, we are often miserable.
III. Happiness depends upon the prudent constitution of
the habits.
The art in which the secret of human happiness in a great
measure consists, is to set the habits in such a manner, that
every change may be a' change for the better. The habits
themselves are much the same ; for, whatever is made habitu
al, becomes smooth, and easy, and nearly indifferent. The
retm-n to an old habit is Ukewise easy, whatever the habit be.
Therefore the advantage is with those habits which aUow of
an indulgence in the deviation from them. The luxurious
receive no greater pleasure fi-om their dainties, than the peas
ant does from his bread and cheese : but the peasant, when
ever he goes abroad, finds a feast ; whereas the epicure must
be well entertained, to escape disgust. Those who spend ev-

HUMAN HAPPINESS. 19
ery .day at cards, and those who go every day to plough, pass
then time much aUke; intent upon what they are about,
wantuig nothing, regretting nothing, they are both for the time
ia a state of ease : but then, whatever suspends the occupation
of the card-player, distresses hun ; whereas to the labourer,
every interruption is a refi-eshment : and this appears in the
different effects that Sunday produces upon the two, which
proves a day of recreation to the one, but a lamentable burden
to the other. The man who has learned to livetelone, feels
his spirits enhvened whenever he enters into tcqinpany, and
takes his leave without regret ; another, who has long been
accustomed to a crowd, or continual succession of company,
experiences in company no elevation of spirits, nor any greater
satisfaction, than what the man of retii-ed life finds in his
chimney-corner. So far their conditions are equal ; but let a
change of place, fortune, or situation, separate the companion
fi-om his circle, his visitors, his club, common-room, or coffee
house, and the difference of advantage in the choice and con
stitution of the two habits will show itself SoUtude comes to
the one clothed with melancholy ; to the other it brings liberty
and quiet. You wiU see the one fretful and restless, at a loss
hov.r to dispose of his time, till the hour conje round when he
may forget himself in bed ; the other easy and satisfied, tak
ing up his book, or his pipe, as soon as he finds himself alone ;
ready to admit any little amusement that casts up, or to tm-n
his hands and attention to the first business that presents it
self ; or 'content, without either, to sit still, and let his train of
thought glide indolently through his brain, without much use,
perhaps, or pleasure, but without hankering after any thing
better, and without irritation. — A reader, who has inured
himself to books of science and argumentation, if a novel, a
well written pamphlet, an article of-news, a narrative of a curi
ous voyage, or a journal of a traveller, faU in his way, sits
down to the repast with reUsh ; enjoys liis entertainment whUe
it lasts, and can return, when it is over, to his graver reading,
without distaste. Another, with whom nothing will go down
but works of humour and pleasantry, or whose curiosity must
be interested by perpetual novelty, will consume a bookseller's
window in half a forenoon ; during which time he is rather
in search of divertion than diverted ; and as books to his taste
are few, and short, and rapidly read over, the stock is soon ex
hausted, when he is left without resource from this principal
supply of harmless amusement.

20 HUMAN HAPPINESS.
So far as chcumstances of fortune conduce to happuiess, it
is not the income, which any man possesses, but the increase
of income, that affords the pleasure. Two persons, of whom
one begins with a hundi-ed, and advances his income to a
thousand pounds a year, and the other sets off with a thou
sand, and dwindles down to a hundred, may, in the course of
then time, have the receipt and spending of the same sum of
money ; yet their satisfaction, so far as fortune is concerned in
it, wiU be very different : the series and sum total of their in
comes bein^ the same, it makes a wide difference at which end
they begin.
IV. Happiness consists in health.
By health I understand, as weU freedom from bodily dis
tempers, as that tranquilUty, firmness, and alacrity of mind,
which we caU good spirits ; and which may properly enough
be included in our notion of health, as depending commonly
upon the same causes, and yielding to the same management,
as our bodily constitution.
Health, in this sense, is the one thing needful. Therefore
no pains, expense, self-denial, or restraint, to which we subject
ourselves for the sake of health, is too much. Wliether it re-
quue us to reUnquish lucrative situations, to abstain from fa-
vom-ite indulgences, to control intemperate passions, or under
go tedious regimens ; whatever difficulties it lays us imder, a
man, who pursues his happiness rationally and resolutely, will
be content to submit.
• When we are in perfect health and spirits, we feel in our
selves a happiness independent of any particular outward grati
fication whatever, and of which we can give no account. This
is an enjoyment which the Deity has annexed to life ; and it
probably constitutes, in a great measm-e, the happiness of infants
and brutes, especially of the lower and sedentary orders of ani
mals, as of oysters, periwinkles, and the hke ; for which I
have sometimes been at a loss to find out amusement.
The above account of human happiness will justify the two
foUowing conclusions, which, although found in- most books of
morality, have seldom, I think, been supported by any suffi
cient reasons : —
First, That happiness is pretty equally distributed amongst
the different orders of civU society :
Secondly, That vice has no advantage- over virtue, even
with respect to this world's happiness.

( 21 )
CHAPTER VII.
VIRTUE.
Virtue is, ' the doing good to mankind, in obedience to
the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness.'
According to which definition, ' the good of mankind' is the
subject ; the ' wiU of God' the rule ; and ' everlastuig happi
ness' the motive of human virtue.
Vhtue has been divided by some morahsts into benevolence,
prudejice, fortitude, and temperance. Benevolence propo
ses good ends ; prudence suggests the best means of attaming
them ; fortitude enables us to encounter the difficulties, dan
gers, and discouragements, which stand in our way in the
pursuit of these ends ; tenvperance repels and overcomes the
passions that obstruct it. Benevolence, for instance, prompts
us to undertake the cause of an oppressed oiplian ; prudence
suggests the best means of going about it ; fortitude enables
us to confront the danger, and bear up against the loss, dis
grace, or repulse, that may attend our undertaking ; and
temperance keeps under the love of money, of ease, or amuse
ment, which might divert us fi-om it.
Vutue is distinguished by others into two branches only,
prudence and benevolence ; prudence, attentive to our own
interest ; benevolence, to that of our feUow creatures : both di
rected to the same end, the increase of happiness in nature ;
and taking equal concern in the future as in the present.
The four Cardinal virtues are, prudence, fortitude, tem
perance, axid. justice.
But the division of vhtue, to which we are in modern times
most accustomed, is into duties,
Towards God; as piety, reverence, resignation, gratitude,
&c.
Towards other men (or relative duties) ; as justice, charity,
fidelity, loyalty, &c.
Towards ourselves ; as chastity, sobriety, temperance, pres
ervation of Ufe, care of health, (fee.
More of these distinctions have been proposed, which it is
not worth while to set down.

22 VIRTUE.
I shall proceed to state a few observations, which relate to
the general regulation of human conduct ; unconnected indeed
¦with each other, but very worthy of attention ; and which faU
as properly under the title of this chapter as of any future
one. I. Mankind act more from habit than reflection.
It is on few only and great occasions that men deUberate
at all ; on fewer still, that they institute any thing hke a reg
ular inquu-y into the moral rectitude or depravity of what they
are about to do ; or wait for the result of it. We are for the
most part determined at once ; and by an impulse, which is
the effect and energy of pre-estabUshed habits. And this con
stitution seems weU adapted to the exigencies of human life,
and to the imbecility of our moral principle. In the current
occasions and rapid opportunities of hfe, there is oftentimes Uttle
leisure for reflection ; and were there more, a man, who has
to reason about his duty, when the temptation to transgi-ess it
is upon him, is ahnost sure to reason himself into an errour.
If we are in so great a degree passive under our habits, where,
it is asked, is the exercise of virtue, the guilt of vice, or any
use -of moral and rehgious knowledge ?¦ I answer. In the form
ing and contracting of these habits.
And from hence results a rule of life of considerable impor
tance, viz. that many things are to be done, and abstained
from, solely for the sake of habit. We will explain ourselves
by an example or two. A beggar, with the appearance of ex
treme distress, asks our charity. If we come to argue the
matter, whether the distress be real, whether it be not brought
upon himself, whether it be of pubhc advantage to admit
such a,ppUcations, whether it be not to encourage idleness and
vagrancy, whether it may not invite impostors to our doors,
whether the money can be weU spared, or might not be better
applied ; when these considerations are put together, it may
appear very doubtful, whether we ought or ought not to give
any thing. But when we reflect, that the misery before our
eyes excites our pity, whether we wiU or not ; fhat it is of the
utmost consequence to us to cultivate this tenderness of mind ;
that it is a quality, cherished by indulgence, and soon stifled
by opposition ; when this, I say, is considered, a wise man wiU
do that for his own sake, which he would have hesitated to
do for the petitioner's ; he wiU give way to his compassion,
rather than offer violence to a habit of so much general use.

VIRTUE. 23
A man of confirmed good habits wUl act in the same man
ner without any consideration at aU.
This may serve for one instance ; another is the foUowing.
A man ha« been brought up from his infancy with a dread of
lying. An occasion presents itself where, at the expense of a
little veracity, he may divert his company, set offJiis own wit
with advantage, attract the notic6' and engage the partiality of
aU about him. This is not a smaU temptation. And when he
looks at the other side of the question, he sees no mischief that
can ensue from this liberty, no slander of any man's reputa
tion, no prejudice likely to arise to any man's interest. Were.
there nothing further to be corisidered, it would be difficult to
show why a man under such circumstances might not indulge
his humour. But when he reflects that his scruples about ly
ing have hitherto preserved him free from this vice ; that occa
sions lilte the present wUl return, where the inducement may
be equally strong, but the indulgence much less innocent ; that
his scruples wUl wear away by a few transgressions, and leave
him subject to one of the meanest and most pernicious of aU
bad habits, a habit of lying whenever it wiU serve his turn :
when all this, I say, is considered, a wise man wiU forego the
present, or a much greater pleasm-e, rather than lay the foun
dation of a character so vicious and contemptible.
From what has been said may be explained also the nature
of habitual virtue. By the defbiition of virtue, placed at the
beginning of this chapter, it appears, that the good of mankind
is the subject, the will of God the rule, and everlastuig happi
ness the motive and end of all virtue. Yet, in fact, a man
shaU perform many an act of virtue, without having either the
good of mankind, the will of God, or everlasting happiness in
his thought. How is this to be understood? In the same
manner as that a man may be a very good servant, without
being conscious, at every turn, of a particular regard to his mas
ter's wUl, or of an express attention to his master's interest ; in
deed your best old servants are of this sort : but then he must
have served for a length of time under the actual direction of
these motives to bring it to this : in which service his merit
and vu-tue consist.
There are habits, not only of drinking, swearing, and ly
ing, and of some other things, which are commonly acknoXvl-
edged to be habits, and caUed so ; but of every modification of
action, speech, and thought. Man is a bvindle of habits.

24 VIRTUE.
There are habits of industry, attention, vigUance, adverten
cy ; of a prompt obedience to the judgment occurring, or of
yielding to the first impulse of passion ; of extending our views
to the ftiture, or of resting upon the present ; of apprehending,
methodizing, reasoning ; of indolence and dilatoriness ; of van
ity, self conceit, melancholy, partiaUty ; of fretftdness, suspi
cion, captiousness, censoriousness ; of pride, ambition, covet-
ousness ; of overreaching, intriguing, projecting. In a word,
there is not a quality or function, either of body or mind, which
does not feel the influence of this great law of animated na
ture. II. The Christian religion hath not ascertained the precise
quantity of virtue necessary to salvation.
This has been made an objection to Christianity ; but with
out reason. For, as aU revelation, however imparted original
ly, must be transmitted by the ordinary vehicle of language, it
behoves those who make the objection to show that any form
of words could be devised, which might express this quantity ;
or that it is possible to constitute a standard of moral attain
ments, accommodated to the ahnost infinite diversity which
subsists in the capacities and opportunities of different men.
It seems most agreeable to om- conceptions of justice, and is
consonant enough to the language of scripture, * to suppose,
that there are prepared for us rewards and punishments, of all
possible degrees, from the most exalted happiness down to ex
treme misei-y ; so that ' our labom- is never in vain ; ' whatever
advancement we make in virtue, we procure a proportion
able accession of future happiness ; as, on the other hand, every
accumulation of vice is the ' treasuring up of so much wrath
against the day of wrath.' , It has been said, that it can never
be a just economy of Providence, to admit one part of man
kind into heaven, and condemn the other to heU, since there
rriust be very little to choose, between the worst man who is
received into heaven, and the best who is excluded. And how
* 'He which sowetli sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth
bountifiiUy shall reap also boimtifuUy.' 2 Cor. ix. 6. — ' And that servant which
kneiv his Lord's will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will,
shall be beaten witli many stripes ; but he that knew not, shall be beaten witli
few stripes.' Luke xii. 47, 48. — ' Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink
in my name, because ye belong to Christ, verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his
reward ; ' to wit, intimating that there is in reserve a proportionable reward for even
the smallest act of virtue. Mark ix. 41. — See also the parable of the pounds, Luke
xix. 16, &c. where he whose pound had gained ten pounds, was placed over ten
cities; and he whose pound had gained five pounds, was placed over five cities.

VIRTUE. 25
know we, it might be answered, but that there may be as little
to choose in their conditions 1
Without entering into a detail of Scripture moraUty, which
would anticipate our subject, the foUowing general positions
may be advaiifced, I think, with safety.
1. That a state of happiness is not to be es^ected by those
who are conscious of no moral or reUgious rule. I mean those
who cannot with truth say, that they have been prompted to
one action, or withholden from one gratification, by any regard
to vhtue or rehgion, either immediate or habitual.
There needs no other proof of this, than the consideration,
that a brute would be as proper an object of reward as such a
man, and that, if the case were so, the penal sanctions of reli
gion could have no place. For whom would you punish, if
you make such a one as this happy ? — or rather indeed rehgion
itself, both natural and revealed, would cease to have either use
or authority.
2. That a state of happiness is not to be expected by those,
who reserve to themselves the habitual practice of any one sin,
or neglect of one known duty.
Because no obedience can proceed upon proper motives,
which is not universal, that is, which is not dkected to every
command of God ahke, as they aU stand upon the same au
thority. Because such an aUowance would in eflect amount to a tol
eration of every vice in the world.
And because, the strain of scripture language excludes any
such hope. When our duties are recited, they are put col
lectively, that is, as aU and every of them required in the
Christian character. ' 'Add to your faith virtue, and to virtue
knowledge, and to laiowledge temperance, and to temperance
patience, and to patience godUness, and to godliness brotherly
kindness, and to brotherly kindness charity.' * On the other
hand, when vices are enumerated, they are put disjunctively,
that is, as separately and severaUy excluding the sinner from
heaven. ' Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor
effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor
thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revUers, nor extor
tioners, shall inherit the Idngdom of heaven.' t
Those texts of scripture, which seem to lean a contrary way,
» 2 Pet. i. 5, 6, 7. t 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10.
VOL. III. 4

26 VIRTUE.
as that ' charity shall cover the multitude of sins ;'* that ' he
which converteth a sinner from the errour of his way shaU hide
a multitude of sins ;'t cannot, I think, for the reasons above
mentioned, be extended to sins deUberately, habituaUy, and ob
stinately persisted in.
3. That a state Of mere unprofitableness wiU not go unpun
ished. This is expressly laid down by Christ, in the parable of the
talents, -which supersedes all further reasoning upon the sub
ject. , ' Then he which had received one talent, came and
said, Lord, I know thee that thou art an austere man, reaping
where thou hast not so-wn, and gathering where thou hast not
strawed ; and I was afraid, and hid thy talent in the earth :
lo, there thou hast that is thine. His lord answered and said
imto him. Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou knewest
(or knewest thou?) that I reap where I sowed not, and gather
where I have not strawed ; thou oughtest therefore to have
put my money to the exchangers, and then at my coining I
should have received mine ovvn with usury. Take therefore
the talent from him, and give it unto him which hath ten tal
ents ; for unto every one that hath shaU be given, and he shall
have abundance ; but from him that hath not shall be taken
away even that which he hath ; and cast ye the unprofitable
servant into outer darkness, there shall be weeping and
gnashing of teeth' %
III. In every question of conduct, where one side is doubtftd,
and the othfer side safe, we are bound to take the safe side.
This is best explained by an insteuice ; and I know of none
more to our purpose than that of suicide. Suppose, for exam
ple's sake, that it appear doubtful to a reasoner upon the sub-
jefct, whether he may lawfully destroy himself. He can have
no doubt, biit that it is lawful for him to let it- alone. Here
thereforfe is a case, in whieh one side is doubtful, and the other
side safe. By virtue therefore of our rule, he is bound to pur
sue thfe safe side, that is, to forbear from offering violence to
hitaSelf, whilst a doubt remains upon his mind concerning the
lawfulness of suicide.
It is prudent, you aUow, to take the safe side. But our ob
servation means something more. We assert that the action,
concerning which we doubt, whatever it may be in itself, or to
another, would, in xis, whilst this doubt remains upon our
* 1 Pet. iv. 8. t James v, 20. X Matt. xxv. 24, &c.

VIRTUE. 27
minds, be certainly sinful. The case is expressly so adjudged
by St Paul, vsdth whose authority we vnU for the present rest
contented. ' I know and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus,
that there is nothing unclean of itself, but to him that esteem-
eth any thing to be unclean, to him, it is unclean. 
Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that thing which
he alloweth ; and he that doubteth is damned {condemned^
if he eat, for whatsoever is not of faith (i. e. not done with a full
persuasion of the lawfulness of it) is sin.' *

* Romans, xiv. 14, 22, 23.

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK II.

MORAL OBLIGATION.

CHAPTER I.
THE QUESTION, WHY AM I OBLIGED TO KEEP MY
WORD? CONSIDERED.
Why am I obliged to keep my word ?
Because it is right, says one. — Because it is agreeable to the
fitness of things, says another. — Because it is conformable to
reason and nature, says a third. — Because it is conformable
to truth, says a fourth.— Because it promotes the pubUc good,
says a fifth. — Because it is required by the wUl of God, con
cludes a sixth.
Upon which different accounts, two things are observable :
First, that they all ultimately coincide.
The fitness of things, means their fitness to produce happi
ness : the nature of things, means that actual constitution of
the world, by which some things, as such and such actions,
for example, produce happiness, and others misery: reason is
the pruiciple, "by which we discover or judge of this constitu
tion: truth is this judgment expressed or drawn out into pro
positions. So that it necessarily comes to pass, that what pro
motes the pubhc happiness, or happiness on the whole, is
agreeable to the fitness of things, to nature, to reason, and to
truth: and such (as wiU appear by-and-by) is the divine charac
ter, that what promotes the general happiness, is reqnired by the

MORAL OBLIGATION. 29
wiU of God; and what has all the above properties, must needs
he right; for right means no more than conformity to the rale
we go by, whatever that rule be.
And this is the reason that morahsts, from whatever differ
ent principles they set out, commonly meet in their conclu
sions ; that is, they enjoin the same conduct, prescribe the
same rules of duty, and, with a few exceptions, deliver upon
dubious cases the same determinations.
Secondly, it is to be observed, that these answers aU leave
the matter sAorf ; for the inquirer may turn round upon his
teacher with a second question, in which he wiU expect to be
satisfied, namely, why am I obUged to do what is right ; to act
agreeably to the fitness of things ; to confomi to reason, na
ture, or truth ; to promote the pubUc good, or to obey the wiU
of God?
The proper method of conducting the inquiry is, first, to
examine what we mean, when we say a man is obliged to
do any thing, and then, to show why he is obUged to do the
thing which we have proposed as an example, namely, 'to
keep his word.'

CHAPTER II.
WHAT WE MEAN WHEN WE SAY A MAN IS OBLIGED
TO DO A THING.
A MAN is to be said to be obliged, ' when he is urged by
a violent motive resulting from, the command of another.'
First, ' The motive must be violent.' If a person, who
has done me some Uttle service, or has a smaU place in his dis
posal, ask me upon some occasion for my vote, I may possibly
give it him, from a motive of gratitude or expectation ; but I
should hardly say, that I was obliged to give it him, because
the inducement does not rise high enough. Whereas if a fa
ther or a master, any great benefactor, or one on whom my
fortune depends, requue my vote, I give it him of course ; and
my answer to aU who ask me why I voted so and so, is, that
my father or my master obliged me ; that I had received so
many favom-s from, or had so great a dependence upon such
a one, that I was obliged to vote as he directed me.

30 MORAL OBLIGATION. ,
Secondly, ' It must result from the command of another.'
Offer a man a gratuity for doing any thing, for seizing, for ex
ample, an offender, he is not obliged by your dffer to do it ;
nor would he say he is ; though he may be induced, persua
ded, prevailed upon, tem,pted. If a magistrate or the man's
immediatte superiour command it, he considers himself as
obliged to comply, though possibly he would lose less by a re
fusal in this case, than in the former.
I wiU not undertake to say that the vroxAs obligation and
obliged are used uniformly in this sense, or always -with this
distinction ; nor is it possible to tie do-wn popular phrases to
any constant signification : but wherever the motive is violent
enough, and coupled with the idea of command, authority,
law, or the wiU of a superiour, there, I take it, we always reck
on ourselves to be obliged.
And from this account of obligation it foUows, that we can
be obUged to nothing, but what we ourselves are to gain, or
lose something by ; for nothing else can be a ' violent motive'
to us. As we should not be obUged to obey the laws, or the
magistrate, unless rewards or punishments, pleasure or pain,
some how or 'other, depended upon our obedience ; so neither
should we, without the same reason, be obhged to do what is
right, to practise virtue, or to obey the commands, of "God.

CHAPTER III.
THE QUESTION, WHY AM I OBLIGED TO KEEP MY
WORdI RESUMED.
Let it be remembered, that to be obliged, 'is to be inged
by a -violent motive, resulting from the command of another.'
And then let it be asked, Why am I obliged to keep my
word? and the answer vnU be. Because I am 'urged to do so
by a violent motive ' (namely, the expectation of being after
this life rewarded, if I do, or punished for it, if I do not) 'result
ing from the command of another' (namely, of God.)
This solution goes to the bottom of the subject, as no fur
ther question can reasonably be asked.
Therefore, private happiness is our motive, and the wiU of
God our rule.

MORAL OBLIGATION. 31^
When I first turned my thoughts to moral speculations, an
air of mystery seemed to hang over the whole subject ; which
arose, I beUeve, from hence — that I supposed, with many au
thors whom I had read, that to be obliged to do a thing, was
very different from being induced only to do it ; and that the
obligation to practise -virtue, to do what is right, just, «fcc. was
quite another thing, and of another kind, than the obhgation
which a soldier is under to obey his officer, a servant his mas
ter ; or any of the ci-vil and ordinary obligations of human
Ufe. Whereas, from what has been said it appears, that moral
obligation is hke aU other obligations ; and that obligation is
nothing more th^n an inducem,ent of sufficient strength, and
resulting, in some way, from the command of another.
There is always understood to be a difference between an
act of pr^dence and an act of duty. Thus, if 1 distrusted a
man who owed me a sum of money, I should reckon it an act
of prudence to get another person bound with him ; but I
should hardly call it an act of duty. On the other hand, it
would be thought a very unusual and-loose kind of language,
to say, that, as I had made such a promise, it was prudent to
perform it ; or that, as my friend, when he went abroad, pla
ced a box of jewels in my hands, it would be prudent in me
to preserve it for him tiU he returned.
Now, in what, you -wiU ask, does the difference consist ? in
asmuch as, according to our account' of the matter, both in
the one case and the other, in acts of duty as weU as acts of
prudence, we consider solely what we ourselves shaU gain or
lose by the act ?
The difference, and the only difference, is this ; that, in the
one case we consider what we shaU gain or lose in the present
world ; in the other case, we consider also what we shaU gain
or lose in the world to come.
They who would establish a system of moraUty, indepen
dent of a futm-e state, must look out for some different idea of
moral obUgation ; unless they can shew that virtue conducts
the possessor to certain happiness in this hfe, or to a much
greater share of it than he could attain by a different behaviour.
To us there are two great questions :
I. WiU there be after this life any distribution of rewards
and punishments at all ?
II. If there be, what actions will be rewarded, and what -s\tI1
be pimished 1 '

32 THE WILL OF GOD.
The fust question comprises the credibUity of the Chiistian
religion, together -with the presumptive proofs of a future retri
bution from the Ught of nature. The second question com
prises the province of morahty. Both questions are too much
for one work. The affii-mative therefore of the first, although
we confess that it is the foundation upon which the whole fa
bric rests, must in this treatise be taken for granted.

CHAPTER IV.
THE WILL OF GOD.
As THE wUl of God is our rule, to inquire what is our duty,
or what we are obliged to do, in any instance, is, in effect, to
inquire, what is the wiU of God in that instance ? wliich con
sequently becomes the whole business of morahty.
Now there are two methods of coming at the -wiU of God on
any point :
I. By his express declarations, when they are to be had, and
which must be sought for in scripture.
II. By what we can discover of his designs and dispositions
from his works ; or, as we usuaUy call it, the Ught of nature.

And here we may observe the absurdity of separating natu
ral and revealed rehgion fi-om each other. The object of both
is the same — to discover the will of God — and, provided we do
but discover it, it matters nothing by what means.
An ambassador, judging by what he knows of his sove
reign's disposition, and arguing from what he has observed of
his conduct, or is acquainted \in(h of his designs, may take his
measures in many cases with safety, and presume with great
probabUity how his master would have him act on most occa
sions that arise : but if he have his commission and instructions
in his pocket, it would be strange not to look into them. He
¦wfll be directed by both rules fwhen his instructions are clear
and positive, there is an end to aU further dehberation (unless
indeed he suspect theii- authenticity) : where his instructions
are sUent or dubious, he ^vill endeavour to supply or explain

THE WILL OF GOD. 33
them, by what he has been able to collect from other quarters
of his master's general inclination or intentions.
Mr Hume, in his fourth Appendix to his Principles of Mor
als, has been pleased to complain of the modern scheme of uni
ting Ethics with the Christian Theology. They who find
themselves disposed to join in this complaint wUl do weU to ob
serve what Mr Hume himself has been able to make of moral
ity without this union. And for that purpose, let them read the
second part of the ninth section of the above essay ; which part
contains the practical application of the whole treatise, — a trea
tise, which Mr Hume declares to be ' incomparably the best he
ever wrote.' When they have read it over, let them consider,
whether any motives there proposed are likely to be found suffi
cient to withhold men from the gratification of lust, revenge,
envy, ambition, avarice ; or to prevent the' existence of these
passions. Unless they rise up from this celebrated essay, with
stronger impressions upon their minds than it ever left upon
mine, they wiU acknowledge the necessity of ac|ditional sanc
tions. But the necessity of these sanctions is not now the
question. If they be in fact established, if the rewards and
punishments held forth in the gospel wiU actually come to pass,
they must he conside];ed. Such as reject the Christian religion
are to make the best shift they can to build up a system, and
lay the foundations of morality without it. But it appears to
me a great inconsistency in those who receive Christianity,
and expect something to come of it, to endeavour to keep all
such expectations out of sight in their reasonings concerning
human duty.

The method of coming at the wiU of God, concerning any
action, by the light of nature, is to inquire into ' the tendency
of the action to promote or diminish the general happiness.'
This rule proceeds upon the presumption, that God Almighty
wiUs and wishes the happiness of his creatures ; and, con
sequently, that those actions, which promote that wiU and
wish, must be agreeable to him ; and the contrary.
, As this presumption is the foundation of our whole system,
it becomes necessary to explain the reasons upon which it
rests.

VOL. III.

( 34 )
CHAPTER V.
THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE.
When God created the human species, either he wi.?hed
their happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was in
different and unconcerned about both.
If he had wished our misery, he might have made sure of
his purpose, by formmg our senses to be so many sores and
pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratification and
enjoyment ; or by placing us amidst objects so UI suited to our
perceptions, as to have continuaUy offended us, instead of min
istering to our refreshment and delight. He might have made,
for example, every thing we tasted bitter ; every thing we saw
loathsome ; every thing we touched a sting ; every smeU a
stench ; and every sound a discord.
If he had been intUfferent about our happiness or misery,
we must impute to our good fortune (as aU design by this sup
position is excluded) both the capacity of our senses to receive
pleasure, and the supply of external objects fitted to produce it.
But either of these (and still more both of them) being too
much to be attributed to accident, nothing remains but the
first supposition, that God, when he created the human species,
wished their happiness ; and made for them the provision
which he has made, -with that view, and for that purpose.
The same argument may be proposed in different terms,
thus: Contrivance proves design; and the predominant ten
dency of the contrivance indicates the disposition of -the de
signer. The world abounds -with contrivances ; and aU the
contrivances which we are acquainted -with, are directed to
beneficial pm-poses. EvU,- no doubt, exists ; but is never, that
we can perceive, the object of contrivance. Teeth are contriv
ed to eat, not to ache ; then aching now and then is incidental
to the contrivance, perhaps inseparable from it : or even, if you
wUl, let it be caUed a defect in the contrivance ; but it is not
the object of it. This is a distinction which weU deserves to
be attended to. In describing implements of husbandry, you
would hardly say of the siclde, that it is made to cut the reap
er's fingers, though, from the construction of the instrument,
and the manner of using it, this mischief often happens. But

THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE. 35
if yon had occasion to describe instruments of torture or ex-
ecution,'this engine, you woidd-say, is to extend the sinews ;
this to dislocate the joints; this to break the bones; this to
scorch the soles of the feet. Here pain and misery are the very
objects of the contrivance. Now nothing of this sort is to be
found in the works of nature. We never discover a train of
contrivance to brmg about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever
discovered a system of organization calculated to produce pain
and disease ; or, ui explaining the parts of the human body, ev
er said, this is to irritate ; this to inflame ; this duct is to convey
the gravel to the kidneys ; this gland to secrete the humour
which- forms the gout: if by chance he come at a part of which
he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it is useless;
no one ever suspects that it is put there to incommode, to annoy,
or to torment. Since then God hath caUed forth his consum
mate wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness, and
the world appears to have been constituted -with this design at
fnst, so long as this constitution is upholden by him, we must
in reason suppose the same design to continue.
The contemplation of universal nature rather bewilders the
mind than affects it. There is always a bright spot in the
prospect upon which the eye rests ; a single example, perhaps,
by which each man finds himself more convinced than by aU
others put together. I seem, for my own part, to see the be
nevolence of the Deity more clearly in the pleasures of very
young children, than in any thing in the worid. The plea
sures of grown persons may be reckoned partly of their own
procuring ; especiaUy if there has been any industry, or contri
vance, or pursuit, to come at them ; or if they are founded, hke
music, painting, &c. upon any qualification of their own ac-
quu-ing. But the pleasures of a healthy infant are so mani
festly provided for it by another, and the benevolence of the
provision is.so unquestionable, that every chUd I see at its sport
affords to my mind a kind of sensible evidence of the finger of
God, and of the disposition which duects it.
' But the example, which strUies each man most strongly, is
the true example for hun ; and hardly two minds hit upon the
same ; which shows the abundance of such examples about
us. We conclude, therefore, that God wUls and wishes the hap
piness of his creatures. And this conclusion being once estab
lished, we are at liberty to go on with the ride built upon it^

36 UTILITY.
namely, ' that the method of coming at the will of God, cou-
cerning any action, by the Ught of nature, is to inquire uito the
tendency of that action to promote or diminish the general
happiness.'

CHAPTER VI.
UTILITY.
So then actions are to be estimated by then tendency. *
Whatever is expedient is right. It is the utiUty of any moral
rule alone which constitutes the obhgation of it.
But to aU this there seems a plain objection,^viz. that ma
ny actions are useful, which no man in his senses wUl aUow
to be right. There are occasions, in which the hand of the
assassin would be very useful. The present possessor of some
great estate employs his influence and fortune to annoy, cor
rupt, or oppress all about' him. His estate would devolve, by
his death, to a successor of an opposite character. It is useful,
therefore, to dispatch such a one as soon as possible out of the
way ; as the neighbourhood -sviU exchange thereby a perni
cious tyrant for a wise and generous benefactor. It might be
useful to rob a miser, and give the money to the poor ; as the
money, no doubt, would produce more happiness, by being laid
out in food and clothing for half a dozen distressed famiUes,
than by continuing locked up 'in a miser's chest. It may be
useful to get possession of a place, a piece of preferment, or of
a seat in parliament, by bribery or false swearing; as by
means of them we may serve the pubhc more effectuaUy than
in our private station. What then shall we say ? Must we ad
mit these actions to be right, which would be to justify assas
sination, plunder, and peijury ; or must we give up our prin
ciple, that the criterion of right is utility 1
It is not necessary to do either.
*Actions in the abstract are right or wi-ong, according to tlieir tendency ; tlie
agent is virtuous or vicious, according to his design. Thus, if the question be.
Whether relieving common beggars be right or wrong *? we inquire into the tendency
of such a conduct to the public advantage or inconvenience. If the question be.
Whether a man remarkable for this sort of bounty is to be esteemed virtuous for that
reason 1 we inquire into his design, whether his liberality sprang from charity or
from ostentation 1 It is evident that oiff concern is witli actions in the abstract.

THE NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES., 37
The true answer is this ; that these actions, after aU, are
not usefiil, and for that reason, and that alone, are not right.
To see this point perfectly, it must be observed that the bad
consequences of actions are twofold, particular and general.
The particular bad consequence of an action is, the mis
chief which that single action directly and immediately occa
sions. The general bad consequence is, the violation of some ne
cessary or usefxA general rule.
Thus, the particular bad consequence of the assassination
above described, is the fright and pain which the deceased un
derwent ; the loss he suffered of life, which is as valuable to a
bad man, as to a good one, or more so ; the prejudice and af
fliction, of which his death was the occasion, to his family,
friends, ' and dependants.
The general bad consequence is the violation of this neces
sary general rule, that no man be put to death for his crimes,
but by pubhc authority.
Although, therefore, such an action have no particular bad
consequences, or greater particular good consequences, yet it
is not useful, by reason of the general consequence, which is of
more unportance, and "which is evU. And the same of the
other two instances, and of a miUion more, which might be
mentioned. But as this solution supposes, that the moral government of
the world must proceed by general rules, it remains that we
show the necessity of this.

CHAPTER VII.
THE NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES.
You cannot permit one action and forbid another, without
showing a difference between them. Consequently, the same
sort of actions must be generaUy permitted or generaUy forbid
den. Where, therefore, the general permission of them would
be pernicious, it becomes necessary to lay down and support
the ride which generaUy forbids them.
Thus, to return once more to the case of the assassin. The
assassin knocked the rich villain on the head, because he

38 THE NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES.
thought him better out of the way than in it. If you aUow
this excuse in the present instance, you must aUow if to all
who act in the same manner, and fi-om the same motive ; that
is, you must aUow every man to kiU any one he meets, whom
he thinks noxious or useless ; which, in the event, would be
to commit every man's Ufe and safety to the spleen, fury, and
fanaticism of his neighbour ; — a disposition of affahs which
would soon fiU the world with misery and confusion ; and ere
long put an end to human society, if not to the human species.
The necessity of general rules in human government is ap
parent : but whether the same necessity subsist in the divine
economy, in that distribution of rewards and punishments to
which a moraUst looks forward, may be doubted.
I answer, that general rules are necessary to every moral
government ; and by moral government I mean any dispen
sation, whose object is to influence the conduct of reasonable
creatures. For if, of two actions perfectly similar, one be punished, and
the other be rewarded or forgiven, which is the consequence
of rejecting general rules, the subjects of such a dispensation
would no longer know, either what to expect or how to act.
Rewards and punishments would cease to be such — would be
come accidents. Like the stroke of a thunderbolt, or the dis
covery of a mine, hke a blank or a benefit ticket in a lottery,
they would occasion pain or pleasine when they happened ;
but, foUowing in no known order, from any particular course of
action, they could have no previous influence or effect upon the
conduct. An attention to general rules, therefore, is included in the
very idea of reward and punishment. Consequently whatever
reason there is to expect future reward and punishment at the
hand of God, there is the same reason to believe, that he wiU
proceed in the distribution of it by general i-ules.

Before we prosecute the consideration of general consequences
any farther, it may be proper to anticipate a reflection, which
wiU be apt enough to suggest itself, in the progress of our ar
gument. As the general consequence of an action, upon which so much
of the guilt of a bad action depends, consists in the example,
it should seem, that if the action be done with perfect secrecy.

THE CONSIDERATION OF GENERAL CONSEaUENCES. 39
so as to furnish no bad example, that part of the guilt drops
off. In the case of suicide, for instance, if a man can so man
age matters, as to take away his own life, without being known
or suspected to have done so, he is not chargeable with any
mischief from the example ; nor does his punishment seem
necessary, in order to save the authority of any general riile.
In the first place, those who reason in this manner do not
observe, that they are setting up a general rule, of aU others
the least to be endured ; namely, that secrecy, whenever secre
cy is practicable, wUl justify any action.
Were such a rule admitted, for instance, in the case above
produced, is there not reason to fear that people would be
disappearing perpetually ?
In the next place, I would wish them to be weU satisfied
about the points proposed in the foUo-wing queries :
1. Wliether the scriptures do not teach us to expect that, at
the general judgment of the world, the most secret actions
wiU be brought to light ? *
2. For what purpose can this be, but to make them the
objects of reward and punishment ?
3. Whether, being so brought to light, they wiU not faU
under the operation of those equal and impartial rules, by which
God wiU deal -with his creatures ?
They -wiU then become examples, whatever they be now ;
and requne the same treatment from the judge and governor
of the moral world, as if they had been detected from the first.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE CONSIDERATION OF GENERAL CONSEQUENCES
PURSUED.
The general consequence of any action may be estimated,
by asking what would be the consequence, if the same sort of
actions were generaUy permitted. — But suppose they were,
and a thousand such actions perpetrated under this permis-
* ' In the day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ.' Rom. xi.
16. — ' Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who will bring to light
the hidden tilings of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart.'
1 Cor. iv. 5.

40 THE CONSIDERATION OF
sion ; is it just to charge a single action with the coUected guUt
and mischief of the whole thousand ? I answer, that the reason
for prohibiting and punishing an action (and this reason may
be called the guilt of the action, if you please) -wiU always be
in proportion to the whole mischief that would arise from the
general impunity and toleration of actions of the same sort.
' Whatever is expedient is right.' But then it must be ex
pedient on the whole, at the long run, in all its effects collateral
and remote, as weU as in those which are immediate and
direct ; as it is obvious, that, in computing consequences, it
makes no difference in what way or at what distance they en
sue. .
To impress this doctrine upon the minds of young readers,
and to teach them to extend theh views beyond the immediate
mischief of a crime, I shaU here subjoin a string of instances, hi
which the particular consequence is comparatively insignifi
cant ; and where the mahgnity of the crime, and the severity
with which human laws pursue it, is almost entirely founded
upon the general consequence.
The particular consequence of coining is, the, loss of a guinea,
or of half a guinea, to the person who receives the counterfeit
money ; the general consequence (by wliich I mean the con
sequence that would ensue, if the same practice were generally
permitted) is, to abolish the use of money.
The particular consequence of forgery is, a damage of twen
ty or thit-ty pounds to the man who accepts the forged biU : the
general consequence is, the stoppage of paper currency.
The particular conseq\ience of sheep-steaUng, or horse-stealing,
is, a loss to the owner, to the amount of the value of the sheep,
or horse stolen : the general consequence is, that the land could
not be occupied, nor the market suppUed with this kind of stock.
The particular consequence of breaking into a house empty-
of inhabitants, is, the loss of a pair of sUver candlesticks, or a
few spoons : the general consequence is, that nobody could
leave their house empty.
The particular consequences of smuggUng may be a deduc
tion fiom the national fund, too minute for computation": the
general consequence is, the destraction of one entUe branch of
pubhc revenue ; a proportionable increase of the burden upon
other branches ; and the rain of aU fair and open trade in the
article smuggled.
The partictdar consequence of an ofiicer's breaking his pa
role is, the loss of a prisonei-, who was possibly not worth keep-

GENERAL CONSEQUEfJCES PURSUED. 41
ing : the general consequence is, that this mitigation of captiv
ity would be refused to aU others.
And what proves incontestably the superiour importance of
general consequences is, that crimes are the same, and treated
in the same manner, though the particular consequence be
very different. The crime and fate of the house-breaker is
the same, whether his booty be five pounds or fifty. And the
reason is, that the general consequence is the sarne.
The want of this distinction between particular and general
consequences, or rather the not sufficiently attending to the lat
ter, is the cause of that perplexity which we meet -with in an
cient moralists. On the one hand, they were sensible of the
absurdity of pronouncing actions good or evU, without regard
to the good or evU they produced. On the other hand, they
were startled at the conclusions to which a steady adherence
to consequences seemed sometimes to conduct them. To re-
heve this difficulty, they contrived the to jtjewm or the hones-
turn, by which terms they meant to constitute a measure of
right, distinct from utiUty. WhUst the utile served them, that
is, whilst it corresponded with their habitual notions of the rec
titude of actions, they went by it. When they feU in with
such cases as those mentioned in the sixth chapter, they took
leave of their guide, and lesorted to the honestum. The only
account they could give of the matter was, that these actions
might be useful : but, becaiise they were not at the same time
honesta, they were by no means to be deemed just or right.
From the principles delivered in this and the two preceding
chapters, a maxim may be explained, which is in every man's
mouth, and in smost men's without meaning, viz. ' not to do
evU, that ,good may ,come : ' that is, let us not violate a general
rule, for the sake of any particular good consequence we may
expect. Which is for the most part a salutary caution, the
advantage seldom compensating for the violation of the rale.
iStrictly speaking, that cannot be 'evU,' from which 'good
comes ; ' but in this way, and -with a view to the distuictipn
between particular and general consequences, it may.
We wUl conclude this subject of consequences with the fol
lowing reflection. A man may imagine, that any action of
his, with respect to the pubhc, must be inconsiderable : so also
. is the agent. If his crime produce but a_^smaU effect upon the
universal interest, his punishment or.destruction bears a sinftU
proportion to the sum of happmess and niisery ui the preatifip.
VOL. III. 6

( 42 )
CHAPTER IX.
OF RIGHT.
Right* and obligation are reciprocal; that is, wherever
there is a right in one person, there is a corresponding obliga
tion upon others. If one man has a ' right ' to an estate, oth
ers are ' obUged' to abstain from it :— If parents have a ' right'
to reverence fi-o'm their chUdren, children are ' obliged' to rev
erence their parents ; and so in aU other instances.
Now, because moral obligation depends, as we have seen,
upon the wiU of God, right, which is correlative to it, must
depend upon the same. Right therefore signifies, consistency
with the will of God.
But if the divine will determine the distinction of right and
wrong, what else is it but an ideiitical proposition, to say of
God, that he acts right ? or how is it possible to conceive even
that he should act wrong 7 Yet these assertions are intelUgi-
ble and significant. The case is this : By virtue of the two
principles, that God wUls the happiness of his creatures, and
that the wUl of God fs the measure of right and wrong, we
arrive at certain conclusions ; which conclusions become rules ;
and we soon learn to pronounce actions right or wrong, accor
ding as they agree or disagi-ee with our rules, without looking
any fiirther : and when the habit is once established of stop
ping at the rales, we can go back and compare with these
rules even the divine conduct itself; and yet it may be trae
(only not observed by us at the time) that the rales themselves
are deduced fi-om the divine wiU.
Right is a quality of persons or of actiohs.
Of persons ; as when we say, such a one has a ' right ' to
this estate : parents have a 'right' to reverence from their chU
dren ; the kmg to aUegiance from liis subjects ; masters have
a 'right' to their servants' labour; a man has not a 'right'
over his own Ufe.
Of actions ; as in such expressions as the foUowing : it is
' right' to punish murder -with death ; his behaviour on that oc
casion was ' right ; ' it is not ' right ' to send an unfortunate
debtor to jaU ; he did or acted ' right,' who gave up his place,
rather than vote against his judgment.

THE DIVISION OP RIGHTS. 43
In this latter set of expressions, you may substitute the defi
nition of right above given for the term itself, v. g. it is ' con
sistent with the wUl of God ' to punish murder -with death ; —
his behaviour on that occasion was ' consistent with the wiU of
God ; ' — it is not ' consistent with the -wiU of God,' to send an
unfortunate debtor to jaU ; — he did, or acted, ' consistently with
the wiU of God,' who gave up his place rather than vote against
his judgment. .
In the former set, you must vary the construction a little,
when you introduce the definition instead of the term. Such
a one has a ' right' to this estate, that is, it is 'consistent with
the -wiU of God,' that such a one should have it ; — parents have
a 'right' to reverence from their chUdren, that is, it is 'consistent
with the wiU of God,' that chUdren should reverence their pa
rents ; and the same of the rest.

CHAPTER X.
THE'DIVISION OF RIGHTS.
Rights, when apphed to persons, are
Natural or adventitious.
- AUenable or unaUenable.
Perfect or imperfect.
I. Rights are natural or adventitious.
Natural rights are such as woidd belong to a man, although
there subsisted in the world no civU government whatever.
Adventitious rights are such as would not.
Natural rights are, a man's right to his life, Umbs, andUb-
erty; his right to the produce of his personal labour; to the
use, in common -with others, of air, light, water. If a thou
sand different persons, from a thousand different corners of the
world, were cast together upon a desert island, they would
from the first be every one entitled to these rights.
Adventitious rights are, the right of a^ing over his sub
jects ; of a general over his soldiers ; of a judge over the hfe
and liberty of a prisoner ; a right to elect or appouit magis
trates, to impose taxes, decide disputes, direct the descent or dis
position of property; a right, in a word, m any one man, or
particular body of men, to make laws and regulations for the

44 TH£ fitVlSiON OP RIGHTS.
rest. For none of these rights would exist in a newly inhab
ited island.
And here it will be asked, how adventitious rights are crea
ted ; or, which is the same thing,- how any new rights can euo-
crue from the establishment of civil society ,' as rights of all
kinds, we remember, depend upon the will of God, and civil
society is but the orttoiaUce and institution of man. For the
solution of this difficulty, we must return to our first principles.
God wills the happiness of mankind, and the existence of 6ivU
society, as conducive to that happiness. Consequently'j many
things, which are useful for the support of civU society in gen
eral, or for the conduct and conversation of particular societies
already established, are, for that reason^ ' consistent with the
wUl of God,' or ' right,' which, -without that reason, i. e. with
out the establishment of civU society; would not have been so.
From whence also it appears, that adventitious rights, though
immediately derived from human appointment, are not, for
that reason, less sacred than natural rights, nor the obUgation
to respect them less cogent. They both ultimately rely upon
the same authority, the wUl of God. Such a man clauns a
right to . a particular estate. He can show, it is trae, nothing
for his right, but a rale of the civU community to which he be
longs ; and this rule may be arbitrary, capricious, and absurd.
Notwithstanding aU this, there would be the same sin in dis
possessing the man of his estate by eraft or violence, as if it had
been assigned to him, Uke the partition of the country amongst
the twelve tribes, by the immediate designation and appoint
ment of Heaven.
II. Rights are aUenable or unalienable.
Which terms explain themselves.
The right we have to most of those things which we caU
property, as houses, lands, money, &c. is alienable.
The right of a prince over his peoplcj of a husband over his
wife, of a master over his servant, is generaUy and naturaUy
unalienable^ The distinction depends upon the mode of acquiring the
right, if the right originate from a contract, and be Umited
to the person by the express terms of the contract, or by the
common interpretation of such contracts, (which is equivalent
to an express stipulation), or by a personal condition annex
ed to the right; then it is unaUenable. In aU other cases it is
alienable.

THE DIVISION OP RIGHTS, 45
The right to oivU hberty is aUenable; though in the vehe
mence of men's zeal for it, and in the language of some political
remonstrances, it has often been pronounced to be an unaliena
ble right. The trae reason why mankind hold in detestation
the memory of those who have sold their liberty to a tyrant,
is, that, together -with their own, they sold commonly, or en
dangered, the hberty of others ; which certainly they had no
right to dispose of.
III. Rights are perfect or imperfect.
Perfect rights may be asserted by force, or, what in civU so
ciety comes into the place of private force, by course of law.
Imperfect rights may not.
Examples of perfect rights. A man's right to his hfe, per
son, house ; for, ff these be attacked, he may repel the attack
by instant -violence, or punish the aggi'essor by law ; a man's
right to his estate, fiirniture, clothes, money, and to aU ordina
ry articles of property ; for, if they be injuriously taken from
him, he may compel the author of the injm-y to make restitu
tion or satisfaction.
Examples of imperfect rights. In elections or appointments
to ofiices, where the qualifications are prescribed, the best qual
ified candidate has a right to success ; yet, if he be rejected, he
has no remedy. He can neither seize the office by force, nor
obtain redress at law ; his right therefore is imperfect. A poor
neighbour has a right to reUef ; yet, if it be refused him, he
must not extort it. A benefactor has a right to returns of grat
itude from the person he has obUged ; yet, if he meet with none,
'he must acquiesce. ChUdren have a right to affection and ed
ucation fi-om their parents ; and parents, on then part, to duty
and reverence fi-om their chUdren ; yet if these rights be on
either side -withholden, there is no compulsion by which they
can be enforced.
It may be at first view difficult to apprehend how a person
should have a right to a thing, and yet have no right to use
the means necessary to obtain it. This difficulty, Uke most
others in morahty, is resolvable into the necessity of general
rules. The reader recoUects, that a person is said to have a
' right' to a thing, when it is ' consistent -with the wUl of God'
that he should possess it. So that the question is reduced to
this; how it comes to pass that it should be consistent with the
AviU of God that a person should possess a thing, and yet not be
consistent with the same wUl that he should use force to obtain

46 THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS.
it? The answer is, that by reason of the uideterminateness,
either of the object, or of the circumstances of , the right, the
permission of force in this case would, in its consequence, lead
to the permission of force in other cases, where there existed
no right at aU. The candidate above described has, no doubt,
aright to success; but his right depends upon his qualifications,
for instance, upon his comparative vutue, learning, &c. ; there
must be somebody therefore to compare them. The existence,
degree, and respective importance of these qualifications are all
indeterminate : there must be somebody therefore to determine
them. To aUow the candidate to demand success by force, is
to make him the judge of his o-wn qualifications. You cannot
do this, but you must make aU other candidates the same;
which would open a door to demands without number, reason,
or right. In Uke manner, a poor man has a right to reUef
from the rich ; but the mode, season, and quantum of that re
Uef, who shaU contribute to it, or how much, are not ascertain
ed. Yet these points must be ascertained, before a claim to
relief can be prosecuted by force. For, to aUow the poor to
ascertain them for themselves, would be to expose property to
so many of these claims, that it would lose its value, or rather
its nature, that is, cease indeed to be property. The same ob
servation holds of aU other cases of imperfect rights ; not to
mention, that in the instances of gratitude, affection, reverence,
and the like, force is excluded "by the very idea of the duty,
which must be voluntary, or cannot exist at aU.
Wherever the right is imperfect, the corresponding obliga
tion is so too. I am obUged to prefer the best candidate, to
reUeve the poor, be grateful to my benefactors, take care of
my chUdren, and reverence my parents ; but in aU these ca
ses, my obUgation, like their right, is imperfect.
I caU these obligations ' imperfect,' in conformity to the es
tablished language of writers upon the subject. The term,
however, seems UI chosen on this account, that it leads many
to imagine, that there is less guUt in the violation of an imper
fect obhgation, than of a perfect one. Which is a groundless
notion. For an obhgation being perfect or imperfect, deter
mines only whether violence may or may not be employed to
enforce it ; and determines nothing else. The degiee of guUt
incurred by violating the obUgation is a different thing, and is
determined by circumstances altogether independent of this
distinction, A man who by a partial, prejudiced, or corrupt

THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND. 47
vote, disappoints a worthy candidate of a station in Ufe, upon
which his hopes, possibly^ or livelihood depended, and who
thereby grievously discourages merit and emulation in others,
commits, I am persuaded, a much greater crime, than if he
filched a book out of a hbrary, or picked the pocket of a hand
kerchief: though in the one case he violates only an imperfect
right, in the other a perfect one.
As positive precepts are often indeterminate in their extent,
.and as the indeterminateness of an obUgation is that which
makes it imperfect; it comes to pass, that positive precepts
commonly produce an imperfect obhgation.
Negative precepts or prohibitions, being generaUy precise,
constitute accordingly perfect obUgations.
The fifth commandment is positive, and the duty which re
sults from it is imperfect.
The sixth commandment is negative, and imposes a perfect
obhgation. Religion and virtue find their principal exercise amongst the
Imperfect obUgations ; the laws of civU society taking pretty
good care of the rest.

CHAPTER XI.
THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND.
By the general Rights of Mankind, I mean the rights
which belong to the species coUectively ; the original stock, as
I may say, which they have since distributed among them-

These are,
I. A right to the fruits or vegetable produce of the earth.
The insensible parts of the creation are incapable of injury ;
and it is nugatory to inquire into the right, where the use can
be attended -with no injury. But it may be worth observing,
for the sake of an inference which wUl appear below, that, as
God had created us with a want and desire of food, and pro
vided things suited by their nature to sustain and satisfy us,
We may fairly presume, that he intended we should apply
these things to that purpose.
II. A right to the flesh of animals.

48 THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND.
This is a very different claim from the former. Some ex
cuse seems necessary for the pain and loss which we occasion
to brutes, by restranung them from their Uberty, ihutalating their
bodies, and, at last, putting an end to their lives (which we
suppose to be the whole of their existence), for our pleasure or
conveniency. The reasons aUeged in -vindication of this ;practice, are ihe
foUowing : that the several species of brutes being created to
prey upon one another, affords a kind of anal<^y to prove that-
the human species were intended to feed upon them ; that, if
let alone, they would overrun the earth, and exclude mankind
from the occupation of it ; that they are requited for what they
suffer at our hands, by our care and protection.
Upon which reasons I would observe, that the analogy
contended for is extremely lame ; since brutes have no power
to support Ufe by any other means, and since we have; for
the whole hmnan species might subsist entirely upon fruit,
pulse, herbs, and roots, as many tribes of Hindoos actuaUy do.
The two other reasons may be vaUd reasons, as far as they
go ; for, no doubt, if man had been supported entirely by veg
etable, food, a great part of those animals which die to furnish
his table, would never have lived : but they by no means jus
tify our right over the lives of brutes to the extent in which
we exercise it. What danger is there, for instance, of fish in
terfering with us, in the occupation of then element? Or what
do we contribute to their support or presei-vation ?
It seems to me, that j,t would be difiicult to defend this right
by any argument which the Ught and order of nature afford ;
and that we are beholden for it to the permission recorded in
Scripture, Gen. ix. 1, 2, 3 : ' And God blessed Noah and his
sons, and said unto them. Be fiuitfid, and multiply, and re
plenish the earth ; and the fear of you, and the dread of you,
shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of
the air, and upon aU that moveth upon the earth, and upon
aU the fishes of the sea.; into your hand are they deUvered:
every moving thuig shall be meat for you ; even as the green
herb, have I ;given you aU things.' To Adam and his poster
ity had been gianted at the creation, ' every gi-een herb for
meat,' and nothing more. In the last clause of the passage
now produced, the old grant is recited, and extended to the
flesh of animals, ' even as the green herb, have I given you
aU things.' But this was not tiU after the flood ; the inhabit-

THE GENERAL RIGHTS OP MANKIND. 49
ants of the antediluvian world had therefore no such permis
sion, that we know of. Whether they actuaUy refrained from
the flesh of anunals, is another question. Abel, we read, was
a keeper of sheep ; and for what pmpose he kept them, ex
cept for food, -is difficult to say (unless it were sacrifices) : might
not, however, some of the stricter sects among the antedUu-
vians be scrupulous as to this pomt ? and might not Noah and
his family be of this description ? for it is not probable that
God would publish a permission, to authorize a practice which
had never been disputed.
Wanton, and, what is worse, studied crueUy to brutes, is
certainly wrong, as coming within none of these reasons. -

'From reason then, or , revelation, or from both together, it
appears to be God Almighty's intention, that the productions
of the earth should be applied to the sustentation of human
life. Consequently aU waste and misappUcation of these pro
ductions, is contrary to the divine intention and wUl ; and there
fore wrong, for the same reason that any other crime is so.
Such as, what is related of William the Conqueror, the con
verting of twenty manors into a forest for hunting, or, which
is not much better, suffering them to continue in that state ; or
the letting of large tracts of land lie barren, because the owner
cannot cultivate them, nor wUl part -with them to those who
can; or destroying, or suffering to perish, great part of an
article of human provision, in order to enhance the price of the
remainder, which is said to have been, tiU lately, the case -with
fish caught upon the English coast ; or diminishing-the breed of
animals, by a wanton, or impro-vident consumption of the young,
as of the spawn of sheU-fish, or the fry of salmon, by the use of
unlavvfdl nets, or at improper seasons : to this head may also be
referred, what is the same evU in a smaUer way, the expending
of human food on superfluous dogs or horses ; and lastly, the re
ducing of the quantity, in order to alter the quality, and to alter
it generaUy for the worse ; as the distUlation of spuits from bread-
corri, the JioUing down of solid meat for sauces, essences, &c.
This seem§ to be the lesson which om- Saviour, after his man
ner, inculcates, when he bids his disciples ' gather up the frag
ments, that nothing be lost.' And it opens indeed a new field
of duty. Schemes of wealth or profit prompt the active part
of mankind to cast about, how they may convert their proper-
voL. III. 7

50 THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND.
ty to the most advantage : and their own advantage, and that
of the public, commonly concur. But it has not as yet enter
ed into the minds of mankind, to reflect that it is a duty, to
add what we can to the common stock of pro-vision, by extract
ing out of our estates the most they wiU yield ; or that it is
any sin to neglect this.
From the same intention of God Almighty, we also deduce
another conclusion, namely, ' that nothing ought to be made
exclusive property, which can be conveniently enjoyed in com
mon.' It is the general intention of God Almighty, that the pro
duce of the earth be applied to the use of man. This appears
from the constitution of nature, or, if you wiU, from his ex
press declaration ; and this is all that appears at first. Under
this general donation, one man has the same right as another.
You pliick an apple from a tree, or take a lamb out of a
flock, for your immediate use and nomishment, and I do the
same ; and we both plead for what we do the general intention
of the Supreme Proprietor. So far all is right ; but you can
not claim the whole tree, or the whole flock, and exclnde me
from any share of them, and plead this general intention for
what you do. The plea wUl not serve you : you must show
something more. You must show, by probable -arguments at
least, that it is God's intention, that these things should be
parceUed out to individuals ; and that the estabhshed distri-
iDution, under which you claim, should be upholden. Show
me this, and I am satisfied. But untU this be shown, the
general intention, which has been made appear, and which
is all that does appear, must prevail ; and, under that, my title
is as good as yours. Now there is no argument to induce such
a presumption, but one, that the thing cannot be enjoyed at aU,
or enjoyed -with the same, or with nearly the same advantage,
whUe it continues in common, as when appropriated. This
is trae, where there is not enough for aU, or where the article
in question requires care or labour in the production or preser
vation : but where no such reason obtains, and the thing is in
its nature capable of being enjoyed by as many as wUl, it seems
an arbitrary usurpation upon the rights of mankind, to confine
the use of it to any.
If a medicinal spring were discovered in a piece of ground
which was private property, copious enough for every purpose
to which it could be apphed, I would award a compensation to

THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND. 51
the owner of the field, and a liberal profit to the author of the
discovery, especiaUy if he had bestowed pains or expense upon
the search ; but I question whether any human laws would be
justified, or would justify the owner, in prohibiting mankind
from the use of the water, or setting such a price upon it, as
would ahnost amount to a prohibition.
If there be fisheries, which are inexhaustible, as the cod-fish
ery upon the Banks of Newfoundland, and the herring-fishery
in the British seas are said to be ; then aU those conventions,
by which one or two nations claim to themselves, and guaran
ty to each other, the exclusive enjoyment of these fisheries, are
so many encroachments upon the general rights of mankind.
Upon the same principle may be determined a question,
which makes a great figure in books of natural law, utrum,
Tnare sit liberuin 7 that is, as I understand it, whether the ex
clusive right of navigating particular seas, or a control over the
navigation of these seas, can be clauned, consistently with the
law of nature, by any nation ? What is necessary for each na
tion's safety we aUow ; as their own bays, creeks, and > har-
bom-s, the sea contiguous to, that is, within cannon shot, or
three leagues of their coast : and upon this principle of safety
(if upon any principle) must be defended, the claim of the Ve
netian state to the Adriatic, of Denmark to the Baltic sea, and
of Great Britain to the seas which invest the island. But,
when Spain asserts a right to the Pacific ocean, or Portugal to
the Indian seas, or when any nation extends its pretensions
much beyond the hmits of its own territories, they erect a claun
which interferes with the benevolent designs of Providence,
and which no human authority can justify.
III. Another right, which may be called a general right, as
it is incidental to every man who is in a situation to claim it,
is the right of extreme necessity : by which is meant, a right to
use or destroy another's property, when it is necessary for our
own preservation to do so ; as a right to take, without or against
the owner's leave, the first food, clothes, or shelter we meet with,
when we are in danger of perishing though want of them ; a
right to throw goods overboard, to save the ship ; or to pull
down a house, in order to stop the progress of a fire ; and a
few other instances of the same kind. Of which right the
foundation seems to be this, that, when property was fii-st in
stituted, the institution was not intended to operate to the de
struction of any ; therefore, when such consequences would fol-

52 THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND.
low, aU regard to it is superseded. Or rather, perhaps, these
are the few cases, where the particular consequence exceeds
the general consequence ; where the remote mischief resulting
from the violation of the general rale is overbalanced by the
immediate advantage.
Restitution however is due, when in our power ; because the
laws of property are to be adhered to, so far as consists -with
safety ; and because restitution, which is one of those laws, sup
poses the danger to be over. But what is to be restored ? Not
the full value of the property destroyed, but what it was worth
at the time of destroying it, which, considering the danger it
was in of perishing, might be very little.

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK III.

RELATIVE DUTIES.

PART I.
OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE DETERMINATE.

CHAPTER I.
OF PROPERTY.
If you should see a flock of pigeons in a field of com : and
if (instead of each picking where, and what it liked, taking just
as much as it wanted, and no more) you should see ninety nine
of them gathering all they got into a heap ; reserving nothing
for themselves, but the chaff and the refuse ; keeping this heap
for one, and that the weakest, perhaps worst pigeon of the
flock ; sitting round, and looking on all the winter, whUst this
one was devouring, throwing about, and wasting it ; and, if a
pigeon more hardy or hungry than the rest, touched a grain of
the hoard, all the others instantly flying upon it, and tearing it
to pieces : if you should see this, you would see nothing more
than v/hat is every day practised and established among men.
Among men you see the ninety and nine, toiUng and scraping
together a heap of superfluities for one ; (and this one too, of
tentimes the feeblest and worst of the Avhole set, a child, a wo-

54 THE USE OF THE INSTITUTION OF PROPERTY.
man, a madman, or a^fool) ; getting nothing for themselves aU
the whUe, but a little of the coarsest of the provision, which
their own industry produces ; looking quietly on, while they
see the fruits of aU their laboin spent or spoUed ; and if one of
the number take or touch a particle of the hoard, the others
joining against him, and hanging him for the theft.

CHAPTER II.
THE USE OF THE INSTITUTION OF PROPERTY.
There must be some very important advantages to account
for an institution, which in the -view of it above given is so par
adoxical and unnatural.
The principal of these advantages are the foUowing :
I. It increases the produce of the earth.
The earth, in climates like oins, produces Uttle without cul
tivation ; and none would be found -wilUng to cultivate the
ground, if others were to be admitted to an equal share of the
produce. The same is true of the care of flocks and herds
of tame animals.
Crabs and acorns, red deer, rabbits, game, and fish, are aU
-which we should have' to subsist upon in this country, if we
trasted to the spontaneous productions of the soU : and it fares
not much better with other countries. A nation of North
American savages, consisting of two or three hundred, wiU
take up, and be half starved upon a tract of land, which in
Europe, and with European management, would be sufficient
for the maintenance of as many thousands.
In some fertile soUs, together -with gi-eat abundance of fish
upon theii- coasts, and in regions where clothes are unnecessary,
a considerable degree of population may subsist without proper
ty in land ; which is the case in the islands of Otaheite : but in
less favoured situations, as in the country of New-Zealand,
though this sort of property obtain in a smaU degree, the in
habitants, for want of a more secure and regvdar establishment
of it,, are driven oftentimes by the scarcity of provision to devour
one another.
II. It preserves the produce of the earth to maturity.
We may judge what would be the effects of a comrnuriity

THE USE OF THE INSTITUTION OF PROPERTY. 55
of right to the productions of the earth, from the trifling speci
mens which we see of it at present. A cherry-tree in a hedge
row, nuts in a wood, the grass of an unstinted pasture, are sel
dom of much advantage to any body, because people do not
wait for the proper season of reaping them. Col-n, if any were
sown, would never ripen ; lambs and calves would never grow
up to sheep and cows, because the first person that met them
would reflect, that he had better take them as they are, than
leave them for another.
III. It prevents contests.
War and waste, tumult and confiision, must be unavoidable
and eternal, where there is not enough for aU, and where there
are no rules to adjust the di-vision.
IV. It improves the conveniency of living.
This it does two ways. It enables mankind to divide them
selves into distinct professions ; which is impossible, unless a
man can exchange the productions of his own art for what he
wants from others ; and exchange implies property. Much of
the advantages of civUized over savage life depends upon this.
When a man is from necessity his own taildr, tentmaker, caipeii-
ter, cook, huntsman, and fisherman, it is not probable that he
will be expert at any of his caUings. Hence the rude habita
tions, furniture, clothing, and unplements of savages ; and the
tedious length of time which aU their operations require.
It likewise encourages those arts, by which the accommoda
tions of human Ufe are suppUed, by appropriating to the artist
the benefit of his discoveries and improvements ; without which
appropriation, ingenuity wiU never be exerted -with effect.
Upon these several accounts we may venture, with a few
exceptions, to pronounce, that even the poorest and the worst
provided, in countries where property and the consequences of
property prevaU, are in a better situation, with respect to food,
raiment, houses, and what are caUed the necessaries of life,
than any are in places where most things remain in common.
The balance, therefore, upon the whole, must preponderate
in favour of property with a manifest^ and great excess.
InequaUty of property, in the degree in which it exists in
most countries of Europe, abstractedly" considered, is an evil:
but it is an evil which flows fi-om those rules concerning the
acquisition and disposal of property, by which men are incited
to industry, and by which the object of their industry is render
ed secure and valuable. If there be any great mequality un
connected with this origin, it ought to be corrected.

( 56 )
CHAPTER III.
THE HISTORY OF PROPERTY.
The first objects of property were the fruits which a man
gathered, and the wUd animals he caught ; next to these, the
tents or houses which he buUt, the tools he made use of to catch
or prepare his food ; and afterwards weapons of war and offence.
Many of the savage tribes in North America have advanced
no further than this yet ; for they are said to reap theii- harvest
and return the produce of their market -with foreigners, into
the common hoard or treasury of the tribe. Flocks and herds
of tame animals soon became property ; Abel, the second from
Adam, was a keeper of sheep ; sheep and oxen, camels and
asses, composed the wealth of the Jewish patriarchs, as they
do stUl of the modern Arabs. As the world was Ih-st peopled
in the East, where there existed a great scarcity of water, weUs
probably were next made property ; as we learn from the fre
quent and serious mention of them in the Old Testament ; the
contentions and treaties about them ; * and from its being re
corded, among the most memorable achievements of very emi
nent men, that they dug or discovered a weU. Land, which
is now so important a part of property, which alone our laws
caU real property, and regard upon aU occasions with such pe
cuhar attention, was probably not made property in any coun
try, tiU long after the institution of many other species of pro
perty, that is, tUl the country became populous, and tiUage be
gan to be thought of. The first partition of an estate which
we read of, was that which took place between Abram and Lot,
and was one of the simplest imaginable : ' If thou -wUt take the
left hand, then I will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the
right hand, then I -wiU go to the left.' There are no traces of
property in land in Caesar's account of Britain ; Uttle of it in
the history of the Jewish patriarchs ; none of it found amongst
the nations of North America : the Scythians are expressly
said to have appropriated their cattle and houses, but to have
left their land in common.
Property in immoveables continued at first no longer than
* Gen. xxi. 25, xxvi. 18.

PROPERTY IN LAND. 57
the occupation ; that is, so long as a man's family continued
in possession of a cave, or whilst his flocks depastured upon a
neighbouring hUl, no one attempted, or thought he had a right,
to distm-b or diive them out : but when the man quitted his
cave, or changed his pasture, the first who found them unoc
cupied, entered upon them, by the same title as his predeces
sor's ; and made way in his tinn for any one that happened
to succeed him. AU more permanent property in land was
probably posterior to civU government and to laws ; and there
fore settled by these, or according to the wiU of the reigning
chief

CHAPTER IV.
IN WHAT THE RIGHT OF PROPERTY IS FOUNDED.
We now speak of Property in Land : and there is a diffi-.
culty in explaining the origin of this property, consistently with
the law of nature ; for, the land was once, no doubt, common,
and the question is, how any particular part of it could justly
be taken out of the common, and so appropriated to the first
owner, as to give him a better right to it than others ; and,
what is more, a right to exclude aU others from it.
Moralists have given many different accounts of this matter ;
which diversity alone, perhaps, is a proof that none of them
are satisfactory.
One tells us that mankind, when they suffered a particular
person to occupy a piece of ground, by tacit consent relinquish
ed their right to it ; and as the piece of gi-ound, they say, be
longed to mankind, collectively, and mankind thus gave up
then right to the first peaceable occupier, it thenceforward be
came his property, and no one aftervi ards had a right to mo
lest hun in it.
The objection to this account is, that consent can never be
presumed fi-om sUence where the person whose consent is re
quired knows nothing about the matter; which must have
been the case vnth aU mankind, except the neighbourhood of
the place where the appropriation was made. And to suppose
that the piece of ground previously belonged to the neighbour
hood, and that they had a just power of conferring a right to
VOL. III. 8

58 PROPERTY IN LAND.
it upon whom they pleased, is to suppose the question resolved,
and a partition of land to have already taken place.
Another says, that each man's Umbs and labour are his
o-wn exclusively; that, by occupying" a piece of ground, a
man inseparably mixes his labour with it ; by which means
the piece of ground becomes thenceforward his own, as you
cannot take it from him, without depriving him at the same
time of something which is indisputably his.
This is Mr Locke's solution ; and seems indeed a fair rea
son, where the value of the labom- bears a considerable propor
tion to the value of the thing ; or where the thing derives its
chief use and value fi-om the labour. Thus game and fish,
though they be common, whUst at large in the woods or wa
ter, instantly become the property of the person that catches
them ; because an animal, when caught, is much more valua
ble than when at liberty ; and this increase of value, which is
inseparable from, and makes a great part of the -whole value, is
strictly the property of the fowler, or fisherman, being the pro
duce of his personal laboui-. For the same reason, wood or iron,
manufactured into utensUs, becomes the property of the man
ufacturer ; because the value of the workmanship far exceeds
that of the materials. And upon a similar principle, a parcel
of unappropriated ground, which a man should pare, burn,
plough, harrow, and sow, for the production of corn, would
justly enough be thereby made his own. But this wiU hard
ly hold, in the manner it has been apphed, of taking a cere
monious possession of a tract of land, as na-vigators do of new-
discovered islands,' by erecting a standard, engraving an in
scription, or publishing a proclamation to the birds and beasts ;
or of turning your cattle into a piece of ground, setting up a
land mark, digging a ditch, or planting a hedge round it. Nor
wUl even the clearing, manuring, and ploughing of a field,
give the first occupier a right to it in perpetuity, and after this
cultivation and aU effects of it are ceased.
Another, and in my opinion a better, account of the first
right of ownership, is the foUowing : that, as God has provi
ded these things for the use of aU, he has of consequence giv
en each leave to take of them what he wants : by -virtue
therefore of this leave, a man may appropriate what he stands
in need of to liis own use, without asking, or waiting for the
consent of others ; in hke manner as, when an entertainment
is provided for the freeholders of a county, each freeholder

PROPERTY IN LAND. 59
goes, and eats and diinks what he wants or chooses, without
ha-ving or waiting for the consent of the other guests.
But then this reason justifies property, as far as necessaries
alone, or, at the most, as far as a competent provision for ouf
natural exigencies. For, in the entertainment we speak of
of (aUowing the comparison to hold in aU points), although
every particular freeholder may sit down and eat tiU he be
satisfied, without any other leave than that of the master of
the feast, or any other proof of that leave, than the general in
vitation, or the manifest design with which the entertainment
is provided ; yet you would hardly permit any one to fiU his
pockets, or his wallet, or to carry away with Mm a quantity of
provision to be hoarded up, or wasted, or given to his dogs, or
stewed down into sauces, or converted into articles of superflu
ous luxury ; especiaUy if, by so doing, he pinched the guests
at the lower end of the table.
These are the accounts that have been given of the matter
by the best -writers upon the subject ; but, were these accounts
perfectly unexceptionable, they would none of them, I fear,
avaU us in -vindicating our present claims of property in land,
unless it were more probable than it is, that our estates were
.actuaUy acquired at first, in some of the ways which these ac
counts suppose ; and that a regular regard had been paid to
justice, in every successive transmission of them since : for, if
one Unk in the chain faU, every title posterior to it faUs to the
ground. The real foundation of our right is the law op the land.
It is the intention of God that the produce of the earth be
. appUed to the use of man : this intention cannot be fulfUled
¦without establishing property; which is consistent therefore
with his win, that property be established. The land cannot
be divided into separate property, without lea-ving it to the law
of the country to regulate that di-vision : it is consistent there
fore with the same will, that the law should regulate the divi
sion ; and, consequently, ' consistent with the wUl of God,' or
'right,' that I should possess that share wMch these regula
tions assign me.
By whatever cucuitous train of reasoning you attempt to de
rive this right, it must terminate at last in the wiU of God , the
straitest, therefore, and shortest way of arriving at this wiU, is
the best.
Hence it appears, that my right to an estate does not at all

60 PROPERTY IN LAND.
depend upon the manner or justice of the original acqu-sitioii ;
nor upon the justice of each subsequent change of possession.
It is not, for instance, the less, nor ought it to be unpeached,
because the estate was taken possession of at first by a family
of aboriginal Britons, who happened to be stronger than their
neighbours ; nor because the British possessor v/as turned out
by a Roman, or the Roman by a Saxon invader ; nor because
it was seized, without colour of right or reason, by a foUower
of the Norman adventurer ; from whom, after many intenaip-
tions of fraud and -violence, it has at length devolved to me.
Nor does the owner's right depend upon the expediency of
the law wMch gives it to Mm. On one side of a brook, an es
tate descends to the eldest son ; on the other side, to aU the
children alike. The right of the claunants under hoth laws of
inheritance is equal ; though the expediency of such opposite
rules must necessarily be different.
The principles we have laid down upon this subject apparent
ly tend to a conclusion of which a bad use is apt to be made.
As the right of property depends upon the law of the land, it
seems to foUovr, that a man has a right to keep and take eve
ry thing which the law -will aUow him to keep and take :
which in many cases wUl authorize the most flagitious chi
canery. If a creditor upon a simple contract neglect to de
mand his debt for six years, the debtor may refuse to pay it ;
would it be right therefore to do so, where he is conscious of
the justice of the debt ? If a person, who is under twenty-one
years of age, contract a bargain (other than for necessaries), he
may avoid it by pleading his minority : but would this br; a
fair plea, where the bargain was originaUy just ? The distinc
tion to be taken in such cases is this : With the law, we ac
knowledge, resides the disposal of property : so long therefore as
we keep -within the design and intention of a law, that law
will justify us, as well hiforo conscientim, as inforo humano,
whatever be the equity or expediency of the law itself But •
when we convert to one purpose, a rule or expression of law,
which is intended for another purpose, then we plead in our
justification, not the intention of the law, but the words ; that
is, we plead a dead letter, which can signify nothing : for
words without meaning or intention have no force or effect in
justice, much less words taken contrary to the meaniiig and
intention of the speaker or writer. To apply this distinction to
the examples just now proposed : in order to protect men

PROMISES. 61
against antiquated demands, from which it is not probable they
should have preserved the e-vidence of their discharge, the law
prescribes a limited time to certain species of private secmities,
beyond which it -will not enforce them, or lend its assistance to
the recovery of the debt. If a/ man be ignorant or dubious of
the justice of the demand made upon him, he may conscien
tiously plead this limitation : because he applies the rule of
law to the purpose for tchich it was intended. But when
he refuses to pay a debt, of the reaUty of which he is conscious,
he cannot, as before, plead the intention of the statute, and the
supreme authority of law, unless he could show, that the law
intended to interpose its supreme authority, to acquit men of
debts, of the existence and justice of which they were them
selves sensible. Again, to preserve youth from the practices
and impositions, to which their inexperience exposes them, the
law compels the payment of no debts incurred witMn a certain
age, nor the performance of any engagements, except for such
necessaries as are suited to then condition and fortunes. If a
young person therefore perceive that he has been practised or
imposed upon, he may honestly avail himself of the privUege
of his nonage, to defeat the circumvention. But, if he shelter
himself under this pri-vUege, to avoid a fair obligation, or an
equitable contract, he extends the privUege to a case, in which
it is not aUowed by intention of law, and in which consequent
ly it does not, in natural justice, exist.
As property is the principal subject of justice, or of ' the de
terminate relative duties,' we have put down what we had to
say upon it in the first place : we now proceed to state these du
ties in the best order we can.

CHAPTER V.
PROMISES.
I. From Wience the obligation to perform, promises arises,
II. In what sense prom,ises are to be interpreted.
III. In what cases promises are not binding.
I. From whence the obligation to perform promises arises.
They who argue fiom innate moral principles, suppose a
>ense of the obligation of promises to be one of them: but

62 PROMISES.
without assuming this, or any thing else, without proof, the
obligation to perform promises may be deduced from the ne
cessity of such a conduct, . to the well-beuig, or the existence,
indeed, of human society.
Men act from expectation. Expectation is in most cases de
termined by the assurances and engageinents which we receive
from others. If no dependence could be placed upon these
assurances, it woidd be impossible to know what judgment to
form of many future events, or how to regulate our conduct
with respect to them. Confidence therefore in promises is
essential to the intercourse of human life : because, -without it,
the greatest part of our conduct would proceed upon chance.
But there could be no confidence in promises, if men were not
obliged to perform them ; the obligation therefore to perforin
promises, is essential, to the same end, and in the same de-
gi-ee. Some may imagine, that if this obligation were suspended,
a general caution and mutual distrust would ensue, wliich
might do as well : but this is imagined, without consideiing,
how every hour of our Uves we trust to, and depend upon oth
ers ; and how impossible it is to stir a step, or, what is worse,
to sit StiU a moment, without such trust and dependence. I
am now -writing at ray ease, not doubting (or rather' never dis
trusting, and therefore never thinking about it) but that the
butcher wUl send in the joint of meat wMch I ordered ; that
his servant wUl bring it ; that my cook wiU dress it ; that my
footman wUl serve it up ; and that I shall find it upon table
at one o'clock. Yet have I nothing for all this, but the prom
ise of the butcher, and the impUed promise of his servant and
mine. And the same holds of the most important as weU as
the most famUiar occurrences of social Ufe. In the one the in
tervention of promises is formal, and is seen and acknowledged ;
our instance, therefore, is intended to show it in the other
where it is not so distinctly observed.
II. In what sense prom,ises are to be interpreted.
Where the terms of promise admit of more senses than one,
the promise is to be performed 'in that sense in which the
pronuser apprehended at the time that the promisee received
it.' .
It is not the sense in which the promisor actuaUy intended
it, that always governs the interpretation of an equivocal prom
ise ; because, at that rate, you might excite expectation, which

PROMISES. 63
you never meant, nor would be obUged, to satisfy. Much less
is it the sense, in which the promisee actuaUy received the
promise ; for, according to that rule, you might be drawn into
engagements which you never designed to undertake. It
must therefore be the sense (for there is no other remaining)
in which the promisor beUeved that the promisee accepted Ms
promise. This wUl not differ from the actual intention of the promiser,
where the promise is given without coUusion or reserve ; but we
put the rule in the above form, to exclude evasion in cases in
which the popular meaning of a phrase, and the strict gram
matical signification of the words, differ ; or, in general, wher
ever the promiser attempts to make his escape through some
ambiguity in the expressions which he used.
Temures promised the garrison of Sebastia, that, if they
would surrender, no blood should be shed. The garrison
surrendered ; and Temures buried them all alive. Now Te
mures fulfilled the promise in one sense, and in the sense too
in which he intended it at the time; but not in the sense
in which the garrison of Sebastia actually received it, nor
in the sense in which Temures himself knew that the gar
rison received it : which last sense, according to our rule, was
the sense in which he was in conscience bound to have per
formed it.
From the account we have given of the obligation of prom
ises, it is e-vident, that this obligation depends upon the ex
pectations -which we knowingly and voluntarUy excite. Con
sequently, any action or conduct towards another, which we
are sensible excites expectations in that other, is as much a
promise, and creates as strict an obUgation, as the most express
assurances. Taking, for instance, a kinsman's child, and ed
ucating him for a liberal profession, or in a manner sintable
only for the heir of a large fortune, as much obhges us to
place him in that profession, or to leave him such a fortune,
as if we had given him a promise to do so under our hands
and seals. In like manner, a great man, who encom-ages an
indigent retainer, or a minister of state, who distinguishes and
caresses at his levee one who is in a situation to be obUged
by his patronage, engages, by such behavioin, to pro-vide for
him. This is the foundation of tacit promises.
You may either simply declare your present intention, or
you may accompany your declaration -with an engagement to

64

PROMISES.

abide by it, which constitutes a complete promise. In the first
case, the duty is satisfied, if you were sincere at the time, that
is, if you entertained at the time the intention you expressed,
however soon, or for whatever reason, you afterwards change
it. In the latter case, you have parted with the liberty of
changing. All this is plain ; but it must be observed, that
most of those forms of speech, which, strictly taken, amount
to no more than declarations of present intention, do yet, in
the usual way of understanding them, excite the expectation,
and therefore carry with them the force of absolute promises.
Such as, ' I intend you this place.' — ' I design to leave you
this estate.'—' I purpose giving you my vote.' — ' I mean to
serve you.' — In which, although the 'intention,' the 'design,'
the ' purpose,' the ' meaning,' be expressed in words of the
present time, yet you cannot afterwards recede from them,
without a breach of good faith. If you choose therefore to
make known your present intention, and yet to reserve to
yourself the liberty of changing it, you must guard your ex
pressions by an additional clause, as ' I intend at present —
if I do not alter' — or the Uke. And after aU, as there can be
no reason for communicating your intention, but to excite
some degree of expectation or other, a wanton change of an
intention which is once disclosed, always disappoints some
body ; and is always, for that reason, -wrong.
There is, in some men, an infirmity with regard to promises,
which often betrays thern into great distress. From the
confusion, or hesitation, or obscurity, with which they express
themselves, especiaUy when overawed, or taken by surprise,
they sometimes encourage expectations, and bring upon them
selves demands, which, possibly, they never dreamed of.
This is a want, not so much of integrity, as of presence of
mind. III. In what cases promises are not binding.
1. Promises are not binding, where the performance is im-
possible. But observe, that the promiser is guUty of a fraud, if he be
secretly aware of the impossibiUty, at the time of making the
promise. For, when any one promises a thing, he asserts his
beUef, at least, of the possibihty of performing it ; as no one
can accept or understand" a promise under any other supposi
tion. Instances of this sort are the following : The minister
promises a place, which he knows to be engaged, or not at his

PROMISES. 65
disposal : — A father, in settling marriage articles, prpmises to
leave his daughter an estate, which he knows to be entailed
upon the heir male of his famUy : — A merchant promises a
ship, or a share of a ship, Avhich he is privately advised is lost
at sea : — An incumbent promises to resign a living, being
previously assured that his resignation wUl not be accepted by
the bishop. The promiser, as in these cases, with knowledge
of the impossibiUty, is justly answerable in an equivalent ; but
otherwise not.
When the promiser himself occasions the impossibUity, it is
neither more nor less than a direct breach of the promise ; as
when a soldier maims, or a servant disables himself, to get rid
of his engagements.
2. Promises are not binding, where the performance is un
lawful.
There are two cases of this ; one, where the unla-wfiilness
is known to the parties, at the time of making the promise ; as
where an assassin promises his employer to dispatch his rival
or his enemy ; a servant to betray his master ; a pimp to pro
cure a mistress ; or &. friend to give his assistance in a scheme
of seduction. The parties in these cases are not obUged to
perform what the promise requires, because they were under
a prior obligation to the contrary-. From which prior obU
gation, what is there to discharge them ? their promise — their
own act and deed. — But an obligation, fi-om which a man can
discharge himself, by his own act, is no obhgation at aU. The
guUt therefore of such promises lies in the making, not in- the
breaking of thern ; and if, in the interval betwixt the prom
ise and the performance, a man so far recover his reflection, as
to repent of his- engagements, he otight certainly to break
through them.
The other case is, where the unla-wfulness did not exist, or
was not known, at the time of making the promise ; as where
a merchant promises his correspondent abroad, to send him a
sMp-load of corn at the time appointed, and, before the time ar
rive, an embargo is laid upon the exportation of corn : — A wo
man gives a promise of marriage ; before the marriage, she
discovers that her intended husband is too nearly related to
h^r, or that he has a wife yet living. In aU such cases, where
the contrary does not appear, it must be presumed, that the
parties supposed what they promised - to be lawful, and that
the promise proceeded entirely upon tliis supposition. The
VOL. III. 9

66 PROMISES.
lawfulness therefore becomes a ¦ condition of the promise :
which condition fading, the obligation ceases, Of the same
nature was Herod's promise to his daughter in law, ' that he
would give her whatever she asked, even to the half of his
kingdom.' The promise was not unlawful in the terms in
wMch Herod delivered it ; and when it became so by the
daughter's choice, by her demanding ' John the Baptist's head,'
Herod was discharged fi-om the obligation of it, for the reason
now laid doAvn, as well as for that given in the last para
graph., This rule, ' that promises are void, where the performance
is unlawful,' extends also to imperfect obUgations; for the
reason of the rale holds of aU obUgations. Thus, if you prom
ise a man a place, or your vote, and he afterwards render him
self unfit to receive either, you are absolved from the obhgation
of your promise ; or, if a better candidate appear, and it be a
case in which you are bound by oath, or otherwise to gov
ern yourself by the qualification, the promise must be broken
through. And here I would recommend, to young persons especiaUy,
a caution, from the neglect of which many involve themselves
in embarrassment and disgrace ; and that is, ' never to give a
promise, which may interfere in the event with their duty;'
for, if it do so interfere, their duty must be discharged, though
at the expense of their promise, and not unusuaUy of theii-
good name.
The specific performance of promises is reckoned a perfect
obUgation. And many casuists have laid down, in opposition
to what has been here asserted, that, where a perfect and an
imperfect obligation clash, the perfect obhgation is to be pre
ferred. For which opinion, however, there seems to be no rea
son, but what arises from the terms ' perfect,' and ' imperfect,'
the impropriety of which has been remarked above. The
truth is, of two contradictory obligations, that ought to prevaU
which is prior in point of time.
It is the perform,ance being unlawful, and not any unlaw-
fuMess in the subject or motive of the promise, which destroys
its vahdity : therefore a bribe, after the vote is given ; the wages
of prostitution ; the reward of any crime, after the crime is com
mitted, ought, if promised, to be paid. For the sin and mis
chief, by this supposition, are over ; and wiU be neither more
nor less for the performance of the promise.

PROMISES. 67
In like manner, a promise does not lose its obligation merely
because it proceeded fi-om an unlawful motive. A certain
person, in the lifetime of his wife, who was then sick, had paid
ins addresses, and prorhised marriage to another woman ; — the
wife died ; and the woman demanded performance of the prom
ise. The man, who, it seems, had changed his mind, either
felt or pretended doubts concerning the obligation of such a
promise, and referred his case to Bishop Sanderson, the most
eminent in this kind of knowledge of his time. Bishop Sander
son, after writing a dissertation upon the question, adjudged
the promise to be void. In which, however, upon our princi
ples, he was wrong : for, however criminal the affection might
be, wMch induced the promise, the performance, when it was
demanded, was lawful ; which is the only lawfulness required.
A promise cannot be deemed unlawful, where it produces,
when performed, no effect, beyond what would have taken place
had the promise never been made. And this is the single case,
in which the obhgation of a promise wiU justify a conduct,
which, unless it had been promised, woidd be unjust. A cap
tive may lawfidly recover his hberty, by a promise of neutral
ity ; for his conqueror takes nothing by the promise, which he
might not have secured by his death or confinement ; and neu-
, traUty would be innocent in Mm, although criminal in another.
It is manifest, however, that promises which come into the
place of coercion, can extend no farther than to passive com-
pUances ; for coercion itself could compel no more. Upon the
same principle, promises of secrecy ought not to be violated, al
though the public would derive advantage from the discovery.
Such promises contain no uMa-wfuMess in them, to destroy their
obligation ; for, as the information would not have been impart
ed upon any other condition, the pubUc lose nothing by the pro
mise, which they -would have gained without it.
3. Promises are not binding, where they contradict a
former promise.
Because the performance is then unlawful ; which resolves
this case into the last.
4. Promises are not binding before acceptance; that is,
before notice given to the promisee ; for, where the promise is
beneficial, if notice be given, acceptance may be presumed.
Until the promise be communicated to the promisee, it is the
same only as a resolution in the mind of the promiser, which

68 PROMISES.
may be altered at pleasure. For no expectation has been ex
cited, therefore none can be disappointed.
But suppose I declare my intention to a third person, who,
without any authority from me, conveys my declaration to
the promisee ; is that such a notice as wUl be binding upon
.me? Itxertainly is not : for I have not done that which con
stitutes the essence of a promise; — I have not voluntarily
excited expectation.
5. Promises are not binding which are released by the
promisee. This is evident ; but it may be sometimes doubted who the
promisee is. If I give a promise to A, of a place or vote for B ;
as to a father for Ms son ; to an uncle for his nephew ; to a
friend of mine, for a relation or friend of his ; then A is the
promisee, whose consent I must obtain to be released from
the engagement.
If I promise a place or vote to B by A, that is, if A be a
messenger to convey the promise, as if I should say, ' You
may tell B that he shaU have this place, or may depend" upon
my vote ; ' or if A be employed to introduce B's request, and I
answer in any terms which amount to a compliance with it,
then B is th^ promisee.
Promises to one person, for the benefit of another, are not
released by the death of the promisee ; for his death neither
makes the performance impracticable, nor impUes any consent
to release the promiser fi-om it.
6. Erroneous promises are not binding in certain cases ;
as, 1. Where the errour proceeds from the mistake or misrepre
sentation of the promisee.
Because a promise evidently sujiposes the trath of the ac
count, which the promisee relates in" order to obtain it. A beg
gar solicits your charity by a story of the most pitiable distress —
you promise to reUeve him, if he wUl caU again — in the inter
val you discover his story to be made up of hes— this discovery,
no doubt, releases you from your promise. One who wants
your service, describes the business or office for which he would
engage you — you promise to undertake it — when you come to
enter upon it, you find the profits less, the labour more, or
some material cUcumstance different from the account he
gave you.^ — In such case you are not bound by your promise.
2. When the promise is understood by the promisee to pro-

PROMISES. 69
ceed upon a certain supposition, or when the promiser appre
hended it to be so understood, and that siippositioh turns out
to be false ; then the promise is not binding.
This intricate rule wiU be best explamed by an example.
A father receives an account from abroad of the death of his only
son, — soon after wMch he promises his fortune to his nephew.
The account turns out to be false. — The father, we say, is re
leased from his promise ; not merely because he never would
have made it, had he. known the truth of the case, — for that
alone wiU not do ; but because the nephew also himself under
stood the promise to proceed upon the supposition of his cous
in's death ; or at least his uncle thought he so undei-stood it.;
and could not think otherwise. The promise proceeded upon
this supposition in the promisor's own apprehension, and, as he
believed, in the apprehension of both parties ; and this beUef
of his is the precise circumstance which sets him fr-ee. The
foundation of the rule is plainly this, a man is bound ohly to
satisfy the expectation which he intended to excite ; whatever
condition therefore he intended to subject that expectation to,
becomes an essential condition of the promise.
Errours, which come not -within this description, do not
annul the obligation of a promise. I promise a candidate my
vote ; — presently another candidate appears, for whom I cer
tainly would have reserved if, had I been acquainted with his
design. Here therefore, as before, my promise proceeded from
an errour ; and I never should have given such a promise, had
I been aware of the truth of the case, as it has turned out.
But the promisee did not know this; — he did not receive
the promise subject to any such condition, or as proceeding
from any such supposition ; — nor did I at the tune imagine he
so received it. This errour, therefore, of mine, must faU upon
, my own head, and the promise be observed notwithstanding.
A father promises a certain fortune with his daughter, sup
posing himself to be worth so much ;- — his circumstances tm-n
out, upon examination, worse than he was aware of. , Here
again the promise was erroneous, but, for the reason assigned
in the last case, wUl nevertheless be obligatory.
The case of erroneous promises is attended with some dif
ficulty ; for to aUow every mistake, or change of circumstances,
to dissolve the obligation of a promise, would be to allow a lat
itude, which might evacuate the force of almost aU promises ;
and, on the other hand, to gird the obhgation so tight, as to

T'O PROMISES.
make -no allowances for manifest and fundamental errours.
Would, in many instances, be productive of great hardship and
absurdity.

It has long been controverted amongst moralists, whether
promises be binding, which are extorted by violence or fear. The
obUgation of aU promises results, we have seen, fi-oin the ne^
cessity or the use of that -confidence which mankind repose in
them. The question, therefore, whether these promises are
binding, wiU depend upon this, whether mankind, upon the
whole, are benefited by the confidence placed in such promises ?
A highwayman attacks you, — and being disappointed of his
booty, threatens or prepares to murder you; — you promise,
with many solemn asseverations, that if he wiU spare your Iffe,
he shall find a purse of money left for him, at a place ap
pointed; upon the faith of this promise, — he forbears from
farther violence. Now your Ufe was saved by the confidence
reposed in a promise extorted by fear: and the lives of ma
ny others may be saved by the same. This is a good con
sequence. On the other hand, confidence in promises Ulie
these greatly faciUtates the perpetration of robberies. They
may be made the instruments of almost unUmited extortion.
This is a bad consequence ; and in the question between the
importance of these opposite consequences resides the doubt
concerning the obUgation of such promises.
There are other cases wMch are plainer ; as where a mag
istrate confines a disturber of the pubhc peace in jaU, tiU he
promise to behave better ; or a prisoner of war promises, if set
at hberty, to return within a certain time. These promises,
say morahsts, are binding, because the violence or dm-ess is
just ; but, the truth is, because there is the same use of confi
dence in these promises, as of confidence in the promises of a
person at perfect liberty.

Vows are promises to God. The obUgation cannot be made
out upon the same principle as that of other promises. The
violation of them, nevertheless, implies a want of reverence to
the Supreme Being; which is enough to make it sinful.
There appears no command or encouragement in the Chris-
tam scriptures to make vows ; much less any authority to break

CONTRACTS.

71

through thexn when they are made. The few instances " of
vows which we read of in the New Testament were reUgiously
observed. The rules we have laid down concerning promises are apr
plicable to vows. Thus Jephthah's vow, taken in the sense
in which that transaction is commonly understood, was not
binding; because the performance, in that contingency, became
unlawfril.

CHAPTER VI.

CONTRACTS.

A CONTRACT is a mutual promise. The obUgation there
fore of contracts ; the sense in which they are to be interpreted ;
and the cases where they are not binding, wUl be the same as
of promises.
From the principle established in the last chapter, ' that the
obligation of promises is to be measured by the expectation
which the promiser any how voluntarUy and knowingly ex
cites,' results a rule, which governs the construction of aU con
tracts, and is capable, from its simplicity, of being applied with
great ease and certainty, viz. That,
Whatever is expected by one side, and known to be so ex
pected by the other, is to be deem,ed a part or condition of
'the contract.
The several kinds of contracts, and the order in which we
propose to consider them, may be exhibited at one view, thus :
Sale.
Hazard. Inconsumable property.
Money.
{Service. Commissions.
Partnership. Offices.

Contracts of

Lending of

*Actsxviii. 18. xxi. 23.

( ,7-2 )
CHAPTER Vn.
CONTRACTS OF SALE.
The rule of justice, which wants with most anxiety to be
inculcated in the making of bargains, is, that the seUer is bound
in conscience to disclose the faults of what he offers to sale.
Amongst other methods of proving this, one may be the fol
lowing. I suppose it wUl be aUowed, that to advance a dUect fake-
hood in recommendation of our wares, by ascribing to, them
some quality which we know that they have not, is dishonest.
Now compare with this the designed concealment of some
fault, which we know that they have. The motives and the
effects of actions are the only points of comparison, in which
their moral quahty can differ ; but the motives in these two
cases ^re the same, -viz. to procm-e a higher price than we ex
pect otherwise to obtain: the effect, that is, the prejudice to the
buyer, is also the same; for he finds himself equaUy out of
pocket by his bargain, whether the commodity, when he gets
home with it, turn out worse than he had supposed, by the
want of some quality which he expected, or the discovery of
some fault which he did not expect. If therefore actions be
the same, as to all moral puiposes, which proceed from the
same motives, and produce the same effects, it is making a dis
tinction -without a difference, to esteem it a cheat to magnify
beyond the truth the virtues of what we have to seU, but none
to conceal its faults.
It adds to the value of this kind of honesty, that the faults
of many things are of a nature not to be known by any, but
bj' the persons who have used them : so that the buyer has no
security from imposition, but in the ingenuousness and integri
ty of the seUer.
There is one exception however to this rule, namely, where_
the sUence of the seUer implies some fault in the thing to be
sold, and where the buyer has a compensation in the price for
the risk which he runs : as where a horse, in a London re
pository, is sold by pubhc auction, -without warranty; the
want of warranty is notice of some unsoundness, and produces
a proportionable abatement in the price.

CONTRACTS OF SALE. 73
To this of concealing the faults of what we want to put off,
may be referred the practice of passing bad money. This
practice we sometimes hear defended by a vulgar excuse, that
we have taken the money for good, and must therefore get rid
of it. Which excuse is much the same as if one, who had
been robbed upon the highway, should aUege that he had a
right to reimburse himself out of the pocket of the first travel
ler he met ; the justice of wMch reasoning the traveUer possibly
may npt comprehend.
Where there exists no monoply or combination, the market
price is always a fan price ; because it wiU always be pro
portionable to tlje use and scarcity of the article. Hence, there
need be no scruple about demanding or taking nhe market
price ; and all those expressions, ' provisions are extravagantly
dear,' ' corn beays an unreasonable price,' and the like, import
no unfairness or unreasonableness in the seUer.
If your tailor or your draper charge, or even ask of you,
more for a suit of clothes, than the market price, you complain
that you are imposed upon ; you pronounce the tradesman
who makes such a charge dishonest : although^ as the man's
goods were his own, and he had a right to prescribe the
terms upon which he would consent to part -with them, it
may be questioned what dishonesty there can be in the case,
or wherein the imposition consists. Whoever opens a shop,
or in any manner exposes goods to public sale, virtuaUy enga
ges to deal with his customers at a market price ; because it is
upon the faith and opinion of such an engagement, that any
one comes -within his shop doors, or offers to treat with him.
This is expected by the buyer ; is known to be so expected by
the seUer ; which is enough, according to the rule delivered
above, to make it a part of the contract between them, though
not a syUable be said about it. The breach of this implied
contract constitutes the fraud inquired after.
Hence, if you disclaim any such engagement, you may set
what value you please upon your property. If, upon being
asked to seU a house, you answer that tiie house suits your
fancy or conveniency, and that you will not turn yom-self out
of it under such a price ; the price fixed may be double of what
the house cost, or would fetch at a public sale, without any
imputation of injustice or extortion upon you.
If the thing sold be damaged, or perish, between the sale and
VOL. III. 10

74 CONTRACTS OF SALE.
the delivery, ought the buyer to bear the loss, or the seller ?
, This wiU depend upon the particular construction of the con
tract. If the seUer, either expressly, or by impUcation, or
by custom, engage to deliver the goods ; as if I buy a set of
cMna, and the cMna-man ask me to what place he shaU bring
or send them, and they be broken in the conveyance, the seUer
must abide by the loss. If the thing sold remain with the sel
ler, at the instance or for the conveniency of the buyer, then
' the buyer undertakes the risk ; as if I buy a horse, and men
tion, that I -wiU send for it on such a day, which is in effect de
siring that it may continue with the seller tUl I do send for it,
then, whatevCT misfortune befalls the horse in the mean time,
must be at my cost.
And here, once for all, I would observe, that innumerable
questions of this sort are determined solely by custom ; not that
custom possesses any proper authority to alter or ascertain the
nature of right and wrong ; but because the conti-acting parties
are presumed to include in their stipulation, aU the conditions
which custom has annexed to contracts of the same sort ] and
when the usage is notorious, and no exception made to it, this
presumption is generally agreeable to the fact. *
If I order a pipe of port from a wine merchant abroad ; at
what period the property passes from the merchant to me ;
whether upon the delivery of the wine at the merchant's ware
house ; upon its being put on sMpboard at Oporto ; upon the
arrival of the ship in England ; at its destined port ; or not tiU
the wine be committed to my servants, or deposited in my cel-
ler, are all questions, which admit of no decision, but what cus
tom poults out. Whence, in justice, as well as law, what is
called the custom, of m,erchants, regulates the constraction of
mercantile concerns.
* It happens here, as in many cases, that what the parties ought to do, and what
a judge or arbitrator would award to he done, may be very different. What tlie par
ties ought to do by Virtue of their contract, depends upon their consciousness at the
time of making it : whereas a third person finds it necessary to found his judgment
upon presumptions, which presumptions may be false, although the most probable
that he could proceed by.

( 75 )
CHAPTER Vni.
CONTRACTS OF HAZARD.
By Contracts of Hazard, I mean gaming and insurance.
What some say of this kind of contracts, ' that one side ought
not to have any advantage over the other,' is neither practica
ble nor true. It is not practicable ; for that perfect equality of
skiU and judgment, which this rule requires, is seldom to be
met with. I might not have it in my power to play with fair
ness a game at cards, bilhards, or tennis ; lay a wager at a
horse race ; or underwrite a poUcy of insurance, once in a
twelvemonth, if I must wait tUl I meet with a person, whose
art, skill, and judgment in these matters, is neither greater nor
less than my o-wn. Nor is this equality requisite to the justice
of the contract. One party may give to the other the whole
of the stake, if he please, and the other party may justly accept
it, if it be given him ; much more therefore may one give to
the other a part of the stake ; or, what is exactly the same
thing, an advantage in the chance of winning the whole.
The proper restriction is, that neither side have an advan
tage, by means of which the other is not aware ; for this is an
advantage taken, without being given. Although the event
be stUl an uncertainty, your advantage in the chance has a
certain value ; and so much of the stake, as that value amounts
to, is taken fi-om your adversary without his knowledge, and
therefore without his consent. If I sit down to a game at whist,
and have an advantage over the adversary, by means of a
better memory, closer attention, or a superiour knowledge of
the rules and chances of the game, the advantage is fan ; be
cause it is obtained by means of which the adversai-y is aware :
for he is a-ware, when he sits down with me, that I shaU exert
the skiU that I possess, to the utmost. But if I gain an ad
vantage by packing the cards, glancing my eye into the ad
versary's hands, or by concerted signals with my partner, it is
a dishonest, advantage ; because it depends upon means, which
the adversary never suspects that I make use of
The same distinction holds of aU contracts into which chance
enters. If I lay a wager at a horse race, founded upon the
conjecture I form from the appearance, and character, and breed

76 CONTRACTS OF LENDING OF
of the horses, I am justly entitled to any advantage which my
judgment gives me : but, if I carry on a clandestine con-espon-
dence -with the jockies, and find out from them, that a trial
has been actuaUy made, or that it is settled beforehand which
horse shaU vwn the rdce ; aU such information is so much fraud,
because derived from som-ces of which the other did not sus
pect, when he proposed or accepted the wager.
In speculatibris in trade, or in the stocks, if I exercise my
judgment upon the genteral aspect and posture of public affairs,
and deal -with a person who conducts hunself by the same
sort of judgment, the contract has aU the equaUty in it which
is necessary: but if I have access to secrets of state at home,
or private advice of some decisive measure or event abroad, I
cannot avaib myself of these advantages with justice, because
they are excluded by the contract, which proceeded upon the
supposition, that I had no such advantage.
In insurances, in which the underwriter computes his risk
entirely from the account given by the person insured, it is
absolutely necessary to the justice and validity of the contract,
that this account be exact and complete.

CHAPTER IX.
CONTRACTS bF LENDING OF INCONSUMABLE PRO
PERTY.
WiiEN the identical loan is to be returned, as a book, a
horse, a harpsichord, it is caUed inconsumable, in opposition
to corn, -wuie, money, and those things wMch perish, or are
parted with in the use, and can therefore only be restored in kuid.
The questions under this head are few and simple. The
first is, if the thing lent be lost or damaged, who ought to bear
theloss or damage? If it be damaged by the use, or' by acci
dent in the use, for which it was lent, the lender Ought to bear
it ; as if I hire a job coach, the wear, tear, and soUing of the
coach must belong to the lender ; or a horse to go a particular
iourney, and in gouig the proposed journey, the horse die, or
be lamed, the loss must be the lender's : on the contrary, if
the damage be occasioned by the fault of the borrower, or by
accident in some use for which it was not lent, then the bor-

INCONSUMABLE PROPERTY. 77
rower must make it good ; as if th6 coach be overturned or
broken to pieces by the carelessness of yom- coachman : or the
horse be hired to take a morning's ride upon, and you go a
hunting with him, or leap him over hedges, or put him into
your cart or carriage, and he be strained, or staked, or galled,
or accidentaUy hurt, or drop down dead, whUst you are thus
using hint ; you must make satisfaction to the owner.
The two cases are distinguished by this cucmnstance, that
in one case, the owner foresees the damage or risk, and there
fore consents to undertake it ; in the other case he does not.
It is possible that an estate or a house may, during the term
of a lease, be so increased or diminished in its value, as to be
come worth much more, or much less, than the rent agreed to
be paid for it. In some of wMch cases it may be doubted, to
whom, of natural right, the advantage or disadvantage belongs.
The rule of justice seems to be this : If the alteration might
be expected by the parties, the hirer must take the consequence ;
if it could not, the owner. An orchard, or a vineyard, or a
mine, or a fishery, or a decoy, may this year yield nothing or
next to nothing, yet the tenant shaU pay Ms rent ; and if they
next year produce tenfold the usual profit, no more shaU be
demanded ; because the produce is in its nature precarious, and
this variation might be expected. If an estate in the fens of
Lincolnshire, or the isle of Ely, be overflowed with -water so
as to be incapable of occupation, the tenant, not-withstanding,
is bound by Ms lease ; because he entered into it with a
knowledge and foresight of the danger. On the other hand,
if by the irruption of the ^ea into a country where it was never
known to have come before, by the change of the course of a
river, the faU of a rock, the breaking out of a volcano, the bm-st-
ing of a moss, the incm-sions of an enemy, or by a mortal con
tagion amongst the cattle ; if, by means Uke these, an estate
change, or lose, its value, the loss shaU faU upon the owner ;
that is, the tenant shall either be discharged from his agreement,
or be entitled to an abatement of rent. A house in London, ,
by the building of a bridge, the opening of a hew road or street,
may become of ten times its former value ; and, by contrary
causes, may be as much reduced in value : here also, as before,
the owner, not the hirer, shaU be affected by the alteration. The
reason upon which our determination proceeds is this, that
changes such- as these, being 'neither foreseen, nor provided' for,
by the contracting parties, form no part or. condition of the con-

78

CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE

tract; and therefore ought to have the same effect as if no
contract at aU had been made, (for none was made with respect
to them), that is, ought to fall upon the owner.

CHAPTER X.
CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE LENDING OF MONEY.
There exists no reason in the law of nature, why a man
should not be paid for the lending of his money, as weU as of
any other property into which the money might be converted.
The scruples that have been entertained upon this head, and
upon the foundation of wMch, the receiving of interest or usury
(for they formerly meant the same thing) was once prohibited
in ahnost all Christian countries,* arose from a passage in the
law of Moses, Deuteronomy, xxiu. 19, 20, ' Thou shalt not
lend upon usury to thy brother ; usury of money, usm-y of vic-
-tiials, usury of any thing that is lent upon usury ; unto a stran
ger thou mayest lend upon usury ; but unto thy brother thou
shalt not lend upon usury.'
This prohibition is now generally understood to have been
intended for the Jews alone, as part of the civU or political
law of that nation, and calculated to preseiTe amongst them
selves that distribution of property, to which many of their in
stitutions were subservient ; as the marriage of an heiress -with
in her own tribe ; of a -widow who was left chUdless, to her
husband's brother ; the year of jubUee, when alienated estates
reverted to the famUy of the original proprietor ; regulations,
wMch were never thought to be binding upon any but the
commonwealth of Israel.
This interpretation is confirmed, I think, beyond aU contro
versy, by the distinction made in the law, between a Jew and
a foreigner: 'unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usu
ry,' a distinction which could hardly have been admitted into
a law, which the divine Author intended to be of moral and
of universal obligation.
* By a statute of James the First, interest above eight pounds per cent, was prohib
ited (and consequently under that rate allowed) witli this sage provision : That this
statute shall not be construed or expounded lo allow the practice of usury in
point of religion or conscience.

LENDING OF MONEY. 79
The rate of interest has in most countries been regulated by
law. The Roman law aUowed of twelve pounds per cent.
which Justinian reduced at one stroke to four pounds. A stat
ute of the thirteenth year of Clueen Elizabeth, wMch was the
first that tolerated the receiving of interest in England at aU,
restrained it to ten pounds per cent. ; a statute of James the
Fnst, to eight pounds ; of Charles the Second, to six pounds ;
of dueen Anne, to five pounds, on pain of forfeitme of treble
the value of the money lent : at which rate and penalty the
matter now stands. The poUcy of these regulations is, to
check the power of accumulating wealth without industry ;
to give encouragement to trade, by enabling adventurers in it
to borrow money at a moderate price ; and of late years, to
enable the state to borrow the subject's money itself.
Compound interest, though forbidden by the law of England,
is agreeable enough to natural equity ; for interest detained af
ter it is due, becomes, to all intents and purposes, part of the
sum lent.
It is a question which sometimes occurs, how money bor
rowed in one country ought to b6 paid in another, where the
relative value of the precious metals is npt the same. For ex
ample, suppose I borrow a hundi-ed guineas in London, where
each guinea is worth one and twenty shiUings, and meet my
creditor in the East Indies, where a guinea is worth no more
perhaps than nineteen, is it a satisfaction of the debt to return
a hundred guiileas ; or must I make up so many times one
and twenty shillings : I should think the latter ; for it must
be presumed, that my creditor, had he not lent me Ms guineas,
would have disposed of them in such a manner, as to have
now had, in the place of them, so many one and twenty shil-
Ungs ; and the question supposes, that he neither intended,
nor ought to be a sufferer, by parting vnth the possession of
his money to me.
When the relative value of corn is alterted by an act of the
state, if the alteration would have extended to the identical
pieces which were lent, it is enough to return an equal num
ber of pieces of the same denomination, or then present value
in any other. As if guineas were reduced by act of parlia
ment to twenty shillings, so many twenty shiUings, as I bor
rowed guineas, would be a just repayment. It would be other
wise, if the reduction was owing to a debasement of the coin ;

80 CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE
for then respect ought to be had to the comparative value of the
old guinea and the new.
Whoever borrows money is bound in conscience to repay it.
This every man can see ; but every man cannot see, or does
not however reflect, that he is, in consequence, also Jaound to
use the means necessary to enable himself to repay it. ' If he
pay the money when he has it, or has it to spare, he does ,aU
that an honest man can do,' and aU, he imagines, that is re
quired of hhn ; whUst the previous measures, wMch are neces
sary to furnish him with that money, he makes no part of his
care, nor observes to be as much his duty as the other ; such
as seUing a fanuly seat, or a famUy estate, contracting his plan
of expense, laying; down Ms equipage, reducing the number of
his servants, or any of those humiUating sacrifices, which jus
tice requires of a man in debt, the moment he perceives that he
has no reasonable prospect of paying his debts without them.
An expectation, wMch depends upon the continuance of his
own life, wiU not satisfy an honest man, if a better provision be
in his power ; for it is a breach of faith to subject a creditor,
when we can help it, to the risk of our life, be the event what
it wiU ; that not being the security to which credit was given.
I know few subjects which have been more misunderstood,
than the law wMch authorizes the imprisonment of insolvent
debtors. It has been represented as a gratuitous craelty,
wMch contributed notMng to- the reparation of the creditor's
loss, or to the advantage of the community. This prejudice
arises principaUy from considering the sentUng of a debtor to
jail, as an act of private satisfaction to the creditor, instead of
a pubUc punishment. As an act of satisfaction or revenge, it
is always wrong in the motive, and often intemperate and undis-
tinguishing in the exercise. Consider it as a pubhc punishment;
founded upon the same reason, and subject to the same i-ules,
as other punishments ; and the justice of it, together with the
degree to which it should he extended, and the objects upon
whom it may be inflicted, wUl be apparent. There are frauds
relating to insolvency, against wMch it is as necessary to
provide punishment, as for any pubhc crimes whatever ; as
where a man gets your money into his possession, and forth
with rans away with it ; or, what is Uttle better, squanders it
in vicious expenses ; or stakes it at the gaming table ; m the
aUey ; or upon wUd adventures in trade ; or is conscious, at
the time he borrows it, that he can never repay it ;• or wilfuUy

LENDING OF MONEY. 81
puts it out of Ms power by profuse living : or conceals his effects,
or transfers them by coUusion to another : not to mention the
obstinacy of some debtors, who had rather rot in a gaol, than
deliver up their estates ; for, to say the trath, the first absurdity
is in the law itself, which leaves it in a debtor's power to with
hold any part of his property from the claim of his creditors.
The only question is, whether the punishment be properly
placed in the hands of an exasperated creditor : for which it
may be said, that these frauds are so subtUe and versatile, that
nothing but a discretionary power can overtake them ; and
that no discretion is likely to be so well informed, so vigUant, or
so active, as that of the creditor.
It must be remembered however, that the confinement of a
debtor in gaol is a punishment ; and that every punishment
supposes a crime. To pursue therefore, with the extremity of
legal rigour, a sufferer, whom the fraud or faUure of others,
his own want of capacity, or the disappointments and miscar
riages to which aU human affairs are subject, have reduced to
ruin, merely because w^ are provoked by our loss, and seek to
reUeve the pain we feel by that which we inflict, is repugnant
not only to humamty, but to justice ; ^or it is to prevent a pro
vision of law, designed for a different and a salutary purpose,
to the gratification of private spleen and resentment. Any al
teration in these laws, which could distinguish the degi-ees of
guilt, or convert the service of the msolvent debtor to some
pubhc profit, might be an improvement ; but any considerable
mitigation of then rigour, under colour of relieving the poor,
would increase then hardships. For whatever deprives the
creditor of his power of coercion, deprives Mm of his security ;
and as this must add greatly to the difficulty of obtaining credit,
the poor, especiaUy the lower sort of tradesmen, are the first
who would suffer by such a regulation. As tradesmen must
buy before they sell, you would exclude from trade two thirds
of those who now carry it on, if none were enabled to enter
into it without a capital sufficient for prompt payments. An
advocate, therefore, for the. interests of this important class of
the community, wUl deem ,it more eUgible, that one out of a
thousand should be sent to gaol by his creditors, than that the
nine hundred and ninety nine should be straitened and embar
rassed, and many of them he idle, by the want of credit.

VOL. III.

11

( 82 )
CHAPTER XI.
CONTRACTS OP LABOUR.
SERVICE.
Service in this country, is, as it ought to be, voluntary,
and by contract ; and the master's authority extends no farther
than the terms or Equitable constraction of the' contract -wiU
justify. The treatment of servants, as to diet, discipUne, and accom
modation, the kind and quantity of work to be required of
them, the intermission, liberty, and indulgence to be aUowed
them, mnst be determined in a great measure by custom ; for
where the contract involves so many particulars, the contract
ing parties express a few perhaps of the principal, and by mu
tual understanding refer the rest to th&kno-wn custom of the
country in lUre cases.
A,servant is not bound to obey the unlawful commands of
his nfcter ; to niinister,.for instance, to his unlawful pleasures ;
or to assist him by unlawfiil practices in his profession ; as in
smuggling or adulterating the articles in wMch he deals. For
the servant is bound by nothing but 'his own promise ; and
the obligation of a promise extends not to things unlawful.
For the same reason, the master's authority is no justifica
tion of tlie servant in doing -wrong; for the servant's own
promise, upon which that authority is founded, would be none.
Clerks and apprentices ought 'to be employed entirely in the
profession or trade which they are intended to learn. Instrac-
tion is then hire ; and to deprive them of the opportunities of
instruction, by taking up their time with occupations foreign
to their business, is to defraud them of then wages.
The master is responsible for what a servant does in the or
dinary course of his employment ; for it is done under a gen
eral authority committed to Mm, which is in justice equivalent
to a specific direction. Thus, if I pay money to a banker's
clerk, the banker is accountable ; but not if I had paid it to his
butler or his footman, whose business it is not to receive money.
Upon the same principle, if I once send a servant to take up
goods upon credit, whatever goods he afterwards takes up at

SERVICE. 83
the same shop, so long as he continues jn my service, are jnstly
chargeable to my account.
The law of this country goes great lengths in intending a
kind of concurrence in the master, so as to charge hun with
the consequences of Ms servant's conduct. If an inii-keeper's
servant rob his guests, the inn-keeper must make restitution ;
if a farrier's servant lame a horse, the famer must answer for
the damage ; and stUl farther, if your coachman or carter drive
over a passenger ui the road, the passenger may recover from
you a satisfaction for the hmt he suffers. But these deter-
rninations stand, I tMnk, rather upon the authority of the law,
than any principle of natural justice.
There is a carelessness and faciUty jn ' giving characters,' as
it is called, of servants, especially when given in writmg, or
according to some estabhshed form, which, to speak plainly of
it, is a cheat upon those who accept them. They are given
-with so Uttle reserve and veracity, ' that I should as soon de
pend,' says the author of the Rambler, upon an acquittal at the
Old JBaUey, by ' way of recomniendation of a servant's honesty,
as upon one of these characters.' It is sometimes carelessness ;
and sometimes also to get rid of a bad servant without the un
easiness of a dispute ; for which nothing can he pleaded but
the most ungenerous of aU excuses, that the person whom we
deceive is a stranger.
There is a conduct the reverse of this, but more injurious, be
cause the mjm-y falls where there is no remedy ; I mean the
obstructing of a servant's advancement, heca;use you are un-
¦wiUuig to spare his service. To stand in the way of your ser
vant's interest, is a poor return for Ms fidehty ; and affords
slender encouragement for good behaviour, in this numerous
and therefore important pai-t of the community. It is a piece
of injustice which, if practised towards an equal, the law of
honour would lay hold of ; as it is, it is neither uncommon
nor disreputable.
A master of a famUy is culpable, if he permit any vices
among his domestics, which he might restrain by due disci
pUne and a proper interference. This results from the gener
al obhgation to prevent misery when in our power ; and the
assurance which we have, that vice and misery at the long
rah go together. Care to maintain in his family a sense of
virtue and reUgion, received the divine approbation in the per
son of Abraham, Gen. xviii. 19. — '1 know him. that he wiU

84 ' SERVICE.
command his children, and his household after Mm; and
they shaU keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judg
ment.' And indeed no authority seems so weU adapted to
this purpose, as that of meisters of famUies ; because none op
erates upon the subjects of it with an influence so immediate
and constant.
What the Christian Scriptures have deUvered concerning
the relation and reciprocal duties of masters and servants,
breathes a spirit of Uberality, very Uttle known in ages when
servitude was slavery ; and which flowed from a habit of con
templating mankind under the common relation in wMch
they stand to their Creator, and with respect to their in
terest in another existence. * ' Servants, be obedient to them
that are your masters, according to the flesh, with fear and
trembUng ; in singleness of your heart, as unto CMist ; not
with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but as the servants of Christ,
^ioing the wiU of God from the heart ; with good will, doing
service as to the Lord and not to men : knowing that what
soever good thing any man doth, the same shaU he receive
of the Lord, whether he be bond or free. And ye masters, do
the same thing unto them, forbearing tMeatening ; knowing
that your Master also is in heaven ; neither is there re
spect of persons vnth him.' The idea of referring their service
to God, of considering him as having appointed them their
task, that they were doing his wiU, and were to look to him
for their reward, was new; and affoi;ds a greater security to
the master than any inferiour principle, because it tends to pro
duce a steady and cordial obedience, in the place of that con
strained service, which can never be trusted out of sight, and
which is justly enough caUed eye-service. The exhortation to
masters, to keep in view their own subjection and accountable-
ness, was no less seasonable. » Eph. vi. 5—9,

( 85 )
CHAPTER XII.
CONTRAtJTS OF LABOUR.
COMMISSIONS.
Whoever undertakes another, man's business makes it his
own, that is, promises to employ upon it the same care, atten
tion, and dUigence, that he would do if it ' were actuaUy his
own : for he knows that the business was connnitted to Mm
with that expectation. And he promises nothing mote than
this. Therefore an agent is not obhged to wait, inquire, soli
cit, ride about the country, toU, or study, whUst there remains
a possibihty of benefiting his employer. If he exert so much
of Ms activity, and use such caution, as the value of the busi
ness, in his judgment, deserves ; that is, as he would have
thought sufficient, if the same interest of his own had beien at
stake, he has discharged his duty, although it should afterwards
turn out, that by more activity, and longer perseverance, he
might have concluded the business with greater advantage.
This rule defines the duty of factors, stewards, attorneys,
and advocates.
One of the chief difficulties of an agent's situation is, to know
how far he may depart from his instructions, when, from some
change or discovery inr the circumstances of his commission, he
sees reason to believe that his employer, if he were present,
would alter his mtention. ¦ The latitude aUowed to agents
in this respect wiU be different, according as the commission
was confidential or ministerial ; and according a^ the general
rule and nature of the service require a prompt and precise obe
dience to orders, or not. An attorney, sent to treat for an es
tate, if he found out a flaw in the title, would desist fi-om pro
posing the price he was dnected to propose ; and very properly.
On the other hand, if the commander in chief of an army de
tach an officer under him upon a particular service, which ser
vice turns out more diflficult, or less expedient, than was suppo
sed, insomuch that the officer is convinced that his commander,
if he -w^ere acqiiainted with the true state in which the affair is
found, would recaU his orders ; yet must this officer,' if he can
not wait for fi-esh dkections without prejudice to the expedition

86 COMMISSIONS.
he is sent upon, pursue, at all hazards, those which he brought
out -with him.
What is trusted to an agent may be lost or damaged in his
hands by m,isfortune. An agent Avho acts without pay is
clearly not answerable for the loss ; for, if he give Ms labour
for nothing, it cannot be presumed that he gave also security
for the success of it. If the agent be hired to the business, the
question wUl depend upon the apprehension of the parties at
the time of making the contract ; which apprehension of theii-s
must be coUected chiefly from custom, by which probably it
was guided. Whether a pubUc carrier ought to account for
goods sent by him ;. the owner or master of a ship for the cargo ;
the post office for letters, or biUs inclosed in letters, where the
loss is not imputed to any fault or neglect of theirs ; are ques
tions of this sort. Any expression, which by imphcation
amounts to a promise, wiU be binding upon the agent, without
custom; as where the proprietors of a stage-coach advertise,
that they wUl not be accountable, for money, plate, or jewels,
this makes them accountable for every thing else ; or where
the price is too much for the labour, part of it may be considered
as a premium for insurance. On the other hand, any caution
on the part of the owner to guard against danger, is evidence
that he considers the risk to be his ; as cutting a bank biU in
two, to send by the post at different times.
UniversaUy, unless a promise, either express or tacit, can
be proved against the agent, the loss must faU upon the owner.
The agent may be a sufferer ui his ovm person or properly
by the business which he undertakes; as where one goes a
journey for another, and lames his horse, or is hmt himseff,
by a faU upon the road ; can the agent in such case claim a
compensation for the misfortune? Unless the same be provi
ded for by express stipulation, the agent is not entitled to any
compensation fi-om his employer on that account : for where
the danger is not foreseen, there can be no reason to beUeye,
that the employer engaged to indemnify the agent against it:
stm less where it is foreseen : for whoever knowmgly under
takes a dangerous employment, ui common construction, ta%s
upon himseff the danger and the consequences; as where a
fireman undertakes for a reward to rescue a box of wiitmgs from
the flames ; or a saUor to bring off a passenger from a_ship m
a storm.

*%

{ 87 )
CHAPTER XIII.
CONTRACTS OF r,ABOUR.
PARTNERSHIP.
I KNOW nothing upon the subject of partnership that requires
explanation, but in what manner the profits are to be di-vided,
where one partner contributes money, and the other labour ;
which is a common case.
Rule. From the stock of the partnership deduct the sum
advanced, and divide the remainder between the monied part
ner and the labouring partner, in the proportion of the interest
of the money to the wages of the labom'er, aUo-wing such a
rate of interest as money might be borrowed for upon the same
security, and such wages as a journeyman would require for
the same labour and trast.
Exam,ple. A advances a thousand pounds, but knows
nothing of the business ; B produces no money, but has been
brought up to the business, and undertakes to conduct it. At
the end of the year the stock and effects of the partnership
amount to twelve bundled pounds ; consequently there are two
hundred pounds to be divided. Now, nobody would lend mo
ney upon the event of the business succeeding, which is A's se
curity, under six per cent. — ^therefore A must be aUowed sixty
pounds for the interest of his money. B, before he engaged in
the partnership, earned thirty pounds a year in the same em
ployment ; his labour therefore ought to be valued at thirty
pounds ; and the two hundred pounds must be di-vided between
the partners, in the proportion of sixty to thirty ; that is,- A
must receive one hundred and thirty-three pounds six shiUings
and eight pence, and B sixty-six pounds thuteen shUUngs and
fom- pence.
If there be nothing gained, A loses his mterest, and B his
labour : which is right. If the original stock be dimuiished,
by this rule B loses only his labour, as before ; whereas A lo
ses Ms interest, and part of the principal ; for which -eventual
disadvantage A is compensated, by having the interest of his
money computed at six per cent, in the di^dsion of the profits,
when there are any.

S8

OFFICES.

Jt IS true, that the division of the profit is seldom forgotten
m the constitution of the partnership, a:nd is therefore com^
monly settled hj express agieements : but these agreements,
to be equitable, should pmsue the principle of the rale here
laid down.
AU the partners are bound to what any one of them does
111 the com-se of business: for, quoad hoc, each partner is con
sidered as an authorized agent for the rest.

CHAPTER XIV.
CONTRACTS OF L,ABOUR.
OFFICES.
i
In many oflices, as schools, feUowships of colleges, profes
sorships of the universities, and the like, there is a twofold con
tract, one with the founder, the other with the electors.
The contract with the founder. obUges the incumbent of the
office to discharge. every duty appointed by the charter, stat
utes, deed of gift, or wiU of the founder ; because the endow
ment was given, and consequently accepted for that purpose,
and upon those conditions.
The contract -with the electors extends this obligation to
all duties that have been customarily connected vnth and
reckoned a part of the office, though not prescribed by the
founder : for the electors expect fi-om the person they choose
aU the duties which his predecessors have discharged ; and as
the person elected cannot be ignorant of their expectation, if
he meant to have refused tMs condition, he ought to have ap
prized them of his objection.
And here let it be observed, that the electors can excuse the
conscience of the person elected from this last class of duties
alone ; because this class results from a contract, to which the
electors and the person elected are the only parties. The
other class of duties results from a different contract.
It is 8. question of some magnitude and difiiculty, what offi
ces may be conscientiously suppUed by a deputy.
We wiU state the several objections to the substitution of a

OFFICES. 89
deputy : and then it wiU be understood, that a deputy may be
aUowed in all cases to which these objections do not apply.
An office may not be discharged by deputy,
1. Where a particular confidence is reposed in the judg
ment and conduct of the person appomted to it ; as the office
of a steward, guardian, judge, commander in chief, by land or
sea. 2. Where the custom hinders ; as in the case of schoolmas
ters, tutors, and of commissions in the army or navy.
3. Where the duty cannot, from its nature, be so weU per
formed by a deputy ; as the deputy govemour of a province
may not possess the legal authority, or the actual influence, of
his principal.
4. When some inconveniency would result to the service in
general from the permission of deputies in such cases : for ex
ample, it is probable that mihtary merit would be much dis
couraged, if the duties belonging to commissions in the army
were generaUy aUowed to be executed by subtitutes.
The non-residence of the parochial clergy, who supply the
duty of their benefices by curates, is worthy of a more distinct
consideration. And in order to draw the question upon this
case to a point, we wiU suppose the officiating curate to dis
charge every duty which his principal, were he present, would
be bound to discharge, and in a manner equaUy beneficial to
the parish : under -which circumstances, the only objection to
the absence of the principal, at least the only one of the fore
going objections, is the last.
And, in my judgment, the force of this objection wiU be
much diminished, if the absent rector or vicar be, in the mean
time, engaged in any function or employment of equal, or of
greater importance to the general interest of religion. For
the whole revenue of the national church may properly enough
be considered as a common fund for the support of the nation
al religion ; and if a clergyman be serving the cause of Chris
tianity and protestantism, it can make Uttle difference, out of
what particular portion of this fund, that is, by the tythes and
glebe of what particular parish, his service be requited ; any
more than it can prejudice the king's service, that an officer
who has signalized his merit hi America, should be rewarded
-with the government of a fort or castle in Ireland, wMch he
never saw : but for the custody of which proper provision is
made, and care taken.
VOL. III. 12

90

LIES.

Upon the principle thus explamed, this indulgence is due
to none more than to those who are occupied in cultivating or
communicating reUgious knowledge, or the sciences subsidiary
to reUgion.
This way of considering the revenues of the church as a
common fund for the same purpose, is the more equitable,- as
the value of particular preferments bears no proportion to the
particular charge or labour.
But when a man draws upon this fimd, whose studies and
employments bear no relation to the object of it ; and who is
no further a minister of the GMistian reUgion, than as a cock
ade makes a soldier, it seems a misappUcation Uttle better than
a robbery. And to those who have the management of such matters
I submit this question, whether the impoverishment of the
fund, by converting the best share of it into annuities for the
gay and iUiterate- youth of great famUies, threatens not to
starve and stifle the little clerical merit that is left amongst
us? AU legal dispensations from residence proceed upon the
supposition, that the absentee is detained from his living by
some engagement of equal or of greater pubUc importance.
Therefore, if in a case where no such reason can with trath
be pleaded, it be said that this question regards a right of
property, and that aU right of property awaits the disposition of
law ; that, therefore, if the law, which gives a man the emolu
ments of a Uving, excuse him from residing upon it, he is
excused in conscience ; we answer, that the law does not
excuse him by intention, and that all other excuses are fraud
ulent.

CHAPTER XV.
T1,IES.

A LIE is a breach of promise : for whoever seriously address
es his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the trath,
because he knows that the trath is expected.
Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the di
rect iU consequences of lying to social happiness. Which con-

LIES. 91
sequences consist, either in some specific uijury- to particular
individuals, or in the dtestruction of that confidence, which is es
sential to the intercourse of human Ufe : for which latter reason,
a he may be pernicious in its general tendency, and therefore
criminal, though it produce no particular- or visible mischief to
any one.
There are falsehoods -w'Mch are not Ues ; that is, which are
not criminal; as.
Where no one is deceived ; which is the case in parables,
fables, novels, jests, tales to create mirth, ludicrous embeUisli-
ments of a story, where the declared design of the speaker is
not to inform, but to divert ; compUments in the subscription
of a letter, a servant's denying his master, a prisoner's pleading
not giulty, an advocate asserting the justice, or his beUef of
the justice, of his cUent's cause. In such instances no con
fidence is destroyed, because none was reposed ; no promise to
speak the truth is violated, because none was given, or under
stood to be given. -
Where the person to whom you speak has no right to know
the truth, or, more properly, where little or no inconveniency
results from the want of confidence in such cases ; as where
you tell a falsehood to a madman^ for his own advantage ; to a
robber, to conceal your property ; to an assassin, to defeat or to
divert him from his purpose. The particular consequence is by
the supposition beneficial; and, as to the general consequence,
the worst that can happen is, that the madman, tlie robber, the
assassin, wiU not trust you again ; wMch (beside that the first
is incapable of deducing regular conclusions from having been
once deceived, and the two last not likely to come a second time
in your way) is sufficiently compensated by the unmediate ben
efit which you propose by the falsehood.
It is upon this principle, that, by the laws of war, it is aUowed
to deceive an enemy by feints, false colours,* spies, false in-
teUigence, and the like ; but by no means in treaties, traces,
signals of capitulation, or surrender : and the difference is, that
the former suppose hostUities to continue, the latter are calculated
to teminate or suspend them. In the conduct of war, and whUst
* There have been two or three instances of late, of Engli^ ships decoying an en
emy into their power, by counterfeiting signals of diattes's; an artifice which ought
to be reprobated by the common indipaition of mankind : for a few examples of cap
tures effected by, this stratagem, would put an end to thM promptitude in affording
assistance to shijis in distress, ivhich is tlie best virtue in a sea-faring character, and
by which the perils of navigafion are diminished to all. A. D. 1775.

92 LIES.
the war continues, there is ho use, or rather no place, for con
fidence betwixt the contending parties ; but in whatever relates
to the termination of war, the most reUgious fideUty is expected,
because without it wars could not cease, nor the victors be se
cure, but by the entire destraction of the vanquished.
Many people indulge, in serious discourse, a habit of fiction
cMd exaggeration, in the accounts they give of themselves, of
their acquaintance, or of the extraordinary things wMch they
have seen or heard ; and so long as the facts they relate are
indifferent, and their narratives, though false, are inoffensive, it
may seem a superstitious regard to truth, to censure them mere
ly for truth's sake.
In the first place, it is almost impossible to pronounce before
hand, with certainty, concerning any Ue, that it is inoffensive.
Volat irrevocabile ; and coUects sometimes accretions in its
flight, wMch entirely change its nature. It may owe possibly
its mischief to the officiousness or misrepresentation of those
who circulate it ; but the mischief is, nevertheless, in some de
gree chargeable upon the original editor.
In the next place, this Uberty in conversation defeats its
own end. Much of the pleasure, and all the benefit of con
versation, depends upon our opuiion of the speaker's veracity ;
for which this nde leaves no foundation. The faith indeed
of a hearer must be extremely perplexed, who considers the
speaker, or beUeves that the speaker considers himself, as un
der no obligation to adhere to trath, but according to the par
ticular importance of what he relates.
But beside and above both these reasons, white Ues always
introduce others of a darker complexion. I have seldom known
any one who deserted touth in trifles, that could be trusted in
matters of importance. Nice distinctions are out of the ques
tion, upon occasions which, Uke those of speech, return every
hour. The habit, therefore, of lying, when once formed, is
easUy extended to serve the designs of malice or interest ; Uke
aU habits, it spreads indeed of itself.
Pious frauds, as they are improperly enough caUed, pretend
ed inspirations, forged books, counterfeit miracles, are im
positions of a more serious natme. It is possible that they
may sometimes, though seldom, have been set up and encour
aged, with a design to do good : but the good they aun at, re
quires that the belief of them should be perpetual, which is
hardly possible ; and the detection of the fraud is sure to dis-

OATHS. 93
parage the credit of aU pretensions of the same nature. Chris
tianity has suffered more mjury from this cause, than from all
other causes put together.
As there may be falsehoods which are not Ues, so there may
be Ues without literal or direct falsehood. An opening is al
ways left for this species of prevarication, when the Uteral and
grammatical signification of a sentence is different from the
popular and customary meaning. It is the wUfiil deceit that
makes the Ue ; and we wilfuUy deceive, when our expressions
are not true in the sense in which we beUeve the hearer to ap
prehend them : besides, that it is absm'd to contend for any
sense of words, in opposition to usage ; for all senses of aU
words are founded upon usage, and upon nothing else.
Or a man may act a, Ue ; as by pointing his fihger in a
wrong direction, when a traveller inquires of him his road ; or
when a tradesman shuts up his windows, to induce his creditors
to believe that he is abroad ; for to aU moral purposes, and
therefore as to veracity, speech andaxition are the same ; speech
being only a mode of action.
Or, lastly, there may be lies of omission. A writer of En
glish history, who, in his account of the reign of Charles the
First, should wUfuUy suppress any evidence of that prince's desr
potic measures and designs, might be said to lie ; for, by en-
tithng his book a history of England, he engages to relate
the whole truth of the history, or at least, aU that he knows
of it.

CHAPTER XVI.
OATHS.
I. Forms of Oaths:
II. Signification.
III. Lawfulness.
IV. Obligation.
V. What Oaths do not bind.
VI. /ra what Sense Oaths are to be interpreted.
I. The forms of oaths, like other reUgious ceremoMes, have
in all ages been various ; consisting however, for the most

94 OATHS.
part, of some bodUy action,* and of a prescribed form of words.
Amongst the Jews, the juror h^ld up his right hand towards
heaven, wMch explains a passage in the 144th Psalm, 'whose
mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right
hand of falsehood.' The same form is retained in Scotland
stUl. Amongst the same Jews, an oath of fideUty was taken,
by the servant's putting Ms hand under the thigh of his lord,
as EUezer did to Abraham, Gen. xxiv. 2 ; from whence, with
no great variation, is derived perhaps the form of doing hom
age to this day, by putting the hand between the knees, and
within the hands of the Uege.
Amongst the Greeks and Romans, the form varied with the
subject and occasion of the oath. In private contracts, the
parties took hold of each other's hand, w^Ust they swore to the
performance ; or they touched the altar of the god, by whose
divinity they swore. Upon more solemn occasions, it was the
custom to slay a -victim ;, and the beast being struck down,
with certain ceremomes and invocations, gave birth to the ex
pressions rifinti t^xm,ferire pactum; and to our English pMase,.
translated from these, of 'striking a bargain.'
The forms of oaths in. Christian countries are also very
different ; but in no countiy in the world, I beUeve, worse con
trived, either to convey the meaning, or impress, the ObUgation
of an oath, than ui our own. The juror with us, after -repeat
ing the promise or affirmation which the oath is intended to
confirm, adds, ' so help me God.: ' or more frequently the sub
stance of the oath is repeated to the juror by the officer or
magistrate who administers it, addmg in the conclusion, 'so
help you God.' The energy of the sentence resides in the
particle so; so, that is, hax Ze^e, upon condition of my speak
ing the trath, or performing this promise, and not otherwise,
may God ,help me. The juror, wMlst he hears or repeats the
words of the oath, holds his right hand upon a Bible, or other
book containmg the four Gospels. The conclusion of fthe
oath sometimes rans, 'ita me Dens adjuvet, et hsec sancta
evangeUa,' or ' so help me God, and the contents of this book ; '
which last clause forms a connexion between the -words and
action of the juror, that before was wanting. The juror then
* It is commonly thought that oaths ai-e denominated corporeal paths from tlje
bodily-action which accompanies them, of laying the right hand "P"."/^]'"'* ™'';
tainj^g^the.four Gospels. This opinbn, however, appears to bea mistake; for Ae
term it borrowed from the ancient usage of tonching, upon these occasions, the cor.
porale, or cloth which covered the consecrated elements.

OATHS. 95
kisses the book : the kiss, however, seems rather an act of rev
erence to the contents of the book, as, in the popish ritual, the
priest kisses the gospel before he reads it, than any part of the
oath. TMs obscure and eUipticaKorm, together with the levity and
frequency with which it is administered, has brought about a
general inadvertency to the obligation of oathsj which, both in
a reUgious and poUtical view, is much to be lamented : and it
merits public consideration, whether the requiring of oaths on
so many frivolous occasions, especiaUy in the customs, and in
the qualification for petty offices, has any other effect, than to
make them cheap in the minds of the people. A pound of tea
cannot travel regularly from the ship to the consumer, without
costing half a dozen oaths at the least ; and the same security
for the due discharge of their office, namely, that of an oath,
is required from a church-warden and an archbishop, from a
petty constable and the chief justice of England. Let the law
continue its own sanctions, if they be thought requisite ; but
let it spare the solemnity of an oath. And where, from the
want of something better to depend upon, it is necessary to ac
cept men's own word or own account, let it annex to prevari
cation penalties proportioned to the pubUc miscMef of the of
fence. II. But whatever be the form of an oath, the signification
is the same. It is ' the caUing upon God to witness, i. e. to
take notice of what we say,' and it is ' invoking his ven
geance, or renouncing his favour, if what we say be false, or
what we promise be not performed.'
III. dnakers and Moravians refuse to swear upon any ec-
easion ; founding their scraples concerning the lawfulness^ of
oaths upon our Saviour's prohibition. Matt. v. 34. ' I say unto
you. Swear not at aU.'
The answer which we give to this objection cannot be un
derstood, -without first stating the whole passage : ' Ye have
heard that it hath been said by them of old> time. Thou shalt
n6t-forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths.
But I say unto you. Swear not at aU ; neither by heaven, for
it is God's tMone ; nor by the earth, for it is his footstool ; nei
ther by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. Neither
shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one
hair white or black. But let your commumcation be Yea, yea ;
Nay, nay ; for whatsoever is more than these coraefii of evU.'

m

OATHS.

To reconcile with this passage of scripture the practice of
swearing, or of taking oaths, when required by law, the foUow
ing observations must be attended to.
1. It does not appear, that swearing ' by heaven,' ' by the
earth,' ' by Jerasalem,' or ' by their own head,' was a .form
of swearuig ever made use of amongst the Jews in judicial
oaths : and, consequently, it is not probable that they were ju
dicial oaths, which Christ had in his nund when he mentioned
those instances.
2. As to the seeming universaUty of the proMbition, ' Swear
not at aU,' the emphatic clause ' not at aU' is to be read in con
nexion with what foUows ; ' not at aU,' i. e. neither ' by the
heaven,' nor ' by the eart,h,' nor ' by Jerasalem,' nor ' by thy
head:' 'not at all' does not mean upon no occasion, but
by none of these forms. Our Saviour's argument seems to
suppose, that the people, to whom he spake, made a distinction
between swearing directly by the ' name of God' and swearing
by those inferiour objects of veneration, ' the heavens,' ' the
earth,' 'Jerusalem,' or 'their own head.' In opposition to
which distinction he tells them, that, on account of the relation
which these things bore to the Supreme Being, to swear by any
of them, was in effect and substance to swear by him ; ' by
lieaven, for it is Ms throne ; by the earth, for it is his footstool;
by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King; by thy head,
for it is his workmansMp, not thine, thou canst not make one
hair white or black,' for wMch reason he says, ' Swear not at
all,' that is, neither directly by God, nor indirectly by any thing
related to him. This interpretation is greatly confirmed, by a
passage in the twenty-third dbapter of the same Gospel, where
a simUar distinction, made by the Scribes and Pharisees, is re
plied to in the same manner.
3. Our Saviour himself being ' adjured by the Uving God,'
to declare whether he was the Christ, the Son of God, or not,
condescended to answer the high priest, -without making any
objection to the oath (for such it was) upon wMch he examin
ed Mm. ' God is my witness,' says St Paul to the Romans,
' that without ceasing I make mention of you in my prayers :'
and to the OorintMans stUl more strongly, 'I call God for a
record upon my soul, that, to spare you; I came not as yet to
Corinth.' Both these expressions contain the nature of oaths.
The epistle to the Hebrews speaks of the custom of swearing
judiciaUy, without any mark of censure or disapprobation : ' Men

OATHS. 97
verily swear by the greater ; and an oath, for confirmation, is
to them an end of all strife.'
Upon the strength of these reasons, we explain our Saviour's
words to relate, not to judicial oaths, but to the practice of vain,
wanton, and unauthorized swearing, in common discourse.
St James's words, chap. v. 12, are not so strong as our Sav-
iom's, and therefore admit the same explanation with more
ease. IV. Oaths are nugatory, that is, carry -with them no proper
force or obhgation, unless we believe that God -wiU punish false
swearing -with more severity than a simple lie, or breach of
promise ; for which belief there are the following reasons :
T. Perjury is a sin of greater dehberation. The juror has
the thought of God and of rehgion upon his mind at the time :
at least, there are very few who can shake them off entirely.
He offends, therefore, if he do offend, with a high hand ; in the
face, that is, and in defiance of the sanctions of religion. His
offence implies a disbelief or contempt of God's knowledge,
power, and justice : which cannot be said of a lie where there is
nothmg to carry the mind to any reflection upon the Deity, or
the divine attributes at all.
2. Perjury violates a superiour confidence. Mankind must
trust to one another ; and they have nothing better to trust to
than one another's oath. Hence legal adjudications, which
govern and affect every right and interest on this side of the
grave, of necessity proceed and depend upon oaths. Perjury,
therefore, in its general consequence, strU^es at the security of
reputation, property, and even of Ufe itself. A Ue cannot do
the same mischief, because the same credit is not given to it.*
3. God dnected the IsraeUtes to swear by his name ; t and
was pleased, ' in order to show the immutabUity of his own
counsel,'! to confirm his covenant -with that people by an oath:
neither of wMch it is probable he would have done, had he not
intended to represent oaths as havmg some meaning and effect
beyond the obligation of a bare promise ; which effect must be
owing to the severer punishment -with wMch he -wiU vindicate
the authority of oaths.
V. Pronussory oaths are not binding, where the promise
* Except, indeed, where a Quaker's or Moravian's affirmation is accepted in the
place of an oath; in which case, a lie partakes, so far as this reason extends, of the
nature and guilt of perjury.
t Dent. vi. 13. x. 20. % Heb. vi. 17.
VOL. III. 13

98

OATH IN EVIDENCE.

itself would not be so : for the several cases of which, see the
Chapter of Promises.
VI. As oaths are designed for the security of the unposer,
it is manifest that they must be interpreted and performed in
the sense in which the imposer intends them ,• otherwise, they
afford no security to him. And this is the meaning and reason
of the rule, 'jurare in animum imponentis ; ' which rule the
reader is desirM to carry along with him, wMlst we proceed
to consider certain particular oaths, which are either of greater
importance, or more likely to fall in our way than others.

CHAPTER XVII.
OATH IN EVIDENCE.
The witness swears, ' to speak the truth, the whole trath,
and notMng but the truth, touching the matter in question.'
Upon which it may be observed, that the designed conceal
ment of any trath, which relates to the matter in agitation, is
as much a violation of the oath, as to testify a positive false
hood ; and this whether the -witness be interrogated to that
particular point or not. For when the person to be examined
is sworn upon a voir dire, that is, in order to inquire, whether
he ought to be admitted to give evidence in the cause at aU,
the form runs thus : ' You shaU true answer make to aU such
questions as shaU be asked you ; ' but, when he comes to be
sworn in chief, he swears ' to speak the whole trath,' without
-restraining it, as before, to the questions that shaU be asked :
which difference shows, that the law intends, in this latter case,
to require of the witness, that he give a complete and unreserv
ed account of what he knows of the subject of the trial, whe
ther the questions proposed to him reach the extent of Ms
knowledge or not. So that if if be inquired of the witness af
terwards why he did not inform the court, so and so, it is not
a sufficient, though a very common answer, to say, 'because it
was never asked me.'
I know but one exception to this rule ; which is, when a
fuU discovery of the truth tends to accuse the witness himself
of some legal crime. The law of England constrains no man
to become his own accuser ; consequently, imposes the oath of

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 99
testimony with tMs tacit reservation. But the exception must
be confined to legal crimes. A point of honour, of delicacy,
of reputation, may make a -witness backward to disclose some
circumstance -with which he is axiquainted ; but -wUl in no
mse justify his concealment of the truth, unless it could be
shown, that the law which imposes the oath intended to allow
this indulgence to such motives. The exception of which we
are speaking is also withdrawn by' a compact between the
magistrate and the witness, when an accompUce is admitted to
give evidence against the partners of his crime.
Tenderness to the prisoner, although a specious apology for
concealment, is no just excuse ; for, if this plea be thought
sufficient, it takes the administration of penal justice out of the
hands of judges and jm-ies, and makes it depend upon the tem
per of prosecutors and -witnesses.
(Questions may be asked, which are irrelative to the cause,
wMch affect the -witness himself, or some third person ; in
wMch, and in aU cases where the witness doubts of the perti
nency and propriety of the question, he ought to refer his
doubts to the court. The answer of the court, in relaxation of
the oath, is authority enough to the -witness ; for the law
which imposes the oath may remit what it wiU of the obhga
tion ; and it belongs to the court to declare what the mind of
the law is. Nevertheless, it cannot be said universaUy, th^t
the answer of the court is conclusive upon the conscience of
the witness ; for Ms obUgation depends upon what he appre
hended, at thojtime of taking the oath, to be the design of
the la^ in imposing it ; and no after requisition or explana
tion by the court can carry the obUgation beyond that.

CHAPTER XVill.
OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.
' I DO sincerely promise, and swear, that I will be faithful
and bear true allegiance to his Majesty King George.' For
merly the oath of aUegiance ran thus : ' I do promise to be
trae and faithfiil to the King and his heirs, and trath and faith
to bear, of Ufe, and limb, and terrene honour ; and not to know
or hear of any iU or damage intended hun, without defending

lod

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.

him therefroin:' and was altered at the Revolution to the pres
ent form. So that the present oath is a relaxation of the old
one. And as the oath was intended to ascertain, not so much
the extent of the subject's obedience, as the person to whom it
was due, the legislature seems to have -wrapped up its mean
ing upon the former point in a word purposely made choice of
for its general and indeterminate signification.
It -wiU be most convenient to consider, first, what the oath
excludes, as inconsistent -with it ; secondly, what it permits.
1. The oath excludes aU intention to support the claim or
pretensions of any other person or persons to the crown and
govemment, than the reigning sovereign. A Jacobite, who is
persuaded of the Pretender's right to the crown, and who
moreover designs to join with the adherents of that cause to
assert this right, whenever a proper opportunity, with a rea
sonable prospect of success, presents itself, cannot take the
oath of allegiance ; or, if he could, the oath of abjuration fol
lows, which contains an express renunciation of aU opinions
in favom- of the claim of the exUed famUy.
2. The oath excludes aU design, at the time, of attempting to
depose the reigning prince, for any reason whatever. Let the
justice of the Revolution be what it would, no honest man
could have taken even the present oath of allegiance to James
the Second, who enteitained at the time of taking it a design
of joining in the measures which were entered into to dethrone
him. 3. The oath forbids the taking up of arms against the reign
ing prince, with views of private advancement, or from motives
of personal resentment or disUke. It is possible to happen in
this, what frequently happens hi despotic governments, that
an ambitious general, at the head of the mUitary force of the
nation, might, by a conjuncture of fortunate circumstances,
and a great ascendency over the minds of the soldieiy, depose
the prince upon the throne, and make way to it for himself, or
for some creature of his own. A person in this situation
would be withheld from such an attempt by the oath of aUe
giance, if he paid regard to it. If there were any who en
gaged in the rebellion of the year forty-five, with the expecta
tion of titles, estates, or preferment ; or because they were dis
appointed, and thought ^themselves neglected and iU used at
court; or because they entertained a family animosity, or per
sonal resentment against the king, the favourite, or the minis-

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 101
ter ; if any were induced to take up arms by these motives,
they added to the many crimes of an unprovoked rebelUon,
that of wilful and corrupt peijury. If, in the late American
war, the same motives determined others to connect them
selves with that opposition, then part in it was chargeable with
perfidy and falsehood to then oath, whatever was the justice
of the opposition itsetf, or however weU founded their own com
plaints might be of private injury.
We are next to consider what the oath of aUegiance permits
or does not requne.
1. It permits resistance to the king, when his iU beha-noin
or imbecUity is such, as to make resistance beneficial to the
commimity. It may fairly be .presumed that the Convention
ParUament, which mtroduced the oath in its present form, did
not intend, by imposmg it, to exclude aU resistance, since the
members of that legislature had many of them recently ta
ken up arms agamst James the Second, and the very author
ity by which they sat together was itself the effect of a suc
cessful opposition to an acknowledged sovereign. Some resist
ance, therefore, was meant to be aUowed; and if any, it
must be that -svhich has the public interest for its object.
2. The oath does not require obedience to such commands
of the king as are unauthorized by law. No such obedience
is inipUed by the terms of the oath ; the fidelity there prom
ised, is intended of fideUty m opposition to his enemies, and not
m opposition to law ; and allegiance, at the utmost, can only
signify obedience to lawful commands. Therefore, if the
king should issue a proclamation, levying money, or imposing
any service or restraint upon the subject beyond- what the
cro-wn is empowered by law to enjoin, there would exist no
sort of obligation to obey such a proclamation, in consequence
of having taken the oath of allegiance.
3. The oath does not require that we should continue our
aUegiance to the king ..after he is actuaUy and absolutely
deposed, driven into exile, carried away captive, or other
wise rendered incapable of exercising the regal office, wheth
er by his fault or without it. The promise of allegiance
hnplies, and is understood by all parties to suppose, that the
person to whom the promise is made continues king ; contin
ues, that is, to exercise the power, and afford the protection,
wMch belongs to the office of king ; for it is the. possession of
this power which makes such a particular person the object

102 OATH AGAINST BRIBERY.
of the oath : without it, why should I swear allegiance to this
man, rather than to any man in the kingdom? Beside which,
the contrary doctrme is burthened with this consequence, that
every conquest, revolution of government, or disaster which
befaUs the person of the prmce, must be foUowed by perpetual
and nremediable anarchy.

CHAPTER XIX.
OATH AGAINST BRIBERY IN THE ELECTION OF
MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT.
' I DO swear, I have not received, or had, by myself, or any
person whatsoever in trast for me, or for my use and benefit,
directly or indirectly, any sum or sums of money, office, place,
or employment, gift, or reward, or any promise, or security, for
any money, office, employment, or gift, in order to give my
vote at this election.'
The several contrivances to evade this oath, such as the
electors accepting money under colour of borrowing it, and
giving a promissory note, or other security, for it, wMch is
cancelled after the election ; receiving money from a stranger,
or a person ui disguise, or out of a drawer, or purse, left open
for the purpose ; or promises of money to be paid after the
election ; or stipulating for a place, U-ving, or other private ad
vantage of any kind ; if they escape the legal penalties of per
jury, incm- the moral guilt : for they are manifestly within
- the mischief and design of the statute which imposes the oath,
and within the terms indeed of the oath itseff ; for the word
' indirectly' is inserted on purpose to comprehend such cases as
these.

CHAPTER XX.
OATH AGAINST SIMONY.

From an imaginary resemblance between the purchase of
a benefice and Simon Magiis's attempt to purchase the gift of

OATH AGAINST SIMONY. 103
the Holy Ghost, Acts viU. 19, the obtaining of ecclesiastical
preferment by pecuniary considerations has been termed Si-
m,ony. The sale of advowsons is inseparable from the aUowance
of private patronage; as patronage would other-wise devolve
to the most indigent, and for that reason the most improper
hands it could be placed in. Nor did the law ever intend to
prohibit the passing of advowsons from one patron to another ;
but to restrain the patron, who possesses the right of present
ing at the vacancy, from being influenced, in the choice of
his presentee, by a bribe, or benefit to himself It is the same
distinction with that which obtains in a freeholder's vote for
his representative in parliament. The right of voting, that is,
the freehold, to which the right pertains, may be bought and
sold as freely as any other property ; but the exercise of that
right, the vote itself, may not be purchased, or influenced by
money. For this purpose, the law imposes upon the presentee, who
is generally concerned in the simony, if there be any, the
foUowing oath : ' I do. swear, that 1 have made" no simoniacal
payment, contract, or promise, directly or indirectly, by myself,
or by any other to rhy knowledge, or with my consent, to any
person or persons whatsoever, for or concernmg the procuring
and obtaining this ecclesiastical place, &c. nor -wUl, at any
time hereafter, perform or satisfy, any such kind of payment,
contract, or promise, made by any other, without my knowl
edge or consent : So help me God, tMough Jesus Christ.'
It is extraordinary that Bishop Gibson should have thought
this oath to be against aU promises whatsoever, when the
terms of the oath expressly restrain it to simoniacal promises ;
and the law alone must pronounce what promises, as well as
what pajonents and contracts, are simoniacal, and, consequent
ly, come within the oath ; and what do not so.
Now tile law adjudges to be simony,
1. AU payments, contracts, or promises, made by any per
son for a benefice already vacant. The advowson of a void
turn, by law, cannot be transferred from one patron to anoth
er ; therefore, if the void turn be procured by money, it must
be by a pecuniary influence upon the then subsisting patron
in the choice of his presentee, which is the very practice the
law condemns.
2, A clergyman's purchasing of the next turn of a benefice

104

OATH AGAINST SIMONY.

for himself, ' directly or indirectly,' that is, by Gmself, or by
another person with his money. It does not appear, that the
law prohibits a clergyman from purchasing the perpetuity of
a patronage, more than any other person; but purchasing
the perpetuity, and forthwith selUng it again, with a reserva
tion of the next turn, and with no other design than to pos
sess himself of the next turn, is infraudem legis, and mcon-
sistent -with the oath. '
3. The proeuiing of a piece of preferment, by ceding to the
patron any rights, or probable rights, belongmg to it. This
is simony of the worst kind ; for it is not only buying prefer
ment, but robbing the succession to pay for it.
4. Promises to the patron of a portion of the profit, of a re
mission of tythes and dues, or other advantage out of the pro
duce of the benefice : which kind of compact is a pernicious
condescension in the clergy, independent of the oath ; for it
tends to introduce a practice, which may very soon become
general, of giving the revenue of churches, to the lay patrons,
and supplying the duty by indigent stipendiaries.
5. General bonds of resignation, that is, bonds to resign up
on demand.
I doubt not but that the oath against simony is binding
upon the consciences of those who take it, though I question
much the expediency of requiring it. It is very fit to debar
public patrons, such as the king, the lord chancellor, bishops,
ecclesiastical corporations, and the like, fiom this kind of traf
fic ; because from them may be expected some regard to the
quaUfications of the persons whom they promote. But the
oath lays a snare for the integrity of the clergy ; and I do not
perceive, that the requiring of it in cases of private patronage
produces any good effect, sufficient to compensate for this dan
ger. Where advowsons are holden along with manors, or other
principal estates, it would be an easy regulation to forbid that
they should ever hereafter be separated ; and would, at least,
keep church prefei-ments out of the hands of brokers.

( 105 )
CHAPTER XXI.
OATHS TO OBSERVE LOCAL STATUTES.
Members of colleges in the universities, and of other an
cient foundations, are required to swear to the observance of
their respective statutes ; which observance is become in s me
cases unlawful, in others impracticable, in others useless, in oth-
. ers mconvenient.
Unlawful duections are countermanded by the authority
which made them unlawful.
Impracticable directions are dispensed with by the necessity
of the case.
The only question is, how far the members of these societies
may take upon themselves to judge of the inconveniency of
any particular direction, and make that a reason for laying
aside the observation of it.
The animus imponentis, which is the measure of the juror's
duty, seems to be satisfied, when nothing is omitted, but what,
from some change in the circumstances under which it was
prescribed, it may fairly be presumed that the foimder himself
would have dispensed -with.
To brmg a case -within this rale, the inconveniency must,
1. Be manffest ; concerning which there is no doubt.
2. It must arise from some change in the cncumstances of
the institution ; for, let the inconveniency be what it wiU, if it
existed at the time of the foundation, it must be presumed that
the founder did not deem the avoiding of it of sufficient impor
tance to alter his plan.
3. The direction of the statute must not only be inconve-
niept in the general, for so may the mstitution itself be, but
prejudicial to the particular end proposed by the institution ;
for it is this last circumstance which proves that the founder
would have dispensed with it in pursuance of his own purpose.
The statutes of some coUeges forbid the speaking of any
language but Latin, -wdthin the walls of the coUege ; du-ect that
a certain number, and not fewer than that number, be aUow
ed the use of an apartment amongst them ; that so many hours
of each day be employed in pubhc exercises, lectures, or dispu
tations ; and some other articles of disciphne adapted to the ten-
VOL. III. 14

106 SUBSCRIPTION TO ARTICLES OF RELIGION.
der years of the students who in former times resorted to uni
versities. Were colleges to retain such rales, nobody now-a-
days would come near them. They are laid aside, therefore,
though parts of the statutes, and as such included within the
oath, not merely because they are inconvenient, but because
there is sufficicient reason to beUeve, that the founders them
selves would have dispensed with them, as subversive of their
own designs.

CHAPTER XXII.
SUBSCRIPTION TO ARTICLES OF RELIGION.
Subscription to Articles of ReUgion, though no more than
a declaration of the subscriber's assent, may properly enough
be considered in connexion with the subject of oaths, because
it is governed by the same rule of interpretation :
WMch rale is the animus imponentis.
The inquiry, therefore, concerning subscription wUl be, quis
imposuit, et quo animo.
The bishop who receives the subscription, is not the imposer,
any more than the cryer of a court, who administers the oath
to the jury and witnesses, is the person that imposes it ; nor,
consequently, is the private opinion or interpretation of the
bishop of any signification to the subscriber, one way or other.
The compUers of the thu-ty-nine articles are not to be con
sidered as the imposers of subscription, any more than the fra-
mer or drawer up of a law is the person that enacts it.
The legislature of the 13th. Eliz. is the imposer, whose in
tention the subscriber is bound to satisfy.
They who contend, that nothing less can justify subscription
to the thnty nine articles, than the actual beUef of each and
every separate proposition contained in them, must suppose,
that the legislature expected the consent of ten thousand men,
and that in perpetual succession, not to one controverted pro
position, but to many hundi-eds. It is difficult to conceive how
this could be expected by any, who observed the incurable di
versity of humaniopinion upon aU subjects short of demonstra
tion.

-WILLS. 107
If the authors of the law did not intend this, what did they
intend ?
They intended to exclude from offices in the church,
1. AU abettors of popery.
2. Anabaptists, who were at that time a powerful party on
the Continent.
3. The Pmitans, who were hostile to an episcopal constitu
tion,; and, in general, the members of such leading sects or for
eign establishments as threatened to overthrow our own.
Whoever finds MmseK comprehended -within these descrip
tions, ought not to subscribe. Nor can a subscriber to the arti
cles take advantage of any latitude which our rule may seem
to allow, who is not fhst con-vinced that he is truly and sub
stantially satisfymg the' intention of the legislature.
During the present state of ecclesiastical patronage, in which
private indi-viduals are permitted to impose teachers upon par
ishes, with which they are often little or not at aU connected,
some limitation of the patron's choice may be necessary to pre
vent unedifying contentions between neighbouring teachers,
or between the teachers and then respective congregations.
But this danger, if it exist, may be provided against with equal
effect, by converting the articles of faith into articles of pear-e.

CHAPTER XXIIl.
¦WILLS.
The fundamental question upon this subject is, whether
WUls are of natural or of adventitious right ? that is, whether
the right of directing the disposition of property after his death
belongs to a man in a state of nature, and by the law of nature,
or whether it be given him entirely by the positive regidatiohs
of the country he lives in ?
The immediate produce of each man's personal labour, as
the tools, weapons, and utensUs, which he manufactures, the
tent or hut that he buUds, and perhaps the flocks and herds
which he breeds and rears, are as much his own as the labour
was which he employed upon them, that is, are his property
naturaUy and absolutely ; and consequently he may give or

108

WILLS.

leave them to whom he pleases, there bemg nothing to Umit
the continuance of his right, or to restrain the alienation of it.
- But every other species of property, especiaUy property m
land, stands upon a different foundation.
We have seen m the Chapter upon property, that, in a state
of nature, a man's right to a particular spot of ground arises
from his using it, and his wanting it : consequently ceases
with the use and want : so that at his death the estate reverts
to the community, without any regard to the last owner's wiU,
or even any preference of his family, fmther than as tiiey be
come the first occupiers after him, and succeed to the same
want and use.
Moreover, as natural rights cannot, like rights created by
.apt of parliament, expire at the end of a certain number of
years, if the testator have a right, by the law of nature, to dis
pose of his property one moment after his death, he has the
same right to dii-ect the disposition of it, for a million of ages
after him ; which is absurd.
The ancient apprehensions of mankind upon the subject
were conformable to this account of it ; for wills have been in
troduced into most countries by a positive act of the state, as
by the Laws of Solon into Greece, by the Twelve Tables into
Rome ; and that not tiU after a considerable progress had been
made in legislation, and in the economy of civU Ufe. Tacitus
relates, that amongst the Germans they were disallowed ; and,
what is more remarkable, in this country, since the conquest,
lands could not be devised by wiU, tUl within little more than
two hundred years ago, when this privUege was restored to the
subject, by an act of parUament, in the latter end of the reign
of Henry the Eighth.
No doubt, many beneficial purposes are attained by extend
ing the owner's power over his property beyond his life, and
beyond his natural right. It invites to industry ; it encour
ages marriage ; it secures the dutifulness and dependency of
children. But a Umit must be assigned to the duration of this
power. The utmost extent to which, in any case, entails are
aUowed by the laws of England to operate, is during the lives
in existence at the death of the testator, and one and twenty
years beyond these ; after which, there are ways and means of
getting them aside.
From the consideration that wiUs are the creatmes of the
jnunicipal law which gives them their efficacy, may be de-.

WILLS. 109
duced a determination of the question, whether the intention
of the testator in an informal wiU be bindmg upon the con
science of those, who, by operation of law, succeed to his es
tate. By an informal wUl, I mean a will void m law ; for
want of some requisite formaUty, though no doubt be enter
tained of its meaning, or authenticity : as, suppose a man
make his wiU, de-vising his freehold estate to his sister's son,
and the wiU be attested by two only, instead of three, subscrib
ing witnesses ; would the brother's son, who is heir at law to
the ^estator, be bound in conscience to resign his claim to the
estate, out of deference to Ms uncle's intention ? Or, on the
contrary, would not the devisee under the will be bound, upon
discovery of this flaw in it, to surrender the estate, suppose he
had gained possession of it, to the heir at law ?
GeneraUy speakmg, the heir at law is not bound by the in
tention of the testator. For the intention can signify nothing,
unless the person intending have a right to govern the descent
of the estate. That is the first question. Now this right the
testator can only derive from the law of the land ; but the law
confers the right upon certain conditions, with which conditions
he has not complied. Therefore, the testator can lay no claun
to the power which he pretends to exercise, as he hath not en
titled himself to the benefit of that law, by viitue of which
alone the estate ought to attend his disposal. Consequently,
the devisee under the wiU, who, by conceaUng this flaw m it,
keeps possession of the estate, is in the situation of any other
person, who avaUs. himself of Ms neighbour's ignorance to de
tain from him his property. The wUl is so much waste pa
per, from the defect of right in the person who made it. Nor
is this catching at an expression of law to pervert the substan
tial design of it ; for I apprehend it to be the deUberate mind
of the legislatm-e, that no wiU should take effect upon real es
tates, unless authenticated, in the precise manner which the
statute describes. Had testamentary dispositions been founded
in any natural right, independent of positive constitutions, I
should have thought differently of this question : for then I
should have considered the law rather as refusing its assistance
to enforce the right of the devisee, than as extinguishing or
working any alteration in the right itself.
And after aU, I should choose to propose a case, where no
consideration of pity to distress, of duty to a parent, or of grati
tude to a benefactor, interfered with the general rule of justice.

110 WILLS.
The regard due to kindred in the disposal of our fortune (ex
cept the case of lineal kindred, wMch is different) arises either
from the respect we owe to the presumed intention of the ances
tor from whom we received our fortunes, or from the expecta
tions which we have encom-aged. The intention of the ancestor
is presumed with greater certainty, as weU as entitled to more
respect, the fewer degrees he is removed from us ; which makes
the difference in the different degrees of kindred. For instance,
it may be presumed to be a father's intention and desire, that
the inheritauce which he leaves, after it has served the turn and
generation of one son, should remain a provision for the fami
Ues of his other chUdren, equally related and dear to him
as the eldest. Whoever, therefore, -without cause, gives away
his patrimony from Ms brother's or sister's family, is guEty' not
so much of an injury to them, as of ingratitude to his parent.
The deference due from the possessor of a fortune to the pre-
,sumed desire of his ancestor -wUl also vary with this circum
stance, whether the ancestor earned the fortune by Ms person
al industry, acquired it by accidental successes, or only transmits
ted the inheritance which he received.
Where a man's fortune is acquii-ed by himself, and he has
done notMng to excite expectation, but rather has refrained from
those partcular attentions which tend to cherish expectation, he
is perfectiy disengaged from the force of the above ^reasons, and
at Uberty to leave his fortune to Ms fiiends, to charitable or pub
lic pmposes, or to whom he wUl ; the same blood, proximity of
blood, and the hke, are merely modes of speech, implying noth
ing real, nor any obligation of themselves.
There is always, however, a reason for providing for our poor
relations, in preference to others who may be equaUy necessitous,
which is, that if we do not, no one else wiU ; mankind, by an
estabUshed consent, lea-vuig the reduced branches of good fam
Uies to the bounty of their wealthy aUiances.
The not making a wUl is a very culpable omission, where it
is attended with the following effects : where it leaves daughters,
or younger chUdi-en, at the mercy of the oldest son ; where it
distributes a personal fortune equally amongst the ciiildi-en, al
though there be no equahty ni their exigences or situations ;
where it leaves an opening for litigations; or lastly, and pruici-
pally, where it defrauds creditors : for, by a defect in our laws,
which has been long and stiangely overlooked, real estates are
not Hubject to the payment of debts by simple contract, unless

WILLS. Ill
made so by the wiU ; although credit is, in fact, generally given
to the possession of such estates : he, therefore, who neglects to
make the necessary appointments for 'the payment of his debts,
as far as his effects extend, sins, as it has been justly said, in his
grave; and if he omits this on pm-pose to defeat the demands
of his creditors, he dies with a deliberate fraud m his heart.
Anciently, when any one died without a wiU, the bishop of
the diocese took possession of his personal fortune, in order to
dispose of it for the benefit of his soul, that is, to pious or char
itable uses. It became necessary, therefore, that the bishop
should be satisfied of the authenticity of the -wUl, when there
was any, before he resigned the right which he had to take pos
session of the dead man's fortune in case of mtestacy. In this
way -wUls, and controversies relating to wiUs, came within the
cognizance of ecclesiastical courts : under the jurisdiction of
which, wUls of personals (the only wUls that were made former
ly) stUl contmue, though in trath, no more now-a-days connect
ed with religion, than any other instruments of conveyance.
This is a peculiarity in the Enghsh law.
Succession to intestates must be regulated by positive rules
of law, there being no principle of natuml justice whereby to
ascertam the proportion of the different claunants ; not to men
tion that the claim itself, especially of collateral kindred, seems
to have Uttle foundation in the law of nature.
These regulations should be guided by the duty and pre
sumed inclmation of the deceased, so far as these considerations
can be consulted by general ixdes. The statutes of Charles
the Second, commonly caUed the statutes of distribution, wMch
adopt the rule of the Roman law in the distribution of personals,
are sufficiently equitable. They assign one third to the widow,
and two thirds to the chUdren ; in case of no chUdren, one half
to the widoW) and the other half to the next of kin. ; where
neither widow nor Imeal descendants survive, the whole to the
next of kin, and to be equaUy di-vided amongst kindred of equal
degrees, without distinction of whole blood and half blood, or
of consanguinity by the father's or mother's side.
The descent of real estates, that is, of houses and land, hav
ing been settled in more remote and in ruder times, is less rea
sonable. There never can be much to complain of in a rale
which every person may avoid, by so easy a provision as that
of making his wUl ; otherwise, our law in this respect is charge
able with some flagrant absurdities ; such as, that an estate

112 WILLS.
shaU in no wise go to the brother or sister of the half blood,
though it came to the deceased from the common parent ; , that
it shaU go to the remotest relation the intestate has in the world,
rather than to his own father or mother ; or even be forfeited
for want of an heir, though both parents survive ; that the
most distant paternal relation shaU be preferred to an uncle, or
own cousin by the mother's side, notwithstanding the estate
was pm-chased and acquired by the intestate himself '
Land not being so divisible as money, may be a reason for
making a difference in the com-se of inheritance ; but there
ought to be no difference but what is founded upon that reason.
The Roman law made none.

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK III.

PART II.
OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE INDETERMINATE.

CHAPTER I.
CHARITY.
I USE the tei-m Charity neither in the common sense of bounty
to the poor, nor in St Paul's sense of benevolence to aU man
kind ; but I apply it at present, in a sense more commodious
to my purpose, to sigmfy the promoting the happiness of our
inferiours. Charity, in this sense, I take to be the principal province of
vu-tue and religion : for, whUst worldly prudence will direct our
behaviour towards our superiours, and poUteness towards our
equals, 'there is httle beside the consideration of duty, or an
habitual humanity which comes mto the place of consideration,
to produce a proper conduct towards those who are beneath us,
and dependent upon us.
There are tMee, principal methods of promoting the hap
piness of our inferiours.
1. By the treatment of our domestics and dependents,
2. By professional assistance.
3. By pecuniary bounty.
VOL. III. 15

( 114 )
CHAPTER II.
CHARITY.
THE TREATMENT OF OUR DOMESTICS AND DEPEN
DENTS.
A PART-v of friends setting out together upon a journey,
soon find it to be the best for aU sides, that whUe they are upon
the road, one of the company should wait upon the rest; another
ride forward to seek out lodging and entertainment ; a thii-d
carry the portmanteau ; a fourth take charge of the horses ; a
fifth bear the purse, conduct and direct the rout : not forget
ting, however, that, as they were equal and independent when
they set out, so they are aU to return to a level again at their
journey's end. The same regard and respect ; the same for
bearance, lenity, and reserve in using their service ; the same
mildness in delivering commands ; the same study to make
then journey comfortable and pleasant, which he whose lot it
was to direct the rest, would in common decency tMnk him
self bound to observe towards them, ought we to show to those,
who, in the casting of the parts of human society, happen to
be placed within our power, or to depend upon us.
Another reflection of a Uke tendency ^vith the former is, that
our obligation to them is much greater than theirs to us. It
is a mistake to suppose, that the rich man maintains his ser
vants, tradesm'^n, tenants, and labourers : the truth is, they
maintain him. It is their industry which suppUes his table,
furnishes his wardrobe, buUds his houses, adorns his equipage,
provides his amusements. It is not the estate, but the labour
employed upon it, that pays his rent. All that he does is to
distribute what others produce ; which is the least part of the
business. Nor do I perceive any foundation for an opinion, which is
often han(ii3d round in genteel conipany, that good usage is
thrown away upon low and ordinary minds ; that they are in
sensible of kmdness, and incapable of gratitude. If by ' low
and ordinary minds ' are meant the minds of men in low and
ordinary stations, they seem to be affected by benefits in the
same way that all others are, and to be no less ready to requite

SLAVERY. 115
them : and it would be a very unaccountable law of nature if
it were otherwise.
Whatever uneasiness we occasion to our domestics, which
neither promotes our service, nor answers the just ends of pun
ishment, is memifestly -wrong ; were it only upon the general
principle of diminishing the sum of human happmess.
By which rule we are forbidden,
1. To enjoin unnecessary labour or confinement, from the
mere love and wantonness of domination ;
2. To insult our servants by harsh, scornful, or opprobrious
language. 3. To refuse them any harmless pleasures :
And, by the same prmciple, are also forbidden causeless or
immoderate anger, habitual peevishness, and groundless suspi
cion.

CHAPTER III.
SLAVERY.
The prohibitions of the last chapter extend to the treatment
of slaves, being founded upon a principle independent of the
contract between masters and servants.
I define slavery to be ' an obligation to labour for the ben
efit of the master, without the contract or consent of the ser
vant. This obUgation may arise, consistently with the law of na
ture, from tMee causes ;
1. From crimes.
2. From capti-vity.
3. From debt.
In the first case, the continuance of the slavery, as of any
other punishment, ought to be proportioned to the crime ; in
the second and third cases, it ought to cease, as soon as the de
mand of the injured nation, or private creditor, is satisfied.
The slave trade upon the coast of Africa is not excused by
these prmciples. When slaves in that country are brought to
market, no questions, I believe, are asked about the origui or
justice of the vendor's title. It may be presumed, therefore,
that this title is not always, if it be ever, founded in any of the
causes above assigned.
But defect of right in the fu-st purchase is the least crime,

116

SLAVERY.

with wMch this traffic is chargeable. The natives are excited
to war and mutual depredation, for the sake of supplying their
contracts, or furnisMng the market with slaves. With this the
wickedness begins.- The slaves, torn away from parents, -wives,
chUdren, from then friends and compamons, their fields and
flocks, their home and country, are transported to the Em-ope-
an settlements in America, with no other accommodation on
f hipboard than what is provided for brates. TMs is the sec
ond stage of craelty ; from which the miserable exUes are de
livered, only to be placed, and that for Ufe, in subjection to a
dominion and system of laws, the most mercUess and tyranni
cal that ever were tolerated upon the face of the earth : and
from aU that can be learned by the accounts of the people up
on the spot, the inordinate authority which the plantation laws
confer upon the slave holder is exercised, by the English slave
holder, especiaUy, with rigour and brutaUty.
But necessity is pretended ; the name under which every
enormity is attempted to be justified. And, after aU, what is
the necessity ? It has never been proved that the land could
hot be cultivated there, eis it is here, by hired servants. It is
said that it could not be cultivated -with quite the same con
veniency and cheapness, as by the labour of slaves ; by which
means, a pound of sugar, which the planter now seUs for six
pence, could not be afforded under sixpence half-penny ; — and
this is the necessity !
The great revolution which has taken place in the Western
World may probably conduce (and who knows but that it was
designed ?) to accelerate the faU of tMs abominable tjsaxmy :
and now that this contest, and the passions which attend it,
are no more, there may succeed perhaps a season for reflecting,
whether a legislature which had so long lent its assistance to
the support of an institution replete -with human misery, was
fit to be trusted -with an empire the most extensive that ever
obtained in any age or quarter of the world.
Slavery was a part of the ci-vU constitution of most countries,
when Christianity appeared ; yet no passage is to be found in
the Christian scriptures, by which it is condemned or prohibited.
This is true ; for Christianity, soliciting admission into aU
nations of the world, abstained, as behoved it, from intermed
dling with the civil institutions of any. But does it foUow,
from the sUence of scripture concernmg them, that aU the civU
institutions which then prevaUed were right? or that the bad
should not be exchanged for better ?

PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE. 117
Besides'this, the discharging of slaves from aU obligation to
obey then masters, which is the consequence of pronouncing
slavery to be unla-wful, would have had no better effect, than
to let loose one half of mankind upon the other. Slaves would
have been tempted to embrace a religion, which asserted then
right to fi-eedom ; masters would hardly have been persuaded
to ' consent to claims founded upon such authority ; the most
calamitous of all contests, a bellum, servile, might probably
have ensued, to the reproach, if not the extmction of the CMis-
tian name. The truth is, the emancipation of slaves should
be gradual ; and be carried on by provisions of law, and under
the protection of civil government. CMistianity can only op
erate as an alterative. By the mUd diffusion of its Ught and
iilfluence, the minds of men are insensibly prepared to perceive
and correfct the enormities, wMch folly, or wickedness, or acci
dent, have introduced into their public estabUshments. In this
way the Greek and Roman slavery, and since these, the feudal
tyi-anny, has declmed before it. And we trust that, as the
knowledge and authority of the same religion advance in the
world, they wiU banish what remains of tMs odious institution.

CHAPTER IV.
CHARITY.
PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE.
This kind of beneficence is chiefly to be expected fi-om mem
bers of the legislature, magistrates, medical, legal, and sacer
dotal professions.
1. The care of the poor ought to be the prmcipal object of
aU laws; for this plam reason, that the rich are able to take
care of themselves. •
Much hiis been, and more might be done, by the laws of
this country, towards the rehef of the impotent, and the protec
tion and encouragement of the industrious poor. Whoever ap
plies himself to coUect observations upon the state and opera
tion of the poor laws, and to contrive remedies for the imperfec
tions and abuses which he observes, and digests these rem
edies into acts of parliament, and conducts them, by argument

-118 PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE.
or influence, through the two branches of the legislature, or com
municates Ms ideas to those who are more Ukely to carry them
into effect, deserves weU of a class of the community so nume
rous, that their happmess forms a principal part of the whole.
The study and activity thus employed is charity, in the most
meritorious sense of the word.
2. The apphcation of parocMal rehef is entrusted, in the first
instance, to overseers and contractors, who have an interest in
opposition to that of the poor, inasmuch as whatever they aUow
them comes in part out of their own pocket. For this reason,
the law has deposited with justices of the peace a power of su
perintendence and control ; and the judicious interposition of this
power is a most useful exertion of charity, and oft-times -within
the abUity of those who have no other way of serving their gen
eration. A country gentleman of very inoderate education, and
who has little to spare from his fortune, by learmng so much
of the poor law as is to be found m Dr Burn's Justice, and by
furnishing himself with a knowledge of the prices of labour and
provision, so as to be able to estimate the exigencies of a fam
ily, and what is to be expected from their industry, may, in
this way, place out the one talent committed to him to great
account. 3. Of aU private professions, that of medicine puts it in a
man's power to do the most good at the least expense. Health,
which is precious to aU, is to the poor invaluable ; and their com
plaints, as agues, rheumatisms, &c. are often such as yield to
medicine. And, with respect to the expense, drags at first hand
cost Uttle, and advice costs nothing, where it is only bestowed
upon those who could not afford to pay for it.
4. The rights of the poor are not so unportant or intricate, as
then contentions are violent and rainous. A Lawyer or Attor
ney, of tolerable knowledge in his profession, has commonly
judgment enough to adjust these disputes, with aU the effect, and
without the expenise, of a law-suit ; and he may be sa.id to give a
poor man twenty pounds, who prevents his thowing it away up
on law. A legal man, whether of the profession or not, who,
together with a spirit of concUiation, possesses the confidence
of his neighbomhood, wUl be much resorted to for tMs purpose,
especially smce the great increase of costs has produced a gen
eral dread of gouig to law.
Nor is this line of beneficence confined to arbitration. Sea
sonable counsel, coming with the weight which the reputation

PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 119
of the adviser gives it, Avill often keep or extricate thej-ash and
uninformed out of great difficulties.
Lastly, I know not a more exalted charity than that which
presents a shield against the rapacity or persecution of a tyi-ant.
5. Betwixt argument and authority (I mean that authority
which flows from voluntary respect, and attends upon sanctity
and disinterestedness of character) something may be done,
amongst the lower orders of mankind, towards the regulation
of then conduct, and the satisfaction of their thoughts. This
office belongs to the ministers of reUgion ; or, rather, whoever
undertakes it becomes a minister of religion. The inferiour
clergy, who are nearly upon a level with the common sort of
their parishioners, and who on that account gam an easier ad
mission to then society and confidence, have in this respect
more in their power than then superiours : the discreet use of
this power constitutes one of the meet respectable functions of
human nature.

CHAPTER V.
CHARITY.
PECUNIARY BOUNTY.
I. The obligation to bestoio relief upon the poor.
II. The tnanner of bestowing it. "¦
III. The pretences by which men excuse themselves
from, it.

I. The obligation to bestoio relief upon the poor.
They who rank pity amongst the original impulses of our
nature, rightly contend, that, when this principle prompts us to
the relief of human misery, it mdicates the divme intention,
and our duty. Indeed, the same conclusion is deducible from
the existence of the passion, whatever account be given of its
origin. Whether it be an instinct or a habit, it is in fact a
property of our nature, which God appointed : and the final
cause for which it was appointed, is to afford to the miserable,

120 PECUNIARY BOUNTY.
in the compassion of their fellow-creatures, a remedy for tiiose
inequalities and distresses which God foresaw that many must
be exposed to, under every general rule for the distribution of
property. Beside this, the poor have a claim founded in the law of
nature, which may be thus explauied. All things were origi
naUy commbn. No one bemg able to produce a charter from
heaven, ha4 any .better title to a particular possession than his
next neighbour. There were reasons for mankind's agree-
mg upon a separation of this common fund; and God for
these reasons is presumed to have ratified it. But this separa
tion was made and consented to, upon the expectation and
condition, that every one should have left a sufficiency for Ms
subsistence, or the means of procming it; and as no .fixed
laws for the regulation of property can be so contrived, as to
provide for the reUef of every case and distress which may arise,
these cases and distresses, when their right and share in the
common stock were given up or taken from them, were sup
posed to be left to the -voluntary bounty of those who might be
acquainted v^dth the exigencies of their situation, and in the
way of affording assistance. And, therefore, when the parti
tion of property is rigidly maintained against the claims of in
digence and distress, it is maintained in opposition to the in
tention of those who made it, and to his, who is the Supreme
Proprietor of every thing, and who has filled the world with
plenteousness for the sustentation and comfort of all whom he
sends into it.
The Christian scriptures are more copious and explicit upon
this duty than upon almost any other. The description which
Christ hath left us of the proceedings of the last day, estabUshes
the obUgation of bounty, beyond controversy. ' When the Son
of Man shall come in his glory, and aU the holy angels with
him, then shall he sit upon the tMone of his glory, and before
Mm shaU be gathered all nations ; and he shaU separate them
one from another.— -Then shaU the King say unto them on his
right hand, Come, ye blessed of my father, inherit the king--
dom prepared for you from the foundation of the world : For
I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye
gave me drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me in : naked,
and ye clothed me : I was sick, and ye visited me : I was in
prison, and ye came unto me. — And inasmuch as ye have
done it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it

PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 121
unto me.' * It is not necessary to understand this passage as
a Uteral account of what wUl actuaUy pass on that day. Sup-
posui^ it only a scenical descriptkin of the rules and principles,
by which the Supreme Arbiter of our destiny wiU regulate Ms
decisions, it conveys the same lessgp to us ; it equally demon
strates of how great value and importance these duties in the
sight of God are, and what stress will be laid upon them. The
apostles also describe this virtue as propitiating the divine fa
vour in an eminent degree. And these recommendations have
produced then effect. It does not appear that, before the times
of Christianity, art infirmary, hospital, or public charity of any
kind, existed in the world ; whereas most countries in Chris
tendom have long abounded with these institutions. To
which may Toe added, that a spirit of private liberaUty seems to
flourish amidst the decay of many other virtues : not to men
tion the legal provision for the poor, which obtains in this coun
try, and which was unknown and unthought of by the most
humanized nations of antiquity.
St Paul adds upon the subject an exceUent direction ; and
which is practicable by all who have any thing to give;
' Upon the first day of the week (or any other stated time) let
every one of you lay by m store, as God hath prospered him.'
By which I understand St Paul to recommend what is the
v^ry thing wanting -with most men, the being charitable up
on a plan ; that is, upon a deUberate comparison of our for
tunes with the reasonable expenses and expectation of our
families, to compute what we can spare, and to lay by so much
for charitable purposes in some mode or other. The mode
wUl be a consideration afterwards.
The effect which Christianity produced upon some of its
first converts, was such as might be looked for frcan a divine
reUgion, coming -with lull force and miraculous e-vidence upon
the consciences of manMnd. It overwhelmed aU worldly coii-
siderations m the expectation of a more important existence.
' And the multitude of them that believed were of one heai't,
and of one soul ; neither said any of them that aught of thfe
things which he possessed was his own ; but they had aU
things in common. — IVTeither was there any among them that
lacked; for as many as were possessors of land or houses
sold them, and brought the prices of the things that were sold,
and laid them doyn at the Apostles' feet; and distribution
* Matt. xxv. 31.
VOL. Ill, 16

122 PECUNIARY BOUNTY.
was made unto every man according as he had need ' Acts
iv. 32.
Nevertheless this community of goods, however it manifest
ed the sincere zeal of the primitive Christians, is no precedent
for our imitation. It was confined to the church at Jerasalem ;
continued not long there ; was never enjoined upon any (Acts,
V. 4) ; and, although it might suit with the particular cucum-
stances of a small and select society, is altogether impracticable
in a large and mixed community.
The conduct of the Apostles upon the occasion deserves to
be noticed. Their foUowers laid down their. fortunes at then-
feet : but so far were they from taking advantage of this un
Umited confidence, to enrich themselves, or to establish theii-
own authority, that they soon after got rid of this business, as
inconsistent with the main object of their mission, and trans
ferred the custody and management of the pubUc fund to dea
cons, elected to that office by the people at large. (Acts vi.)
II. The m,anner of bestowing bounty ; — or the different
kinds of charity.
Every question between the different kinds of charity sup
poses the sum bestowed to be the same.
' There are tMee kinds of charity which prefer a claim to at
tention. The first, and in my judgment one of the best, is to give sta
ted and considerable sums, by way of pension or annuity, to
individuals or families, with whose behaviour and distress we
ourselves are acquainted. When I speak of considerable sums,
I mean only that five pounds, or any other sum, given at once,
or divided amongst five or fewer famUies, -wiU do more good
than the same sum distributed amongst a greater number in
shiUings or half crowns ; and that, because it is more likely to
be properly applied by the persons who receive it. A poor fel
low, who can find no better use for a shUhng than to drink his
benefactor's health, and purchase half an hour's recreation for
himself, would hardly break into a guinea for any such purpose,
or be so improvident, as not to lay it by for an occasion of im
portance, e. g. for his rent, his clothing, fuel, or stock of -win
ter's provision. It is a stiU greater recommendation of this kind
of charity, that pensions and annuities, which are paid regu
larly, and can be expected at the time, are the only way by
which we can prevent one part of a poor man's sufferings, —
the dread of want.

PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 123
2. But as this" kind of charity supposes that proper objects
of such expensive benefaetions fall within our private know
ledge and observation, which does not happen to aU, a second
method of doing good, which is in every one's power who has
the money to spare, is by subscription to pubhc charities. Pub
lic charities admit of this argument m their favour, that your
money goes farther towards attaining the end for which it is
given, than it can do by any private and separate beneficence.
A guinea, for example, contributed to an infirmary, becomes
the means of providing one patient at least with a physician,
surgeon, apothecary, with medicme, diet, lodging, and suitable
attendance ; wMch is not the tenth part of what the same as
sistance, if it could be procured at aU, would cost to a sick per
son or famUy m any other situation.
3. The last, and, compared with the former, the lowest ex
ertion of benevolence, is m the relief of beggars. ' Nevertheless,
I by no means approve the indiscriminate rejection of all who
implore our ahns in this way. Some may perish by such a
conduct. Men are sometimes overtaken by distress, for which
aU other relief would come too late. Beside which, resolutions
of this kind compel us to offer such violence to our humanity,
as may go near, in a little while, to suffocate the prmciple
itself ; which is a very serious consideration. A good man, if
he do not surrender himself to iiis feelings without reserve,
wiU at least lend an ear to importunities, which come accom
panied with outward attestations of distress ; and, after a pa
tient audience of the complaint, -wiU direct himself, not so much
by any previous resolution which he. may have formed upon
the subject, as by the cncumstances and credibiUty of the ac
count that he receives. '
There are other species of charity. weU contrived to make the
money expended go far : sucMas keepmg down the price of
fuel or provision, in case of a monopoly or temporary scarcity,
by purchasmg the articles at the best market, and retaiUng
them at prime cost, or at a smaUloss ; or the adding of a bounty
to particular species of labour, when the price is accidentaUy de
pressed. The proprietors of large estate^ have it in then power
to facUitate the maintenance, and thereby to encourage the
establishment of famUies (which is one of the noblest purposes to
which the rich and great can convert their endeavours), by
buUdmg cottages, splitting fanns, erecting manufactures, cul-

124 PECUNIARY BOUNTY.
tivatuig wastes, embanking the sea, draining marshes, and oth
er expedients, which the situation of each estate points out. If
the profits of these undertakings do not repay the expense, let
the authors of them place the difference to the account of char
ity. It is trae of almost aU such projects, that the public is a
gainer by them, whatever the owner be. And where the loss
can be spared, this consideration is sufficient.
It is become a question of some importance, under what on-
cumstances works of charity ought to be done in private, and
when they may be made pubUc -without detracting from the merit
of the action, if indeed they ever may ; the Author of our rehgion
having deUvered a rale upon this subject which seems to enjoin
universal secrecy? ' When thou doest alms, let not thy left hand
know what thy right hand doeth; that thy alms may be in secret,
and thy Father which seeth in secret, himself shall reward thee
openly.' (Matt. vi. 3, 4.) Prom the preamble to this prohibi
tion, I think it. however, plain, that our Saviom-'s sole design
was to forbid ostentation, and aU pubUshuig of good works
which proceed from that motive. ' Take heed that ye do not
your alms before men, to be seen of them; otherwise ye have
no reward of your Father, which is in heaven : therefore, when
thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as
the hypocrites do, in the synagogues and in the streets, that
they may have glory of men. Verily 1 say unto thee they
have their reward.' v. 2. There are motives for the doing our
ahns in pubUc, beside those of ostentation, with which there
fore our Saviour's rale has no concern : such as to testify our
approbation of some particular species of charity, and to recom
mend it to others ; to take off the prejudice which the want, or,
which is the same thing, the suppression of our name in the list
of contributors might excite against the charity, or against our
selves^ And, so long as these motives are fiee fiom any mixtm-e
of vanity, they are in no danger of invading our Saviour's prohi
bition : they rather seem to comply with another direction which
he has left us : ' Let your Ught so shnie before men, that they
may see your good works, and glortfy your Father which is in
heaven.' If it be necessary to propose a precise distinction upon
the subject, I can think of none better than the foUowing. When
our bounty is beyond our fortune and station, that is, when it
is more than could be expected from us, our charity should
be private, if privacy be practicable : when it is not more than
might be expected, it may be public : for we cannot hope to in-

PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 125
fluence others to the imitation oi extraordinary generosity, and
therefore want, in the former case, the only justifiable reason
for making it public.
Havmg thus described several different exertions of charity,
it may not be improper to take notice of a species of hberaUty,
which' is not charity, in any sense of the word : I mean the
giving of entertamments or liquor, for the sake of popularity ;
or the rewarding, treating, and maintainmg, the companions of
our diversions, as hunters, shooters, fishers, and the like. I do
not say that this is crimmal ; I only say that it is not charity ;
and that we are not to suppose, because we give, and give to
the jBoor, that it wiU stand in the place, or supersede the obUga
tion, of more meritorious and disinterested bounty.
III. The pretences by which m,en excuse themselves from
giving to the poor.
1. ' That they have nothing lo spare,', i. e. nothing for which
they have not pro-vided some other use ; notMng which then
plan or expense, together with the sa-vings they have resolved
to lay by, wiU not exhaust : never reflecting whether it be in
then power, or that it is their duty to retrench then expenses,
and contract their plan, ' that they may have to give to theni-
that need ; ' or, rather, that this ought to have been part of their
plan originaUy.
2. ' That they have famUies of their own, and that charity
begins at home.' The extent of this plea wUl be considered,
when we come to explain the duty of parents.
3. ' That charity does not consist m giving money, but in
benevolence, phUanthropy, love to all mankmd, goodness of
heart, <fcc.' Hear St James : ' If a brother or a sister be na
ked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them.
Depart in peace, be ye warmed and fUled, notwithstanding ye
give them, not tho^e things which are needful to the body,
what doth it profit?' (James, u. 15, 16.)
4. ' That givmg to the poor is not mentioned in St Paul's
"description of charity, in the thirteenth chapter of his first Epis
tle to the Corinthians.' This is not a description of charity, but
of good-nature ; and it is not necessary that every duty be men
tioned in every place.
5. ' That they pay the poor rates.' They might as weU al
lege that they pay their debts ; for the poor have the same right
to that portion of a man's property which the laws assign to
them, that the man himself has lo the remainder.

126 PECUNIARY BOUNTY.
6. ' That they employ many poor persons : ' — for the'u* own
sake, not the poor's ; — othei-wise it is a good plea.
7. ' That the poor do not suffer so much as we imagine ;
that education and habit have reconciled them to the evib of
their condition, and make them easy under it.' Habit can ne
ver, reconcUe human nature to the extremities of cold, hunger,
and thirst, any more than it can reconcUe the hand to the touch
of a red-hot iron : besides, the question is not, how unhappy
any one is, but how much more happy we can make him.
8. ' That these people, give them what you -wiU, -wiU never
thank you, or think of you for it.' In the first place, this is not
true : in the second place, it was not for the sake of their thanks
that you relieved them.
9. 'That we are liable to be imposed upon.' If a due inqui
ry be made, our merit is the same : beside that, the distress is
generaUy real, although the cause be untruly stated.
10. ' That they shoidd apply^to their parishes.' Thisis not
always practicable : to which we may add, that there are many-
requisites tp a comfortable subsistence, which parish relief does
not supply ; and that there are some, who would 'suffer almost
as much fi-om receiving parish reUef as by the want of it ; and,
lastly, that there are many modes of charity to which this an
swer does not relate at all.
11. ' That giving inoney encourages idleness and vagrancy.'
This is true only of injudicious and mdiscruninate generosity.
12. ' That we have too many objects of charity at home, to
bestow any thing upon strangers ; or that there are other char
ities, which are more useful, or stand in greater need.' The
value of this excuse' depends entirely upon the /acit, whether
we actuaUy relieve those neighbom-ing objects, and contribute
to those other charities.
Beside aU these excuses, pride, pradery, or deUcacy, or love
of ease, keep one half of the world out of the way of observing
what the other half suffer.

( 127 )
CHAPTER VI.
RESENTMENT.
Resentment may be distinguished into anger and re
venge. ^
By anger, I mean the pain we suffer upon the receipt of an
injury or affront, -with the usual effects of that pain upon our
selves. By revenge, the inflicting of pain upon the person who has
injured or offended us, further than the just ends of punish
ment or reparation requne.
Anger prompts to revenge ; but it is possible to suspend the
effect, when we cannot altogether queU the principle. We are
bound also to endeavour to qualify and correct the principle
itself. So that our duty requires two different applications of
the mind : and, for that reason, anger and revenge may be
considered separately.

CHAPTER VII.
ANGER.
' Be ye angry and sin not ; ' therefore aU anger is not sinful :
I suppose, because some degree of it, and upon some. occasions,
is inevitable. It becomes sinftil, or contradicts, however, the rule of scrip
ture, when it is conceived upon shght and inadequate provoca
tions, and when it continues long.
1. When it is conceived upon sUght provocations ; for ' char
ity suffereth long, is not easily provoked.' — 'Let every man be
slow to anger.' Peace, long suffering, gentleness, meekness,
are enumerated among the fi-uits of the Spirit, Gal. v. 22, and
compose the true Christian temper, as to this article of duty.
2. When it contmues long ; for ' let not the sun go down
upon your wrath.'
These precepts, and aU reasoning indeed upon the subject,
suppose the passion of anger to be within our power : and this

128

ANGER.

power consists not so much in any faculty we possess of ap
peasing our wrath at the time (for we are passive under the
smart which an injury or affront occasions, and aU we can then
do is to prevent its breaking out into action), as in somoUifying
our mihds by habits of just reflection, as to be less nritated by
impressions of injm-y, and to be sooner pacified.
Reflections proper for this purpose, and which may be caU-
.ed the sedatives of anger, are the foUowmg : the possibihty
of mistaking the motives from which the conduct that offends
us proceeded ; how often our offences have been the effect of
madvertenc^, when they were construed into indications of
malice ; the mducement which prompted our adversary to act
as he did, and how powerfully the same inducement has, at
one time or other, operated upon ourselves ; that he is suffering
perhaps under a contrition, which he is ashamed, or wants op
portunity, to confess ; and how ungenerous it is to triumph by
coldness or msult over a spirit aUeady humbled in secret ; that
the retmns of kindness are sweet, and that there is neither
honour, nor virtue, nor use in resisting them — for some persons
think themselves bound to cherish and keep alive their indig
nation, when they find it dying away of itself. We may
remember that others have theii- passions, their prejudices, their
favourite aims, their fears, then cautions, their interests, their
sudden impulses, their varieties of apprehension, as weU as
we: we may recoUect what hath sometimes passed in our
minds, when we have got on the wrong side of a quarrel, and
imagine the same to be passing in our adversary's mind now ;
when we became sensible of our misbeha-viom-, what paUiations
we perceived in it, and expected others to perceive"; how we
were affected by the kindness, and felt the superirarity of a
generous reception and ready forgiveness ; how persecution
revived our spirits with our enmity, and seemed to justify the
conduct in ourselves which we before blamed. Add to this,
the indecency of extravagant anger ; how it renders us, whilst
it lasts, the scorn and sport of all about us, of which it leaves
us, when it ceases, sensible and ashamed ; the inconveniences,
and irretrievable misconduct mto which our irascibUity has
sometimes betrayed us ; the friendships it has lost us ; the
distresses and embarrassments in which we have been involved
by it ; and the sore repentance which on one account or other
it always cost us.
But the reflection calculated above aU others to aUay the

REVENGE. 129
haughtiness of temper which ^s ever finding out provocations,
and which renders anger so unpetuous, is that which the gos
pel proposes ; namely, that we ourselves are, or shortly shaU
be, suppliants for mercy and pardon at the judgment-seat of
God. Imagine our secret sms disclosed and brought to light, ;
imagine us thus humbled and exposed ; trembUng under the
hand of God ; casting ourselves on his compassion ; crying out
for mercy- — ^imagine such a creatm-e to talk of satisfaction and
revenge ; refusing to be intrealed, disdaming to forgive ; ex
treme to mark and to resent what is done amiss : — imagine, I
say, this, and you can hardly feign to yourself an instance of
more impious and unnatural a,rrogance.
The pomt is, lo habituate ourselves to these reflections, tUl
they rise up of their own accord when they are wanted, that
is, instantly upon the receipt of an injury or affront, and with
such force, and colouring, as both to mitigate the jparoxysms of
our anger at the time, and at length to produce an alteration
in the temper and disposition itself.

CHAPTER Vni.
REVENGE.
All pain occasioned to another in consequence of an offence,
or injury received from him, further than what is calculated to
procure reparation, or promote the just ends of punishment, is
so much revenge.
There can be no difficulty in knowing when we occasion
pain to another ; nor much in distinguishing whether we do so,
with a view only to the ends of punishment, or from revenge ;
for in the one case we proceed -with reluctance, in the other
with pleasure.
It is MgMy probable from the light of nature, that a passion,
which seeks its gratification immediately and expressly in giv
ing pain, is disagreeable to the benevolent -wiU and counsels of
the Creator. Other passions and pleasmes may, and often do,
produce pain to some one ; but then pain is not, as it is here,
the object of the passion, and the dhect cause of the pleasure.
This probability is converted mto certainty, if we give credit
to the authority which dictated the several passages of the
VOL. III. 17

130 REVENGE.
Christian scriptures that condemn revenge, or, what is the
same thing, which enjoin forgiveness.
We wUl set down the principal of these passages ; and en
deavour to coUect from them, what conduct upon the whole is
aUowed towards an enemy, and what is forbidden.
'If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father
wiU also forgive you : but if ye forgive not men their tres-
. passes, neither -wiU your Father forgive your trespasses.' —
' And his lord was wroth, and delivered hun to the torment-
ers, till he should pay all that was due unto hun : so Ukewise
shaU my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your
hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.' —
' Put on bowels of mercy, Idndness, humbleness of mind, meek
ness, long suffering ; forbearing one another, forgiving one ano
ther, if any man have a quarrel against any ; even as Christ
forgave you, so also do ye.' — ' Be patient towards all men ; see
that none render evU for evU unto any man.' — 'Avenge not your
selves, but rather give place unto wrath : for it is -wi-itten. Ven
geance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if
thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink ; for,
in so doing, thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not
overcome of evU, but overcome evU with good.'*
I think it evident, from some of these passages taken separate
ly, and stiU more so from all of them together, that revenge, as
described in the beginning of this chapter, is forbidden in every
degree, under aU forms, and upon every occasion. We are
Ukewise forbidden to refuse to an enemy even the most imper
fect right ; ' if he hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give liiin
drink,' t which are examples of imperfect rights. If one who
has offended us, solicit fi-om us a vote to which Ms qualifications
entitle him, we may not refuse it from motives of resentment,
or the remembrance of what we have suffered at his hands.
His right, and our obligation which foUows the right, are not
altered by his enmity to us,.^or by ours to him.
On the other hand, I do not conceive, that these prohibi
tions were intended to interfere -with the punishment or prose
cution of piibUc offenders. In the eighteenth chapter of St
Matthew, our Saviour teUs his disciples, ' If thy brother who
* Matt. vi. 14, 15. xviii. 34, 35. Col. iii. 12, 13. Tliess. v. 14, 15. Rom.
xii. 19, 20, 21.
t Sec also Exodus xxiii. 4. 'Iftlmi meet thine enemy's ox, or liis ass, gomg
astray, tlioiislialt surely bring it back to liim again : if thou see the .iss ofhim that,
Jiateth thee lying iinrter his burden, and ivouldcft forbear to help him, thou shalt sure
ly ludp Willi him,'

REVENGE. 131
has trespassed against thee neglect to hear the church, let him be
unto thee as an heathen man, and a pubUcan.' Immediately after
this, when St Peter asked him, ' How oft shaU my brother sin
against me, and I forgive him ? till seven times ? ' CMist re
phed, 'I say not unto thee untU seven times, but untU seventy
times seven ; ' that is, as often as he repeats the offence. From
these two adjoining passages compared together, we are author
ized to conclude that the forgiveness of an enemy is not incon
sistent -with the proceedmg against him as a pubhc offender ; and
that the discipline estabUshed in reUgious or civU societies, for
the restramt or punishment of crimmals, ought to be upheld.
If the magistrate be not tied down by these prohibitions from
the execution of his office, neither is the prosecutor ; for the of
fice of the prosecutor is as necessary as that of the magistrate.
Nor, by parity of reason, are private persons withheld from
the correction of vice, when it is in their power to exercise it ;
provided they be assured that it is the guilt which provokes
them, and not the injury ; and that their motives are pure from
all mixture and every particle of that spirit which dehghts and
triumphs hi the humUiation of an adversary.
Thus, it is no breach of Christian charity, to withdraAv our
company or civUity when the same tends to discountenance
any vicious practice. This is one branch of that extrajudicial
discipline, which supplies the defects and the remissness of law ;
and is expressly authorized by St Paul (1 Cor. v. 11.) : ' But
now I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man,
that is called a brother, be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idol
ater, or a raUer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner ; with such
an one no not to eat.' The use of this association against vice
continues to be experienced in one remarkable instance, and
might be extended with good effect to others. The confedera
cy amongst women of character, to exclude from their society
kept mistresses and prostitutes, contributes more perhaps to dis
courage that condition of hfe, and prevents greater numbers
from entering into it, than all the considerations of prudence
and rehgion put together.
We are Ukewise allowed to practise so much caution, as not
to put ourselves in the way of injury, or invite the repetition of
it. If a servant or tradesman has cheated us, we are not bound
to trust him again ; for this is to encourage him in his dis
honest practices, which is doing him much harm.
Where a benefit can be conferred only upon one or few,

132 DUELLING.
and the choice of the person, upon whom it is conferred, is a
proper object of favour, we are at liberty to prefer those who
have not offended us to those who have ; the contrary being
no where required.
Christ, who, as hath been weU demonstrated,* estimated
virtues by their soUd utUity, and not by then fashion or popu
larity, prefers this of the forgiveness of injuries to every other.
He enjoins it oftener ; with more earnestness ; under a greater
variety of forms ; and with this weighty and peculiar circum
stance, that the forgiveness of others is the condition upon which
alone we are to expect, or even ask, fi-om God, forgiveness for
ourselves. And this preference is justified by the superiour
importance of the virtue itself The feuds and animosities in
famUies and between neighbours, which disturb the intercourse
of human life, and coUectively compose half the misery of it,
have their foundation in the want of a forgiving temper ; and
can never cease, but by the exercise of this virtue, on one side,
or on both.

CHAPTER IX.
DUELLING.
DoELLiNG as a punishment is absurd; because it is an
.equal chance, whether the punishment faU upon the offender,
or the person offended. Nor is it much better as a reparation ;
it being difficult to explain in what the satisfaction consists,
or how it tends to undo the' injury, or to afford a compensa
tion for the damage already sustained.
The truth is, it is not considered as either. A law of honour
ha-ving annexed the imputation of cowardice to patience under
an affront, chaUenges are given and accepted with no other
design than to prevent or wipe off this suspicion ; -without mal
ice against the adversary, generaUy without a 'wish to destroy
him,°or any other concern than tp preserve the duelUst's own
reputation and reception in the world.
The unreasonableness of this rule of manners is one consid-
¦* See a View of the Internal Evidence of the Christian Religion.

DUELLING. 133
eration ; the duty and conduct of individuals, wMle such a
rule exists, is another.
As to which, the proper and single question is this, whether
a regard for our own reputation is, or is not, sufficient to jus
tify the takmg away the hfe of another ?
Murder is forbidden ; and wherever human life is deliber
ately taken away, otherwise than by public authority, there is
murder. The value and security of human Ufe make this i-ule
necessary ; for I do not see what other idea or definition of
murder can be admitted, which wUi not let m so much private
violence, as to render society a scene of peril and bloodshed.
If unauthorized laws of honour be aUowed to create excep
tions to divine prohibitions, there is an end of all morality, as
founded in the wUl of the Deity ; and the obhgation of every
duty may at one time or other be discharged by the caprice
and fluctuations of fashion.
' But a sense of shame is so nnuch torture ; and no rehef
presents itself otherwise than by an attempt upon the life of
our adversary.' What then ? I'he distress which men suffer
by the want of money is oftentimes extreme, and no resource
can be discovered but that of removmg a Ufe, which stands
between the distressed person and his inheritance. The mo
tive in this case is as urgent, and the means much the same,
as ill the former : yet this case finds no advocate.
Take away the circumstance of the duellist's exposing his
own hfe, and it becomes assassination ; add this cncum stance,
and what difference'does it make ? None but this, that fewer
perhaps wiU imitate the example, and human hfe wUl be some
what more safe, when it cannot be attacked without equal dan
ger to the aggressor's own. Experience, however, proves that
there is fortitude enough in most men to undertake this haz
ard ; and were it otherwise, the defence, at best,' would be only
that which a highwayman or housebreaker might plead, whose
attempt had been so darmg and desperate, that few were likely
to repeat the same.
In expostulating with the dueUist, I aU along suppose his
adversary to fall. Which supposition I am at liberty to make,
because, if he have no right to kUl his adversary, he has none
to attempt it.
In return, I forbear from applying to the case of dueUing the
Christian principle of the forgiveness of injinies ; because it is
possible to suppose the injury to be forgiven, and the dueUist

134

DUELLING.

to act entirely from a concern for his own reputation : where
this is not the case, the guUt of dueUing is manifest, and is
greater. In this view it seems unnecessary to distinguish between
hun who gives, and Mm who accepts a chaUenge : for, on
the one hand, they incur an equal hazard of destroying life ;
and, on the .^ther, both act upon the same persuasion, that
what they do is necessary, in order to recover or preserve the
good opinion of the world.
PubUc opinion is not easUy controUed by ci-vnl mstitutioiis :
for -which reason I question whether any regulations can be
contrived of sufficient force to suppress or change the rule of
honor, which stigmatizes aU scraples about duelling with the
reproach of cowardice.
The insufficiency of the redress which the law of the land
affords, for those injuries which chiefly affect a man in his
sensibUity and reputation, tempts many to redi-ess themselves.
Prosecutions for such offence^, by the trifling damages that are
recovered, serve only to make the sufferer more ridiculous. —
This ought to be remedied.
For the army, where the point of honour is cultivated -with
exquisite attention and refinement, I would estabUsh a Court
of Honour, with a power of awarding those submissions and ac
knowledgments, which it is generaUy the purpose of a chal
lenge to obtain ; and it might grow into a fashion, with persons
of rank of aU professions, to refer theii- quarrels to this tribunal.
Duelling, as the law now stands, can seldom be overtaken
by legal pumshment. The chaUenge, appointment, and oth
er previous circumstances, which indicate the intention with
which the combatants met, being suppressed, nothing appears
to a court of justice,'but the actual recounter, and if a person be
slain when actuaUy fighting with his adversary, the law deems
his death nothing more than manslaughter.

( 135 )
CHAPTER X.
LITIGATION.
' If it he possible, Uve peaceably with aU men ; ' which precept
contains an indirect confession that this is not always possi
ble. The instances* in the fifth chapter of St Matthew are rath
er lo be understood as proverbial methods of describing the gene-
I ral duties of forgiveness and benevolence, and the temper which
we ought to aim at acquning, than as duections to be specifi
cally observed ; or of themselves of any great unportance to be
observed. The first of these is, 'If thine enemy smite thee on
thy right cheek, turn to him the other also ; ' yet, when one of
the officers struck Jesus with the palm of his hand, we find Je
sus rebuking him for the outrage with becoming indignation :
'If I have spoken evil, bear witness, of the e-vil ; but if weU, why
smitest thou me?' (John xviii. 23). It may be observed, Uke
wise, that the several examples are drawn from instances of small
and tolerable injuries. A rule which forbade all opposition to in
jury, or defence against it, could have no other effect, than to put
the good in subjection lo the bad, and deliver one half of man
kind to the depredation of the other half; wMch must be the case,
so long as some considered themselves as bound by such a rale,
whUst others despised it. St Paul, though no one inculcated
forgiveness and forbearance with a deeper sense of the value and
obligation of these -ratues, did not interpret either of them to re
quire an unresisting submission to evei-y contumely, or a neg
lect of the means of safety and self-defence. He took refuge in
the laws of his country, and in the privUeges of a Roman citi
zen, from the conspiracy of the Jews, (Acts xxv. 11.); and
from the clandestine violence of the chief captain, (Acts xxU.
25). And yet this is the same Apostle who reproved the liti-
giousness of his Corinthian converts -with so much severity.
'Now, therefore, there is utterly a fault among you, because ye
go to law one with another. Why do ye not rather take wrong ?
why do ye not rather suffer yourselves to be defrauded ? '
* ' Wliosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also ;
and if any man will sue thee at tlie law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy
cloak also ; and whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain,'

136 LITIGATION.
On the one hand, therefore, Christianity excludes aU vmdic-
tive motives, and aU frivolous causes of prosecution ; so that
where the injury is smaU, where no good purpose of public
example is answered, where forbearance is not lUjely to invite
a repetition of the injury, or where the expense of an action be
comes a punishment too severe for the offence; there the Chris
tian is -withholden by the authority of his religion from going
to law.
On the other hand, a law-suit is inconsistent with no rale
of the Gospel, when it is instituted,
1. For the establishing of some important right.
2. For the procuring a compensation for some considerable
damage. 3. For the preventing of future injui-y.
But, since it is supposed to be undertaken simply -with a view
to the ends of justice and safety, the prosecutor of the action is
bound to confine himself to the cheapest process which wiU
accomplish these ends, as weU as to consent to any peaceable
expedient for the same pm-ppse ; as to « reference, in which
the arbitrators can do, what the law cannot, divide the damage,
when the fault is mutual ; or to « compounding of the dis
pute, by accepting a compensation in the gross, without
entering into articles and items, which it is often very difficult
to adjust separately.
As to the rest, the duty of the contending parties may be
expressed in the foUowing directions :
Not by appeals to prolong a suit against your own con-vic-
tion. Not to undertake or defend a suit against a poor adversary,
or render it more dUatory or expensive than necessary, -with a
hope of intimidating or wearying him out by the expense.
Not to influence evidence by authority or expectation.
Nor to stifle any in your possession, although it make against
you. Hitherto we have treated of civU actions. In criminal pros
ecutions, the private mjury should be forgotten, and the pros
ecutor proceed -with the same temper, and upon the sarne mo
tives, as the ma'gistrate ; the one being a necessary minister of
justice as weU as the other, and both bound to dUect their con
duct by a dispassionate care of the pubhc welfare.
In whatever'degree the punishment of an offender is con
ducive, or his escape dangerous, to the interest of the commu-

GRATITUDE. I'ST
nily, in the same degree is the party against whom the crune
was committed bound to prosecute, because such prosecutions
must in their natme originate from the sufferer.
Therefore great pubhc crimes, as robberies, forgeries, and the
like, ought not to be spared, from an apprehension of trouble
or expense in carrying on the prosecution, from false shame,
or misplaced compassion.
There are many offences, such as nuisances, neglect of pub
lic roads, foreslalUng, engrossmg, smuggling, sabbath-breaking,
profaneness, drunkenness, prostitution, the keeping of lewd or
disorderly houses, the writmg, publishing, or exposing to sale
lascivious books or pictures, with some others, the prosecution
of which, being of equal concern to the whole neighbourhood,
cannot be charged as a pecuhar obligation upon any.
Nevertheless, there is great merit in the person who under
takes such prosecutions upon proper motives ; which amounts
to the same thmg.
The character of an informer is in this country undeserved
ly odious. But where any public advantage is Ukely to be at
tained by informations, or other activity in promoting the exe
cution of the laws, a good man will despise a prejudice founded
in no just reason, or wUl acquit himself of the imputation of
interested designs by giving away his share of the penalty.
On the other hand, prosecutions for the sake of the reward
or for the gratification of private enmity, where the offence pro
duces no pubUc miscMef, or where it arises from ignorance or
inadvertency, are reprobated under the general description of
applying a rule of law to a purpose for ivhich it loas not
intended. Under which description may be ranked an of
ficious revival of the laws against Popish priests, and dissenting
teachers.

CHAPTER XI.
GRATITUDE.
Examples of ingratitude check and discourage voluntary
beneficence : and in this the mischief of ingratitude consists.
Nor is the mischief small ; for after all is done that can be
done, towards providing for the public happiness, by prescribing
VOL. III. 18

138 GRATITUDE.
rules of justice, and enforcing the bbservation of them by pen
alties or compnlsioii, much must be left to those offices of kind
ness, which men remain at liberty to exert or withhold. Now
not only the choice of the objects, but the quantity and even
the existence of this sort of kindness in the world depends, in
a gi-eat measure, upon the return which it receives ; and this
is a consideration of general importance.
A second reason for cultivating a grateful temper in our
selves, is the foUowing : The same principle, which is touch
ed with the kindness of a human benefactor, is capable of be
ing affected by the di-vine goodness, and of becomuig, under
the influence of that affection, a source of the purest and most
exalted virtue. The lovfe of God is the sublimest gratitude. It
is a mistake, therefore, to imagine, that this virtue is omittefl
in the Chrislian.scriptures ; for every precept which commands
us ' to love God, because he first loved us,' presupposes the
principle of gratitude, and directs it to its proper object.
It is impossible to partifcularize the several expressions of grat
itude, in as much as they vary with the character and situation
of the benefactor, and with the opportunities of the person
obliged ; which ven-iety adfliits of no bounds.
it may be observed, however, that gratitude can never obUge
a man to do what is -wrong, and what by consequence he is
previously obUged not to do. It is no ingratitude to refuse to
do what we cahnot reconcUe to any apprehensions of our duty ;
but it is ingratitude and hypocrisy together, to pretend this
reason, when it is not the real one : and the frequency of such
pretences has brought this apology for non-compliance with the
will of a benefactor into unmerited disgrace.
It has long been accounted a violation of delicacy and gen
erosity to upbraid men -with the favours they have received ;
but it argnes a total destitution of both these quahties, as weU
as of moral probity, to take advantage of that ascendency, which
the conferring of benefits justly creates, to diaw or drive those
whom we have obliged into inean or dishonest compliances.

( 139 )
CJIAPTER XII.
SLANDER.
Speaking is acting, both in phUosopMcal strictness, and as
lo aU moral purposes; for, if the miscMef and inotive of our
conduct be the sarne, the means which we use make no dif
ference. And this js in effect what our Saviour declares. Matt. xU. 37 :
' By thy words thou shall be justified, and by thy words thou
shall be condemned : ' by thy words, as weU, that is, as by thy
actions ; the one shaU be taken into the account as weU as the
other, for they both possess the same property of voluntarily pro
ducing good or evU.
Slander may be distinguished into two kinds, m^alicious
slander, and inconsiderate slander.
Malicious slander, is the relating of either truth or false
hood, for ;the purpose of creating misery.
I acknowledge that the truth or fa,lsehood of wlia.t is related
varies the .degree of guUt considerably ; and tha,t slander, m the
-ordinary acceptation of the term, signifies the circulation of mis
chievous falsehoods : biit truth may be made instramental lo
-the success of mahcious designs as well as falsehood ; and tf
the end be bad, the means cannot be innocent.
I thmk the idea of slander ought lo be confined to the pro
duction of gratuitous mischief. When we have an end or m-
terest of om- own to serve, if we attempt to compass it by false
hood, it is fraud J if by a pubUcation. of the truth, it is not
without some additional cu-cumsta.nceof breach of promise, be-
-traying of confidence, or the like,, to be deemed criminal.
Sometimes the pain is intended for the person to whom we
are speaking ; at other times an enmity is to be gratffied by
the prejudice or disquiet of a third person. To infuse suspi
cions, lo kmdle or contmue disputes, lo avert the favom- and
esteem of benefactors from their dependents, to render some
one whom we dishke contemptible or obnoxious in the pubUc
opmion, are all offices of slander ; of wMch the guUt must be
measured by the mtensity and extent of the misery produced.
The disguises under which slander is conveyed, whether in
a whisper, -with injunctions of secrecy, by way of caution.

140 SLANDER.
or with affected reluctance, are aU so many aggravations of
the offence, as they indicate more dehberation and design.
Inconsiderate slander is a dUferenl offence, although the
same mischief .actuary foUow, and although the mischief might
have been foreseen. The not being conscious of that design,
which we have Mtherto attributed to the slanderer, makes the
difference. The guUt here consists in the want of that regard to the
consequences of our conduct, which a just affection for human
'happiness, and concern for our duty, would not have faded to
have produced in us. And it is no answer to this crimination
to say, that we entertained no evU design. ' A servant may
be a very bad servant, and yet seldom or never design to act
in opposition to Ms master's interest or -wUl : and his master
may justly punish such servant for a thoughtlessness and neg
lect nearly as prejudicial as dehberate disobedience. I accuse
you not, he may say, of any express intention to hurl me ; but
had not the fear of my displeasure, the care of my interest, and
indeed aU the quaUties which constitute the merit of a good ser
vant, been wanting in you, they would not only have excluded
every direct purpose of giving me uneasiness, but have been so
far present to your thoughts, as lo have checked that unguard
ed licentiousness, by which I have suffered so much, and inspir
ed you in its place -with an habitual solicitude about the effects
and tendency of what you did or said. This very much re
sembles the case of aU sins of inconsideration ; and, amongst
the foremost of these, that of inconsiderate slander.
Information communicated for the real purpose of warning,
or cautioning, is not slander.
Indiscrimuiale praise is the opposite of slander, but it is the
opposite extreme ; and, however it may affect to be thought ex
cess of candour, is commonly the effusion of a frivolous under
standing, or proceeds from a settled contempt of aU moral dis
tinctions.

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK III.

PART III.
OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH RESULT FROM THE CON
STITUTION OP THE SEXES.

The constitution of the sexes is the foundation of mar
riage. CoUateral to the subject of marriage, are fornication, seduc
tion, adultery, incest, polygamy, divorce.
Consequential to marriage, is the relation and reciprocal duty
of parent and chUd. „
We wiU treat of these subjects m the foUowing order : first,
of the pubhc use of marriage mstitutions ; secondly, of the sub
jects collateral to marriage, m the order in which we have here
proposed them ; thirdly, of marriage itself ; and lastly, of the
relation and reciprocal duties of parents and chUdren.

CHAPTER I.
OP THE PUBLIC USE OF MARRIAGE INSTITUTIONS.
The public use of marriage institutions consists ui their
promoting the following beneficial effects :

142

FORNICATION,

1. The private comfort of individuals, especiaUy of the fe
male sex. It may be trae, that all are not interested in this
reason ; nevertheless, it is a reason to aU for abstainuig from
any conduct which tends in its general consequence to obstruct
marriage; for whatever promotes the happiness of the ma
jority is bmding upon the whole.
2. The production of the greatest number of healthy chU
dren, their better education, and the making of due provision
for their settlement in hfe.
3. The peace of human society, in eutting off a principal
somce of contention, by assigning one or more women to one
man, and protecting his exclusive right by sanctions of morality
and law.
4. The better government of society, by distributing the
community into separate famiUes, and appointing over each
the authority of a master of a famUy, which has more actual
influence than all civU authority put togetl;ier.
5. The same end, in the additiowl seci^ty which the state
receives for the good behavior of its citizens, from the soUcitude
they feel for the weffare of their chUdren, and fiom their being
confined lo permanent habitations.
6. The encouragement of industry.
Some ancient nations appear to have been more sensible of
the unportance of marriage institutions than we are. Tlie
Sparta,ns obUged then citizens to marry by penalties, and the
Romans encom-aged thens 'by the jus trium liber arum. A
man who had no chUd was entitled by the Roman law only
to one half of amy legacy that should be left Mm, that is, at
tjie mpst, could only receive one half of the testator's fortune.

CHAPTER II.
FORNIC.ATION.

The first and great mischief, and by consequence theguUt,
of promiscuous concubinage, consists in its tendency to dimin
ish marriages, and thereby to defeat the several beneficial pm
poses enumerated in the preceding ehaptei-. .
Promiscuous concubinage discoinages marriage by abating

FORNiCAtlON. 143
the chief temptation to it. The male part of the species wUl
not undertake the incumbrance, expense, and restraint of mar
ried life, if they can gratify then passions at a cheaper price ;
and they wUl undertake any thing, rather than not gratify them.
The reader wUl learn to comprehend the magnitude of this
mischief, by attendmg lo the importance and variety of the uses
to which marriage is subservient ; and by recoUecting withal,
that the mahgnity and moral quahty of each crune is not to be
estimated by the particular effect of one offence, or of one per
son's offendmg, but by the general tendency and consequence
of crimes of the same nature. The Ubertine may not be con
scious that these irregularities hinder his own marriage, from
which he is deterred, he may aUege, by different considerations ;
much less does he perceive how his indulgences can hinder oth
er men from marrymg : but what wUl he say would be the con
sequence, if the same Ucentiousness were universal ? or what
should hinder its becoming universal, if it be innocent or aUow-
nble in him ?
2. Fornication supposes prostitution : and prostitution brmgs
and leaves the victims of it lo almost certain misery. It is no
smaU quantity of misery in the aggregate, which, between
want, disease, and insult, is suffered by those outcasts of human
society, who infest populous cities : the whole of which is a gen
eral consequence oi fornication, and to the increase and con-
tmuahce of which, every act and instance of fornication con
tributes. 3. Fornication produces habits of ungovernable lewdness,
which introduce the more aggravated crimes of seduction, adul
tery, violation, &c. * Likewise, however it be accounted for,
the criminal commerce of the sexes corrupts and depraves the
mind and moral character more than any single species of vice
whatsoever. That ready perception of guilt, that prompt and
decisive resolution against it, which constitutes a virtuous char
acter, is seldom found m persons addicted lo these indulgences.
They prepare an easy, admission for every sin that seeks it ;
are, in low Ufe, usually the first stage in men's progress to the
most desperate viUainies ; and, in high Ufe, to that lamented
dissoluteness of principle, which manifests itself in a proffigacy
of public conduct, and a contempt of the obhgalions of reUgion
* Of this passion it has been truly said, * tliat irregularity has no limits ; that one
excess draws on another ; that the most easy, therefore, as well as the most excellent
way of being virtuous, is to be so entirely.' Ogden, Serm. xvi.

144

FORNICATION.

and of moral probity. Add to this, that habits of libertinism
incapacitate and mdispose the mind for aU inleUectual, moral,
and reUgious pleasures ; which is a great loss to any man's
happiness. 4. Fornication peipetuates a disease, which may be accoun
ted one of the sorest maladies of hnman nature ; and the effects
of which are said to visit the constitution of even distant gen-
rations. The passion being natural, proves that it was intended to be
gratified ; but under what restrictions, or whether without any,
must be collected from different considerations.
The Christian scriptures condemn fornication absolutely
and peremptorily. 'Out of the heart,' says our Saviour, 'pro
ceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornication, thefts,
false witness, blasphemies ; these are the things which defile
a man.' These are Christ's own words: and one word from
him upon the subject is final. It may be observed -with what
society fornication is classed ; with murders, thefts, false -wit
ness, blasphemies. I do not mean that these crimes are all
equal,, because they are aU mentioned together ; but it pfoves
that they are aU crimes. The Apostles are more fuU upon
this topic. One weU known passage in the Epistle to the He
brews may stand in the place of all others ; because, admitting
the authority by which the Aposties of Chiist spake and -wrote,
it is decisive : ' Marriage and the bed undefiled is honourable
amongst aU men ; but whore-mongers and adulterers God wiU
judge ; ' which was a great deal lo say, at a time when it was
not agi-eed, even amongst phUosophers themselves, that fornica-
¦ tion was a crime.
The scriptm-es give no sanction to those austerities, wMcIi
have been since imposed upon the world under the name of
CMist's religion, as the celibacy of the clergy, praise of perpet
ual virginity, the prohibitio concubitus cum gravida uxore ;
but with a just knowledge of, and regard to the condition and
interest of the human species, have provided, in the marriage
of one man with one woman, an adequate gratification for the
propefasities of their nature, and have restricted them lo that
gratification. The avowed toleration, and m some countries the Ucensing,
taxing, and regulating of pubUc brothels, has appeared to the
people an authorizing of fornication ; and has contributed, with
other causes, so far to vitiate the public- opinion, that there is no

FORNICATION. 145
practice of which the immoraUty is so littie thought of or ac
knowledged, although there are few, in which it can more
plamly be made out. The legislatures who have patronized
receptacles of prostitution ought to have foreseen this effect, as
well as considered, that whatever facihtates fornication dimin
ishes marriages. And as lo the usual apology for this relaxed
discipline, the danger of greater enormities if access lo prosti
tutes were loo strictly watched and prohibited, it wUl be time
enough to look to that, when the laws and the magistrates
have done then utmost. The greatest vigUance of both wiU
do no more, than oppose some bounds and some difficulties to
this intercourse. And, after aU, these pretended fears are with
out foundation in experience. The men are m aU respects
the most virtuous, in countries where the women are most
chaste. There is a species of cohabitation, distinguishable, no doubt,
from vagrant concubinage, and wMch, by reason of its resem
blance to marriage, may be thought to participate of the sancti
ty and innocence of that estate ; I mean the case of kept mis
tresses, under the favourable circumstance of mutual fideUty.
This case I have heard defended by some such apology as the
following :
' That the marriage rile being different in different countries,
and in the same country amongst different sects, and with
some scarce any thing ; and, moreover, not being prescribed
or even mentioned in scripture, can be accounted of only as
of a form and ceremony of human invention : that, consequent
ly, if a man and woman betroth and confine themselves to
each other, their intercourse must be the same, as to aU moral
purposes, as if they were legally married : for the addition or
omission of that which is a mere form and ceremony, can
make no difference in the sight of God, or in the actual natuv
of right and wrong.'
To aU which it may be replied,
1. If the situation of the parties be the same thing as mai
riage, why do they not marry ?
2. If the man choose lo have it in his power to dismiss the
woman at his pleasure, or to retain her in a state of humilia
tion and dependence inconsistent with the rights which mar
riage would confer upon her, it is not the same thing.
It is not at any rate the same thing to the children.
Again, as lo the marriage rite being a mere form, and that
VOL. III. 19

146 FORNICATION.
also variable, the same may be said of signing and seaUng of
bonds, wUls, deeds of conveyance, and the Uke, which yet
make a great difference in the rights and obUgations of the par
lies concerned in them.
And with respept to the rite not being appointed in scripture ;
— the scriptures forbid fornication, that is, cohabitation without
marriage, leaving it lo the law of each country to pronounce
what is, or what makes, a marriage ; m Uke manner as they
forbid thefts, that is, the laMng away of another's property, leav
ing it to the municipal law to fix what makes the thing proper
ty, or whose it is ; which also, as weU as marriage, depend up
on arbitrary .and mutable forms.
Laying aside the injunctions of scripture, the plain account
of the question seems to be this : It is immoral, because it is
pernicious that men and women should cohabit, -without un
dertaking certain irrevocable obUgations, and muluaUy confer
ring certain civU rights; if, therefore, the law has annexed
these rights and obhgalions lo certain forms, so that they can
not be secured or undertaken by any other means, which is the
case here (for whatever the parties may promise to each other,
nothing but the marriage ceremony can make their promise ir
revocable), it becomes in the same degree immoral, that men
and women should cohabit -without the interposition of these
forms.

If formcation be criminal, all those incentives which lead to
it are accessaries to the crime, as lasci-vious conversation, wheth
er expressed in obscene or disguised under modest pMases ; al
so wanton songs, pictures, books ; the -writing, publishing, and
circulating of which, whether out of froUc, or for some pitifid
profit, is productive of so extensive a mischief from so mean a
temptation, that few crimes, withm the reach of private wick
edness, have more lo answer for, or less to plead in their ex
cuse. Indecent conversation, and by parity of reason aU the rest,
are forbidden by St Paul, Eph. iv. 29 : ' Let no corrapt com
munication proceed out of your mouth;' and again. Col. Ui. 8:
' Put off— filthy communication out of your mouth.'
The invitetion, or voluntary admission, of unpure thoughts,
or the suffellig them to get possession of the imagination, falls
within the same description, and is condemned by Christ, Matt.

SEDUCTION. 147
V. 28 : ' Whosoever looketh on a woman lo Mst after her,
hath committed adultery with her aheady ui his heart.' CMist,
by thus enjoming a regulation of the thoughts, strikes at the
root of the evil.

CHAPTER III,
SEDUCTION.
The seducer practises the same stratagems to draw a wo
man's person into his power, that a swindler does, to get pos
session of your goods, or money ; yet the law of honor, which
abhors deceit, applauds the address of a successful intrigue ; so
much is this capricious ride guided by names, and -with such
faciUty does it accommodate itself to the pleasures and con
veniency of higher Ufe !
Seduction is seldom accomplished -without fraud ; and the
fraud is by so much more criminal than other frauds, as the
injui-y effected by it is greater, continues longer, and less ad
mits of reparation.
This injury is iMeefold ; lo the woman, lo her famUy, and to
the public.
1. The injury to the woman is made up, of the pain she
suffers from shame, of the loss she sustains m her reputation
and prospects of marriage, and of the depravation of her m,or-
al principle.
This pain must be extreme," if we may judge of it from
those barbarous endeavoms lo conceal their disgrace, lo wMch
women, under such circumstances, sometimes have recourse ;
comparmg also this barbarity with their passionate fondness
for their offspring in other cases. Nothing but an agony of
mind the most insupportable can induce a woman to forget her
nature, and the pity which even a stranger would show to a
helpless and imploring infant. It is true, that all are not ur
ged to this extremity ; but if any are, it affords an indication
of how much aU suffer from the same cause. What shaU we
say to the authors of such mischief?
2. The loss which a woman sustains by the ruin of her re
putation almost exceeds computation. Every person's happi
ness depends in part upon the respect and reception which they

148 SEDUCTION.
meet with in the world ; and it is no inconsiderable mortification,
even to the firmest tempers, to be rejected from the society of their
equals, or received there with neglect and disdain. But this
is not aU, nor the worst. By a ixde of life, which it is not easy
to blame, and which it is impossible to alter, a woman loses
with her chastity the chance of marr}dng at aU, or in any
manner equal to the hopes she had been accustomed to enter
tain. Now marriage, whatever it be to a man, is that, from
which every woman expects her chief happiness. And this is
still more tnie in low Ufe, of which condition the women are,
who are most exposed lo soUcitations of this sort. Add to this,
that where a woman's maintenance depends upon her chajacter
(as it does, m a great measure, -with those who are to si^port
themselves by service), little sometunes is left to the forsaken
sufferer, but to starve for want of employment, or to have re
course to prostitution for food and raiment.
3. As a woman coUects her virtue into this point, the loss of
her chastity is generally the destruction of her moral prin
ciple ; and this consequence is to be apprehended, whether
the criminal intercourse be discovered or not.
II. The injury to the famUy may be understood, by the
appUcation of that infalUble rule, ' of doing to others what we
would that others should do unto us.' Let a father or a broth
er say, for what consideration they would suffer this injury to
a daughter or a sister ; and whether any, or even a total loss
of fortune could create equal affliction and distress. And when
they Meet upon this, let them distinguish, if they can, between
a robbery, committed upon iheu- properly by fi-aud or forgery,
and the ruin of their happiness by the treachery of a sedu-
ccr. '
III. The public at large lose the benefit of the woman's ser-
¦vice in her proper place and destination, as a wife and parent.
This to the whole community may be Uttle ; but it is often
more than aU the good which the seducer does to the com
munity can recompense. Moreover, prostitution is suppUed by
seduction ; and in proportion to the danger there is of the wo
man's betaking herself, after her fii-st sacrifice, to a Ufe of pub
lic lewdness, the seducer is answerable for the multipUed evUs
to which his crime gives bnth.
Upon the whole, if we pursue the effects of seduction through
the compUcated misery which ii occasions ; and if it be right
to estimate crimes by the miscMef they knowingly produce, it

ADULTERY. 149
wiU appear somelMng more than mere mvective to assert, that
not one half of the crimes, for wMch men suffer death
by the laws of England, are so flagitious as this.*

CHAPTER IV.
ADULTERY.
A NEW sufferer is introduced, the injured husband, who re
ceives a wound in his sensibUity and affections, the most pain
ful and incurable that human nature knows. In ,aU other re
spects, adultery on the part of the man who soUcits the chastity
of a married woman, includes the crime of seduction, and is
attended -with the same mischief.
The infidehly of the woman is aggravated by cruelty to her
cMldren, -who are generaUy involved in their parent's shame,
and always made unhappy by their quarrel.
If it be said that these consequences are chargeable not so
much upon the crime, as the discovery, we answer, first, that
the crime could not be discovered unless it were committed, and
that the commission is never secure from discovery ; and sec
ondly, that if we excuse adulterous connexions, whenever
they can hope lo escape detection, which is the conclusion lo
which this argument conducts us, we leave the husband no
other security for his wife's chastity, than in her want of op
portunity or temptation; which would probably either deter
men from marrying, or render marriage a stale of such jeal
ousy and alarm to the husband, as must end in the slavery
and confinement of the -wife.
The vow, by which married persons mutaUy engage their
fideUty, is ' -witnessed before God,' and accompanied -with cir
cumstances of solemnity and reUgion, which approach lo the
nature of an oath. The married offender therefore incurs a
crime Uttle short of perjury, and the seduction of a married
woman is little less than subornation of perjury ;— and this
guUt is independent of the discovery.
* Yet the law has provided no punishment for this offence beyond a pecuniary
satisfaction to the injured family ; and this can only be come at, by one of the quaint
est fictions in the world, by the father's bringing his action against the seducer, for
the loss of his daughter's service, durmg her pregnancy and nurturing.

150 ADULTERY.
AU behaviour wMch is designed, or wMch knowingly tends,
to captivate the affection of a married woman, is a barbsirous
intrusion upon the peace and virtue of a fanuly, though it faU
short of adultery.
The usual and only apology for adultery is the prior trans
gression of the other party. There are degrees no doubt in
this, as in other crimes : and so-far as the bad effects of adul
tery are anticipated by the conduct of the husband or wife who
offends first, the guUt of the second offender is less. But this
falls very far short of a justification ; unless it could be shown
that the obUgation of the marriage vow depends upon the con
dition of reciprocal fideUty ; for /which constraction there ap
pears no foundation, either in expediency, or in the terms of
the promise, or in the design of the legislature which prescribed
the marriage rite. Moreover, the rule contended for by this plea
has a mamfesl tendency to multiply the offence, but none to
reclaim the offender.
The way of considering the offence of one party as & provo
cation to the other, and the other as only retaliating the in
jury by repeating the crime, is a chUdish trifling -with words.
'Thou shalt not commit adultery,' was an interdict de
Uvered by God himself. By the Jewish law adultery was
capital to both parties ui the crime : ' Even he that commitlelh
adultery with his neighbour's -wife, the adulterer and adulteress
shaU surely be put lo death.' Lev. xx. 10. Which passages
prove, that the divme Legislator placed a great d.Uference be
tween adultery and fornication. And vdth this agree the
CMistian scriptm-es ; for ui almost aU the catalogues they have
left us of crimes and criminals, they enumerate ' fornication,
adultery, whoremongers, adulterers,' (Matthew xv. 19. 1 Cor.
vi. 9. Gal. V. 9. Heb. xUi. 4.) by which mention of both,
they show that they did not consider them as the same ; but
that the crime of adultery was, m. then apprehension, distinct
from, and accumulated upon, that of formcation.
The history of the woman taken in adultery, recorded in the
eighth chapter of St John's Gospel, has been thought by some
to give countenance lo that crime. As CMist told the -woman,
' Neither do I condemn thee,' we must beUeve, it is said, that
he deemed her conduct either not crimuial, or not a crime,
however, of the heinous nature which we represent it to be.
A more attentive examination of the case -wiU, I think, con
vince us, that from it nothing can be concluded as to Christ's

ADULTERY. ISl
opmion concerning adultery, either one way or the other. The
transaction is thus related : ' Early in the morning Jesus came
again into the temple, and aU the people came unto him ; and
he sat down and taught them ; and the Scribes and Phari^
sees brought unto Mm a woman taken in. adultery ; and when
they had set her in the midst, they say unto him, Master, this
woman was taken m adultery, m the very act : now Moses, in
the law, commanded that such should be stoned ; but what
sayesl thou ? TMs they said templmg him, that they might
have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his
finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not.
So when they continued asking hun, he Uft up Mmseilf, and
said unto them. He that is vdthout sin amongst you, let him
first cast a stone at her ; and agam he stooped down and wrote
on the ground : and they which heard it, being convicted by
their own conscience, went out one by one, beginnmg at the
eldest, even unto the last ; and Jesus was left alone, and the
woman standing m the midst. When Jesus had lift up him
self, and saw none but. the woman, he said uiito her, Woman,
where are those Ihme accusers ? hath no man condemned thee ?
She said unto him. No man. Lord. -And he said unto her,
Neither do I condemn thee ; go and sm no more.'
' This they said lemptmg him, that they might have lo
accuse him,' to draw him, that is, into an exercise of judicial
authority, that they might have to accuse Mm before the Ro
man governor of usurpmg or mlermeddling with the civil
government. This was their design, and Christ's behaviour
throughout the whole affair proceeded from a knowledge of this
design, and a determination lo defeat it. He gives them at
first a cold and sullen reception, weU suited to the msidious
intention with which they came : ' He stooped down, and with
his finger -wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not'
' When they continued askmg him,' when they teased him lo
speak, he dismissed them with a rebuke, wMch the impertinent
malice of their errand, as weU as the secret character of many
of them, deserved : ' He that is -without sin (that is, this sin)
among you, let him Mst cast a stone at her.' This had its
effect. Stung -with the reproof, and disappomted of their aim,
they stole away one by one, and left Jesus and the woman
alone. And then foUows the conversation, which is the part
of the narrative most material to our present subject. ' Jesus
said unto her. Woman, where are those thine accusers ? hath

152 INCEST.

no man condemned thee? She said. No man. Lord. And
Jesus said unto her. Neither do I condemn thee ; go and sin no
more. Now, when Christ asked the woman, ' Hath no man
condemned thee?' he certainly spoke, and was understood by
the woman to speak, of a legal and judicial condemnation;
otherwise, her answer, 'No man. Lord,' was not trae. In
every other sense of condemnation, as blame, censure, reproof,
private judgment, and the Uke, many had condemned'her ; aU
those mdeed who brought her to Jesus. If then a judicial sen
tence was what Christ meant by condemning m the question,
the common use of language requires us to suppose that
he meant the same ui his reply, ' Neither do I condemn thee,'
i. e. I pretend to no judieial character or authority over thee ;
It is no office or business of mine to pronounce or execute the
sentence of the law.
When Christ adds, ' Go and sm no more,' he m effect tells
her, that she had sinned aheady ; but as to the degree or qual
ity of the sin, or Christ's opinion concerning it, nothmg is de
clared, or can be inferred, either way.
Adultery, which was punished with death during the Usur
pation, is now regarded by the law of England only as a civU
injury ; for which the imperfect satisfaction that money can
afford, may be recovered by the husband.

CHAPTER y.
INCEST.
In order lo preserve chastity in famiUes, and between per
sons of different sexes, brought up and Uving together in a state
of unreserved intimacy, it is necessary by every method possi
ble lo inculcate an abhorrence of incestuous conjunctions ;
which abhorrence can oMy be upheld by the absolute reproba
tion of all commerce of the sexes between near relations.
Upon this principle, the marriage as weU as other cohabita
tions of brother and sisters, of Uneal kindred, and of aU who
usuaUy live in the same famUy, may be said to be forbidden by
the law of nature.
Restrictions wMch extend to remoter degi-ees of kindred
than what iMs reason makes it necessary lo prohibit from in-

POLYGAMY. 153
termari-iage,'are founded in the authority of the positive law
which ordains them, and can only be justified by their tenden
cy to diffuse wealth, to connect families, or to promote some
political advantage.
The Levilical law, which is received in this country, and
from which the rule of the Roman law differs very httle, prohib
its* marriage between relations within three degi-ees of kindred ;
computing the generations not from, but through the common
ancestor, and accounting affinity the same as consanguinity.
The issue, however, of such marriages are not bastardized,
unless the parent be divorced during their lifetime.
The Egyptians are said to have aUowed of the marriage of
brothers and sisters. Amongst the Athenians a very singular
regulation prevaUed : brothers and sisters of the half blood, if
related by the father's side, might marry ; if by the mother's
side, they were prohibited from marrying. The same custom
also probably obtamed in Chaldea so early as the age in which
Abraham left it ; for he and Sarah his wife stood in this rela
tion lo each other : 'And yet, mdeed, she is my sister : she is the
daughter of my father, but not of my mother, and she became
my wife.' Gen. xx. 12.

CHAPTER VI.
POLYGAMY.
The equalilyt in the number of males and females born
into the world, intnnales the intention of God, that one woman
should be assigned lo one man ; for, if to one man be aUowed
an exclusive right to five or more women, four or more men
must be deprived of the exclusive possession of any : which
could never be the order intended.
It seems also a significant indicaliMi the divine wUI, that he
* The Roman law continued the prohibition to tlie descendants of brothers and sis
ters without limits. In the Levitical and English law, tliere is nothing to hinder a
man from marrying his g*reai niece. .. ,
t This equality is not exact. The number of male infants exceeds Uiat ot temales
in the proportion of nineteen to eighteen, or thereabouts ; which excess provides lor
the greater consumption of males by war, sea-faring, and other dangerous or unhealthy
occupations.

VOL. III.

20

154 POLYGAMY.
at first created only one woman to one man. Had God inten
ded polygamy for the species, it is probable he would have be
gun with it ; especially as, by giving to Adam more wives than
one, the multiplication of the human race would have proceed
ed with a quicker progress.
Polygamy not only violates the constitution of nature, and
the apparent design of the Deity, but produces lo the parties
themselves, and to the public, the foUowing bad effects : contests
and jealousies amongst the wives of the same husband ; distrac
ted affections, or the loss of aU affection ni the husband himself ;
a voluptuousness in the rich, which dissolves the -vigour of
their intellectual as well as active faculties, producing that in
dolence and imbecUity both of mind and body, which have
long characterized the nations of the East ; the abasement of
one half of the human species, who, in countries where polj^-
gamy obtains, are degraded into mere instruments of physicial
pleasure to the other half; neglect of children ; and the mani
fold, and sometimes unnatural mischiefs, which arise from a
scarcity of women. To compensate for these e-vils, polygamy
does not offer a single advantage. In the article of population,
which it has been thought to promote, the community gain
nothing : * for the question is not, whether one man will have
more children by five or more wives than by .one ; but whether
these five wives would not bear the same, or a greater number
of chUdren, to five separate husbands. And as to the care of
the children when produced, and the sending of them into
the world in situations in which they may be Ukely to form
and bring up families of their own, upon which the increase
and succession of the human species m a great degree depend,
this is less provided for, and less practicable, where twenty or
thirty children are to be supported by the attention and fortunes
of one father, than if they were divided into five or six famiUes,
* Nothing, I mean, compared with a state iq which marriage is nearly universal.
Where marriages are less general, and many women unfruitful from tlie want of
husbands, polygamy might at first Sdd a little to population ; and but a little : for, as
a variety of wives wouldbe sought chiefly from temptations of voluptuousness, itwould
rather increase the demand for female beauty, than for the sex at large. And this
KWZe would soon he made less by many, deductions. For, first, as none but the op
ulent can maintain a plurality of wives, where polygamy obtains, the rich indulge in
it while the rest take up with a vague and barren incontinency. And, secondly,
women would grow less jealous of their virtue, when they had nothing for which to
reserve if, hut a chamber in the harem ; when their diastity was no longer to be re
warded with the rights and happiness of a wife, as enjoyed under tie marriage of one
woman to one man. These considerations may be added to what is mentioned in the
text, concerning the easy and early settlement of children ia the world.

POLYGAMY. 155
to each of which were assigned the industry and inheritance
of two parents.
Whether simultaneous polygamy was permitted by the law
of Moses, seems doubtful : * but whether permitted or not, it
was certainly practised by the Jewish patriarchs, both before
that law, and under it. The permission, if there were any,
might be Uke that of divorce, ' for the hardness of their heart,'
in condescension to their estabhshed indulgencies, rather than
from the general rectitude or propriety of the iMng itself The
state of manners in Judea had probably undergone a reforma
tion in this respect before the time of Christ, for m the New
Testament we meet with no trace or mention of any such prac
tice being tolerated.
For which reason, and because it was Ukewise forbidden
amongst the Greeks and Romans, we cannot expect to find
any expreos^law upon the subject in the Christian code. The
words of Christ, t Matt. xix. 9, may be construed by an easy
implication lo prohibit polygamy ; for, if ' whoever putteth
away his wife, and m,arrieth another, commitlelh adultery,'
he who marrieth another without putting awa^ the first, is'no
less guUty of adultery ; because the adultery does not consist
in the repudiation of the first wife (for, however unjust or cru
el that may be, it is not adultery), but in entering into a second
marriage during the legal existence and obUgation of the first.
The several passages in St Paul's writings, which speak of
marriage, always suppose it to signify the union of one man
with one woman. Upon this supposition he argues, Rom. vU.
2, 3. ' Know ye not, brethren, for I speak lo them that know
the law, how that the law hath dominion over a man, as long
as he hveth ? For the woman which hath an husband, is bound
by the law lo her husband so long as he hveth ; but if the hus
band be dead, she is loosed fi-om the law of her husband : so
then, if while her husband livelh she be married lo another
man, she shall be called an adultress.' When the same Apos
tle permits marriage to Ms Corinthian converts (which, ' for
the present distress,' he judges to be inconvenient), he restrams
the permission to the marriage of one husband with one wife :
' It is good for a man not lo touch a woman ; nevertheless, to
* See Deut. rvii. 16. xxi. 16.
t ' I say unto you. Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication,
and shall marry another, committeth adultsry.'

156 POLYGAMY.
avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let ev
ery woman have her own husband.'
The manners of different countries have varied in nothing
m'ore than in then domestic constitutions. Less polished and
more luxurious nations have either not perceived the bad effects
of polygamy, or, if they did perceive them, they who m such
countries possessed the power of reforming the laws, have been
unwUling to resign then own gratifications. Polygamy is re
tained at this day among the Turks and throughout every
part of Asia in which Christianity is not professed. In Chris
tian countries it is universaUy prohibited. In Sweden it is pun
ished with death. In England, beside the nuUity of the sec
ond marriage, it subjects the offender to transportation or im
prisonment and branding for the first offence, and to capital
punishment for the second. And whatever may be said in be- ~
half of polygamy, when it is authorized by the law of the land,
the marriage of a second wife, during the Ufetime of the first,
in countries where such a second marriage is void, must be
ranked -with the most dangerous and cruel of those frauds, by
which a woman is cheated out of her fortune, her person, and
her happiness.
' The ancient Medes compeUed their citizens, in one canton,
to take seven wives ; in another, each woman to receive five
husbands ; according as war had made, in one quarter of their
country, an extraordinary havoc ainong the men, or the wo
men had been carried away by an enemy from another. This
regulation, so far as it was adapted to the proportion which sub
sisted between the numbers of males and females, was found
ed in the reason upon which the most improved nations of Eu
rope proceed at present.
Cffisar found amongst the inhabitants of this island a species
of polygamy, if it may be so caUed, which was perfectly singu
lar. Uxores, says he, habent deni duodenique inter se com
munes, et maxime fratres cum fratribus, parentesque cum
liber is : sed si quisint ex his nati, eorum habcntur liberi,
(juoprimum virgo quceque deducta est.

( 157 )
CHAPTER VII.
OF DIVORCE.
By divorce, I mean the dissolution of the marriage con
tract, by the. act, and at the wUl of the husband.
This power was aUowed to the husband, among the' Jews,
the Greeks, and latter Romans ; and is at this day exercised by
the Turks and Persians.
' The congruity of such a right -with the law of nature, is the
question before us.
And, in the first place, it is manifestly inconsistent -with the
duty, which the parents owe lo their children ; which duty can
never be so well fulfiUed as by their cohabita.tion and united
care. It is also incompatible with the right -wMch the mother
possesses, as well as the father, to the gratitude of her children
and the comfort of, their society; of both which she is almost
necessarily deprived, by her dismission from her husband's
family. Where this objection does not interfere, 1 know of no prin
ciple of the law of nature applicable to the question, beside
that of general expediency.
For, if we say, that arbitrary divorces are excluded by the
terms of the marriage contract, it may be answered, that the
contract might be so framed as to admit of this condition.
If we argue with some moralists, that the obligation of a con
tract naturally continues, so long as the purpose, which the
contracting parties had in view, requires its contmuance ; it -wiU
be difficult to show what purpose of the contract (the care of
children excepted) should confine a man to a woman, from
whom he seeks to be loose.
If we contend with others, that a contract cannot, by the
law of nature, be dissolved, unless the parties be replaced m the
situation which each possessed before the contract was entered
into ; we shaU be caUed upon to prove this to be an universal
or indispensable properly of contracts.
I confess myself unable to assign any circumstance in the
marriage contract, which essentiallj" disting-uishes it from other
contracts, or which proves that it contains, what man}' have
ascribed to it. a natural incapacity of beiiii? dissolved by the

158 , OF DIVORCE.

consent of the parties, at the option of one of them, or either of
them. But rf we trace the effects of such a rule upon the
general happinessof married Ufe, we shaU perceive reasons of
expediency, that abundantly justify the policy ojf those laws
which refuse to the husband the power of divorce, or restram
it to a few extreme and specific provocations ; and our prin
ciples teach us to pronounce that to be contrary to the law of
nature, which ban be proved to be detrunental to the common
happiness of the human species.
A lawgiver, whose counsels are dnected by views of general
UtUity, and obstracled by no local unpediment, would make
the inarriage contract indissoluble during the joint lives of the
parties, for the sake of the foUowing advantages :
I. Because this tends to preserve peace and concord between
married persons, by perpetuatuig their common interest, and
by inducing a necessity of mutual compUance.
There is great weight and substance in both these consider
ations. An earUer termination of the union would produce a
separate interest. The vsdfe would naturaUy look forward to
the dissolution of the partnership, and endeavour to di-aw to
herself a fund against the time when she was no longer lo
have access to the same resources. This would beg^t pecula
tion on one side, and mistrust on the other ; evUs which at
present very httle disturb the confidence of married Ufe. The
second effect of making the union determinable only by death,
is not less beneficial. It necessarUy happens that adverse tem
pers, habits, and tastes, oftentimes meet in marriage. In which
cases, each party must take pains to give up what offends, and
practise what may gratify the other. A man and woman, in
love with each other do this insensibly ; but love is neither
general nor durable ; andwhere that is wanting, no lessons of
duty, no delicacy of sentiment, wiU go half so far with the
generality of mankind and womankind, as this one mtelUgible
reflection, that they must each make the best of their bargain ;
and that seeing they must either both be miserable, or both
share in the same happiness, neither can find their own com
fort, but in promotmg the pleasure of the other. These com
pliances, thougli at &-st extorted by necessity, become in lime
easy and mutual ; and though less endearmg than assiduities
which take their rise from affection, generaUy procure to the
married pair a repose and satisfaction sufficient for their hap
piness.

OF DIVORCE. 159
II. Because new objects of deshe would be continually
sought after, if men could, at wUl, be released from their sub
sisting engagments. Suppose the husband to have once pre
ferred his -wife lo all other woman, the duration of this prefer
ence cannot be trusted to. Possession makes a great differ
ence : and there is no other security against the invitations of
novelty, than the known impossibiUty of obtaining the object. Did
the cause, which brings the sexes together, hold them together
by the same force with whicli it first attracted then to each
other, or could the woman be restored to her personal integrity,
and to all the advantages of her virgin estate ; the power of
divorce might be deposited in the hands of the husband, -with
less danger of abuse or inconveniency. But constituted as man
kind are, and mjured as the repudiated wffe generaUy must be,
it is necessary to add a stabUily to the condition of married wo
men, more secure than the contmuance of then husbands' af
fection -, and supply to both sides, by a sense of duly and obU
gation, what satiety has unpahed of passion and of personal
attachment. Upon the whole, the power of divorce is evident
ly and greatly lo the disadvantage of the woman ; and the
only question appears lo be, whether the real and permanent
happiness of one half of the species should be surrendered lo
the caprice and voluptuousness of the other-?
We have considered divorces as dependmg upon the wUl of
the husband, because that is the Vv'ay in which they have ac
tuaUy obtained in many parts of the world : but the same ob
jections apply, in a great degi-ee, to divorces by mutual consent ;
especiaUy when we consider the mdehcate situation and small
prospect of happiness, which remains lo the party, who oppos
ed his or her dissent to the Uberty and desire of the other.
The law of natm-e admits of an exception in favour of the
injured party, in cases of adultery, of obstinate desertion, of at
tempts upon life, of outrageous cruelty, of incurable madness,
and, perhaps, of personal imbecUity ; but by no means indulges
the same privUege to mere dislike, to opposition of humours
and inclinations, to contrariety of taste and temper, lo com
plaints of coldness, neglect, severity, peevishness, jealousy ; not
that these reasons are trivial, but because such objections may
always be aUeged, and are impossible by testimony to be ascer
tained ; so that to allow implicit credit to them, and to dis
solve marriages whenever either party thought fit lo pretend

160 OF DIVORCE.
them, would lead in its effect lo aU the licentiousness of arbi
trary divorces.
Milton's story is well known. Upon a quarrel with his wife,
he paid Ms addresses to another woman, and set forth a public
vindication of his conduct, by attempting to prove, that con
firmed dislike was as just a foundation for dissolving the mar-
.riage contract, as adultery ; lo which position, and. to aU the ar
guments by which it can be supported, the above consideration
affords a sufficient answer. »Aiid if a married pair, in actual
and irreconcUeable discord, complain that then happiness would
be belter consulted, by permitting them to determine a connex
ion, which is become odious to both, it may be told them, that the
same permission, as a general rule, would produce Ubertinism,
dissension, and misery, amongst thousands, who are now vir
tuous, and qui.et, and happy, in then condition : and it ought to
satisfy them to reflect, that when their happiness is sacrificed
to the operation of an unrelenting rule, it is sacrificed to the
happiness of the community.
The scriptures seem to have drawn the obligation tighter
than the law of nature left it. ' Whosoever,' saith Chiist,
' shaU put away his wife, except it be for formcation, and shall
marry another, committeth adultery ; and whoso marrieth her
which is put away, doth commit adultery.' Matt. xix. 9. The
law of Moses, for reasons of -local expediency, permitted the
Jewish husband to put away his wife ; but whether for every
cause, or for what causes, appears to have been controverted
amongst the interpreters of those times. CMist, the precepts
of whose religion were calculated for more general use and ob
servation, revokes this permission, as given to the Jews ' for
the hardness of their hearts,' and promulges a law wMch was
thenceforward to confine divorces to the single cause of adultery
m the wife. And I see no sufficient reason to depart from the
plain and strict meaning of Christ's words. _ The rule was
new. It both surprised and offended Ms disciples ; yet Christ
added notMng to relax or. explain it.
Inferioui- causes may justify the separation of husband and
wife, although they wUl not authorise such a dissolution of the
marriage contract, as would leave either party at Uberty to
marry again; for it is that Uberty in which the danger and
mischief of divorces principally consist. If the care of chUdien
does not require that they should live together, and it is become,
in the serious judgment of both, necessary for their mutual

OF DIVORCE. 161
happiness that they should separate, let them separate by con
sent. Nevertheless, this necessity can hardly exist, without
guilt and misconduct on one side or on both. - Moreover, cru
elty, iU-usage, extreme violence, or moroseness of temper, or
other great and continued provocations, make it lawful for the
party aggrieved to -withdraw from the society of the offender
without his or her consent. The law wMch imposes the mar
riage vow, whereby the parties promise lo ' keep lo each other,'
or, in other words, to live together, must be understood to impose
it with a silent reservation of these cases; because the same
law has constituted a judicial relief from the tyranny of the
husband, by the divorce mensa et toro, and by the provision
which it makes for the separate maintenance of the injured
wife. St Paul likewise distinguishes between a -wife's merely
separating lierseK from the famUy of her husband and her mar
rying agam : 'Let not the -wife (iepart from her husbcmd ; but,
and if she do depart, let her remain unmarried.'
The law of this country, in conformity to- our Saviour's
injunction, confines the dissolution of the marriage contract to
the smgle case of adultery m the wife ; and a divorce even m
that case can only be brought about by the operation of an
act of parliament, founded upon a previous sentence in the
ecclesiastical court, and a verdict against the adulterer at com
mon law : which proceedings taken together compose as com
plete an investigation of the complaint as a cause can receive.
It has lately been proposed to the legislature to annex a clause
to these acts, restraming the offending parly fiom marrying
with the compamon of her crime, who, by the course of pro
ceeding, is always known and convicted ; for there is reason to
fear, that adulterous connexions are often formed with the
prospect of bringmg them to this conclusion ; at least, when
the seducer has once captivated the affection of a married wo
man, he may avail himself of this tempting argument to sub
due her scruples, and complete his victory ; and the legislature,
as the busmess is managed at present, assists by its interposi
tion the crimmal design of the offenders, and confers a privi
lege where it ought to inflict a punishinent. The proposal
deserved an experiment; but something more penal wiU, I
apprehend, be found necessary lo check the progress of this
alaiining depravity. Whether a law might not be framed di-
rectmg the fortune of the adulteress to descend as in case
of her natural death ; reserving, however, a certain propor-
VOL. III. 21

1"^ OF DIVORCE.
tion of the produce of it, by way of annuity, for her subsis
tence (such amiuity, in no case, to exceed a fixed siim), and
also so far suspending the estate in the hands of the heir as to
preserve the inheritance to any children she might bear to a
second inarriage, in case there was none lo succeed in the
place of their mother by the first ; whether, I say, such a law
would not render female vntue in higher life less vincible, as
weU as the seducers of that vii'tue less.urgent ui their suit, we
recommend lo the deUberation of those, who are wiUing to at
tempt the reformation of this important, but most incorrigible,
class of the community. A passion for splendour, for expensive
aniusements and distinctions, is commonly found, in that de
scription of women who would become the objects of such a
law, not less inordinate than their other appetites. A severity
of the kind we propose applies immediately to that passion.
And, there is no room for any complaint of injustice, since the
provisions above stated, -with others which might be contrived,
confine the pumshment, so far as it is possible, to the person of
the offender ; suffering 'the estate to remain to the heir, or
within the famUy, of the ancestor from whom it came, or to at
tend the appointments of his wiU.
Sentences of the ecclesiastical courts, which release the par
lies a vinculo matrimonii by reason of impuberty, frigidity,
consanguinity within the proMbited degrees, prior marriage,
or want of the requisite consent of parents or guardians, are
not dissolutions of the marriage contract, but judicial declara
tions that there never was any marriage ; such impetUment
subsisting at the lime as rendered the celebration of the mar
riage rite a mere nuUity. And the rite itseff contains an excep
tion of these impediments. The man and woman to be mar
ried are charged, ' if they know any impetUment why they
may not be lawfidly joined together, lo confess it ; ' and assured
'that so many as are coupled together, otherwise thin God's
word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is
their matrimony lawftil ;' aU which is intended by way of sol
emn notice to the parties, that the vow they are about to
make -^vUl bind their consciences and authorize their cohabita
tion, only upon the supposition that no legal impediment
exists.

( 163 )
CHAPTER VIII.
MARRIAGE.
Whether it hath grown out of some tradition of the divine
appointment of marriage m the persons of our first parents, or
merely from a design to impress the obligation of the marriage
contract with a solemnity suited to its importance, the mamage
rite, m almost aU countries of the world, has been made a re
ligious ceremony; * although marriage, in its own nature, and
abstracted from the rules and declarations which the Jewish and
Christian scriptures deUver concerning it, be properly a civil con
tract, and nothing more.
With respect to one main article in matrimonial aUiances, a
total alteration has taken place in the fashion of the world ; the
wife now brings money to her husband, whereas anciently the
husband paid money lo the family of the wife ; as was the case
among the Jewish patriarchs, the Greeks, and the old inhab
itants of Germ,any. t This alteration has proved of no smaU
advantage to the female sex ; for their importance in point of
fortune procures lo them, m modern times, that assiduity and
respect, which are always wanted to compensate for the infe
riority of their strength ; but which their personal attractions
would not always secure.
Our busmess is -with marriage as it is established in this coun
try. And in treating thereof, it wiU be necessary to stale the
terms of the marriage vow, in order to discover :
1. What duties ijiis vow creates.
2. What a situation of mind at the tune is inconsistent with it.
3. By what subsequent behaviour it is violated.
The husband promises, on his part, ' to love, comfort, hon
our, and keep Ms wife ;? the -wife on hers, to obey, sei-ve, love,
* It was not, however, in CSiristian countries required, that marriages should bo
celebrated in churches, till the thirteenth century of the Christian era. Marriages in
England, during tlie Usurpation, were solemnized before justices of the peace ; but
for what purpose tliis novelty was uitroduced, except to degrade tlie clergy, does not
appear. t The ancient Assyrians sold tlieir beauties by an annual auction. The pr'ces
were applied by way of portions to the more homely. By this contrivance all ot both
sorts were disposed of in marriage.

164

MARRIAGE.

honour, and keep her husband;' in every variety of health, for
tune, and condition ; and both stipulate, ' to forsake aU others,
and to keep only unto one another, so long as they both shall
live.' This promise is caUed the marriage vow ; is witnessed
before God and the congregation ; accompanied -with prayers
to Alniighty God for his blessing upon it ; and attended with
such circumstances of devotion and solemmty, as place the ob
ligation of it,, and the guUt of violalmg it, nearly upon the same
foundation -with that of oaths.
The parties by this vow engage their personal fideUty express
ly and specificaUy ; they engage Ukevdse to consuk and pro
mote each other's happiness; the wiie, moreover, promises
obedience to her husband. Nature may have made and left
the sexes of the human species nearly equal in their faculties,
and perfectly so in their rights ; but to guard against those com
petitions which equality, or a contested superiority, is ahnost
sure lo produce, the Christian scriptures enjoin upon the wife
that obedience which she here promises, and in terms so peremp
tory and absolute, that it seems to extend to every thing not
cruninal, or not entirely inconsistent with the woman's happi
ness. 'Let the wife,' says St Paul, 'be subject to her own hus
band in every thmg.' — ' The ornament of a meek and quiet spn-
it,' says the Apostle Peter, speaking of the duty of wives, ' is, in
the sight of God, of great price.' No words ever expressed the
true merit of the female character so well as these.
The condition of human Ufe -will not permit us to say, that
no one can conscientiously marry, who does not prefer the per
son at the altar to all other men or women in the world : but we
can have no difficulty in pronouncing (whether we respect the
end of the institution, or the plain terms in which the contract
is conceived), that whoever is conscious, at the time of his mar
riage, of such a dislike to the woman he is about to marry, or
of such a subsisting attachment to some other woman, that he
cannot reasonably, nor does in fact, expect ever to entertain an
affection for his future -wife, is guUty, when he pronounces the
marriage vow, of a direct and deUberate prevarication; and
that, too, aggravated by the presence of those ideas of re
ligion, and of the Supreme Being, which the place, the ritual,
and the solemnity of the occasion, cannot fail of bringing to his
thoughts. "The same likewise of the woman. This charge
must be imputed to all, -iflio, from mercenary motives, mai-ry
file objects of their aversion and disgust; andUke-wise to those

MARRIAGE. 165
who desert, from any motive whatever, the object of their affec
tion, and, without being able to subdue that affection, marry
another. The crime of falsehood is also incurred by thfe man, who in
tends, at the time of his marriage, lo commence, renew, or con
tinue a personal commerce -with any other woman. And the
parity of reason, if a wife be capable of so much guilt, extends
to her.
The marriage vow is violated,
I. By adultery.
II. By any behaviour which, knowingljr, renders the life of
the other miserable; as desertion, neglect, prodigality, drunk
enness, peevishness, penuriousness, jealousy, or any levity of
conduct, which administers occasion of jealousy.

A late regulation in the law of marriages, in this country, has
made the consent of the father, if he be living, of the mother,
if she survive the father, and remani unmarried, or of guardians,
if both parents be dead, necessary lo the marriage of a person
under twenty-one years of age. By the Roman law, the con
sent et avi et patris was required so long as they lived. In
France, the consent of parents is necessary lo the marriage of
sons, until they attain to thirty years of age ; of daughters, un
tU twenty-five. In HoUand, for sons lUl twenty-five ; for daugh
ters, tiU twenty. And this distinction between the sexes ap
pears to be weU founded, for a woman is usuaUy as properly qu£d-
ified for the domestic and interiour duties of a -wife or moth
er at eighteen, as a man is for the business of the world, and
the more arduous care of providing for a famUy, at Iwemy-
one. The constitution also of the human species indicates the same
distinction. *
* Cum vis prolem pronreandi diutius hsereat in mare quam in fojniina, populi
niamerus nequaquam minuetur, si serius venerem colere inceperint viri.

( 166 )
CHAPTER IX.
OF THE DUTY OF PARENTS.
That virtue, which confmes its beneficence within the waUs
of a man's own house, we have been accustomed to consider
as little better than a more refined selfishness ; and yet it will
be confessed, that the subject and matter of this class of duties
are inferiour to none in utUity and importance : and where, it
may be asked, is virtue the most valuable, but where ii does
the most good ? What duty is the inost obUgatory, but that
on which the most depends ? And where have we happiness
and misery so much m our power, or liable lo be so affected by
our conduct, as in our own famUies ? It will also be acknowl
edged, that the good order and happiness of the world are up
holden, whilst each man appUes hunself to his own concerns
and the care of his own famUy, to which he is present, than if
every man, from an excess of mistaken generosity, should
leave Ms o-wn business, to undertake his neighbour's, which
he must always manage with less knowledge, conveniency,
and success. If, therefore, the low estimation of these -rirtues
be weU founded, it must be owing not to their inferiour impor
tance, but to some defect or impurity in the motive. And m-
deed it cannot be denied, but that it is in the power of associ
ation so to unite our chUdren's interest with our own, as that
we shaU often pursue both from the same motive, place both
in the same object, and with as little sense of duty in one pur
suit as in the other.' Where this is the case, the judgment above
stated is not far from the truth. And so often as we find a
soUcitous care of a man's own famUy, in a total absence or ex
treme penm-y of every other virtue, or interfermg with other
duties, or directing its operation solely to the temporal happi
ness of the chUdien, placing that happuiess and amusement
in indulgence whUst they are .young, or in advancement of
fortune when they grow up, there is reason to believe, that
this is the case. In this way, the common opinion concerning
these duties may be accounted for and defended. If we look
to the subject of them,' we perceive them to be indispensable :
if we regard the motive, we find them often not very meritori
ous. Wherefore, although a man seldom rifles liigh in our

DUTY OF PARENTS, 167
esteem who has -nothing to recommend him beside the care of
his own'famUy, yet we always condemn the neglect of this
duty with the utmost severity : both by reason of the manifest
and immediate mischief which we see arising from this neglect,
and because it argues a want not only of parental affection,
but of those moral principles wMch ought to come in aid of
that affection where it is wanting. And if, on the other hand,
our praise and esteem of these duties be not proportioned to
the good they produce, or to the indignation with which we
resent the absence of them, it is for this reason, that virtue is
the most valuable, not where it produces the most good, but
where it is the most wanted ; which is not the case here ; be
cause its place is often supphed by mstincts, or involuntary as
sociations. Nevertheless, the ofiices of a parent may be dis^
charged fi-om a consciousness of their obUgation, as weU as
other duties ; and a sense of this obligation is sometimes neces
sary lo assist the stunulus of parental affection ; especially in
stations of life, in which the wants of a famUy cannot be sup
plied without the continual hard labour of the father, and
without his refraining from many indulgences and recreations,
which unmarried men of like condition are able to purchase.
Where the parental affection is sufficiently strong, or has fewer
difficulties to surmount, a principle of duty may stUl be want
ed lo dnecl and regulate its exertions ; for, otherwise, it is apt
to spend and waste itself in a womanish fondness for the per
son of the chUd ; an improvident attention lo his present ease
and gratification ; a pernicious facihty and compliance with
his humours; an excessive and superfluous care to provide
the externals of happiness, with little or no attention to the in
ternal sources of virtue and satisfaction. UniversaUy, wher
ever a parent's conduct is prompted or directed by a sense of
duty, there is so much virtue.
Having premised thus much concerning the place which
parental duties hold ui the scale of human virtues, we proceed
to state and explain the duties themselves.
When moralists tell us, that parents are bound to do all
they can for their children, they tell us more than is true ;
for, at that rate, every expense which might have been spared,
and every profit omitted which might have been made, would
be criminal.
The duly of parents has its limits, Uke other duties ; and

168 DUTY OP PARENTS.
admits, if not of perfect precision, at least of mles definite
enough for application.
These rules may be explained under the several heads of
. m,aintenance, education, and a reasonable provision for
the child's happiness in respect of outward condition.
I. Maintenance.
The wants of chUdren make it necessary that some person
maintain them ; and, as no one has a right to burthen others
by his act, it follows, that the parents are bound to undertake
this charge themselves. Beside this plain inference, the affec
tion of parents to their chUdren, if it be instinctive, and the
provision wMch nature has prepared in the person of the
mother for the sustentation of the infant, concerning the exist
ence and design of which there can be no doubt, are manifest
mdications of the (Uvine wUl.
Hence we learn the guilt of those who run away from their
famUies, or (what is much the same), in consequence of idle
ness or drunkenness, throw them upon a parish ; or who leave
them destitute at theii- death, when, by lUligence and frugality,
they might have laid up a provision for their support : also of
those, who refuse or neglect the care of their bastard offspring,
abandoning them to a condition in which they must either
perish or become burthensome to others ; for the duty of main
tenance, Uke the reason upon which it is founded, extends to
bastards, as weU as to legitimate chUdren.
The Christian scriptures, although they concern themselves
Uttle with maxims of prudence or economy, and much less
authorize worldly-mindedness or avarice, have yet declared in
expUcit terms, their judgment of the obhgation of this duty :
' If any provide not for his own, especiaUy for those of his own
household, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an in
fidel;' (1 "Tim. V. 8.) he hath disgraced the Christian profes
sion, and fallen short in a duty which even iofrdels acknowl
edge. II. Education.
Education, in the most extensive sense of the word, may
comprehend every preparation that is made in our youth for
the sequel of our lives : and in this sense I use it.
Some such preparation is necessary for children of aU con
ditions, because, without it, they must be miserable, and proba
bly wiU be vicious, when they grow up, either from want of the
means of subsistence, or from want of rational and inoffensive

DUTY OF PARENTS. 169
occupation. In civilized life, every thing is effected by art and
skUl. Whence a person who is provided with neither (and nei
ther can be acquired without exercise and instruction) wiU be
useless ; and he that is useless wUl generaUy be at the same
time mischievous to the community. So that to send an un
educated child into the world, is injurious to the rest of man
kind ; it is little better than to turn out a mad dog or a -wild
beast into the streets.
In the inferiour classes of the community, this principle con
demns the neglect of parents, who do not inure their children
betimes to labour and restraint, by providing them with appren
ticeships, services, or other regular employment, but who suffer
them to waste their youth in idleness and vagrancy, or to be
take themselves lo some lazy, trifling, and precarious caUing :
for the consequence of ha-vmg thus tasted the sweets of natu
ral hberty, at an age when their passion and relish for it are at
the highest, is, that they become incapable for the remainder
of their lives of continued industry, or of persevering attention
to any thing ; spend their time in a miserable struggle between
the importunity of want, and the irksomeness of regular appli
cation ; and are prepared to embrace every expedient, which
presents a hope of supplying theU necessities without confui-
ing them to the plough, the loom, the shop, or the counting-
house. In the middle orders of society, those parents are most re
prehensible, who neither quaUfy their chUdren for a profession,
nor enable them to live -without one ; * and those in the high
est, who, fi-om indolence, indulgence, or avarice, omit lo pro
cure their chUdren those Uberal attainments, which are neces
sary to make them useful in the stations to which they are des-
tmed. A man of fortune, Vi^ho permits his son lo consume the
season of education in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting
horse-races, assembhes, or other unedifying, if not vicious, di
versions, defrauds the community of a benefactor, and be
queaths them a nuisance. Some, though not the same, pre
paration for the sequel of their lives, is necessary for youth of
every description : and therefore for bastards,' as weU as for chil
dren of better expectations. Consequently, they "who leave the
education of their bastards to chance, contenting themselves
* Amongst the Athenians, if the parent did not put his child into a way of
getting a livelihood, the child was not bound to make provision for the parent
when old and necessitous.
VOL. Ill, 22

170 DUTY OF PARENTS.
¦with making provision for their subsistence, desert half their
duty. IIL A rfeasonable provision for the happiness of a child, in
respect of outward condition, requires three things ; a situation
suited to his habits and reasonable expectations ; a competent
provision for the exigencies of that situation ; and a probable
security for his virtue.
The two first articles wiU vary with the condition of the pa
rent. A situation somewhat approaching in rank and condi
tion to the parent's own ; or, where that is not practicable, sim
ilar to what other parents of hke condition provide for their
chUdren, bounds the reasonable, as weU as (generaUy speak
ing) the actual expectations of the child, and therefore con
tains the extent of the parent's obligation.
Hence, a peasant satisfies his duty, who sends out his chU
dren, properly instracted for their occupation, to husbandry, or
to any branch of manufacture. Clergymen, lawyers, physi
cians, officers in the army and navy, gentlemen possessmg
moderate fortunes of inheritance, or exercising trade in a large
or liberal way, are required by the same rale to provide their
sons with Ifearned professions, commi.^sions in the army or na-
-yy, places in pubUc offices, or reputable branches of merchan
dize. Providing a chUd with a situation, includes a competent
supply for the expenses of that situation, until the profits of it
enable the chUd to support himseff. Noblemen and gentlemen
of high rank' and fortune may be bound to transmit an inher
itance to the representatives of their famUy, sufficient for then-
support without the aid of a trade or profession, lo which there
is Uttle hope that a youth, who has been flattered with other
expectations, -wUl apply himself with diligence or success. In
these parts of the world, pubhc opinion has assorted the mem
bers of the community into four or five general classes, each
class comprising a great variety of employments and profes
sions, the choice of wMch must be committed to the private
discretion of the parent.* AU that can be expected from pa-
* The health and virtue of a child's future life are considerations so superiovu-
to all others, that whatever is likely to have the smallest influence upon these,
deserves the parent's first attention. In respect of health, agriculture, and all
active, rural, and out-of-door employments, are to be preferred to manufactures,
and sedentary occupations. In respect of virtue, a course of dealings in which
the advantage is mutual, in which the profit on one side is coimected with the
benefit of tlie other, (which is the case in trade, and all serviceable art or labour)
is mete favouiatle to the moral character, than callings in which one man's gain

DUTY OF PARENTS. 171
rents as a duty, and therefore the only rale which a moralist
can deliver upon the subject, is, that they endeavour to pre
serve their children in the class in wliich they are born, that
is to say, in which others of similar expectations are accustom
ed lo be placed ; ahd that they be careful to confine then hopes
and habits of indulgence to objects which wiU continue to be
attainable. It is an Ul-judged thrift, in some rich parents, to bring up
their sons to mean employments, for the sake of sa-ving the
charge of a more expensive education : for these sons, when
they become masters of their liberty and fortune, wiU hardly
continue m occupations by which they think themselves degra
ded, and are seldom qualified for any thing better.
An attention, in the first place, to the exigencies of the chil
dren's respective conditions in the world; and a regard, in the
second place, to their reasonable expectations, always postpo
ning the expectations lo the exigencies when both cannot be
satisfied, ought to guide parents in the disposal of their fortunes
after their death. And these exigencies and expectations must
be measured by the standard which custom has established ;
for there is a certain appearance, attendance, estabUshment, and
mode of living, which custom has annexed to the several ranks
and orders of civU life (and which compose what is called de
cency), together with a certain society, and particular pleasures
belonging to each class : and a young person, who is with
held from sharing in these for want of fortune, can scarcely be
said to have a fair chance for happiness ; the indignity and
mortification of such a seclusion being what few tempers can
bear, or bear with contentment. And as to the second consid
eration, of what a chUd may reasonably expect from his parent,
is another man's loss ; in which what you acquire is acquired without equivalent,
and parted with in distress ; as in gaming, and whatever partakes of gaming,
and in the predatory profits of war. The foUowing distinctions also deserve notice.
A business, like a retail trade, in which the profits are small and frequent, and
accruing from the employment, furnishes a moderate and constant engagement
to the mind, and so far suits better with the general disposition of mankind, than
professions which are supported by fixed salaries, as stations in the church,
army, navy, revenue, public offices, &c. or wherein the profits are rr^de in large
sums, by a few great concerns, or fortunate adventures : as- in many branches of
wholesale and foreign merchandize, in which the occupation is 'neither so con-
fitant, nor the activity so kept alive by immediate encouragement. For security,
manual arts exceed merchandize, Eind such as supply the wants of mankind are
better than those which minister to their pleasure. Situations which promise
an early settlement in marriage, are on many accounts to be chosen before those
which require a longer waiting for a larger establishment.

172 DUTY OF PARENTS,
he wUl expect what he sees aU or most others in siniUar cir
cumstances receive ; and we can hardly call expectations un
reasonable, which it is impossible to suppress.
By virtue of this rule, a parent is justified in making a dif
ference between his children according as they stand in greater
or less need of the assistance of his fortune, in consequence of
the difference of their age or sex, or of the situations in which
they are placed, or the various success which they have met
¦with. On account of the few lucrative employments whicJi are
left to the female sex, and by consequence the little opportunity
they have of adding to their income, daughters ought lo be
the particular objects of a parent's care and foresight ; and as
an option of marriage, from which they can reasonably expect
happiness, is not presented to every woman who deserves it,
especially in times in which a licentious celibacy is in fashion
¦\vitli the men, a father should endeavour to enable his daugh
ters to lead a single life with independency and decorum, even
though he subtract more for that purpose from the portions of
his sons than is agreeable to modern usage, or than they ex
pect. But when the exigencies of then- several situations are pro
vided for, and not before, a parent ought to admit the second
consideration, the satisfaction of his children's expectations ;
and upon that principle to prefer the eldes^ son to the rest, and
sons to daughters : which constitutes the right, and the whole
right, of primogeniture, as weU as the only reason for the pref
erence of one sex to the other. The preference, indeed, of the
first born has' one pubhc good effect, thai if the estate were
divided equaUy ainongst the sons, it would probably make them
aU idle ; whereas, by the present i-ule of descent, it makes only
one so ; which is the less evU of the two. And it must farther
be observed on the part of the sons, that if the rest of the com
munity make it a i-ule to prefer sons to daughters, an indivi
dual of that community ought to guide himself by the same
rule, upon principles of mere equaUty. For, as the son suffers
by the rule, in the fortune he may expect in marriage, it is but
reasonable that he should receive the advantage of it in his
own inherkance. Indeed, whatever the rule be, as to the
preference of one sex to the other, marriage restores the equal
ity. And as money is generaUy more convertible to profit,
find more likely to promote industry, in the hands of men

DUTY OF PARENTS. 173
ilian of women, the custom of this country may properly be
complied with, when it does not interfere with the weightier
reason explained in the last paragraph.
The point of the chUdren's actual expectations, together
with the expediency of subjecting the Ulicit commerce of the
sexes lo every discom-agement which it can receive, makes
the difference between the claims of legitimate children and of
bastards. But neither reason will m any case justify the
leavmg of bastards to the world, without provision, education,
or profession ; or, what is more cruel, without the means of
continuing in the situation to which the parent has mtroduced
them ; which last is, to leave them to inevitable misery.
After the first requisite, namely, a provision for the exigen
cies of his situation, is satisfied, a parent may dimmish a
chUd's portion, in order to punish any flagrant crime, or to
punish contumacy and want of fUial duty m instances not other
wise criminal : for a chUd who is conscious of bad behaviour,
or of contempt of his parent's wUl and happiness, cannot rea
sonably expect the same instances of his mimificence.
A child's vices may be of that sort, and his vicious habits so
incorrigible, as to afford much the same reason for beUeving
that he wUl waste or misemploy the fortune put into his power,
as if he were mad or idiotish, in which case a parent may
treat him as a madman or an idiot ; that is, may deem it suf
ficient to provide for his support, by an annuity equal to his
wants and innocent enjoyments, and which he may be restrain
ed from alienating. This seems to be the only case m which
a disinherison, nearly absolute, is justifiable.
Let not a father hope lo excuse an inofficious disposition of his
fortune, by allegmg, that 'everymanmaydo what he wUl with
his own.' AU the truth which this expression contains is, that
Ms discretion is under no control of law ; and that his will, how
ever capricious, wUl be valid. This by no means absolves his
conscience from the obUgations of a parent, or imports that he
may neglect, without injustice, the several wants and expecta
tions of his family, in order to gratify a whim or pique, or indulge
a preference founded in no reasonable distinction of merit or
situation. Although in his intercourse with his famUy, and in
the lesser endearments of domestic life, a parent may hot always
resist his partiahty lo a favourite chUd (which, however, should
be both avoided and concealed, as oftentimes productive of last
ing jealousies and discontents) ; yet, when he sits dov/n to make

174 DUTY OF PARENTS.
his wiU, these tendernesses must give place to more manly de
liberations. A father of a family is bound to adjust his economy with a
view to these demands upon his fortune ; and untU a sufficiency
for these ends is acquired, or in due time probably wiU be ac
quired (for in human affairs probability ought to content us),
frugality and exertions of mdustry are duties. He is also jus
tified m the declining expensive liberaUty ; for to take from those
who want, in order to give to those who want, adds nothing to
the stock of public happiness. Thus far, therefore, and no far
ther, the plea of ' chUdien,' of ' large famUies,' ' charity begins
at home,' (fcc. is an excuse for parsimony, and an answer lo
those who soUcit om bounty. Beyond this point, as the use of
riches becomes less, the desire of laying up should abate pro-
portionably. The trath is, our chUdren gain not so much as
we imagine, in the chance of this world's happiness, or even of
its external prosperity, by setting out in it with large capitals.
Of those who have died rich, a great part began with little.
. And, in respect of enjoyment, there is no comparison between
a fortune, which a man acquii-es by weU-appUed industry, or
by a series of successes in Ms business, and one found in his
possession, or received from another.
A principal part of a parent's duty is stUl beMnd, viz. the
using of proper precautions and expedients^ m order to form
and preserve his chUdi-en's virtue.
To us, who believe that in one stage or other of our existence
viitue wiU conduct to happiness, and -vice terminate ui misery ;
and who observe withal, that men's virtues and vices are, to
a certain degree, produced or affected by the management of
their youth, and the situations in which they are placed ; to
all who attend to these reasons, the obligation to consult a chUd's
virtue wUl appear to differ in nothing from^that by which the
parentis bound to provide for his maintenance _ or fortune.
The chUd's interest is concerned in the one means of happiness
as weU as in the other ; and both means are equaUy, and al
most exclusively, in the parent's power.
For this purpose, the first pomt to be endeavom-ed after is, to
impress upon chUdren the idea of accou,ntableness, that is, lo
accustom them to look forward to the consequences of their ac
tions in another world ; which can only be brought about by
the parents visibly acting with a view to the&s consequences
themselves. Parents, to do them justice, are seldom sparing in

DUTY OP PARENTS. 175
lessons of virtue and rehgion ; in admonitions which cost little,
and which profit less ; whUst their example exhibits a conlm-
ual contradiction of what they leach. ^ A father, for instance,
wUl, with much solemnity and apparent earnestness, warn
his son against idleness, excess in, drinking, debauchery, and
extravagance, who himself loiters about aU day without employ
ment ; comes home every night drunk ; is made infamous in
his neighbourhood by some proffigate connexion ; and wastes
the fortune which should support, or remain a provision for his
family, ift riot, or luxury, or ostentation. Or he wUl discourse
gravely before his chUdren of the obligation and importance of
revealed reUgion, whUst they see the most frivolous and often
times feigned excuses detain him from its reasonable and
solemn ordinances. Or he will set before them, perhaps, the
supreme and tremendbus authority of Almighty God ; that
such a being ought not to be named, or even thought upon,
witheut sentiments of profound awe and veneration. This
may be the lecture he delivers to his family one hour ; when
the next, if an occasion arise to excite Ms anger, Ms mnlh, or
his siuprise, they wUl hear him treat the name of Deity with
the most irreverent profanation, and sport with the terms and
denunciations of the Christian religion, as if they were the
language of some ridiculous and long-exploded superstition.
Now, even a child is not to be imposed upon by such mockery.
He sees through the grimace of this counterfeited concern for
virtue. He discovers that his parent is acting a part ; and re
ceives his admonitions as he would hear the same maxims
from the mouth of a player. And when once this opinion has
taken possession of the child's mind, it has a fatal effect upon
the parent's influence in aU subjects ; even those, in which he
himself may be smcere and convinced. Whereas a sUenl, but
obser-vable, regard to the duties of reUgion, m the parent's own
behaviour, wiU take a sure and gradual hold of the chUd's dis
position, much beyond formal reproofs and chidings, which,
being generally prompted by some present provocation, discov
er more of anger than of prmciple, and are always received
-with a temporary alienation and disgust.
A good parent's first care is lo be virtuous himself ; his se
cond, to make his -vutu^g as easy and engaging to those about
him as their nature wUl admit. Virtue itself offends, when
coupled with forbidding manners. And some virtues may be
urged to such excess, or brought forward so unseasonably, as

176 DUTY OF PARENTS.
to discourage and repel those who observe and who are acted
upon by them, instead of exciting an incUnation to imitate and
adopt them. Young minds are particularly liable to these un
fortunate impressions. For instance, if a father's economy
degenerate into a minute and teasing parsimony, it is odds but
that the son, who has suffered under it, set out a sworn enemy
to all rules of order and fi-ugality. If a father's piety be morose,
rigorous, and tinged with melancholy, perpetually breaking in
upon the recreation of Ms famUy, and surfeiting them with the
language of reUgion upon aU occasions, there is danger lest the
son carry from home -with him a settled prejudice against seri
ousness and religion, as inconsistent with every plan of a pleas
urable Ufe ; and turn out, when he mixes with the world, a
character of levity or dissoluteness.
Something like^vise may be done towards the correcting or
improving of those early inclinations which chUdren discover,
by disposing them into situations the least dangerous to their
particular characters. Thus, I would make choice of a retired
life for young persons addicted to licentious pleasures ; of pri
vate stations for the proud and passionate ; of Uberal profes
sions, and a town Ufe, for the mercenary and sottish : and not,
according to the general practice of parents, send dissolute
youths into the army ; penurious tempers to trade ; or make a
crafty lad an attorney ; or flatter a vain and haughty temper
with elevated names, or situations, or caUings, to which the
fashion of the world has annexed precedency and distinction,
but in which his disposition, without at aU promoting his suc
cess, wUl serve both to multiply and exasperate his disappoint
ments. In the same way, that is, with a view lo the particu
lar frame and tendency of the pupil's character, I would make
choice of a pubUc or private education. The reserved, timid,
and indolent, wUl have their faculties called forth and their
nerves invigorated- by a public education. Youths of strong
spkils and passions wUl be safer in a private education. At
our pubhc schools, as far as 1 have observed, more literature is
acquUed, and more vice ; quick parts are cultivated, slow ones
are neglected. Under private tuition, a moderate proficiency
in juvenile learmng is seldom exceeded, "but with more certain
ty attained.

( 177 )
CHAPTER X.
THE RIGHTS OF PARENTS.
The Rights of Parents result from their duties. If it be the
duly of a parent>to educate his children, to form them for a life
of usefulness and virtue, to provide for them situations needful
for their subsistence and suited- to their circumstances, and to
prepare them for those situations ; he has a right to such
authority, and in support of that authority lo exercise such
discipline, as may be necessary for these purposes. The law
-of nature acknowledges no other foundation of a parent's right
over his children, beside his duly towards them. (I speak now
of such rights as may be enforced by coercion). This relation
confers no property in their person," or natural dominion over
them, as is commonly supposed.
Since it is, in general, necessary to determine the destination
of chUdren, before thejr are capable of judging of their own hap
piness, parents have a right to elect professions for them.
As the mother herself owes obedience to the father, her au
thority must submit to his. In a competition, therefore, of com
mands, the father is lo be obeyed. In case of the death of either,
the authority, as weU as duty, of both parents, devolves upon
the surviver.
These rights, always following the duty, belong likewise to
guardians ; and so much of them as is delegated by the
parents or guardians, belongs to tutors, schoolmasters, &c.
From this principle, ' that the rights of parents result from
their duty,' it foUows, that parents have no natural right over
the lives of their chUdren, as was absurdly aUowed to Roman
fathers ; nor any to exercise unprofitable severities ; nor to com
mand the commission of crimes ; for these rights can never be
wanted for the purpose of a parent's duty.
Nor, for the same reason, have parents any right to seU their
children into slavery. Upon which, by the way, we may ob
serve, that the chUdren of slaves are not, by the law of nature,
born slaves ; for, as the master's right is derived to him through
the parent, it can never be greater than the parent's own.
Hence also it appears, that parents not only pervert, but
exceed, their just authority, when they consult their own am-
voL. HI. 23

178 DUTY OF CHILDREN.
bition, interest, or prejudice, at the manifest expense of their
children's happiness. Of which abuse of parental power, the
foUOwing are instances ; the shultmg up of daughters and
younger sons in nunneries and monasteries, in order to preserve
entire the estate Md dignity of the famUy ; or the using of any
arts, either of kindness or unkindness, to induce them to make
choice of this way of Ufe theriiselves ; or, in countries where
the clergy are prohibited from marriage, puttmg sons into the
church for the same end, who are never likely either to do or
receive any good in it, sufficient to compensate for this sacrffice ;
the urging of chUdren to marriages from which they are averse,
with the -view of exalting or enriching the famUy, or for the
sake of connecting estates, parties, or interest ; or the opposing
of a marriage, in which the child would probably find his hap
piness, from a motive of pride or avarice, of family hostUity, or
personal pique.

CHAPTER XL
THE DUTY OF CHILDREN.
The Duty of ChUdren may be considered,
I. During childhood.
II. After they have attained to manhood, but continue in
their father's family.
III. After they have attained to manhood, and have left
their father's famUy.
I. During Childhood.
CMldren must be supposed tp have attained to some degree
of discretion before they are capable of any duly. There is
an interval of eight or nine years between the dawning and
ihe maturity of reason, in which it is necessary to subject the
inclination of chUdren to many restraints, and direct their ap
plication to many employments, of the tendency and use of
which they cannot judge ; for wMch cause, the submission of
cMldren during this period must be ready and implicit,- with
an exception, however, of any manifest crime which may be
commanded them.

DUTY OF CHILDREN. 179
II. After they have attained to mctnhood, but continue
in their father's family.
If cMldren, when they are grown up, voluHtaiily continue
members of ^their father's ftimUy, they are bound, beside the
general duty of gratitude to their parents, to observe such regu
lations of the famUy as the father shall appoint ; contribute
their labour to its support, if required ; and confme themselves
to such expenses as he shaU aUow. The obUgation would be
the same, if they were admitted into any other famUy, or re
ceived support from any other hand.
III. After they have attained to manhood, and have left
their father's family.
In this stale of the relation, the duty to parents is simply
the duty of gratitude ; not different, in kind, from that which
we owe to any other benefactor ; in degree, just so much ex
ceeding other obUgations, by how much a parent has been
a greater benefactor than any other fiiend. The services and
attentions, by which filial gratitude may be testified, can be
comprised within no enumeration. It wUl show itself m com
pliances -with the wiU of the parents, however contrary to the
chUd's ovwi taste or judgment, provided it be neither crimmal,
nor tolaUy inconsistent -with his, happiness ; in a constant en
deavour to promote their enjoyments, prevent their wishes, and
soften their anxieties, in small matters as weU as in great ; in
assisting them in their business ; in contributing to their sup
port, ease, or better accommodation, when their circumstances
requue it ; in affording them our company, in preference to
more amusing engagements ; in wailing upon then sickness
or decrepitude; in bearing with the infirmities of their health
or temper, with the peevishness and complaints, the unfashion
able, negligent, austere manners, and offensive habits, which
often attend upon advanced years : for where must old age
find indulgence, if it do not meet with it in the piety and pajr-
tiaUly of cMldren ?
The most serious contentions between parents and their chU
dren are those commonly which relate to inarriage, or to the
choice of a profession.
A parent has, in no case, a right to destroy Ms child's happi
ness. If -it be trae, therefore, that there exist such personal
and exclusive attachments between individuals of different
sexes, that the possession of a particular man or woman in
marriage be reaUy necessary for the chUd's happiness ; or, if

180 DUTY OF CHILDREN.
it be true, that an aversion to a particular profession may be
involuntary and unconquerable ; then it will follow, that pa
rents, where this is the case, ought not to urge then authority,
and that the child is not bound to obey it.
The point is, to discover how far in any particular instance,
this is the case. Whether the fondness of lovers ever contin
ues with such intensity, and so long, that the success of their
desnes constitutes, or the disappointment affects, any considera
ble portion of their happiness, compared with that of their
whole hfe, it is ¦difficult to determine ; but there can be no
difficulty in pronouncing, that not one half of those attachments,
which young people conceive with so much haste and passion,
are of this sort. I believe it also to be true, that there are few
aversions to a profession, which resolution, perseverance, activ
ity in going about the duty of it, and, above aU, despair of
changing, wUl not subdue : yet there are some such. Where
fore, a chUd who respects his parents' judgment, and is, as he
ought to be, tender of their happiness, owes, at least, so much
deference to their wUl, as to try fairly and faithfully, in one
case, whether time and absence will not cool an affection
which they disapprove ; and, in the other, whether a longer
continuance in the profession which they have chosen for
him may not reconcUe hun to it. The whole depends upon
the experiment being made on the child's part with sincerity,
and not merely with a design of compassing his purpose at
last, by means of a simulated and temporary compUance.
It is the nature of love and hatred, and of aU violent affections,
to delude the mind with a persuasion that we shaU always
continue lo feel thern as we feel them at present : Ave cannot
conceive that they will either change or cease. Experience
of simUar or greater changes in ourselves, or a habit of giving
credit to what our parents, or tutors, or books teach us, may
control this persuasion ; otherwise it renders youth very uii-
tractable ; for they see clearly and truly that it is unpossible
they should be happy under the circumstances proposed to
them, in then present state of mmd. After a smcere but inef
fectual endeavour, by the child, to accommodate his inclina
tion lo his parent's pleasm-e, he ought not to suffer in his pa
rent's affection, or in his fortunes. The parent, when he has
reasonable proof of this, should acquiesce : at all events, the
child is then at liberty to provide for his own happiness.
Parents have no right to urge their children upon marriages

DUTY OF CHILDREN. 181
to which they are averse ; nor ought, in any shape, lo re
sent the children's disobedience to such commands^ This is
a different case from opposing a match of incUnation, because
the child's misery is a much more probable consequence ; it
being easier to live without a person that we love, than -with
one whom we hate. Add to this, that compulsion in marriage
necessarily leads to prevarication ; as the reluctant parly prom
ises an affection, which neither exists, nor is expected to take
place ; and parental, like aU human authority, ceases at the
point where obedience becomes criminal.
In the above-mentioned, and in all contests between parents
and chUdren, it is the parent's duty to represent to the chUd
the consequences of his conduct ; and it will be found his best
poUcy to represent them -with fidelity. It is usual for parents
to exaggerate these descriptions beyond probabiUty, and by ex
aggeration to lose aU credit -with their chUdren ; thus, m a great
measm-e, defeating their own end.
Parents are forbidden to interfere, where a trust is reposed
personally in the son ; and where, consequently, the son was
expected, and by virtue of that expectation is obhged, to pursue
his o-wn judgment, and not that of any other : as is the case
with judicial magistrates in the execution of their office ; with
members of the legislature in then votes ; with electors, where
preference is lo be given to certain prescribed qualifications.
The son may assist his own judgment by the advice of his
father, or of any one whom he chooses to consult : but his
own judgment, whether it proceed upon knowledge or author
ity, ought finaUy to determine his conduct.
The duty of children to their parents was thought worthy
to be made the subject of one of the Ten Commandments ;
and, as such, is recognized by Christ, together with the rest
of the moral precepts of the Decalogue, in various places of
the Gospel.
The same Divine Teacher's sentiments, concerning the re
lief of indigent parents, appear sufficiently from that manly
and deserved indignation, with which he reprehended the
wretched casuistry of the Jewish expositors, who, under the
name of a tradition, had contrived a method of evadmg this
duty, by converting, or pretending to convert, to the treasury
of the temple, so much of their property as their distressed pa
rent might be eiititied by their law to demand.
Agreeably to this law of Nature and Christianity, children

182 DUTY OF CHILDREN.
are, by the law of England, bound lo support, as weU their
immediate parents, as their grandfather and grandmother, or
remote ancestors, who stand in need of support.
Obedience lo parents is enjoined by St Paul to the Ephe-
sians : ' Childi-en, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is
right ; ' and to the Colossians : ' Children, obey your parents
in aU things, for this is weU pleasing unto the Lord.' *
By the Jewish law, disobedience to parents was in some ex
treme cases capital. Deut. xxi. 18.

• Upon which two phrases, ' this is right,' and ' for this is well pleasing unto
the Lord,' being used by St Paul in a sense perfectly parellel, we may observe,
that moral rectitude, and conformity to the divine will, were, in his apprehension,
the same.

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK IV.

DUTIES TO OURSELVES.

This division of the subject is retained merely for the sake
of method, by which the writer and the reader are equally
assisted. To the subject itself it imports nothing ; for, the
obligation of aU duties being fundamentaUy the same, it mat
ters little under what class or title any of them are considered.
In strictness, there are few duties or crimes which terminate
in a man's self; and so far as others are affected by their op
eration, they have been treated of in some article of the pre
ceding book. We have reserved, however, to this head, the
rights of self-defence ; also the consiAexsXion of drunkenness
and suicide, as offences against that care of our faculties', and
preservation of our person, which we account duties, and eaU
duties to ourselves.

CHAPTER 1.
THE RIGHTS OF SELF-DEFENCE.
It has been asserted, that in a state of nature we might law
fully defend the most insignificant right, provided it were a per-

184 RIGHTS OF SELF-DEFENCE.
feet determinate right, by any extremities which the obstinacy
of the aggressor rendered necessary. Of this 1 doubt ; be
cause I doubt whether the general rule be worth sustaining at
such an expense ; and because, apart from the general conse
quence of yielding to the attempt, it cannot be contended to be
for the augmentation of human happiness, that one man
should lose his Ufe, or a limb, rather than another a penny
worth of his property. Nevertheless, perfect rights can only
be distinguished by then value ; and it is impossible to ascer
tain the value at which the liberty of using extreme violence
begins. The person attacked must balance, as weU as he can,
between the general consequence of yielding, and the partic
ular effect of resistance.
However, this right, if it exist in a state of nature, is sus
pended by the estabUshment of cinl society ; because thereby
other, remedies are provided against attacks upon our property,
and because it is necessary to the peace and safety of the com
munity, that the prevention, punishment, and redress of in
juries be adjusted by pubUc laws. Moreover, as the individ
ual is assisted in the recovery of his right, or of a compensa
tion for his right, by the pubUc strength, it is no less equitable
than expedient, that he should submit to pubUc arbitration
the kind, as weU as the measure, of the satisfaction whicli he
is to obtain.
There is one case in which aU extremities are justifiable ;
namely, when our life is assaulted, and it becomes necessary
for our preservation to kiU the assaUant. This is evident in a
state of nature ; unless it can be shown, that we are bound to
prefer the aggressor's life to our own, that is to say, to love our
enemy better than ourselves, which can never be a debt of jus
tice, nor any where appears to be a duty of charity. Nor is
the case altered by our living in civU society ; because, by
the supposition, the laws of society cannot interpose to protect
us, nor, by the nature of the case, compel restitution, This
liberty is restrained to cases in which no other probable means
of preserving our life remain, as flight, caUing for assistance,
disarming the adversary, &c. The rule holds, whether the
danger proceed from a voluntary attack, as by an enemy, rob
ber, or assassin ; or from an involuntary one, as by a mad
man, or person sinking in the water, and dragging us after
him ; or where two persons are reduced to a situation in which
one or both of them must perish; as in a shipwreck, where

DRUNKENNESS. 185
two seize upon a plank, which wiU support only one: al
though, to say the truth, these extreme cases, which happen
seldom, and hardly, when they do happen, admit of moral
agency, are scarcely worth mentioning, much less discussing
at length.
The instance wliich approaches the nearest to the preserva
tion of life, and which seems to justify the same extremities, is
the defence of chastity.
In aU other cases, it appears to me the safest to consider the
taldng away of life as authorized by the law of the land ; and
the person who takes it away, as in the situation of a mmis-
ler or executioner of the law.
In which view, homicide, in England, is justifiable,
1. To prevent the commission of a crime, which, when com
mitted, would be punishable with death. Thus, it is lawful
to shoot a highwayman, or one attempting lo break into a
house by night; but not so if the attempt be made in the day
time : which particular distinction, by a consent of legislation
that is remarkable, obtained also in the Jewish law, as well as
m the laws both of Greece ahd Rome.
2. In necessary endeavours to carry -^Ihe law into execution,
as in suppressing riots, apprehending malefactors, preventing
escapes, &c.
I do not know that the law holds forth its authority to any
cases beside those which fall within one or other of the above
descriptions, or that, after the exception of immediate danger to
life or chastity, the destruction of a human being can be inno
cent without that authority.
The rights of war are not here t9,ken mto the account.

CHAPTER IL
DRUNKENNESS.
Drunkenness is either actual or habitual ; just as it is one
thmg to be drunk, and another to be a drunkard. What we
shaU deliver upon the subject must principaUy be understood
of a habit of intemperance ; although part of the guilt and
danger described may be applicable to casual excesses ; and
VOL. III. 24

186 DRUNKENNESS.
idl of it, in a certain degree, forasmuch as every habit is only
a repetition of single instances.
The mischief of drunkenness, from which we are to com
pute the guilt of it, consists in the foUowing bad effects :
1. It betrays most constitutions either to extravagances of
anger, or sins of lewdness.
2. It disquaUfies men for the duties of their station, both by
the temporary disorder of their faculties, and at length by a
constant incapacity and stupefaction.
3. It is attended -with expenses, which can often be iU
spared. 4. It is sure to occasion uneasiness to the famUy of the
drunkard. 5. It shortens life.
To these consequences of drunkenness must be added the
pecuUar danger and mischief of the example. Drunkenness
is a social festive vice ; apt, beyond any vice that can be men
tioned, to draw in others by the example. The drinker col
lects his circle ; the circle naturaUy spreads ; of those who are
drawn within it, many become the corrapters and centres of sets
and circles of their own ; every one countenancing, and perhaps
emulating the rest, tUl a whole neighbourhood be infected from
the conlagibn of a single example. This account is confirmed
by what we often observe of drunkenness, that it is a local
-vice ; found lo prevaU in certam countries, m certain districts
of a country, or in particular towns, without any reason to be
given for the fashion, but that it had beert mtroduced by some
popular examples. With this observation upon the spreading
quahty of drunkenness, let us connect a remark which be
longs lo the several evU effects above recited. The conse
quences of a vice, like the symptoms of a disease, though they
be aU enumerated in the description, seldom aU meet in the
same subject. In the instance under consideration, the age
and temperatme of one drunkard may have little to fear from
mflamraations of lust or anger ; the fortune of a second may
not be injured by the expense ; a thnd may have no famUy to
be disquieted by his irregularities ; and.a fomth may possess a
constitution fortified against the_poison of strong liquors. But
if, as we always ought lo do, we comprehend within the con
sequences of our conduct the mischief and tendency of the ex
ample, the above circumstances, however fortunate for the in
dividual, wUl be found to vary the guUt of his mtemperance

DRUNKENNESS. IB7
less, probably, than he supposes. The moralist may expose
lulate with him thus : Although the waste of time and money
be of smaU importance to you, it may be of the utmost to
some one or other whom your society corrupts. Repeated or
long continued excesses, which hurt not your health, may be
fatal to your companion. Although you have neither wffe,
nor chUd, nor parent, to lament yom- absence from home, or
expect your return to it with lerrour ; other famUies, m which
husbands and fathers have been invited to share m your ebrie-
ty, or encouraged lo imitate it, may justly lay their misery or
ruin at your door. This wUl hold good, whether the person
seduced be seduced immediately by you, or the vice be propa
gated from you lo him through several mtermediate examples,
AU these considerations it is necessary to assemble, to judge
truly of a vice, which usuaUy meets with mUder names and
more mdulgence than it deserves,
I omit those outrages upon one another, and upon the
peace and safety of the neighbourhood, in which drunken re
vels pften end ; and also those deleterious and maniacal effects
which strong liquors produce upon particular constitutions ; be
cause, in general propositions concerning drunkenness, no con
sequences should be included, but what are constant enough
to be generaUy expected.
Drunkenness is repeatedly forbidden by St Paul: 'Be
not drunk with wine, wherem is excess.' ' Let us walk hon
estly as in the day, not in rioting and di-unkenness.' ' Be not
deceived : neither fornicators, nor drunkards, nor revUers, nor
extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God,' Eph. v. 18.
Rom. xiU. 13. 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10. The same Apostle Ukewise
condemns drunkenness, as pecuUarly inconsistent with the
CMistian profession : ' They that be dranken, are drunken in
the night ; but let us, who are of the day, be sober.' ' 1 Thes.
V. 7, 8. We are not concerned with the argument ; the words
amount to a proMbition of drunkenness ; and the authority is
conclusive. It is a question of some unportance, how far drunkenness ig
an excuse for the crimes wMch the drunken person commits.
In the solution of this question, we wUl, first suppose the
di'unken person lo be altogether deprived of moral agency, that
is to say, of all reflection and foresight. In this condition, it
is evident that he is no more capable of guilt than a madnian ;
although, like him, 'he may be extremely mischievous. The

188 DRUNKENNESS.
only guUt with which he is chargeable was mcui-red at the
time when he voluntarily brought himself into this situation.
And as every man is responsible for the consequences which
he foresaw, or might have foreseen, and for no other, thiSjguUt
will be in proportion to the probabUity of such consequences en
suing. From which principle results the foUowing rule, viz.
that the guUt of any action in a drunken man bears the same
proportion to the guUt of the like action m a sober man, that
the probabiUty of its bemg the consequence of drunkenness
bears lo absolute certainty. By virtue of this rale, those vices
which are the known effects of drunkenness, either in general,
or upon particular constitutions, are, in all, or in men of such
constitutions, nearly as criminal as if committed with aU then
faculties and senses about them.
If the privation of reason be only partial, the guUl wiU be of
a mixed nature. For so much of Ms self-government as the
drunkard retains, he is as responsible then as g,t any other time.
He is entitled to no abatement beyond the strict proportion in
which his moral faculties are impaired. Now I caU the guUt
of the crime, if a sober man had committed it, the whole guUt.
, A person in the condition we describe, incurs part of this at
the instant of perpetration ; and by bringing hunself into such a
condition, he incm-red that fraction of the remaining part, which
the danger of this consequence was of an mlegral certainty. For
the sake of iUustration, we are at liberty lo suppose, that a man
loses half his moral faculties by drunkenness : this leaving him
but half his responsibility, he incurs, when he commits the ac
tion, half of the whole guilt. We wiU also suppose that it was
known beforehand, that it was an even chance, or half a cer
tainty, that this crune would foUow his getting drunk. This
makes him chargeable with half of the remainder ; so that,
altogether, he is responsible in three fomths of the guUt which
a sober man would have mcurred by the same action.
I do not mean that any real case can be reduced to numbers,
or the calculation be ever made with arithmetical precision :
but these are the principles, and this the rule, by which our
general admeasurement of the guilt of such offences should be
regulated. The appetite for intoxicating liquors appears lo me lo be al
most always acquired. One proof of which is, that it is apt
to return only at particular times and places ; as after dinner,
in the evening, on the market day, at the market town, in such

DRUNKENNESS. 189
a company, at such a tavern. And this may be the reason
that, if a habit of diunkenness be ever overcome, it is upon
some change of place, situation, company, or profession. A
man sunk deep in a habit of drunkenness, wiU, upon such oc
casions as these, when he finds himself loosened from the as
sociations which held him fast, sometunes make a plunge, and
get out. In a matter of so great importance, it is weU worth
while, where it is in any degree practicable, to change our hab
itation and society, for the sake of the experiment.
Habits of drunkenness commonly lake their rise either fiom
a fondness for, and connection with, some company, or some
companion, already addicted to this practice ; ¦which affords an
almost irresistible invitation to take a share in the indulgences
which those about us are enjoying with so much apparent re
lish and dehght : or from want of regular employment, which
is sure to let in many superfluous cravings and customs, and
often this amongst the rest : or, lastly, from grief, or fatigue,
both which strongly solicit that reUef wMch inebriating liquors
administer, and also furnish a specious excuse for complying
with the inclination. But the habit, when once set in, is con
tinued by different motives from those to which it owes its or-,
igin. Persons addicted to excessive drinking suffer, in the in
tervals of sobriety, and near the retm-n of their accustomed in
dulgence, a fainthess and oppression circa prcecordia, which
it exceeds the ordinary patience of human nature to endure.
This is usaUy relieved for a short time by a repetition of the
same excess ; and to this relief, as to the removal of every long-
continued pain,, they who have once experienced it, are urged
almost beyond the power of resistance. This is not aU : as
the liquor loses its stimulus, the dose must be increased, to
reach the same pitch of elevation, or ease ; which increase pro-
porlionably accelerates the progress of aU the maladies that
drunkenness brmgs on. Whoever reflects upon the violence
of the cra-vmg m the advanced stages of the habit, and the fa
tal termination to which the gi-atification of it leads, wUl, the
moment he perceives m hunseff the first symptoms of a grow
ing inclmation lo intemperance, coUect his resolution lo this
pomt ; or (what perhaps he wiU find his best security) arm
hunself -with some peremptory rule, as to the times and quan
tity of his indulgences. I own myself a friend lo the laymg
down of rales to ourselves of this sort, and rigidly abiding by
them. They may be exclaimed against as stiff, but they are

190 SUICIDE.
often salutary. Indefinite resolutions of abstemiousness are
apt to yield to extraordinary occasions ; and extraordinary
occasions lo occur perpetuaUy. Whereas, the stricter the rule
is, the more tenacious we grow of it ; and many a man Avill
abstain rather than break his rale, who would not easUy be
brought lo exercise the same mortification from higher motives.
Not to mention, that when our rule is once known, we are pro
vided with an answer to every importunity.
There is a difference, no doubt, between convivial intem
perance, and that solitary sottishness which waits neither for
company nor invitation. But the one, I am afraid, commonly
ends m the other : and this last is the basest degradation lo
wMch the faculties and dignity of human nature can be re
duced.

CHAPTER III.
SUICIDE.
There is no subject in morality in which the considera
tion of general consequences is more necessary than in this
of suicide. Particular and extreme'^ cases of suicide may be
imagmed, and may arise, of which it would be difficult to as
sign the particulai- miscMef, or from that consideration alone to
demonstrate the guUt ; and these cases have been the chief
occasion of confusion and doubtfulness in the question : albeit
this is no more than what is sometimes true of the most ac
knowledged vices. I could propose many possible cases even
of murder, which, if they were detached from the general
rule, and governed by their own particular consequences alone,
it would be no easy undertakmg lo prove crnnmal.
The true question m the argume^it is no other than this :
May every man who chooses lo destroy Ms Ufe, innocently do
so ? Limit and distinguish the subject as you can, it wUl come
at last to this question.
For, shaU we say that we are then at liberty to comnnt
suicide, when we find our contmuance in life become useless
to mankind? Any one who pleases may make himself use
less ; and melancholy mmds are prone to thmk themselves
useless, when they reaUy are not so. Suppose a law were pro-

SUICIDE, 191
mulgated, aUowuig each private person to destroy every man
he met, whose continuance in the world he judged to be use
less ; who would not condemn the latitude of such a rule ?
Who~does not perceive' that it amounts to a permission to
commit murder at pleasure ? A stmUar rule, regulating the
rigjits over our own lives, would be capable of the same ex
tension. Beside which, no one is useless for the purpose of
this plea, but he who has lost every capacity and opportunity of
being useful, together with the possibility of recovering any
degree of either ; which is a state of "such complete destitution
and despan, as cannot, I beheve, be predicated of any man
living. •
Or rather, shaU we say that lo depart voluntarUy out of hfe,
is lawful for those alone who leave none to lament their death ?
If this consideration is to be taken into the account at aU, the
subject of debate -wUl be, not whether there are any to sorrow
for us, but whether their sorrow for our death wiU exceed that
which we should suffer by continumg to live. Now this is e,
comparison of thmgs so mdeterminate m their nature, capa
ble of so different a judgment, and concernmg which the
judgment wiQ differ so much, accordmg to the state of the
spirits, or the pressm-e of any present anxiety, that it would
vary Utile, in hypochondriacal constitutions, from an unquali
fied Ucense to commit suicide, whenever the distresses which
men felt, or fancied, rose high enough to overcome the pain
and di-ead of death. Men are never tempted lo destroy them
selves but when under the oppression of some grievous uneasi
ness : the restrictions of the rale, therefore, ought to apply to
these cases. But what effect can we look for from a rule
which proposes to weigh our own pam agamst that of anoth
er ; the misery that is felt, against that which is only conceiv
ed ; and m so corrapt a balance as the party's own distemper
ed imagination?
¦ In lie manner, whatever other rule you assign, it wiU ul-
tnnalely bring us to an indiscruninate toleration of suicide, in
aU cases in which there is danger of its being committed. It
remains, therefore, to inquire what woidd be the effect of such
a toleration : evidently, the loss of many Uves to the commu
nity, of which some might be useM or important ; the affiic-
tion of many famUies, and the consternation of all ; for man
kind must live in continual alarm for the fate of their friends
and dearest relations, when the restraints of religion and mo-

192 SUICIDE.
rality are withdrawn ; when every- disgust which is powerful
enough to tempt men to suicide shaU be deemed sufficient to
justify it ; and when the follies and vices, as weU as the in
evitable calamities, of human life, so often make existence a
burden. A second consideration, and perfectly distinct from the for
mer, is this : by contmuing in the world, and m the exercise
of those virtues which remain -within our power, we retain the
opportunity of meUorating our condition in a future state.
This argument, it is true, does not in strictness prove suicide
to be a crime ; but if it supply a motive to dissuade us from
committmg it, it amounts to much the same thing. Now
there is no condition in hmnan Ufe which is not capable of
some virtue, active or passive. Even piety and resignation
under the sufferings to which we are caUed, testify a truth
and acquiescence in the divme counsels, more acceptable, per
haps, than the most prostrate devotion ; afford an edifying ex
ample lo aU who observe them ; and may hope for a recom
pense among the most arduous of human virtues. These
qualities are always in the power of the iMserable ; indeed of
(lone but the miserable.
The two considerations above stated belong to aU cases of
suicide whatever. Beside wMch general reasons, each case
wiU be aggi-avated by its own proper and particiUar consequen
ces ; by the duties that are deserted ; by the clauns that are
defrauded ; by the loss, affliction, or disgrace which our death,
or the manner of it, causes our famUy, kmdred, or friends ; by
the occasion we give to many to suspect the smcerily of our
moral and reUgious professions, and, together -with oms, those of
.all others ; by the reproach we draw upon om order, caUing, or
sect ; in a word, by a great variety of evU consequences attend
ing upon pecuUar situations, with some or other of which eve
ry actual case of suicide is chargeable.
I refram fiom the common topics of ' deserting our post,'
' throwing up our trust,' ' rushing uncaUed into the presence of
om Maker,' with some others of the same sort, not because
they are common (for that rather affords a presumption m their
favour), but because I do not perceive m them much argument
lo which an answer may not easUy be given.
Hitherto we have pmsued upon the subject the Ught of nature
alone ; taking however into the account, the expectation of a fii-
tme existence, without which om- reasoning upon this, as indeed

_ BUlct&E, 193
ail reasoning upon moral questions, is vain. We proceed to
inquire, whether any thing is to be met with in scripturej
which may add lo the probabiUty of the conclusions we have
been endeavouring to support. And here I acknowledge, that
there is lo be found neither any express delerinination of the
question, nor sufficient evidence lo prove that the case of sui
cide was in the contemplation of the la-W which prohibited mur^
der. Any inference, therefore, which we deduce from scrips
lure, can be sustained only by construction and' implication :
that is to say, although they, who were authorized to instruct
mankmd, have not decided a question, which never, so far as
appears to us, came before them ; yet, I think, they have left
enough to constitute a presumption how they would have de^
cided it, had it been proposed or thought of.
What occurs to this purpose is contained in the foUowing ob
servations :
1. Human Ufe is spoken of as a terfh assigned or prescribed
to us : ' Let us run with patience the race that is set before us.'
— ' I have finished my course,' — ' That I may finish my course
with joy.' — 'Ye have need of patience, that, after ye have
done the wiU of God, ye might receive the promise.' — These
expressions appear tome inconsistent with the opmion, that^
we are at Uberty to determine the duration of om- lives for our^
selves. If this were the case, with what propriety could life
be caUed a race that is set before us ; or, which is the same
thing, ' our coitrse ;' that is, the course set out or appointed lo
us ? The remaining quotation is eqUaUy strong — ' 'That, after
ye have done the wUl of God, ye might receive the promises.'
The Most natural meaning that can be given to the Avords,
' after ye have done the wiU of God,' is, after ye have discharg
ed the duties of Ufe so long as God is pleased to continue you
in it. According lo which interpretation, the text miUtates
strongly against suicide ; and they who reject this paraphrase,
will please lo propose a belter.
2. There is not one quaUty which CMist and his Apostles
inculcate upon their foUowers so often, or so earnestly, as that
of patience under affliction. Now this virtue would have been
m a great measure superseded, and the exhortations to it nught
have been spared, if the disciples of his religion had been at
liberty lo quit the world as soon as they grew weary of the iU
usage which they received in it. When the evils of life pressed
sore, they were to look forward to a 'far more exceeding and
VOL. III. 25

194 SUICIDE-
eternal weight of glory ; ' they were to receive them ' as chas-
lenings of the Lord,' as intimations of his care and love : by
these and the like reflections they were to support and improve
themselves under their sufferings ; but not a hint has any
where escaped of seeking relief in a voluntaiy death. The
foUov/ing text in particular strongly combats aU impatience of
distress, of which the greatest is that which prompts to acts of
suicide : — ' Consider him that endured such contradiction of
sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and famt m your
minds.' I would offer my comment upon this passage in
these two queries : first, Whether a christian convert, who had
been impeded by the continuance and urgency of his suffer
ings to destroy his own life, would not have been thought by
the author of this text ' to have been weary,' to have ' faint
ed in his mind,' to have faUeii off from that example which
is here proposed to the meditation of Christians in distress ?
And yet, secondly. Whether such an act would not have been
attended with aU the circmnstances of mitigation, which can
excuse or extenuate suicide at this day ?
3. The conduct of the Apostles, and of the Christians of
the apostolic age, affords no obscure indication of their senti
ments upon this point. They lived, we are sure, in a confu-m-
ed persuasion of the existence, as weU as of the happiness, of
a future state. They experienced in this world every extrem
ity of external mjury and distress. To die, was gain. The
change which death brought with it was, in their expectation,
infinitely beneficial. Yet it never, that we can find, entered
into the intention of one of them to hasten this change by an
act of suicide ; from which it is difficult to say what motive
could have so universally withheld them, except an apprehen
sion of some unlawfulness in the expedient.
Having stated what we have been able lo coUect in opposition
to the lawfidness of suicide, by way of dii-ect proof, it seems
unnecessary to open a separate controversy with aU the argu
ments which are made use of to defend it ; which would only
lead lis into a repetition of what has been offered already.
The following argument, however, being somewhat more arti
ficial and imposing than the rest, as weU as distinct from the
general consideration of the subject, cannot so properly be pass
ed over. If we deny to the individual a right over his own
life, it seems impossible, it is said, to reconcile with the law of
nature that right which the slate claims and exercises over the

SUICIDE. 195
lives of its subjects, when it ordains or inflicts capital punish
ments. For this right, like all other just authority in the
state, can only be derived from the compact and virtual con
sent of the citizens which compose the state ; and it seems
selfevident, if any principle in morality be so,, that no one, by
Ms consent, can transfer to another a right which he does not
possess himself. It wiU be equally difficult to account for the
power of the state to commit its subjects to the dangers of
war, and to expose their lives without scruple in the field of
battle ; especially in offensive hostilities, in which the privi
leges of self-defence cannot be pleaded with any appearance of
truth : and stUl more difficult lo explain, how in such, or in
any circumstances, prodigahly of hfe can be a virtue, if the
preservation of it be a duty of our nature.
This whole reasoning sets out fi-om one errour, namely,
that the stale acquires its right over the life of the subject from
the subject's own consent, as a part of what originally and
personally belonged lo himself, and which he has made over
to his governours. The truth is, the state derives this right
neither from the consent of the subject, nor through the medi
um of that consent ; but, as I may say, immediately from the
donation of the Deity. Finding that such a power m the
sovereign of the community is expedient, if not necessary, for
the community itself, it is justly presumed lo be the will of
God, that the sovereign should possess and exercise it. It is
this presumption which constitutes the right ; it is the same
indeed which constitutes every other : and if there were the
like reasons to authorize the presumption in the case of pri
vate persons, suicide would be as justifiable as war, or capital
executions. But, untU it can be shown that the power over
human life may be converted to the same advantage in the
hands of individuals over their own, as in those of the state
over the lives of its subjects, and that it may be entrusted with
equal safety to both, there is no room for arguing, from the ex
istence of such a right in the latter, to the toleration of it m the
former.

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK V.

DUTIES TOWARDS GOD.

CHAPTER I.
DIVISION OF THESE DUTIES.
In one sense, every duty is a duly towards God, since it is
his wiU which makes a duty : but there are some duties of
which God is the object, as weU as the author ; and these are
pecuUarly, and in a more appropriated sense, called duties to
wards God.
That silent piety, which consists in a habit of tracing out
the Creator's wisdom and goodness in the objects around us,
or in the history of his dispensations ; of referring the blessings
we enjoy to his bounty, and of resorting in our distresses lo
his succour ; may possihly be more acceptable lo the Deity
than any visible expressions of devotion whatever. Yet these
latter (which, although they may be expeUed, are not super
seded by the former) compose the only part of the subject
which admits of direction or disquisition fi-om a moralist.
Our duty towards God, so far as it is external, is divided
into worship and reverence. God is the immediate object of
both ; and the difference between them is, that the one con
sists in action, the other in forbearance. When we go to
church on the Lord's day, led thither by a sense of duty to-

DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 197
wards God, we perform an act of worship ; when, from the
same motive, we rest in a journey upon that day, we discharge
a duly of reverence.
Divine worship is made up of adoration, thanksgiving, and
prayer. But, as what we have lo offer concerning the two
former may be observed of prayer, we shaU make that the
titie of the foUowing Chapter^, and the direct subject of our
consideration,

CHAPTER n.
OF THE DUTY AND OP THE EFFICACY OF PRAYER,
SO FAR AS THE SAME APPEAR FROM THE
LIGHT OF NATURE.
When one man desnes to obtain any thing of another,
he betakes himself to entreaty : and this may be ohserved of
mankind in all ages and countries of the world. Now what
is universal, may be called natural ; and it seems probable
that God, as our supreme govemour, should expect that towards
himself, which, by a natural impulse, or by the irresistible
order of our constitution, he has prompted us to pay lo every
other being on whom we depend.
The same may be said of thanksgivmg.
Prayer Ukewise is necessary lo keep up in the mmds of
mankmd a sense of God's agency in the universe, and of their
own dependency upon him.
Yet, after aU, the duty of prayer depends upon its efficacy :
for I confess myself unable to conceive, how any man can
pray, or be obliged to pray, who expeets nothmg from his
prayers ; but who is persuaded, at the lime he utters his re
quest, that it cannot possibly produce the smaUest impression
upon the being to whom it is addressed, or advantage to
himself. Now the efficacy of prayer imports that we obtain
somethmg in consequence of praying, which we should not
have received without prayer ; against aU expectation of which,
the foUowing objection has been often and seriously aUeged :
— ' If it be most agreeable to perfect wisdom and justice that
we should receive AvTiat we desire, God, as perfectly wise and

198 DUTY AND EFFICACY OP PRAYER,
just, wiU give it to us without asking ; if it be not agreeable to
these attributes of his nature, our entreaties cannot move him
to give it us, and it were impious to expect that they should.'
• In fewer words, thus : ' if what we request be fit for us, we
shall have it without praying; if it be not fit for us, we
cannot obtain it by praying.' This objection admits but of
one answer, nainely, -that it may be agreeable to perfect wis
dom lo grant that to om prayers, which it would not have
been agreeable to the same -wisdom, to have given us -with
out praying for. But what virtue, you wiU ask, is there in
prayer, which should make a favour consistent with wisdom,
which would not have been so without it? To this question,
which contains the whole difficulty attending the subject, the
foUowing possibUities are offered in reply :
1. A favom- granted to prayer may be more apt, on that
very account, to produce good effects upon the person obliged.
It may hold in the divine bounty, what experience has raised
into a proverb in the coUation of human benefits, that what is
obtained without asking, is oftentimes received without grati
tude. 2. It may be consistent with the wisdom of the Deity to
withhold his favours tiU they be asked for, as an expedient to
encourage devotion in his rational creation, in order thereby to
keep up and circulate a knowledge and sense of their depen
dency upon him,.
3. Prayer has a natural tendency to amend the petitioner
himself; and thus to brmg him -within the rules which the
wisdom of the Deity has prescribed to the dispensation of his
favours. If these, or any other assignable suppositions, serve to remove
the apparent repugnancy between the success of prayer and the
character of the Deity, it is enough ; for the question with the
petitioner is not from which, out of many motives, God may
grant his petition, or in what particular manner he is moved
by the supphcations of his creatures ; but whether it be consistent
with his nature lo be moved at all, and whether there be any
conceivable motives which may dispose the divine wiU to grant
the petitioner what he wants, in consequence of his praying
for it. It is sufficient for the petitioner, that he gain his end.
It is not necessary to devotion, perhaps not very consistent
with it, 'that the circuit of causes, by which his prayers prevail,
should be known lo the petitioner, much less that they should

DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRA-VER. 199
be present to his imagination at the time. AU that is necessary
is, that there be no impossibUity apprehended in the matter.
Thus much must be conceded to the objection ; that prayer
cannot reasonably be offered to God with aU the same views,
with which we oftentunes addiess om- entreaties to men (views
which are not commonly or easUy separated from it), viz. lo
inform them of our wants and desires ; to tease them out by
importunity ; to work upon then indolence or compassion, in
order to persuade them lo do what they ought to have done
before, or ought not to do at aU.
But suppose there existed a prince, who was known by his
subjects to act, of his own accord, always and invariably for
the best ; the situation of a petitioner, who solicited a favour or
pardon from such a prince, would sufficiently resemble ours :
and the question with him, as with us, would be, whether, the
character of the prince being considered, there remained any
chance that he should obtain from him by prayer, what he
would not have received without it. I do not conceive that
the character of such a prince would necessarily exclude the
effect of his subjects' prayers ;-for, when that prince reflected,
that the earnestness and humUity of the suppUcation had gen
erated in the suppliant a frame of mind, upon which the par
don or favour asked would produce a permanent and active
sense of gratitude ; that the granting of it to prayer would put
others upon praying to him, and by that means preserve that
love and submission of his subjects, upon which love and sub
mission their o-wn happiness, as weU as his glory depended ;
that, besides that the memory of the particular kindness would
be heightened and prolonged by the anxiety with which it had
been sued for, prayer had in other respects so disposed and
prepared the mind of the petitioner, as lo render capable of
future services Mm who before was unqualified for any : might
not that prince, I say, although he proceeded upon no other
considerations than the strict rectitude and expediency of the
measure, grant a favour or pardon to this man, which he did
not grant to another, who was loo proud, too lazy, or too busy,
loo indifferent whether he received it or not, or too msensible
of the sovereign's absolute power to -give or lo withhold it, ever
to ask for it? or even to the philosopher, who, from an opinion
of the fiuitlessness of all addresses to a prince of the character
which he had formed lo himself, refused in his o-wn example,
and discouraged in others, all outward retmns of gratitude,

200 btfTY And EFFICACY OF praYeK.
acknowledgments of duty, or application lo the sovereign's
mercy or bounty ; the disuse of wliich (seeing affections do not
long subsist which are never expressed) was followed by a decay
of loyalty and zeal amongst his subjects, and threatened lo
end inaforgetfulness of his rights, and a contempt of his au
thority ? These, together -with other assignable considerations,
and some perhaps inscrutable, and even inconceivable by the
persons upon whom his wUl was to be exercised, might pass in
the mind of the prince, and move his counsels ; whilst nothmg,
in the mean time, dwelt in the petitioner's thoughts but a sense
of his own grief and wants ; of the power and goodness fi-om
which alone he -was lo look for relief ; and of his obligation to
endeavour, by future obedience, to render that person propi
tious to his happiness, in whose hands, and at the disposal of
whose mercy, he found himself to be.
The objection to prayer supposes, that a perfectly wise being
must necessarUy be inexorable : but where is the proof, that
inexorability is any part of perfect wisdom • especiaUy of that
wisdom which is explained to consist in bringing about the
most beneficial ends by the wisest means ?
The objection Ukewise assumes another principle, which is
attended with considerable difficulty and obscurity, namely,
that upon every occasion there is one, and only one, mode of
actmg for the best ; and that the divine will is necessarily
determined and confined lo that mode : both which positions
presume a knowledge of universal nature, much beyond what
We are capable of attaining. Indeed, when we apply to the
divine nature such expressions as these, ' God must always do
what is right,' ' God cannot, fi-om the moral perfection and
necessity of his nature, act otherwise than for the best,' we
ought to apply them with much indetermmatenesg and re
serve ; or rather, we ought to confess, that there is something
in the subject out of the reach of our apprehension ; for, in
our apprehension, to be under a necessity of acting according
to any rule, is mconsislent with free agency ; and it makes
no difference, which we can understand, whether the necessity
be internal or external, or that the rale is the i-ule of perfect rec
titude. But efficacy is ascribed to prayer without the proof, we are
told, which can nlone in such a subject produce conviction, the
confirmation of experience. Concerning the appeal to expe
rience, I shaU content myself with this remark, that if prayer

DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 20 1
were suffered lo disturb the order of second causes appointed
in the universe too much, or lo produce its effects with the
same regularity that they do, it woidd mtroduce a change into
human affaus, which in some iinportant respects would be
evidently for the worse. Who, for example, would labour, if
his necessities could be supphed with equal certainty by prayer ?
How few would contain within any bounds of moderation
those passions and pleasures, which at present are checked
only by disease, or the dread of it, if prayer would infaUibly
restore health ? In short, if the efficacy of prayer were so con-
slant and observable as to be relied upon before-hand, it is
easy to foresee that the conduct of mankind would, in pro
portion lo that reliance, become careless and disorderly. It is
possible, m the nature of thmgs, that our prayers may, in many
¦instances, be efficacious, and yet our experience of their effica
cy be dubious and obscine. Therefore, if the light of nature
instruct us by any other arguments to hope for effect from
prayer ; stiU more, if the scriptm-es authorize these hopes by
promises of acceptance; it seems not a sufficient reason for
caUing in question the reahty of such effects, that our observa
tions of them are ambiguous : especiaUy smce it appears
probable, that this very ambignity is necessary to the happi
ness and safety of human life.
But some, whose objections do not exclude aU prayer, are
offended with the mode of prayer in use amongst us, and
with many of the subjects, which are almost . universaUy m-
troduced mto public worship, and recommended to private
devotion. To pray for particiUar favours by name, is to dic
tate, it has been said, to divine wis,dom and goodness : to m-
tercede for others, especiaUy for whole nations and empires, is
stUl worse ; it is to presume that we possess such an interest
with the Deity, as to be able, by our apphcations, lo bend the
most important of his counsels ; and that the happiness of
others, and even the prosperity of communities, is to depend
upon this interest, and upon our choice. Now, how unequal
soever our knowledge of the divine economy may be to the
solution of this dUficulty, which requnes perhaps a compre
hension of the entire plan, and of aU the ends of God's moral
government, to explain satisfactorily, we can understand one
tMng concerning it, that is, after aU, nothing more than the
making of one man the instrument of happiness and misery
to another ; which is perfectly of a piece with the course and
VOL. III. 26

202 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER.
order that obtain, and which we must beUeye were mtended
to obtain, in human affairs. Why may we not be assisted
by the prayers of other men, who are beholden for our sup
port to their labour? Why may not our happiness be made
in some cases to depend upon the intercession, as it certainly
does in many upon the good offices, of our neighbom-s ? The
happiness and misery of great numbers we see oftentimes at
the disposal of one man's choice, or liable to be much affected
by his conduct : what greater difficulty is there in supposing,
that the prayers of an individual may avert a calamity from
multitudes, or be accepted to the benefit of whole communi
ties ?

CHAPTER III.
OF THE DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER, AS REP
RESENTED IN SCRIPTURE.
The reader ^viU have observed, that the reflections slated in
the preceding chapter, whatever truth and weight they may be
aUowed to contain, rise many of them no higher than to nega
tive arguments in favour of the propriety of addressing prayer
to God. To prove that the efficacy of prayers is not inconsis
tent with the attributes of the Deity, does not prove that prayere
are actually efficacious ; and in the want of that unequivocal tes
timony, which experience alone could afford to this point (but
which we do not possess, and have seen good reason why we
are not to expect), the light of nature leaves us lo controverted
probabiUlies, dra-wn'from the impulse by which mankind have
been almost universaUy prompted to devotion, and from some
beneficial purposes, which, it is conceived, may be belter an
swered by the audience of prayer than by any other mode of
communicating the same blessings. The revelations which we
deem authentic, completely supply this defect of natural reli
gion. They require prayer lo God as a duly ; and they con
tain positive assurance of its efficacy and acceptance. We
could have no reasonable motive for the exercise of prayer, with
out believing that it may avaU to the relief of our wants. This
belief can only be founded, either in a sensible experience of the
effect of prayer, or in promises of acceptance signified by divine

DUTY AND EFFICACY OP PRAYER. 203
authority. Our knowledge would have come to us in the for
mer way less capable, indeed,' of doubt, tut subjected lo the
abuses and inconveniences briefly described above : in the lat
ter way, that is, by authorizing significations of God's general
disposition to hear and answer the devout supplic^ions of his
creatures, we are encouraged to pray, but not to place such a
dependence upon prayer, as might relax other obUgations, or
confound the order of events and of human expectations.
The scriptures not only affirm the propriety of prayer in
general, but furnish precepts or examples wMch justify some
topics and some modes of prayer that have been thought ex
ceptionable. And as the whole subject rests so much upon
the foundation of scripture, I shall put do-wn at length texts
appUcable lo the five foUo-wing heads : lo the duty and effica
cy of prayer 'M general ; of prayer for particular favours by
name ; for public national blessings ; of intercession for oth
ers ; of the repetition of unsuccessful prayers.
1. Texts enjoining prayer in general : 'Ask, and it shaU
be given you ; seek, and ye shaU find.' — ' If ye, being evU,
know how to give good gifts unto your chUdren, how much
more shaU your father, which is in heaven; give good things
to them that ask him?' — ' Watch ye, therefore, and pray al
ways, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape aU those
things that shaU come to pass, and to stand before the Son of
Man.' — ' Serving the Lord, rejoicing in hope, patient in tribula
tion, continuing constant in prayer.' — ' Be careful for noth
ing, but m every thing by prayer and supplication, with
thanksgivmg, let your requests be made known unto God.' —
' 1 wiU, therefore, that men pray every vjhere, Uftmg up holy
hands without wrath and doubtmg.' — ' Pray without ceas
ing.' Matt. vii. 7, 11. Luke, xxi. 36. Rom. xn. 12. PhU. iv.
6. 1 Thess. V. 17. 1 Tun. u. 8. Add to these, that CMist's re
proof of the ostentation and proUxity of pharisaical prayers,
and his recximmendation lo his disciples of retirement and sim-
pUcity in theirs, together with his dictating a particular form
of prayer, aU- presuppose prayer to be an acceptable and avaU-
ing service.
2. Examples, of prayer for particular favours by name:
' For this thing (to wit, some bodUy infirmity, which he calls
" in a thorn given him by the flesh") I besought the Lord
thrice that it might depart from me.' — ' Night and day pray
ing exceedingly, that we might see your face, and perfect

204 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER.
that which is lacking in your faith.' 2 Cor. xU. 8. 1 Thess.
iU. 10.
3. Directions to pray for national or public blessings :
'Pray for the peace of Jerusalem,.' — ' Ask ye of the Lord
rain, in the time of the latter rain ; so the Lord shaU make
bright clouds, and give them showers of rain, to every one
grass in the field.' — ' I exhort, therefore, that first of aU, sup
plications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be
made for all men ; for kings, and for aU that are in authority,
that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in aU godUness
and honesty ; for this is good and acceptable in the sight of
God our Saviour.' Psalm cxxii. 6. Zech. x, 1, 1 Tun. U. 1,
2,3. 4. Examples of intercession, and exhortation to intercede for
others : ' and Moses besought the Lord his God, and said.
Lord, why doth thy wrath wax hot against thy people ? Re
member Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, thy servants. And the
Lord repented of the evil which he thought to do unto his
jjeople.' — 'Peter, therefore, was kept in prison, but prayer was
made without ceasing of the church unto God for him.' — 'For
God is my witness, that without ceasing, / m,ake m,ention
of you always in my prayers.' — ' Now I beseech you, breth
ren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the
Spirit, that ye strive together with me, in your prayers for
me.' — ' Confess your faults one to another, and pray one
for another, that ye may be healed: the effectual fervent
prayer of a righteous man avaUeth much.' Exod, xjcxU. 11.
Acts xii. 5. Rom. i. 9. xv. 30. James v. 16,
6. Declarations and examples authorizing the repetition of
unsuccessful prayer : 'And he spake a parable, unto them, to
this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint.' —
' And he left them, and went a-way again, and prayed ihe
tjiird time, saying fhe same words.' — 'For this thmg I be
sought the,Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. ' Luke
xviu. 1. Matt. xxvi. 44. 2 Cor. xU. 8. '
* The reformed churches of Christendom, sticking close in this article to
their guide, have laid aside prayers for the dead, as autliorized ,by no precept or
prtScedfent found in scripture. For the same reason they properly reject the in
vocation of spints ; as also because such invoc3,tiong suppose, in the saints vifholn
they address, a knowledge which can perceive what passes in diflFerent regipns
of the earth at the Same time. And they deem it too much to take for granted,
without the smallest intimation of sUch a thirtg in scripture, that any created
being possjesscs a faculty little short of that omniscience and omnipresence
which they ascribe to the Deity,

( 205 )

CHAPTER IV.
OF PRIVATE PRAYER, FAMILY PRAYER, AND PUBLIC)
WORSHIP.
Concerning these tMee descriptions of devotion, it is first of
aU to be observed, that each has its separate and pecuUar use ;
and therefore, that the exercise of one species of worship, how
ever regular it be, does not supercefle, or dispense with, the ob
Ugation of either of the other two.
I. Private Prayer is recommended for the sake of the fol
lowing advantages :
Private wants cannot always be made the subject of pubUc
prayer ; but whatever reason there is for praying at aU, there
is the same for making the sore and grief of each man's own
heart the business of his application to God. This must be
the office of private exercises of devotion, being imperfectly, if
at aU, practicable in any other.
Private prayer is generally more devout and earnest than
the share we are capable of taking in joint acts of worship ;
because it affords leisure and opportunity for the circumstan
tial recoUection of those personal wants, by the remembrance
and ideas of which the warmth and earnestness of prayer are
chiefly excited.
Private prayer, m proportion as it is usuaUy accompanied
with more actual thought and reflection of the petitioner's o-wn,
has a greater tendency than other modes of devotion lo revive
and fasten upon the mind the general impressions of reUgibn.
Solitude powerfuUy assists this effect. When a man finds
himself alone in communication with his Creator, Ms imagina
tion becomes fiUed with a conflux of awful ideas concerning the
universal agency, and invisible presence, of that Bemg ; con
cerning what is Ukely to become of himself; and of the su
perlative importance, of pro-viding for the happiness of his fti
ture existence, by endeavours to please him, who is the arbiter
of his destiny : reflections, which, whenever they gain admit
tance, for a season overwhelm aU others ; and leave, when
they depart, a solemnity upon the thoughts that wUl seldom
faU, in some degree, to affect the conduct of life.

206 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER.
Private prayer, thus recommended by its o-wn propriety,
and by advantages not attainable in any form of religious com
munion, receives a superiour sanction from the authority and
example of Christ. ' When thou prayest, enter into thy closet ;
and when thou hast shut the door, pray lo thy Father whicli
is in secret ; and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shaU re-
Ward thee openly.' — ' And when he had sent the multitudes
away, he went up into a mountg,in apart to pray.' Mall. vi.
6. xiv. 23.
II. Family Prayer.
The peculiar use of famUy piety consists in its influence up
on servants, and the young members of a fanuly, who want
sufficient seriousness and reflection to retire of their own accord
to the exercise of private devotion, and whose attention you
cannot easily command in public worship. The example al
so and authority of a father and master act in this way with
the greatest force ; for his private prayers, lo which his chU
dren and servants are not witnesses, act not at all upon them
as examples ; and his attendance upon public worship they wiU
readUy impute to fashion, to a care lo preserve appearances, lo
a concern for decency and character, and to many motives be
sides a sense of duty to God. Add to this, that forms of pubUc
worship, in proportion as they are more comprehensive, are al
ways less mleresling than famUy prayers ; and that the ardom-
of devotion is better supported, and the sympathy more easUy
propagated, iMough a small assembly, connected by the affec
tions of domestic society, than in the presence of a mixed con
gregation. III. Public Worship.
If the worship of God be a duty of reUgion, pubhc worship is
a necessary mstitution ; forasmuch as, without it, the greater
part of mankind would exercise no religious worship at aU.
These assemblies afford also, at the same time, opporluniles
for moral and religious instruction lo those who otherwise would
receive none. In aU Protestant, and in most Christian counties,
the elements of natural reUgion, and the important parts of the
evangelic history, are famUiar to the lowest of the people.
This competent degree and general diffusion of religious know
ledge amongst aU orders of Christians, wMch wiU appear a great
thing when compared -with the mteUectual condition of barba
rous nations, can fairly, I iMnk, be ascribed to no other cause
than the regular establishment of assembhes for divine worship ;

DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER, 207
in which either portions of scripture are recited and explained,
or the principles of Christian erudition are so constantly taught
in sermons, mcorporaled with liturgies, or expressed in extem--
pore prayer, as to imprint, by the very repetition, some know
ledge and memory of these subjects upon the most unqualified
and careless hearer.
The two reasons above stated bind aU the members of a
coimnunity to uphold pubhc Avorship by their presence and
example, although the helps and opportunities which it affords
may not be necessary lo the devotion or edification of aU ; and
to some may be useless : for it is easly foreseen, how soon re
Ugious assembhes would faU into contempt and disuse, if that
class of mankmd who are above seeking mstruction in them,
and want not that their own piety should be assisted by either
fonns or society in devotion, were lo -withdraw their attendance ;
especiaUy when it is considered, that aU who please are at Ub
erty to rank themselves of this class. This argument meets
the only serious apology that can be made for the absenting of
ourselves from public worship, '^Surely (some wiU say) I may
be excused fi-om gomg to church, so long as I pray at home ;
and have no .reason to doubt but that my prayers are as accep
table and efficacious in my closet, as in a cathedi-al : stUl less
can I thmk myself obUged lo sit out a tedious sermon, m order
to hear what is known already, what is belter learnt from books,
or suggested by meditation.' They, whose qualifications and
habits best supply to themselves all the effect of pubhc ordi
nances, wiU be the last to prefer this excuse, when they advert
to the general conseqiience of setting up such an exemption,
as weU as when they consider the turn which is sure lo be
given in the neighbomhood to their absence from public wor
ship. You stay from church, to employ the sabbath at home in
exercises and studies suited to its proper business : your next
neighbour stays from church, lo spend the seventh day less' re
ligiously than he passed any of the six, in a sleepy, stupid
rest, or at some rendezvous of drunkenness and debauchery,
and yet thmks that he is only imitatmg you, because you both
agree in not going to church. The same consideration should
overrule many smeiU scruples concerning the rigorous proprie
ty of some thmgs, which may be contained in the forms, or
admitted into the administration of the pubUc worship of our
communion ; ¦ for it seems impossible that even ' two or iM-ee
should be gathered together,' in any act of social worship, if

208 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER.
each one require from the rest an implicit submission to his ob
jections, and if no man wiU attend upon a reUgious service
¦which in any point contradicts his opinion of trath, or faUs
short of his ideas of perfection.
Beside the direct' necessity of public worship to the greater
part of every Christian community (supposing worship at all
to be a CM'istian duty), there are other valuable advantages
growing out of the use of religious assemblies, without being
designed in the institution, or thought of by the individual
who compose them.
1. Joining in prayer and praises to their common Creator
and Govemour, has a sensible tendency lo unite mankind to
gether, and to cherish and enlarge the generous affections.
'So many pathetic reflections are awakened by every exer
cise of social devotion, that most men, I beUeve, carry away
from public worship a better temper towards the rest of man
kind, than they brought with them. Sprung from the same
extraction, preparing together for the period of aU worldly dis
tinctions, reminded of their mutual infirmities and common
dependency, imploring and receiving support and suppUes from
the same great source of power and bounty, having aU one
interest to secure, one Lord to serve, one judgment, the supreme
object lo aU of then hopes and fears, lo look towards ; it is hard
ly possible, m this position, to behold manldnd as strangers,
competitors, or enemies ; or not to regard them as children of
the same famUy, assembled before their common parent, and
with some portion of the tenderness which belongs to the most
endearing of our domestic relations. It is not lo be expected,
that any single effect of this kind should be considerable or
lasting ; but the frequent return of such sentiments as the
presence of a devout congregation natm-ally suggests, will
graduaUy melt down the ruggedness of many unkind passions',
and may generate in time a permanent and productive be
nevolence, 2, Assembhes for the purpose of divine worship, placmg men
under impressions by which they are taught lo consider their
relation to the Beily, and lo contemplate those around them
with a view lo that relation, force upon their thoughts the na
tural equaUty of the human species, and thereby promote hu
mility and condescension in the highest orders Of the commu
nity, and inspire the lowest with a sense of their rights. The
distinctions of civU life are ahnost always insisted upon too much.

DUTY AND EEFICACY OF PRAYER, 209
and urged too far. Whate-ver, therefore, conduces fo restore
the level, by. quahfymg the dispositions which gi'ow out of
great elevation or depression of rank, improves the character
on both sides. Now things are made to appear Utile, by being
placed beside what is great. In which manner, superiorities,
that occupy the whole field of the imagination, wiU vanish or
shrink to their proper diminutiveness, when compared with the
distance by which even the Mghest of men are removed from
the Supreme Bemg, and this comparison is naturaUy introduced
by aU acts of joint worship. If ever the poor man holds up
Ms head, it is at church : if ever the rich man views him with
respect, it is there : and both will be the better, and the pubUc
profited, the oftener they meet in a situation, m wMch the con
sciousness of dignity m the one is .tempered and mitigated,
and the spirit of the other erected and confirmed. We recom
mend nothmg adverse to subordinations which are established
and necessary ; but. then it should be remembered, that subor
dination itself is an evU, bemg an evfl lo the subordinate who
are the majority, and therefore ought not to be carried a tittle
beyond what the greater good, the peaceable government of
the commumty, requires.
The pubhc worship of Christians is a duty of divine appomt-
ment, ' Where two or tMee,' says Chiist, ' are gathered to
gether in my name, there am I in the midst of them,' * This
in-vitation -wUl want notMng of the force of a command -with
those who respect the person and authority from which it pro
ceeds. Again, m the Epistle to the Hebrews, ' not forsaking
the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some
js;'t which reproof seems as appUcable to the desertion of our
public worsMp at this day, as to the forsaking the reUgious as
sembhes of Christians in the age of the Apostle, Independent
ly of these passages of scripture, a disciple of Christianity -will
hardly tMnk Mmself at Uberty to dispute a practice set on foot
by the inspired preachers of Ms reUgion, coeval with its insti
tution, and retained by every sect into wMch it has beeir since
divided, * Matt, xviii 20. f Hel), xTs5.
VOL. III. 27

( 210 )
CHAPTER V.
OF FORMS OF PRAYER IN PUBLIC WORSHIP.
Liturgies, or preconcerted forms of pubUc devotion, being
neither enjoined in Scripture, nor forbidden, there can be no
good reason for either receivmg or rejectmg them, but that of
expediency ; which expediency is to be gathered from a com
parison of the advantages and disadvantages attendmg upon
this mode of worship, -with those which usuaUy accompany ex
temporary prayer.
The advantages of a Ulurgy are these :
I. That it prevents absurd, extravagant, or impious address
es to God, which, m an order of men so numerous as the sa
cerdotal, the foUy and enthusiasm of many must always be m
danger of producing, where the conduct of the pubUc worship
is entrusted, without restramt or assistance, to the discretion
and abiUties of the officiating mmisler.
II. That it prevents the confusion of extemporary prayer, in
which the congregation being ignorant of each petition before
they hear it, and having Uttle or no time to join in it after they
have heard it, are confo-»mded between their attention lo the
minister, and to , their own devotion. The devotion of the
hearer is necessarUy suspended, unlU a petition be concluded ;
and before he can assent to it, or properly adopt it, that is, be
fore he can address the same request to God for Mmself, and from
himseff, his attention is caUed off to keep pace -with what suc
ceeds. Add to this, that the mind of the hearer is held in con
tinual expectation, and detamed from its proper busmess by the
very novelty with which it is gratified. A congregation may
be pleased and affected with the prayers and devotion of their
minister, without joinmg in them ; in Uke manner as an au
dience oftentimes are with the representation of devotion upon
the stage, who, nevertheless, come away -without being con
scious of having exercised any act of devotion themselves.
Joint prayer, which amongst aU denonunations of Christians
is the declared design of ' commg together,' is prayer m which
all^'om; and not that which one alone in the congregation
conceives and deUvers, and of which the rest are merely hear
ers. This objection seems fundamraital, and holds even where

OF FORMS OF PRAYER, &c. 211
the minister's office is discharged with every possible ad
vantage and accomplishment. The labouring recollection,
and embarrassed and tumultuous deUvery, of many extempore
^eakers, form an additional objection to this mode of pubUc
worship : for these imperfections are very general, and give
great pain to the serious part of a congregation, as well as af
ford a profane diversion to the levity of the other part.
These advantages of a Utmgy are connected with two prm
cipal mconveniences ; first, that forms of prayer composed in
one age become unfit for another, by the unavoidable change
of language, circumstances, and opmions ; secondly, that the
perpetual repetition of the same form of words produces weari
ness and mattentiveness m the congregation. However, both
these inconveniences are m their nature vincible. Occasional
revisions of a Ulurgy may ob-viate the first, and devotion wUl
supply a remedy for the second : or they may both subsist in
a considerable degree, and yet be outweighed by the objections
which are inseparable from extemporary prayer.
, The, Lord's prayer, is a precedent, as weU as a patterri, for
forms of prayer. Our Lord appears, if not to have prescribed,
at least to have authorized the use of fixed, forms, when he
complied with the request of the disciple who said unto him,
' Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples.'
Luke xi. 1.
The properties required in a public Ulurgy are, that it be
compendious; that it express just conceptions of the divme
attributes ; that it recite such wants as a congregation are
likely to feel, and no other ; and that it contam as few contro
verted propositions as possible.
I. That it be compendious.
It were no difficult task to contract the Utmgies of most
churches into half their present compass, and yet retain every
ddstmct petition, as weU as the substance of every sentiment,
which can be found in them. Btit bre-vity may be studied
too much. The composer of a liturgy must not sit down to
Ms work with the hope, that the devotion of the congregation
wUl be uniformly sustained throughout, or that every part
wiU be attended to by every hearer. If this could be depend
ed upon, a very short service would be sufficient for every
purpose that can be answered or designed by social worsMp :
but seeing the attention of most men is apt to wander and re
tm-n at intervals, and by starts, he -wiU admit a certain degree of

212 OP FORMS OF PRAYER
amplification and repetition, of diversity of expression upon the
same subject, and variety of pMase and form with little- addi
tion lo the sense, to the end that the attention which has been
slumbering or absent during one part of the service, may be
excited and recalled by another ; and the assembly kept togeth
er untU it may reasonably be presumed, that the most heed
less and inadvertent have performed some act of devotion, and
the most desultory attention been caught by some part or
other of the pubhc service. On the other hand, the loo great
length of church services is more unfavourable lo piety, than
ahnost any fault of composition can be. It begets in many
an early and unconquerable dislike to the pubhc worship of
their country or communion. They come to church seldom ;
and enter the doors, when they do come, under the apprehen
sion of a tedious attendance, which they prepare for at first, or
soon after relieve, by composing themselves to a drowsy for-
getfidness of the place and duty, or by sending abroad their
thoughts in search of more amusing occupation. Although
there may be some few of a disposition not to be wearied with
reUgious exercises ; yet, where a ritual k proUx, and the cel
ebration of divme service long, no effect is in general lo be
looked for, but- that indolence wiU find in it an excuse, and
piety be disconcerted by impatience.
The length and repetitions complained of in our liturgy are
not so much the fault of the compUers, as the effect of unitmg
into one service what was originaUy, but with very Uttle regard
to the conveniency of the people, distributed mto three. Not
withstanding that dread of innovations in reUgion, which seems
to have become the panic of the age, few, I should suppose,
would be displeased with such omissions, abridgments, or change
in the arrangement, as the combination of separate services must
necessarily require, even supposing each lo have been faultless
in itself. If, together -with these alterations, the Epistles and
Gosples, and CoUects wMch precede them, were composed and
selected with more regard to unity of subject and design ; and
the Psalms and Lessons either left to the choice of the minister,
or better accommodated to the capacity of the audience, and the
edification of modern Ufe; the church of England would be m
possession of a Uturgy, in which those who assent to her doc-
trines would have little to blame, and the most dissatisfied must
acknowledge many beauties. The style throughout is excel
lent j calm, withoat coldness; and, though every where sedate.

IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 213
oftentimes affecting. The pauses in the service are disposed at
proper intervals. The transitions from one office of devotion to
another, from confession to prayer, from prayer to thanksgiv
ing, from thanksgiving to 'hearing of the word,' are contrived,
hke scenes in the drama, to supply the mind -with a succession
of diversified engagements. As much variety is introduced al
so in the form of praying, as this kind of -composition seems ca
pable of admitting. The prayer at one lime is continued ; at
another, broken by responses, or cast into short alternate ejacu
lations ; and sometimes the congregation is caUed upon lo take
their share in the service, by bemg left to complete a sentence
which the minister had begun. The enumeration of human
wants and sufferings m the Litany is ahnost complete. A
Christian petitioner can have few things to ask of God, or lo de
precate, which he will not find there expressed, and for the most
part -with inimitable tenderness and simpUcity.
II. That it express just conceptions of the divine attributes.
This is an article in which no care can be too great. The
popular notions of God are formed, in a great measure, from the
accounts which the people receive of his nature and character
in their religious assemblies. An errour here becomes the er
rour of multitudes; and as it is a subject in which almost eve
ry opinion leads the way lo some practical consequence, the pu
rity or depravation of public manners wUl be affected, amongst
other causes, by the truth or corruption of the pubhc forms of
worsMp. III. That it recite such wants as the congregation are likely
to feel, and no other.
Of forms of prayer, which offend not egregiously agamst
trath and decency,-lhat has the most merit, which is best cal
culated to keep aUve the devotion of the assembly. It were lo
be wished, therefore, that every part of a litmgy were person-
aUy applicable to every mdividual m the congregation ; and
that nothmg were mtroduced lo inlerrapt the passion, or damp
the flame; which it is not easy to rekindle. Upon this princi
ple, the state prayers in om Utmgy should be fewer and short
er. Whatever may be pretended, the congregation do not feel
that concern in the subject of these ptayers, which must be felt,
or ever prayer be made to God with earnestness. The state
style likewise seems unseasonably introduced into these prayers,
as iU according with that annihilation of human greatness, of

214 THE USE OF
which every act that carries the mind lo God presents the
idea. IV. That it contain as few controverted propositions as
possible. We aUow to each chmch the truth of its pecuUar tenets,
and aU the importance which zeal can ascribe to them. We
dispute not here the right or the expediency of framing creeds,
or of imposing subscriptions. But why should every position
which a church mamtains be woven with so much mdustry
into her forms of pubhc worsMp ? Some are offended, and
some are excluded: this is an.evU of itseff, at least to them:
and what advantage or satisfaction can be derived to the rest,
from the separation of their brethren, it is difficult to unagme ;
unless it were a duty to publish our system of polemic divmily,
under the name of making confession of our faith, every time
we worship God ; or a sin to agree m reUgious exercises with
those, from whom we differ in some reUgious opinions. Indeed,
where one man thinks it is his duty constantly to worship a be
ing, whom another cannot, with the assent of his conscience,
permit himself to worship at all, there seems to be no place for
comprehension, or any expedient left, but a quiet secession.
AU other differences may be compromised by sUence. If sects
and schisms be an evU, they are as much to be avoided by
one side as the other. If sectaries are blamed for taking un
necessary offence, established churches are no less culpable
for unnecessarUy giving it : they are bound at least to produce
a command, or a reason of equivalent utiUty, for shultmg out
any from their communion, by mixing with divine worship
doctrines which, whether true or false, are unconnected in their
nature with devotion.

CHAPTER VI.
OF THE USE OF SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS.
An assembly cannot be coUected, unless the time of as-
sembUng be fixed and knov>na beforehand ; and if the design
of the assembly require that it be holden frequently, it is
easiest that it should return at stated intervals. This produces
a necessity of appropriating set seasons to the social offices of

SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 215
religion. It is also highly convenient, that the same seasons
be observed iMoughout the country, that all may be employed,
or aU at leisure] together ; for if the recess from worldly occu
pation be not general, one man's business wiU perpetuaUy in
terfere with another man's devotion ; the buyer wUl be caMng
at the shop when the seller is gone to church. This parlj
therefore, of the reUgious distmction of seasons ; namely, a
general intermission of labour and business during times pre
viously set apart for the exercise of public worship, is founded
m the reasons which make public worship itself a duty. But
the celebration of divine service never occupies the whole day.
What remams, therefore, of Sunday, beside the part of it em
ployed at church, must be considered as a mere rest from the
ordmary occupations of civU Ufe ; and he who would defend
the institution, as it is required by law to be observed in Chris
tian countries, unless he can produce a command for a Chris
tian Sabbath, must pomt out the uses of it in that view.
F^rst, then, that interval of relaxation which Sunday af
fords to the laborious part of mankind contributes greatly to
the comfort and satisfaction of their Uves, both as it refreshes
them for the lime, and as it relieves their six days' labour by
the prospect of a day of rest always approaching; which could
not be said of casual indulgences of leisure and rest, even
were they more frequent than there is reason lo expect they
would be, if left to the discretion or humanity of mterested
task-masters. To iMs difference it may be added, that hoU-
days, which come seldom and unexpected, are unprovided,
when they do come, vpith any duty or employment ; and the
manner of spending them being regulated by no pubUc decency
or established usage, they are commonly consumed in rude, if
not criminal pastimes, m stupid sloth, or bratish mtemperance.
Whoever considers how much sabbatical institutions conduce,
in this respect, to the happmess and civilization of the labour
ing classes of mankmd, and reflects how great a majority of
the human species these classes compose, wUl acknowledge
the UtUity, whatever he may beheve of the origin, of this dis
tinction ; and -wUl consequently perceive it to be every man's
duty to uphold the observation of Sunday when once estabUsh
ed, let the establishment have proceeded from whom or from
what authority it -wiU.
Nor is there any thing lost to the community by the inter
mission of pubhc industry one day in the week. For, in coma-

216 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF
tries tolerably advanced in population and the arts of civU life,
there is always enough of human labour, and to spare. The
difficulty is not so much lo procure, as to employ it. The ad
dition of the seventh day's labour to that of the other six would
have no other effect than lo reduce the price. The labourer
himself, who deserved and suffered most by the change, would
gain nothing.
2. Sunday, by suspending many public diversions, and the
ordinary rotation of employment, leaves to men of aU ranks
and professions sufficient leisure, and not more than what is
sufficient, both for the external offices of CMistianity, and the
reined, but equally necessary duties of religious meditation
and mquiry. It is true, that many do not convert their leis
ure to this purpose ; but it is of moment, and is aU which a
pubhc constitution can effect, that to every one be aUowed the
opportunity. 3. They whose humanity embraces the whole sensitive
creation, wiU esteem it no inconsiderable recommendation of a
weekly return of pubUc rest, that it affords a respite lo the toil
of brutes. Nor can we omit to recount this among the uses
which the di-vine founder of the Jewish sabbath expressly ap
pointed a law of the institution.
We -admit, that none of these reasons show why Sunday
should be preferred to any other day in the week, or one day
in seven to one day in six or eight : but these points, which
in their nature are of arbitrary determination, being estabUsh
ed lo our hands, our obligation apphes to the subsisting estab
lishment, so long as we confess that some such institution is
necessary, and are neither able, nor attempt to substitute any
other in its place.

CHAPTER vn.
OF THE SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF SABBATICAL IN
STITUTIONS.
The subject, so far ,as it makes any part of CMistian mo
raUty, is contained in two questions :
I. Whether the command, by which the Jewish sabbath
was instituted, extends to Christians ?

SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS 217
n. W^hether any new command was delivered by Christ ;
or any other day substituted in the place of the Jewish sabbath
by the authority or example of his Aposties ?
In treatmg of the first question, it wUl be necessary to col
lect the accounts which are preserved of the institution m the
Je-wish history ; for the seemg these accounts together, and in
one point of view, wiU be the best preparation for the discus-
smg or judging of any arguments on one side or the other.
In the second chapter of Genesis, the historian, having con
cluded his account of the six days' creation, proceeds thus :
' And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had
made ; and he rested on the seventh day from aU his work
wMch he had made ; and God. blessed the seventh day and
sanctified it, because that in it he had rested from all his work
which God created and made.' After this, we hear no more
of the sabbath, or of the seventh day, as m any manner dis-
tmguished fi-om the other six, untU the history brmgs us down
to the sojournmg of the Jews in the wUderness, when the fol
lowing remarkable passage occurs. Upon the complamt of
the people for want of food, God was pleased lo provide for
their relief by a mnaculous supply of manna, which was found
every morning upon the ground about the camp ; ' and they
gathered it every mornmg, every man according to his eatmg;
and when the sun waxed hot, it melted : and it came to pass,
that on the sixth day they gathered twice as much bread, two
omers for one man ; and aU the ralers of the congregation
came and told Moses ; and he said unto them. This is that
wMch the Lord hath said, To-m,orrow is the rest of the holy
sabbath unto the Lord ; hake that which ye wiU bake, to-day,
and seethe that ye wiU seethe, and that which remainelh over, lay
up for you, to be kept untU the morning : and they laid it up
till the mornmg, as Moses bade, and it did not stink (as it had
done before, when some of them left it tiU the mornmg), neither
was there any worm therein. And Moses said, Eat that to
day ; for to-day is a sabbath unto the Lord: to-day ye
shaU not find it -in the field. Six days ye shaU gather it, but
on the seventh day, which is the sabbath, in it there shaU be
none. And it came to pass, that there went out some of the
people on the seventh day for to gather, and they foimd none.
And the Lord said unto Moses, How long refuse ye to keep
my commandments and my laws ? See, for that the Lord
hath given ymi the sabbath, therefbre he giveth you on the
VOL. III. 28

218

SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF

sixth day ;ihe bread of two days : abide ye every man in his
flace ; let no man go out of his place on the seventh day : so
the people -rested on the seventh day.' Exodus xvi.
Not long after this, the sabbath, as is weU known, was es-
la;bUshed with gi-eat solemnity in the fourth commandment.
Now, in my opinion, the transaction in the wilderness a-
bove recited) was the first actual institution of the sabbath.
For, if the Sabbath had been instituted at the time of the crea
tion, as the words in Genesis may seem at first sight to im
port ; and if it had been observed aU along from that lime to
the departui-e of the Jews out of Egypt, a period of about two
thousand five hundred years, it appears unaccountable that no
mention of it, no occasion of even the obscurest aUusion to it,
should occur, either in the general history of the world before
the caU of Abraham, which contains, we admit, only a few
memoii-s of its early ages, and those extremely abridged ; or,
wMch is more to be wondered at, in that of the lives of the
three first Jewish patriarchs, which, in many parts of the ac
count, is sufficiently circumstantial and domestic. Nor is
there, in the passage above quoted fi-om the sixteenth chapter
of Exodus, any intimation that the sabbath, when appointed
to be observed, was only the revival of an ancient institution,
which had been neglected, forgotten, or suspended ; nor is any
such neglect imputed either to the inhabitants of the old world,
or. lo any part of the family of Noah ; nor, lastly, is any per
mission recorded to dispense with the mstitution during the
captivity of the Jews in Egypt, or on any other pubhc emer
gency, ..•
, The passage in the second chapter of Genesis, which cre
ates the whole cbntroveisy upon the subject, is not inconsis
tent with this opinion : for, as the seventh day was erected
mto a sabbath, on account of God's resting upon that day
fiom .the work of the creation, it was natural enough m the
historian, when he had related the history of the creation,
and ot God's ceasing from it on the seventh day, to add, ' and
God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it, because that on
it he had rested from aU his work wMch God created and
made ; ' although the blessing and sancttfication, i. e. the reU
gious distinction and appropriation of that day, were not ac
tuaUy made lUl many ages - afterwards. The words' do not
assert, that God then ' blessed' and ' sanctffied' the seventh day,
but that he blessed and sanctified it for that reason; and if

SABBATICAL INSTPPUTIONS. 219
any ask, why the sabbath, or sanctification of the seventh day,
was then mentioned, if it was not then appointed, the answer
is at hand ; the order of connexion, and not of time, intro
duced the mention of the sabbath, in the history of the subject
which it was ordained to commemorate.
This interpretation is strongly supported by a passage in
the prophet Ezekiel, where the sabbath is plainly spoken of as
given : and what else can that mean, but as- first instituted,
in the wilderness ? ' Wherefore I caused them to go forth out
of the land of Egypt, and brought them into the wilderness ;
and I gave them my . statutes and shewed them my judg
ments, which if a man do, he shaU even live in them : more
over also I gave them my sabbaths, to be a sign belAveen me
and them, that they might know that I am the Lord that
sanctify them.' Ezek. xx. 10, 11, 12. .
Nehemiah also recounts the promulgation of the sabbatic
law amongst the transactions in the wilderness ; which sup
pUes another considerable argument in aid of our opinion :
' Moreover thou- leddest them in the day by a cloudy pillar,
and in the night by a piUar of fire, to give them light in the
way wherein they should go. Thou earnest down also upon
Mount Sinai, and spakest with them from heaven, and gavest
them right judgments and true laws, good statutes and com
mandments, and madest known unto them thy holy sabbath,
and commandest them precepts, statutes, and laws, by the
hand of Moses thy servant, and gavest them bread from hea
ven for then hunger, and broughtest forth water for them out
of the rock. ' * Nehem. ix. 12.
If it he inquired what duties were appointed for the Jewish
sabbath, and under what penalties ahd in what manner it was
observed amongst the ancient Jews ; we find that, by the
fourth commandment, a strict cessation from work was en
joined, not only upon Jews by birth, or reUgious profession,
but upon aU who resided -within the Umits of the Je-wish state :
that the same was to be permitted to then slaves and their cal-
* From the mention of the sabbath in so close a connexion with the descent
of God upon Mount Sinai, and the delivery of the law from thence, one would
be incUned to believe, that Nehemiah referred solely to the fourth commandment.
But the fourth commandment certainly did not first make known the sabbath. .
And it is apparent, that Nehemiah observed not the order of events, for h&
speaks of what passed upon Mount Sinai before he mentions the miraculous
supplies of bread and wat«r, though the Jews did not arrive at Mount Sinai
till some time after both these miracles were wrought.

220 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF
tie ; that this rest was not to be violated, under pain of death :
' Whosoever doeth any work in the sabbath day, he shall sure- '
ly be put to death.' Exod. xxxi. 15, Beside which, the
seventh day was to be solemnized by double sacrifices in the
temple. ' And on the sabbath day two lambs of the furst year
without spot, and two tenth deals of flour for a meat offering,
mingled with oU, and the drink offering thereof; this is the
burnt offering of every sabbath, beside the continual burnt
offering and his drink offering.' Numb, xxviii. 9, 10. Also
holy convocations, which mean, we presume, assemblies for
the purpose of public worship or religious instruction, were di
rected" lo be holden on the sabbath day ; ' the seventh day is a
sabbath of rest, an holy convocation.' Lev. xxiii. 3.
And accordingly we read, that the sabbath was in fact ob
served amongst the Jews by a scrupulous abstinence from
every thing which, by any possible constraction, could be
deemed labour ; as from dressing meat, from travelling beyond
a sabbath day's journey, or' about a single mile. In the Mae-
cabean wars, they suffered a thousand of their number to be
slain, rather than do any thing in their own defence on the
sabbath day. In the final siege of Jerusalem, after they had
so far overcome their scruples as lo defend their persons when
attacked, they refused any operation on the sabbath day, by
which they might have interrupted the enemy in fiUing up the
trench. After the establishment of synagogues (of the origin
of which we have no account), it was the custom to assemble
in them upon the sabbath day, for the puipose of hearing the
law rehearsed and explained, and for the exercise, it is proba
ble, of public devotion. ' For Moses of old time hath in •every
city them that preach him, being read in the synagogues
every sabbath day.' The seventh day is Saturday ; and,
agreeably to the Jewish way of computing the day, the sabbath
held from six o'clock on the Friday evening, to six o'clock
on Saturday evening. — These observations being premised, we
approach the main question. Whether the command by which
the Jewish sabbath was instituted extend to us ?
If the divine command was aetuaUy delivered at the crea
tion, it was addressed, no doubt, to the whole human species
alike, and continues, unless repealed by some subsequent reve
lation, binding upon aU who come to the knowledge of it.
If the command was published for the first time in the wUder
ness, then it was immediately directed to the Jewish people

SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 221
alone ; and something farther, either in the subject, or circum
stances of the command, wiU be necessary to show, that it was
designed for any other. It is on this account, that the ques
tion concernmg the date of the institution was first to be consid
ered. Theibrmer opinion precludes aU debate about the extent
of the obUgation : the latter admits, and, prima facie, induces
a beUef, that the sabbath ought to be considered as part of the
pecuUar law of the Jewish policy.
Which belief receives great confirmation from the foUowing
arguments. The sabbath is described as a sign between God and the
people of Israel : ' Wherefore the children of Israel shaU keep
the sabbath, to observe the sabbath iMoughout their genera
tions for a perpetual covenant ;" if is a sign between me and
the children of Israel for ever.' Exodus, xxxi. 16, 17,
Again, ' And I gave them my statutes, and showed them my
judgments, which if a man do, he shaU even live in them ;
moreover also I gave them nuy snbbath, to be a sign between
me and them, that they might know that I am the Lord that
sanctify them.' Ezek. xx. 12. Now it does not seem easy to
understand how the sabbath could be a sign between God
and the people of Israel, unlesg-the observance of it was pecu
liar lo that people, and designed lo be so.
The distinction of the sabbath is, in its nature, as much a
positive ceremonial institution, as that of many other seasons
which were appointed by the Levitical law to be kept holy, and
to be observed by a strict rest ; as the first and seventh days
of unleavened bread ; the feast of pentecost ; the feast of tab
ernacles ; and in the twenty-third chapter of Exodus the sab
bath and these are recited together.
If the command by which the sabbath was instituted be
binding upon Christians, it must be bindmg as lo the day, the
duties, and the penalty ; in none of which it is received.
The observance of the sabbath was not one of the articles
enjoined by the Apostles, in the fifteenth chapter of Acts, upon
them 'which, from among the GentUes, were turned unto
God,' St Paul evidently appears to have considered the sabbath as
part of the Jewish ritual, and not obUgatory upon Christians
as such : ' Let no man therefore judge you m meat or in drink,
or in respect of an hdy day, or of the new moon, or of the

222 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF
sabbath days, which are a shadow of things to come, but the
body is of Christ.' Col. U. 16, 17.
- 1 am aware of only two objections which can be opposed to
the force of these arguments : one is, that the reason assigned
in the fourth commandment for haUowing the seventh day,
namely, ' because God rested on the seventh day from the work
of the creation,' is a reason which pertains to all mankind ;
the other, that the command which enjoms the observance of
the sabbath is inserted in the decalogue, of which all the other
precepts and prohibitions are of moral and universal obligation.
Upon the first objection it may be remarked, that although
in Exodus the commandment is founded upon God's rest from
the creation, in Deuteronomy the commandment is repeated
-with a reference to a different event : ' Six days shalt thou la
bom-, and "do all thy work ; but the seventh day is the sab
bath of the Lord thy God : in it thou shalt not do any work,
thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy man-servant, nor
thy maid-servant, nor thine ox, nor thine ass, nor any of thy
cattle, nor the stranger that is within thy gates ; that thy man
servant and thy maid-servant may rest as weU as thou ; and
remember that thou wast a servant in the land of Egypt, and
that the Lord thy God brought thee out thence, through a
mighty hand, and by a stretched out arm ; therefore the Lord
thy God commanded thee lo keep the sabbath day.' It is far
ther observable, that God's rest from the creation is proposed
as the reason of the institution, even where the institution it
self is spoken of as pecuUar to the Jews : — ' Wherefore the
chUdren of Israel shaU keep the sabbath, to observe the sab
bath throughout their generations, for a perpetual covenant:,
it is a sign between me and the children of Israel forever : for
in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and on the sev
enth day he rested and was refreshed.' The truth is, these
different reasons were assigned lo account for different circum
stances m the command. If a Jew inquired, why the seventh
day was^sanctified rather than the sixth or eighth, his law told
Mm, because God rested on the seventh day from the creation.
If he asked, why was the same rest indulged lo slaves ? Ms-
law bade him remember, that he also was a slave in the land
of Egypt, and ' that the Lord his God brought hun out thence.'
In this view, the two reasons are perfectly compatible -with
each other, and with a iMrd end of the institution, its being a
sign between God and the people of Israel ; but in this viewf

SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 223
they determine nothing concerning the extent of the obligation.
If the reason by its proper energy had constituted a natural ob
ligation, or if it had been mentioned with a view to the extent
of the obligation, we should submit to the conclusion, that all
were comprehended by the command who are concerned in
the reason. But the sabbatic rest being a duty which results
from the ordination and authority of a positive law-, the reason
can be aUeged no farther than as it explains the design of the
legislator ; and if it appear to be recited with an intentional ap
plication to one part of the law, it explains his design upon no
other ; if it be mentioned merely to account for the choice of
the day, it does not explam his design as to the extent of the
obligation. »
With respect to the second objection, that inasmuch as the
other nine commandments are confessedly of moral and univer
sal obligation, it may reasonably be presumed that this is of the
same ; we answer, that this argument wiU have less weight,
when it is considered that the dislmctioh between positive and
natural duties, Uke other distinctions of modern ethics, was un
known to the simphcily of ancient language ; and that there
are various passages in scripture, in which duties of a poUtical,
or ceremonial, or positive nature, and confessedly of partial ob
hgation, are enumerated, and ¦without any mark of discrimina
tion, along with others which are natural and universal. Of
this the follo-wmg is an inconteslible example : ' But if a man
be just, and do that which is lawful and right ; and hath not
eaten upon the mountains, nor hath Iffted up his eyes lo the
idols of the house of Israel; neither hath deffled his neighbour's
¦wife, neither hath come near to a menstruous woman ; and
hath not oppressed any, but hath restored to the debtor his
pledge ; hath spoUed none by violence ; hath given his bread
lo the hungry, and hath covered the naked with a garment ;
he that hath not given upon usury, neither hath taken any
increase; that hath withdrawn his hand fi-om miquity ; hath
•executed true judgment between man and man ; hath walked
in my statutes, and hath kept my judgments to deal truly; he
is just, he shaU surely live, saith the Lord God.' Ezek. xviu.
5 — 9. The same thing may be observed of the apostoUc de
cree recorded in the fifteenth chapter of the Acts : — ' It seemed
good to the Holy Ghost, and to us, lo lay upon you no greater
burden than these necessary thmgs, that ye abstain fi-ora meats
offered to idols, and from blood, and from thmgs strangled, and

224 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OP
from fornication : from which if ye keep yourselves, ye shall
do weU,'
II. If the law by which the sabbath was mstiluled, was a
law only lo the Jews, it becomes an important question with the
Chrislain inquner, whether the founder of his religion deUverr
ed any new command upon the subject ; or, if that should not
appear to be the case, whether any day was appropriated to the
service of religion by the authority or example of his Apostles.
The practice of holding religious assembhes upon the 'first
day of the week, was so early and universal in the Christian
church, that it carries with it considerable proof of having origi
nated from some precept of Christ, or of his Apostles, though
none such be now extant. It was upon the first day of the
week that the disciples were assembled, when Christ appeared
to Ihera for the first time after his resurrection : ' then the same
day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the
doors were shut where the disciples were assembled, for fear of
the Jews, came Jesus and stood m the midst of them.' John,
XX. 19. TMs, for ahy thing that appeals in the account, might,
as to the day, have been accidental : but in the 26th verse of
the same chapter we read, ' that after eight days,' that is, on the
fiirst day of the yireek following, ' again the disciples were with
in';' which second meetmg upon the same day of the week
looks Uke an appointment and design to meet on that particu
lar day. In the twentieth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles
we find the same custom in a Chrfetain church at a great dis
tance from Jerusalem :— ' And we came unto them to Troas
in five days, where we abode seven days ; and upon the first
day of the week, when the disciples cam,e together to break
bread, Paul preached unto them.' Acts, xx. 6, 7, The man
ner m which the historian mentions the disciples coming togeth
er to break bread on the first day of the week, shows, I think,
that the practice by this time was famUiar and established.
St Paul to the CorinlMans writes thus : ' Concerning the coUee-
tion for the saints, as I have given order to the churches of Ga-
latia, even so do ye; upon the first day of the week let every
one of you lay by him in store as God hath prospered Mm, that
there be no gatherings when I come.' 1 Cor, xvi. 1,2. Which
direction affoids a probable, proof, that the first day of the week
was already, amongst the CMistians both of Corinth and Ga-
latia, distinguished from the rest by some religious application
or c*her. At the time that St Joba wrote the hook of his rev-

SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 225
elation, the first day of the week had obtained the name of the
Lord's day — ' I was in the spirit ' (says he) ' on the Lord's
day.' Rev. i. 10. WMch name, and St John's use of it,- suf
ficiently denote the appropriation of this day lo the sei-vice of
religion, and that this appropriation was perfectly known to
the churches of Asia. I make no doubt but that by the Lord's,
day was meant the first day of the week ; for we find no foot
steps of any distinction of days, which could entitle any other
lo that appeUation. The subsequent history of Christianity
corresponds -with the accounts deUvered on this subject in scrip
ture. . It will be remembered, that we are contending, by these
proofs, for no other duty upon the first day of the week, than
that of holding and fi-equenting religious assemblies. A ces
sation upon that day from labour, beyond the time of attend
ance upon public worship, is not intimated in any passage of
the New Testament ; nor did Christ or his Apostles deliver,
that we know of, any command to then disciples for a discon
tinuance upon that day of the common offices of their profes
sions : a reserve which none wiU see reason to wonder at, or
to blame as a defect in the mstitution, who consider that, in
the primitive condition of Christianity, the observance of a new
sabbath would have been useless, or inconvenient, or imprac
ticable. During Christ's personal ministry, his rehgion was
preached to the Jews alone. They aheady had a sabbath,
which, as citizens and subjects of that economy, they were obli
ged lo keep, and did keep. It was not therefore probable that
Christ would enjoin another day of rest in conjunction with
this. When the new rehgion came forth into the GentUe world,
converts to it were, for the most- part, made from those classes
of society who have not then time and labour at their own dis
posal ; and it was scarcely to be expected that unbelieving mas
ters and magistrates, and they who directed the employment of
others, would permit their slaves and labourers to rest from
their work every seventh day ; or that civU government, indeed,
would have submitted to the loss of a seventh part of the pub
lic industry, and that too m addition to the numerous festivals
which the national rehgions indulged lo the people : at least
this would have been an incumbrance, which might have great
ly retarded the reception of Christianity in the world. In rea-
ality, the institution of a weeldy sabbath is so connected with
the functions of ciyU life, and requires so much of the concuv-
VOL. UI. 29

226 VIOLATION OF THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH.
rence of civU laws in its regulation and support, that it cannot,
perhaps, properly be made the ordmance of any reUgioh, tUl
tha.t reUgion be received as the religion of the state.
The opinion, that Christ and his Apostles meant to retain
the duties of the Jewish sabbath, shifting only the day from
the seventh lo the first, seems to prevaU without sufficient proof;
nor does any evidence remain m scripture (of what, however,
is not improbable), that the first day of the week was thus
distinguished in commemoration of our Lord's resurrection.
The conclusion fi-om the whole inquiry (for it is om busi
ness lo foUow the arguments to whatever probabiUty they con
duct us) is this : The assembling upon the first day of the
week for the purpose of pubhc worship and rehgious instruc
tion, is a law of Christianity, of divine appointment ; the rest
ing on that day from our employments longer than we are
detained from them by attendance upon these assembhes, is
to Christians an ordinance of human mstitution ; bmding nev-
erthele'fes upon the conscience of every individual of a country
in which a weekly sabbath is established, for the sake of the
beneficial purposes wMch the pubhc and regular observance
of it proniotes ; and recommended perhaps m some degree to
the divine approbation, by the resemblance it bears to what
God was pleased lo make a solemn part of the law wMch he
deUvered to the people of Israel, and by its subserviency to
many of the same uses.

CHAPTER Vm.
Bt WHAT ACTS AND OMISSIONS THE DUTY OF THE
CHRISTIAN SABBATH IS VIOLATED.
Since the obhgation upon CMistians, to comply with the
religious observance of Sunday, arises from the pubUc uses of
the institution, and the authority of the apostoUc practice, the
m,anner ot observing it ought to be that wMch best fidfils
these uses, and conforms the nearest lo this practice.
The uses proposed by the institution are :
1. To facilitate attendance upon public worship.

VIOLATION OF THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH, 227
2. To meUorate the condition of the laborious classes of
mankind, by regular and seasonable returns of rest.
3. By a general suspension of business and amusement, to
invite and enable persons of every description to apply their
time and thoughts to subjects appertaining lb their salvation. ,
With the primitive Christians the peculiai-, and probably for
some time the only distmction of the first day of the week,
was the holding of reUgious assembhes upon that day. We
learn, however, from the testimony of a very early writer
amongst them, that they also reserved the day for reUgious
meditations ; — Unusquisque nostrum, saith Ireneeus, sab-
batizat spiritualiter, meditatione legis gaudens, opificium,
Dei admirans.
Wherefore the duly of the day is violated,
1st. By all such employments or engagements as (though
differing from our ordinary occupations) hinder our attendance
upon public worship, or take up so much of om time as not to
leave a sufficient part of the day at leisure for rehgious reflec
tion ; as the going of journeys, the paying or receiving of visits,
which engage the whole day, or employing the time at home
in -writing letters, settling accounts, or in applying ourselves to
studies, or the reading of books, which bear no relation to the
business of religion.
2dly. By unnecessary encroachments upon the rest and Ub
erty which Sunday ought lo bring to the inferiour orders of
the community ; as by keeping servants on that day confined
and busied m preparations for the superfluous elegancies of
our table, or dress.
3dly. By such recreations as are cuslomarUy forborne out of
respect to the day; as hunting, shootmg, fisMng, pubhc diver
sions, frequenlmg taverns, playing at cards, or- dice.
If it be asked, as it often has been, wherein consists the dff-
ference between walking out with yom staff, or -with your
gun ? between spending the evening at home, or in a tavern ?
between passing the Sunday afternoon at a game at cards, or in
conversation not more edifymg, nor always so inoffensive?
To these, and to the same question under a variety of forms,
and m a multitude of simUar examples, we return the foUowing
answer : — That the reUgious observance of Sunday, if it ougl^t
to be retained at aU, must be upholden by some pubUc and visi
ble distinctions^that, draw the line of distinction where you
wiU, many actions which are situated on the confines of the

228 OF REVERENCING THE DEITY.
line, wiU differ very little, and yet lie on the opposite sides of it
— that every trespass upon that reserve which public decency
has established, breaks down the fence by which the day is
separated lo the service of religion-^that it is unsafe to trifle
with scruples and habits that have a beneficial tendency, al
though founded merely in custom — that these liberties, how
ever intended, will certainly be considered by those who observe
them, not only as disrespectful to the day and institution, but
as proceeding from a secret contempt of the Christian faith —
that, consequentiy, they diminish a reverence for religion in oth
ers, so far as the authority (rfour opinion, or the efficacy of om
example, reaches ; or rather, so far as either wiU serve for an
excuse of negligence lo those who are glad of any — that as to
cards and dice, which put m then claim lo be considered ainong
the harmless occupations of a vacant hour, it may be observed,
that few find any difficulty in refraining from play on Sunday,
except they who sit down to it with the views and eagerness of
gamesters — that gaming is seldom innocent — that the anxie
ty and perturbations, however, which it excites, are inconsistent
with the tranquiUity and frame of temper in which the duties
¦and thoughts of reUgion should always both find and leave us
- — and lastly we shall remark, that the example of other coun
tries, where the same or greater license is allowed, affords no
apology for irregularities in our own : because a practice which
is tolerated by public usage neither receives the same construc
tion, nor gives the same offence, as where it is censured and
prohibited.

CHAPTER IX.
OF REVERENCING THE DEITY.
In many persons a seriousness, and sense of awe, overspread
the imagination, whenever the idea of the Supreme Being is
presented to their thoughts. This effect, which fonns a con
siderable security against vice, is the consequence not so much
of reflection, as of habit ; which habit being generated by the
external exjpres^ions of reverence which we use ourselves, or ob
serve in Others, may be destroyed by causes opposite to these,
and e^ecialy by that familiar levity with which some learn to

OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 229
speak of the Deity, of his attributes, providence, revelations, or
worship. God hath been pleased, no matter for what reason, although
probably for this, to forbid the vain mention of his name —
-* Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vam.'
Now the mention is vain, when it is useless ; and it is use
less, when it is neither likely nor intended to serve any good
purpose ; as when it flows from the Ups idle and unmeaning,
or is applied upon occasions inconsistent -with any considera
tion of rehgion and devotion, lo express om- anger, our ear
nestness, our courage, or our mirth : or indeed when it is used
at all, except in acts of reUgion, or in serious and seasonable
discourse upon rehgious subjects.
The prohibition of the thnd commandment is recognized by
Christ, in his sermon upon the mount, which sermon adverts
to none but the moral parts of the Je-wish law : ' I say unto
you. Swear not at aU; but let your communication be yea,
yea ; nay, nay ; for whatsoever is more than these, comelh of
evU.' The Jews probably inteipreted the prohibition as re
strained to the name Jehovah, the name which the Deity had
appointed and appropriated to himself Exod. vi. 3. The
words of CMist extend the prohibition beyond the name of God,
to every thing associated with the idea. ' Swear not, neither by
heaven, for it is God's throne ; noi- by the earth, for it is Ms foot
stool ; neither by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great Kmg.'
Matt. V. 35. •
The offence of profane swearing is aggravated by the con
sideration, that in it duty and decency are sacrificed lo the
tenderest of temptations. Suppose the habit, either from af
fectation, or by negUgence and inadvertency, to be aheady
formed, it must always remain within the power of the most
ordinary resolution lo correct it; and it cannot, one would
think, cost a great deal to relinquish the pleasure and hon
our which it confers. A concern for duty is in fact never
strong, -when the exertion requisite to vanquish a habit foun
ded in no antecedent propensity, is thought too much, or too
painfril. A contempt of positive duties, or rather of those duties for
which the reason is not so plain as the command, indicates a
disposition upon wMch the authority of revelation has obtain-
£d littie mfluence. This remark is applicable to the offence

230 OP REVERENCING THE DEITY.
of profane swearing, and describes, perhaps, pretty exactly, the
general character of those who are most addicted to it.
Mockery and ridicule when exercised upon the Scriptures,
or even upon the places, persons, and forms set apart for the
ministration of reUgion, fall withm the miscMef of the law
which forbids the profanation of God's name; especiaUy as
that law is extended by Christ's interpretation. They are
moreover inconsistent with a religious frame of mmd : for, as
no one ever either feels himself disposed to pleasantry, or ca
pable of being diverted with the pleasantry of others, upon
matters in which he is deeply interested, so a mind mlenl up
on the acquisition of heaven, rejects with mdignation every at
tempt to entertain it with jests, calculated to degrade or deride
subjects, which it never recollects but -with seriousness and
anxiety. Nothing but stupidity, or the most frivolous dissipation
of thought, can make even the inconsiderate forget the su
preme importance of every thuig which relates to the expecta
tion of a future existence. WhUst the infidel mocks at the
superstitions of the vulgar, insults over their credulous fears,
their chUdish errours, or fantastic riles, it does not occur to
Mm to observe, that the most preposterous device by wMch
the weakest devotee ever beUeved he was securing the happi
ness of a future life, is more rational than unconcern about it.
Upon this subject nothing is so absurd as mdifference ; — no
folly so contemptible, as thoughtlessness and levity.
FinaUy, the knowledge of what is due to the solemmty of
those interests, concerning which revelation professes to inform
and direct us, may leach even those who are least mcUned lo
respect the prejudices of mankind, to observe a decoram in the
style and conduct of religious disquisitions, with the neglect of
which many adversaries of Christianity are justly chargeable.
Serious argmnents are fair on aU sides. Christianity is but ill
defended by refusmg audience or toleration to the objections of
unbelievers. ^ But whilst we would have freedom of inquiry
restrauied by no laws, but those of decency, we are entitled lo
demand, on behalf of a religion which holds forth lo mankuid
assurances of immorlaUty, that its credit be assaUed by no other
weapons than those of sober discussion and legitimate reason
ing :— that the truth or falsehood of CMistianity be never made
a topic of raUlery, a theme for the exercise of wit or eloquence,
or a subject of contention for literary fame and victory: — that
the cause be tried upon its merits : — that aU applications to the

OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 231
fancy, passions, or prejudices of the reader, all attempts to pre
occupy, ensnare, or perplex Ms judgment, by any art, influence,
or impression whatsoever, extrmsic to the proper grounds and
evidence upon which his assent ought lo proceed, be rejected
from a question, which involves in its determination, the hopes,
the virtue, and the repose of mUlions : — that the controversy be
managed on both sides with sincerity ; that is, that nothing be
produced, in the writmgs of either, contrary to, or beyond, the
-writer's own knowledge and persuasion : — that objections and
difficulties be proposed from no other motive, than- an honest
and serious deshe to obtain satisfaction, or to communicate in
formation which may promote the discovery and progress of
truth : — that, in conformity with this design, every thing be
staled with integrity, with method, precision, and simpUcity ;
and, above aU, that whatever is published in opposition to
received and confessedly beneficial persuasions, be set forth
under a form which is likely to invite inquuy, and to meet
examination. If with these inoderate and equitable conditions
be compared the manner in which hostUities have been waged
agamst the Christian reUgion, not only the votaries of the
prevailing faith, but every man who looks forward with anxiety
to the destination of his being, wiU see much to blame and lo
complain of. By one unbeliever, aU the foMes which have
adhered, in a long course of dark and superstitious ages, lo the
popular creed, are assumed as so many doctrines of Christ and
his Apostles, for the purpose of subverting the whole system
by the absurdities which it is thus represented lo contain. By
another, the ignorance and vices of the sacerdotal order, their
mutual dissensions and persecutions, their usurpations and
encroachments upon the inleUectual Uberty and civil rights of
mankind, have been displayed with no smaU triumph and in
vective ; not so much to guard the Christian laity against a
repetition- of the same injuries, (which is the only proper use
to be made of the most flagrant examples of the past), as to
prepare the way for an msinuation, that the reUgion itself is
nothing but a profitable fable, imposed upon the fears and cre-
duhty of the multitude, and upheld by the frauds and influence
of an in terested and crafty priesthood. And yet, how remotely
is the character of the clergy connected with the truth of Chris
tianity ! What, after aU, do the most disgraceful pages of
ecclesiastical history prove, but that the passions of our common
nature are not altered or excluded by distinctions of name, and

232 OF REVERENCING THE DEITT,
that the characters of men are formed much more -by the tempt
ations than the duties of their profession? A third finds
delight in coUecting and repeatmg accounts of wars and mas
sacres, of tumults and insurrections, excited in almost every age
of the Christian era by religious zeal ; as though the vices of
Christians were parts of Christianity ; intolerance and extirpa
tion precepts of the gospel ; or as if its spirit could be judged of
from the counsels of princes, the intrigues of statesmen, the
pretences of mahce and ambition, or the unauthorized cruelties
of some gloomy and virulent superstition. By a fourth, the
succession and variety of popular religions ; the vicissitudes
with which sects and tenets have flourished and decayed ; the
zeal -with which they were once supported, the negligence with
which they are now remembered ; the little share which reason
and argument appear to have had in framing the creed, or reg
ulating the religious conduct ofthe multitude ; the indifference
and submission with which the religion of the state is generaUy
received by the common people ; the caprice and vehemence
with which it is sometimes opposed ; the phrenzy with which
men have been brought to contend for opinions and ceremonies^
of which they knew neither the proof, the meaning, nor the
original ; lastly, the equal and undoubting confidence with
which we hear the doctrines of CMist or of Confucius, the law
of Moses or of Mahomet, the Bible, the Koran, or the Shaster,
maintained or anathematized, taught or abjured, revered or
derided, according as we live on this or on that side of a river ;
keep within or step over the boundaries of a state ; or even m
the same country, and by the same people, so often as the event
of a battle, or the issue of a negotiation, dehvers them to the
dominion of a new master ; points, I say, of this sort are exhi
bited to the pubhc attention, as so many arguments against
the truth of the Christian religion— and with success. For
these topics being brought together, and set off with some
aggravation of circumstances, and with a vivacity of style and
description famUiar enough to the writings and conversation of
free thinkers, insensibly lead the imagination into a habit of
classmg Christianity with the delusions that have taken posses
sion, by turns, of the public beUef : and of regarding it, as what
the scoffers of our faith represent it to be, the superstition of
the day. But is this to deal honestly by the subject, or with
the world ? May not the same things be said, may not the
same prejudices be excited by these representations, whether

OF^REVERENCIN© THE DEITY. 233
Christianity be true or false, or by whatever- proofs its truth be
attested? May not truth as weU as falsehood be taken upon cred
it ? May not a religion be founded upon evidence accessible and
satisfactory lo every mind Competent to the inquiry, which yet,
by the greatest part of its professors, is received upon authority ?
But if the matter of these objections be reprehensible, as
calculated lo produce an effect upon the reader beyond what
' their real weight and place in the argument deserve, still more
shaU we discover of management and disingenuousness in the
form, under which they are dispersed ainong the public. In
fidelity is served up in every shape that is likely to allure, sur
prise, or beguile the imagination ; in a fable, a tale, a novel, a
poem ; in interspersed and broken hints ; remote and oblique
surmises ; in books of travels, of philosophy, of natural history ;
in a -^vord, in any form rather than the right one, that of a
professed and regular disquisition. And because the coarse
buffoonery, and broad laugh, of the old and rude adversaries of
the Christian faith, would offend the taste, perhaps, rather than
the virtue, of this cultivated age, a graver hony, a more skUful
and deUcate banter, is substituted in their place. An eloquent
historian, beside his more direct, and therefore fairer, attacks
upon the credibUity of evangelic story, has contrived to weave
into his narration one continued sneer upon the cause of Chris
tianity, and upon the writings and characters of its ancient
patrons. The knowledge which this author possesses of the
frame and conduct of the human mind, must have led him lo
observe, that such attacks do then execution without inquiry.
Who can refute a sneer ? Who can compute the number,
much less one by one, scrutinize the justice, of those dispara
ging insinuations, which crowd the pages of this elaborate his
tory ? What reader suspends his curiosity, or caUs off Ms at
tention from the principal narrative, to examine references, lo
search into the foundation, or to weigh the reason, propriety,
and -force of every transient sarcasm, and sly allusion, by
which the Chi-istian testimony is depreciated and traduced ; and
by which, nevevertheless, he may find his persuasion after
wards unsettled and perplexed ?
But the enemies of CMistianity have pursued her with poi
soned arrows. Obscenity itself is made the vehicle of infideli
ty. The awful doctrines, if we be not permitted to caU them
the sacred truths, of our religion, together with aUthe adjuncts
and appendages of its worship and external profession, have
VOL. III. 30

234 OF REVERENCING THE DEITY.
been sometimes impudently profaned by an unnatural con
junction with impure and lascivious unages. The fondness
for ridicide is almost universal ; and ridicule to many minds
is never so nresistible, as when seasoned with obscenity, and
employed upon religion. But in proportion as these noxious
prmciples take hold of the imagination, they infatuate the judg
ment ; for trains of ludicrous and unchaste associations adher
ing to every sentiment and mention of religion, render the
mind indisposed to receive either conviction from its evidence,
or impressions from its authority. And this effect being ex--
erled upon the sensitive part of our frame, is altogether inde
pendent of argument, proof, or reason ; is as formidable to a
true religion as to a false one ; to a well grounded faith, as to
a chimerical mythology, or fabulous tradition. Neither, let it
be observed, is the crime or danger less, because impure ideas
are exMbiled under a veU, in covert and chastised language.
Seriousness is not constraint of thought ; nor levity, freedom.
Every mind which wishes the advancement of truth and
knowledge, in the most important of aU human researches,
must abhor this Ucentiousness, as violating no less the laws of
reasoning, than the rights of decency. There is but one de
scription of men, lo whose principles it ought to be tolerable ;
I mean that class of reasoners who can see little in Christian
ity, even supposing it lo be true. To such adversaries we
address this reflection. — Had Jesus Christ deUvered no oth
er declaration than the following : ' The hour is coming,
in the which all that are in the grave shaU hear Ms voice,
and shaU come forth ; they that have done good, unto the
resurrection of Ufe, and they that have done evU, unto the
resurrection of damnation,' he had pronounced a message of
inestimable importance, and weU worthy of that splendid ap
paratus of prophesy and miracles with which his mission was
introduced, and attested ; a message, in wMch the vrisesl of
mankind would rejoice to find an answer lo their doubts, and
rest to their inquiries. It is idle to say, that a future state had
been discovered aheady : — It had been discovered, as the Co-
pernican system was ; — it was one guess among many. He
alone discovers, who proves ; and no man can pro-ve this point,
but the teacher who testifies by miracles that Ms doctrme
comes from God.

MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK VI.

ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL KNOWLEDGE.

CHAPTER I.
OF THE ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
Government, at first, was either patriarchal or military :
that of a parent over his famUy, or of a commander over Ma
feUow warriours.
I, Paternal authority, and the order of domestic Ufe, sup
plied the foundation of civU government. Did mankind sprmg
out of the earth mature and independent, it would be found
perhaps impossible to introduce subjection and subordination
ainong them ; but the condition of human infancy prepares
men for society, by combining mdividuals into smaU commu
nities, and by placing them from the begmnmg under direc
tion and control. A famUy contains the rudiments of an em
pire. The authority of one over many, and the disposition to
govern and to be governed, are m this way incidental to the
very nature, and coeval no doubt with , the existence, of the
human species.
Moreover, the constitution of families not only assists the
formation of civil government, by the dispositions which it
generates, but also fiirmshes the first steps of the process by
which empires have been actuaUy reared. A parent would
retain a considerable part of Ms authority after his chUdren

236 ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
were grown up, and had formed famUies of their own. The
' obedience of which they remembered not the beginnmg, would
be considered as natural ; and would scarcely, during the pa
rent's life, be entirely or abruptly withdrawn. Here then we
see the second stage in the progress of dominion. The first
was, that of a parent over his young children : this, that of an
ancestor presiding over his adult descendants.
Although the original progenitor was the centre of the union
to his posterity, yet it is not probable that the association would
be immediately or altogether dissolved by his death. Connect
ed by habits of intercourse and affection, and by some com
mon rights, necessities, and interests, they would consider
themselves as allied to each other in a nearer degree than lo
the rest of the species. Almost all would be sensible of an in
clination to continue in the society in which they had been
brought up ; and experiencing, as they soon would do, many
inconveniences from the absence of that authority, which their
common ancestor exercised, especiaUy in deciding their dis
putes, and directing their operations in matters ui which it was
necessary to act in conjunction, they might be induced to sup
ply his place by a formal choice of a successor ; or rather
might willingly, and almost imperceptibly, transfer then obedi
ence to some one of the family, who by his age or services, or
by the part he possessed in the direction of their affairs during
l^e life time of the parent, had already taught them to respect
his advice, or to attend to his commands ; or, lastly, the pros
pect of these inconveniences might prompt the first ancestor
to appoint a successor ; and his posterity, from the same motive,
united with an habitual deference to the ancestor's authority,
might receive the appointment with submission. Here then
we have a tribe or clan incorporated under one chief Such
communities might be increased by considerable numbers, and
' fulfil the purposes of civil union without any other or more
regular convention, constitution, or form of government, than
what we have described. Every branch which was slipped
off from the primitive stock, and removed to a distance fi-om
it, would in like manner take root, and grow into a separate
clan. Two or three of these clans were frequently, we may
suppose, united into one. Marriage, conquest, mutual defence,
common distress, or more accidental coalitions, might produce
this effect.
Ill A second source of personal authority, and which might

ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 23?
easUy extend, or soinetiines perhaps supercede, the patriarchal,
is that which results ^from mUitary arrangement. In wars,
either of aggression or defence, manifest necessity would
prompt those who fought on the same side' to array themselves
under one leader. And although their leader was advan^
ced to this emmence for the purpose only, and during the ope
rations of a single expedition, yet his authority would not always
terminate with reasons for which it was conferred. A warriour
who had led forth his tribe against their enemies -with repealed
success, would procure lo himself, even in the deliberations of
peace, a powerful and permanent influence. If this advan
tage were added lo the authority of the patriarchal chief, or
favoured by any previous distinction of ancestry, it would be
no difficult undertaking for the person who possessed it to obtain
the almost absolute direction of the affairs of the community ;
especiaUy if he was careful to associate lo himself proper aux-
Uiaries, and content to practise the obvious art of gratifying or
removing those who opposed his pretensions;
But although we may be able to comprehend how by his
personal abiUties or fortune one man may obtain the rule over
many, yet it seems more difficult to explain how empire be
came hereditary, or in what manner sovereign power, which
is never acquired -without great merit or management, learns
to descend in a succession which has no dependence upon any
qualities either of understanding or activity. The causes which
have mtroduced hereditary dominion into so general a recep
tion m the world, are principally the following :^the influence
of association, which communicates to the son a portion of the
same respect which was wont to be paid to the virtues or sta
tion of the father ; the mutual jealousy of other competitors ;
the greater envy with which aU' behold thei exaltation of an
equal, than the continuance of an acknowledged superiority ; a
reigning prince leaving behind him many adherents, who can
preserve their own importance only by supporting the succes
sion of his children : add lo these reasons, that eleetions lo the
supreme power having) upon trial, produced deslraclive con
tentions, many states would take refiage from a return of the
same calamities in a rule of succession ; and no rule presents
itself so obvious, certain, and intelUgible, as consanguinity of
birth. The ancient slate of society in most countries, and the mod
ern condition of some uncivi]iz*ed parts of the world, exhibit

S38 ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
that appearance which this account of the origm of civU gov-^
ernment would lead us to expect. The earhesl histories of
Palestine, Greece, Italy, Gaul, Britain, inform us, that these
countries were occupied by many smaU independent nations,
not much perhaps unUke those which are found at present
amongst the savage inhabitants of North America, and upon
the coast of Africa. These nations I consider as the amplifica
tions of so many single famiUes ; or as derived from the junc
tion of two or three famUies, whom society in war, or the ap
proach of some common danger, had united. Suppose a
country to have been first peopled by sMpwreck on its coasts,
or by emigrants or exUes from a neighbouring country ; the
new settlers, having no enemy lo pro-iide against, and oc
cupied -with the care of their personal subsistence, would
think Uttle of digesting a system of laws, of contriving a form
of government, or indeed of any poUtical union whatever ;
but each settler would remain at the head of his own family, and
each fanuly would include aU of every age and generation who
were descended from him. So many of these families as were
holden together after the death of the original ancestor, by the
reasons and in the method above recited, would wax, as the
individuals were multiplied, into tribes, clans, hordes, or na
tions, simUar to those into which the ancient inhabitants of
many countries are known to have been divided, and which
are stiU found wherever the state of society and manners is
immature and uncultivated.
Nor need we be surprised at the early existence in the world
of some vast empires, or at the rapidity with which they ad
vanced to their greatness, from comparatively smaU and obscure
originals. Whilst the inhabitants of so many countries were
broken into numerous communities, unconnected, and often
times contending with each other ; before experience had taught
these Utile states, to see their own danger in their neighbour's
ruin ; or had instructed them in the necessity of resisting the
aggrandizement of an aspiring power, by aUiances, and timely
preparations ; in this condition of civU poUcy, a particular tribe,
which by any means had gotten the start ofthe rest in stjength
or discipUne, and happened to faU under the conduct of an
ambitious chief, by dnecting their first attempts to the part where
success was most secure, and by assuming, as they went along,
those whom they conquered mto a share of their future enter-
prizes, might soon gathei- a force which would infaUibly over-

SUBJECTION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 239
bear any opposition that the scattered power and unprovided
stale of such enemies could make lo the progress of then victo
ries. Lastly, our theory affords a presumption, that the earliest gov
ernments were monarchies, because the government of families,
and of armies, from which, according to our account, civU gov-
ermenl derived its institution, and probably its form, is univer
sally monarchical.

CHAPTER II.
HOW SUBJECTION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT IS MAIN^
TAINED.
Could we view our own species from a distance, or regard
mankind with the same sort of observation with which we read
the natural history, or remark the m,anners, of any other ani
mal, there is nothing in the human character which woidd
more sm-prise us, than the almost universal subjugation of
strength to weakness ;• — ^than lo see many miUions of robust
men, in the complete use and exercise of their personal facul
ties, and without any defect of courage, waiting upon the wiU
of a chUd, a woman, a driveller, or a lunatic. And although,
when we suppose a vast empire in absolute subjection to one per
son, and that one depressed beneath the level of Ms species by in-
fu-mities, or vice, we suppose perhaps an extreme case ; yet in all
cases even in the most popular forms of civU government, the
physical strength resides in the governed. In what manner
opimon thus prevails over strength, or how power, which natu
rally belongs to superiour force, is maintained in opposition to it;
in other words, by what motives the many are induced to submit
to the few, becomes an inquii-y wMch Ues at the root of almost
every poUtical specidation. It removes, indeed, but does not re
solve the difficulty, to say that civil governments are now-a-days
almost universally upholden by standing ai-mies ; for the ques
tion stiU retiuTis, How are these armies themselves kept in sub
jection, or made to obey the commands, and carry on the de
signs, of the prince or state which employs them ?
Now, although we should look m vein for any single rea-

240 SUBJECTION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
son which wUl account for the general submission of man
kind to civU government, yet it may not be difficult lo assign for
every class and character in the comnmnily, considerations
powerful enough to dissuade each from any attempts to resist
established authority. Every man has his motive, though not
the same. In this, as in other instances, the conduct is simi
lar, but the principles which produce it extremely various.
There are three distinctions of character, into wMch the sub
jects of a state may be divided : into those who obey fi-om prie-
judice ; those who obey from reason ; and those who obey
from self-interest.
I. They who obey from prejudice are determined by an
opinion of right in their governours ; which opinion is found
ed upon prescription. In monarcMes and aristocracies which
are hereditary, the prescription operates in favom- of particu
lar famiUes : in republics and elective offices, in favour of par
ticular forms of government, or constitutions. Nor is it lo be
wondered at, that mankind should reverence anthority foun
ded in prescription, when they observe that it is prescription
wMch confers the title to almost every thing -else. The whole
cpnrse, and all the habits of civU Ufe, favour iMs prejudice.
Upon what other foundation stands any man's right lo his
estate ? , The right of primogeniture, the succession of kindred,
the descent of property, the inheritance of honours, the de
mand of tithes, tolls, rents, or services from the estates of others,
the right of way, the powers of office and magistracy, the
privUeges of nobility, the immunities of the clergy, upon what
are they aU founded, in the apprehension at least of the mul
titude, but upon prescription ? To what else, when the
claims are contested, is the appeal made ? It is natural to trans
fer the same principle lo the affairs of government, and to re
gard those exertions of power, which have been long exercised
and acquiesced in, as so many rights in the sovereign ; and
lo consider obedience to his commands, within certain accus
tomed limits, as enjoined by that rule of conscience, which re
quires us to render to every man his due.
In hereditary monarcMes, the prescriptive, title is corro
borated, and its influence considerably augmented, by an acces
sion of religious sentiments, and by that sacredness which
men are wont lo ascribe to the persons of princes. Princes
themselves have not failed to lake advantage of this disposi
tion, by clainung a superiour dignity, as it were, of nature, or

SUBJECTION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 241
a peculiar delegation from the Supreme Being. For this
purpose were introduced the titles of sacred majesty, of God's
anointed, representative, vicegerent, together with the cere
monies of mvestitures and coronations, which are calculated
not so much to recognize the authority of sovereigns, as to
consecrate their persons. Where a fabulous religion permit
ted it, the pubUc veneration has been chaUenged by bolder
pretensions. The Roman Emperors usurped the titles and
arrogated the worship of gods. The mythology of the heroic
ages, and of many barbarous nations, was easily converted to
this purpose. Some princes, like the heroes of Homer, and
the, founder of the Roman name, derived their bnth from the
gods : .others, with Numa, pretended a secret communication
with, some divine bemg : and others again, like the Incas of
Peru, and the ancient Saxon kings, extracted their descent
from the deities of their country. The Lama of Thibet, at
this day, is held forth to his subjects, not as the offspring or
successor of a divine race of princes, but as the immortal God
himself, the object at once of civil obedience and religious
adoration. This instance is singular, and may be accounted
the farthest pomt lo which the abuse of human credulity hs§
ever been carried. But in aU these instances the purpose was
the same, — to engage the reverence of mankind, by an appli
cation to their religious principles.
The reader wiU be careful to observe, that in this article we
denominate every opinion, whether true or false, a prejudice,
which is not founded upon argument, in the mind of the per
son who entertains it.
II. They who obey from reason, that is- to say, fi-om con
science, as instructed by reasonings and conclusions of their
own, are determined by the consideration of the necessity of
some govemment or other ; the certain mischief of civil com
motions ; and the danger of resetlUng the govemment of their
country better, or at aU, if once subverted or disturbed.
III. They who obey from self-interest, are kept in order
by want of leisure ; by a succession of private cares, pleasures,
and engagements ; by contentment, or a sense of the ease,
plenty, and safety which they enjoy ; or lastly, and principal
ly, by fear, foreseeing that they would bring' themselves by re
sistance into a worse situation than their present, inasmuch as
the strength of government, each discontented subject reflects,
VOL. III. 31

242 SUBJECTION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
is greater than his own, and he knows not that others would
join him.
This last consideration has often been caUed opinion of
power. This a,ccount of the principles by which mankind are retain
ed in theii- obedience to civU govemment, may suggest the fol-
lomng cautions :
1. Let civU governours learn hence to respect their suyects ;
let them be admonished, that the physical strength resides
in the governed ; that this strength wants only to be felt and
roused, to lay prostrate the most ancient and confirmed domin
ion ; that civU authority is founded in opinion-; that general
opinion therefore ought always to be treated with deference,
and managed with dehcacy and cncumspeclion.
2. Opimon of right, always foUowing the custom, being
for the most part founded in nothing else, and lending one
principal support to government, every innovation in the con
stitution, or, in other words, in the custom of governing, dimin
ishes the stability of govemment. Hence some absm-dities
are to be retained, and many smaU inconveniences endured in
^very country, rather than that thensage should be violated,
or the course of pubUo affairs diverted from theii- old and smooth
channel. Even names are not indifferent. When the multi
tude are to be dealt with, there is a charm, in sounds.- it was
upon this prmciple, that several statesmen of those times advi
sed Cromwell to assume the title of king, together with the an
cient style and insignia of royalty. The minds of many, they
contended, would be brought to acquiesce in the authority of
a King, who suspected the office, and were offended -with the
administration, of a Protector. Novelty reminded them of
usurpation. The adyersaiies of this design opposed the meas
ure, from the same persuasion of the efficacy of names and
forms,, jealous lest the veneration paid to these, should add an
influence to the new settlement which might ensnare the lib
erty of the commonwealth.
3. Government may be too secure. The greatest tyrants
have been those, whose titles were the most unquestioned.
Whenever therefore the opimon of right becomes too predoira-
nanl and superstitious, it is abated by breaking the custom.
Thus the Revolution broke the custom of succession, and
thereby moderated, both in the prince and in the people, those
lofty notions of hereditary right, which in the one were become

SUBJECTION TO CIVIL GO-VERNMENT, 243
a continual incentive to tyranny, and disposed the other to in
vite ser\atude, by undue compliances and dangerous conces
sions, 4. As ignorance of union, and want of communication, ap
pear amongst the principal preservatives of civil authority, it
behoves every state to keep its subjects in this want and igno
rance, not only by vigilance m guardmg agamst actual con
federacies and combmations, but by a timely care to prevent
great coUections of men of any separate party of religion, or of
Uke occupation or profession, or in any way connected by a
participation of mterest or passion, fi-om being assembled in
the same -vicinity. A Protestant estabUshment in this country
may have Uttle lo fear from its Popish subjects, scattered' as they
are throughout the kingdom, and mtermixed with the Protest
ant inhabitants, which yet might thmk them a formidable bo
dy, if they were gathered together into one country. The
most frequent and desperate riots are those which break out
amongst men of the same profession, as weavers, miners, sail
ors. This circumstance makes a mutiny of soldiers more to
be dreaded than any other insurrection. Hence also one dan
ger of an overgrown metropohsj and of those great cities ani
crowded districts, into which the inhabitants ^ trading coun
tries are commonly coUected. The worst effect of popular tu
mults consists in this, that they discover to the insurgents the
secret of their own strength, teach them lo depend, upon it
agamst a futme occasion, and both produce and diffuse senti
ments of confidence in one another, and assurances of mutual
support. Leagues thus formed and strengthened, may over
awe or overset the power of any stale ; and the danger is great
er, in proportion as, from the propmquity of habitation and in
tercourse of employment, the passions and counsels of a party
can be chculaled with ease and rapidity. It is by these means,
and in such situations, that the minds of men are so affected
and prepared, that the most dieadful uproars often arise from
the slightest provocations, — When the train is laid, a spark
wiU produce the explosion.

( 244 )

CHAPTER in.
THE DUTY OF SUBMISSION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT
EXPLAINED.
The subject of this chapter is sufficiently distinguished from
the subject of the last, as the motives which actuaUy produce
civil obedience may be, and often are, very different from the
reasons which make that obedience a duly.
In order to prove civU obedience to be a moral duty, and an
obligation upon the conscience, it hath been usual with many
political writers, at the head of whom we find the venerable
name of Locke, to state a compact between the citizen and the
state, as the ground and cause of the relation between them ;
which compact, binding the parties for the same general rea
son that private contracts do, resolves the duty of submission to
civil govemment into the universal obligation of fideUty in
the performance of promises. This compact is two-fold :
First, An express compact by the primitive founders of the
state, who are supposed to have convened for the declared
purpose of settling the terms of their poUtical union, and a fu
ture constitution of government. The whole body is supposed,
in the first place, to have unanimously consented to be bound
by the resolutions of the majority ; that majority, in the next
place, to have fixed certain fundamental regnlalions ; and then
to have constituted, either in one person, or in an assembly,
(the rule of succession or appointment being at the same time
determined), a standing legislature, to whom, under these
pre-established restrictions, the government of the state was
thenceforward committed, and whose laws the several mem
bers of the convention were, by their first undertaking, thus
personaUy engaged to obey. — This transaction is sometimes
caUed the social compact, and these supposed original regula
tions compose what are meant by the constitution, the funda-
m,ental laws of the constitution ; and form, on one side, the
inherent, indefeasible prerogative of the crown; and, on
the other, the unalienable, imprescriptible birth-right of the
subject. Secondly, A tacit or implied compact, by aU succeeding

DUTY OP SUBMISSION EXPLAINED. 245
members of the state, who, by accepting its protection, consent
to be bound by its laws ; in like manner, as whoever voluntas
rily enters into a private society is understood, without any
other or more explicit stipulation, to p'omise a conformity with
the rules and obedience to the government of that society, as
the known conditions upon which he is admitted lo a partici
pation of its privileges.
This account of the subject, although specious, and patron
ized by names the most respectable, appears to labour under
the following objections ; that it is founded upon a supposition
false in fact, and leading to dangerous conclusions.
No social compact, similar to what is here described, was
ever made or entered into in reahty ; no such original conven
tion of the people was ever actuaUy holden, or in any country
could be holden, antecedent lo the existence of civU govern
ment in that country. It is lo suppose it possible lo caU sava
ges out of caves and deserts, to deliberate and vote upon topics,
which the experience, and studies, and refinements of civil life
alone suggest. Therefore no government in the universe be
gan from this original. Some imitation of a social compact
may have taken place at a revolution. The present age has
been -witness to a transaction, which bears the nearest resem
blance lo this poUtical idea, of any of wMch history has pre
served the account or memory. I refer to the establishment of
the United States of North- America. We saw the people as
sembled to elect deputies, for the avowed purpose of framing
the constitution of a new empire. We saw this deputation of
the people deliberating and resolving upon a form of govern
ment, erecting a permanent legislature, distributing the func
tions of sovereignty, estabUshmg and promulgating a code of
fundamental ordinances, which were to be considered by suc
ceeding generations, not merely as laws and acts of the state,
but as the very terms and condilicHis of the confederation ; as
binding not only upon the subjects and magistrates of the stale,
but as limitations of power, which were to control and regulate
the future legislature. Yet even here much was presupposed.
In settUng the constituliDn, many important parts were pre
sumed lo be aheady settled. The qualifications of the consti
tuents who were admitted lo vote in the election of members of
congress, as weU as the mode of electing, the representatives,
were taken from the o^d forms of government. That was
wanting, from which every social union should set off, and

246 DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED.
which alone makes the resolutions of the society the act ofthe
individual, — the unconslramed consent of aU lo be .bound by
the decision of the majority; and yet, without this previous
consent, the revolt, and the regulations wMch foUowed it, were
compulsory upon dissentients.
But the original compact, we are told, is not proposed as a
fact, but as a fiction, which furnishes a commodious explication
of the m.utual rights and duties of sovereigns and subjects. In
answer to this representation of the matter, we observe, that the
original compact, if it be not a fact, is nothing ; can confer no
actual authority upon laws or magistrates ; nor afford any foun
dation lO; rights, which are supposed lo be real and existing.
But the truth is, that in the books, and m the apprehension, of
those who deduce om- civU rights, and obhgalions a pactis,
the original convention is appealed lo and treated of as a reality.
Whenever the disciples of iMs syslem.speak of the constitution;
of the fundamental articles of the constitution ; of laws being
constitutional or unconstitutional ; of inherent, unaUenable, in
extinguishable rights, either in the prince, or in the people; or
indeed of any laws, usages, or ci-vU rights, as transcending the
authority of the subsisting legislatme, or possessing a force aiid
sanction superiour lo what belong to the modern acts and edicts
of the legislature, they secretly refer us lo what passed at the
original convention. They would teach us lo beUeve, that cer
tain rales and ordinances were estabhshed by the people, at the
same time that they settled the charter of government, and the
powers as weU as the form of the future legislature ; that this
legislature consequently, deriving its commission and existence
. from tiie consent and act of the prunitive assembly (of which
indeed it is only the standing deputation), continues subject,
in "the exercise of its offices, and as to the extent of its power,
to the rules, reservations, and limitations which the same as
sembly then made and prescribed to it.
' As the fijst members of the stale were bound by express
stipulation to obey the govemment which they had erected, so
the succeeding inhabitants of the same country are understood
to promise allegiance to the constitution and government they
find established, by accepting its protection, clauning its privi
leges, and acquiescing in its laws ; more especially, by the pm- '
chase or inheritance of lands, to the possession of wMch, alle
giance to the state is annexed, as the very seivice and condition
of the tenure.' Smoothly as this train of argument proceeds.

DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED. 247
little of it wUl endm'e examination. The native subjects of
modern slates are not conscious of any stipulation with their
sovereigns, of ever exercising an election whether they wiU
be bound or not by the acts of the legislature, of any alterna
tive being proposed. to their choice, of a promise either requned
or given ; nor do they apprehend that the validity or authority
of the laws depends at all upon their recognition or consent.
In aU stipulations, whether they be expressed or impUed, pri
vate or pubhc, formal or constructive, the parties stipulatmg
must both possess the Uberty of assent and refusal, and also be
conscious of this Uberty ; which cannot with truth be affirmed
of the subjects of civU government, as government is now, or
ever was, actuaUy administered. This is a defect, which no
arguments can excuse or supply : aU presumptions of consent,
without this consciousness, or in opposition lo it, are vain and
erroneous. StiU less is it possible to reconcile with any idea of
stipulation the practice, in wMcli all European nations agree,
of founding aUegiance upon the circumstance of nativity, that
is, of claiming and treating as subjects aU those who are born
within the confines of their dominions, although removed to
another country in then youth or infancy. In this instance
certamly the stale does not presume a compact. Also if the
subject be bound only by his own consent, and if the voluntary
abiding in the country be the proof and intimation of that con-
s,ent, by what arguments should we defend the right, which
sovereigns universaUy assume, of proMbiting, when they please,
the departm-e of then subjects out ofthe realm?
Agam, when it is contended „ that the taking and holding
possession of land amounts lo an acknowledgment of the sov
ereign, and a -virtual promise of aUegiance to his laws, it is
necessary lo the vaUdity of the argument to prove, that the
inhabitants, who fhst composed and constituted the state, col
lectively possessed a right to the soU of the country ; — a right
lo parcel it out to whom they pleased, and lo annex to the
donation what conditions they thought fit. How came they
by this right? An agreement amongst themselves would not
confer it : that could only adjust what already belonged to
them. A society of men vole themselves lo be the owners of
a region of the world ; — does that vote, unaccompanied espe
ciaUy with any culture, inclosure, or proper act of occupation,
make it thens ? does it entitle them to exclude others from it,
or to dictate the conditions upon which it shall be enjoyed ?

248 DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED.
Yet tMs orignial coUective right and ownership is the founda
tion of aU the reasoning, by which the duty of aUegiance is
inferred from the possession of land.
The theory of government which affirms the existence and
the obligation of a social compact, would, after aU, merit Uttle
discussion, and, however groundless and unnecessary, should
receive no opposition from us, did it not appear to lead to con
clusions unfavourable to the improvement, and to the peace
of human society.
1st. Upon the supposition that government was first erected
by, and that it derives aU its just authority from, resolutions
entered into by a convention of the people, it is capable of be
ing presumed, that many points were settled by that conven
tion, anteriour to the establishment of the subsisting legislature,
and which the legislalm-e, consequently, has no right to alter,
or interfere with. These points are called the fundamentals
of the constitution ; and as it is impossible lo detemiine how
many, or what they are, the suggesting of any such serves ex
tremely lo embarrass the deUberatipns of the legislature, and af
fords a dangerous pretence for disputing the authority of the
laws. It was this sort of reasoning (so far as reasoning of any
kind was employed in the question) that produced in this na
tion the doubt, whicK so much agitated the minds of men in
the reign of the second Charles, whether an Act of ParUament
I could of right alter or Umit the succession of the crown,
2dly. If if be by -virtue of a compact, that the subject owes
obedience to civil govemment, it wiU foUow that he ought to
abide by the form of government which he finds estabUshed,
be it ever so absurd or inconvenient. He is bound by his bar
gain. It is not permitted to any man to retreat from his en
gagement, merely because he finds the performance disadvanta
geous, or because he has an opportunity of entering into a bet
ter. This law of contracts is universal : and lo caU the relation
between the sovereign and the subject a contract, yet not to ap
ply to it the rules, or aUow of the effects of a contract, is an ar-
biU-ary use of names, and an unsteadiness in reasonmg, which
can teach noljiing. Resistance to the encroachments, oi the
supreme magistrate may be JustUied upon this principle ; re
course to arms, for the purpose of b.iinging about an amend
ment of the constitution, never can. No form of government
contains a provision for its own dissolution ; and few gove^n-
oms wiU consent to the extinction, or even to any abridg-

DUT^^ OP SUBMISSION EXPLAINED- 249
ment, of then own power. It does not therefore appear, how
despotic govemments. can ever, in consistency with the obU
gation of the subject, be changed or mitigated. Despotism is
the constitution of many slates : and whUst a despotic prince
exacts from his subjects the most rigorous servitude, according •
lo this account, he is only holding them to their agreement.
A people may -vmdicate, by force, the rights which the consti
tution has left them ; but every attempt to narrow the preroga
tive of the crown, by neio limitations, and in opposition to the
¦will of the reigning prince, whatever opportunities may invite,
or success foUow it, must be condemned as an infraction of the
compact between the sovereign and the subject.
3dly. Every violation of the compact on the part of the gov
emour releases the subject from his aUegiance, and dissolves
.the government. I do not perceive how we can avoid this
consequence, if we found the duty of aUegiance upon com
pact, and confess any analogy between the social compact
and other contracts. In private contracts, the violation and
non-pSrformance of the conditions, by one of the parties, va
cates the obUgation of the other. Now the terms and articles
of the social compact being nowhere extant or expressed ; the
rights and offices of the administrator of an empire being so
many and various ; the imaginary and controverted hue of
his prerogative being so liable to be overstepped in one part or
other of it : the position, that every such transgression amounts
to a forfeiture of the government, and consequently authorizes
the people lo withdraw then obedience, and provide for them
selves by a new Settlement, would endanger the stability of
every political fabric in the world, and has in fact always sup
plied the disaffected with a topic of seditious declamation. If
occasions have arisen, in which this plea has been resorted lo
with justice and success, they have been occasions in which a
revolution was defensible upon other and plainer principles.
The plea itself is at aU timeS captious and unsafe.

Wherefore, rejecting the intervention of a compact, as un
founded m its prmciple, and dangerous in the appUcation, we
assign for the only ground of the subject's obligation, the
WILL OP GoD, AS COLLECTED FROM EXPEDIENQ-V.
The steps by which the argument proceeds are few and di
rect. ' It is the wiU of God that the happiness of human Itfe
VOL. III. 32

250

DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED.

be promoted:'— this is the first step, and the foundation not
only of this, but of every moral conclusion. ' CivU society con
duces lo that end :'— this is the secoiid proposition, ' CivU so
cieties cannot be upholden, unless in each, the interest of the
whole society be binding upon every part and member of it :'
this is the third step, and conducts us to the conclusion, name
ly, ' that so long as the interest of the whole society requkes
it, that is, so long as the estabUshed government cannot be re
sisted or changed without public inconveniency, it is the -wiU
of God (which will universaUy determines our duty) that the
estabhshed government be obeyed,' — and no longer.
This principle being: admitted, the justice of every particular
case of resistance is reduced to a computation of the quantity
of the danger and grievance on the one side, and of the proba
bUity and expense of redressing it on the other.
But who shaU judge of this ? , We answer, ' Every man for
himself In contentions between the sovereign and ttie sub
ject, the parties acknowledge no common arbitrator; and it
would be absurd to refer the decision to those whose conduct
has provoked the question, and whose own interest, authority,
and fate, are iinmediately concerned in it. The danger of er
rour .and abuse is no objection to the rule of expediency, be
cause every other rule is liable to the same or greater ; and
every rule that can be propounded upon the subject (like aU
rules indeed which appeal to, or bind, the conscience) must
in the application depend upon private judgment. It may
be observed, however, that it ought equaUy to be accounted the
exercise of a man's own private judgment, whether he be de
termined by reasonings and conclusions of his own, or sub
mit to be directed by the advice of others, provided he be free
to choose his guide.
We proceed to point out some easy but important inferences,
which result from the substitution of public expediency into
the place of aU implied compacts, promises, or conventions
whatsoever. I. It may be as much a duty, at one time, to resist govern
ment, as it is, at another, to obey it; to wit, whenever more
advantage will, in our opinion, accrae to the community, from
resistance, than mischief.
II. The lawfulness of resistance, or the lawfulness of a re
volt, does not depend alone upon the grievance which is sus
tained or feared, but also upon the probable expense and event

DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED. 251
of the contest. They who concerted the revolution in En
gland were justifiable in their counsels, because, frgm the ap
parent disposition of the nation, and the strength and charac
ter of the parlies engaged, the measure was likely to be brought
about with' little mischief or bloodshed ; whereas it might have
been a question with many friends of their country, whether the
injuries then endured and threatened would have authorized
the renewal of a doutftil civU war.
III. Irregularity in the first foundation of a state, or subse
quent violence, fraud, or injustice in getting possession of the
supreme power, are not sufficient reasons for resistance, after
the government is once peaceably settled. No subject of the
British empire conceives himself engaged to vindicate the jus
tice of the Norman claim or conquest, or apprehends that his
duty in any manner depends upon that controversy. So, like
wise, if the House of Lancaster, or even the posterity of Crom-
weU, had been at this day seated upon the throne of Eng
land, we should have been as littie concerned to inquire how
the founder of the family came there. No civU contests are
so futUe, although none have been so fiirious and sanguinary,
as those which are excited by a disputed succession.
IV. Not every invasion of the subject's rights, or liberty, or
of the constitution'; not every breach of promise, or of oath ; not
every stretch of prerogative, abuse of power, or neglect of du
ty by the chief jnagistrate, or by the whole or any branch of
the legislative body, justifies resistance, unless these crimes
draw after them pubhc consequences of sufficient magnitude
lo outweigh the evils of civU disturbance. Nevertheless, every
violation of the constitution ought to be watched -with jealousy,
and resented as such, beyond what the quantity of estimable
damage would require or warrant; because a known and settled
usage of governing affords the only security against the enor
mities of uncontrolled dominion, and because this security is
weakened by every encroachment which is made without op
position, or opposed without effect.
V. No usage, law, or authority whatever, is so binding, that
it need or ought lo be continued, when it may be changed
with advantage lo the community. The famUy of the
prince, the order of succession, the prerogative of the crown,
the form and parts of the legislature, together with the respec
tive powers, office, duration', and mutual dependency of, the
geveral parts, are all only so m^iayjaws, mutable. Uke other

252 DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED.
laws, whenever expediency requires, either by the ordinary act of
the legislatme, or, if the occasion deserve it, by the interposition
of the people. These points are wont lo be approached with a
kind of awe; they are represented to the mind as principles of
the constitution settled by our ancestors, and, being settled, lo
be no more committed lo innovation or debate; as foundations
never to be stirred; as the terms and conditions ofthe social
compact, to which every citizen of the state has engaged hJs
fidelity, by virtue of a promise which he cannot now recall.
Such reasons have no place in om system : to us, ff there be
any good reason for trealuig these with more deference and '
respect than other laws, it is, either the advantage of the pres
ent constitution of government (which reason must be of dif
ferent force in different countries), or because in all countries
it is of importance, that the form, and usage of governing be
acknowledged and understood, as weU by the governours as by
the governed, and because the seldoiner it is changed, the
more perfectly it wiU be known by both sides,
VI. As aU civU obligation is resolved imo expediency, what,
it may be asked, is the difference between the obligation of em
Englishman and a Frenchman? or why, since the obligation
of both appears to be founded in the same reason, is a French
man boimd in conscience to bear any thing from his king,
which an EngUshman would not be bound to bear ? Their
conditions may differ, but their rights, according to this ac
count, should seem to be equal; and yet we are accustomed to
speak of the rights as weU as of the happiness of a free peo
ple, compared with what belong to the subjects of absolute
monarchies: how, you -wiU say, can this comparison be ex
plained, unless we refer to a difference in the compacts by
which they are respectively bound? — This is a fair question,
and the answer to it wUJ afford a fm-ther Ulustration of our
principles. We admit then that there are many things which
a Frenchman is bound in conscience, as weU as by coercion,
lo endure at, the hands of his prince, to wMch an Englishman
would not be obliged to submit; but we assert, that it is for
these two reasons alone: fi,rst, because the same act ofthe
prince is not the same grievance, where it is agreeable to the
constitution, and where it infringes it; secondly, because re
dress in the two cases is not equaUy attainable. Resisfance
cannot be attempted with equal hopes of success, or with the
game prospect of receiving support from others, where the peo-

DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED. 253
pie are reconciled to their sufferings, as where they are alarmed
by innovation. In this way, and no otherwise, the subjects
of different states possess different civil rights ; the duty of obe
dience is defined by different boundaries ; and the point of jus
tifiable resistance placed at different parts of the scale of suffer
ing ; aU which is sufficiently intelligible without a social com
pact. vn. ' The interest of the whole society is binding upon eve
ry part of it,' No rule, short of this, wiU provide for the stabiU-
ty of civU government, or for the peace and safety of social life.
Wherefore, as individual members of the state are not permit
ted to pursue then private emolument to the prejudice of the
community, so it is equaUy a consequence of this rule, that no
particular colony, province, town, or district, can justly concert
measures for their separate interest, which shall appear at the
same time lo diminish the sum, of public prosperity. I do not
mean, that it is necessary to the justice of a, measme, that it pro
fit each and every part of the community; (for, as the happi^
ness of the whole may be increased, whilst that of some parts
is diminished, it is possible that the conduct of one part of an
empire inay be detrimental to some other part, and yet just, pro
vided one part gain more jn happiness than the otKer part loses,
so that the common weal be augmented by the change) : but
what I affirm is, that those counsels can never be reconciled
with the obligations resulting from civil union, which cause the
whole happiness of the society to be unpaired for the convenien
cy of a part. This conclusion is applicable to the question of
right between Great Britain and her revolted'colonies. Had I
been an American, I should not have thought it enough lo have
had it even demonstrated, that a separation from the parent
-state would produce effects beneficial to America ; my relation
to that slate imposed upon me a further inquiry, nainely, wheth
er the whole happiness of the empne was likely lo be promoted
by such a measure : Not mdeed the happiness of every part ;
that was not necessary, nor lo be expected ; — but whether what
Great Britain would lose by the separation was likely to be com
pensated to the joint slock of happiness, by the advantages
which America would receive from it. The contested claims of
sovereign stales, and their remote dependencies, may be submit
ted to the adjudication of this rule -with mutual safety. A pub
lic advantage is measmed by the advantage which each indi-vi-
dual receives, and by the number of those who receive it. A

264 DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE,
public evil is compounded of the same proportions. Whilst,
therefore, a colony is smaU, or a province thinly inhabited, if a
competition of interests arise between the original country and
their acquired domimons, the former ought to be preferred, be
cause it is fit that if one must necessarUy be sacrificed, the less
give place to the greater; but when, by an mcrease of popula
tion, the interest of the provinces begins to bear a considerable
proportion to the entire interest of the community, it is possible
that they may suffer so much by their subjection, that not only
theirs, but the whole happiness of the" empire may be obstruc
ted by their union. The rule and principle of the calculation
being still the same, the result is different; and this difference
begets a new situation, which entitles the subordinate parts of
the state to more equal terms of confederation, and, if these be
refused, to independency.

CHAPTER IV.
OF THE DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE, AS STATED IN
THE CHRISTIAN SCRIPTURES.
We affirm that, as to the extent of our civU rights and ob
Ugations, Christianity hath left ns where she found us ; that
she hath neither altered nor ascertained it ; that the New Tes
tament contains not one passage, which, fairly interpreted,
affords either argument or objection applicable to any conclu
sions upon the subject that are deduced from the law and re
hgion of natm-e.
The only passages which have been seriously aUeged in the
controversy, or which it is necessary for us to state and examine,
are the foUowing ; the one extracted from St Paul's Epistle to
the Romans, the other from the First General Epistle of St
Peter : Romans, xiU. 1 — 7. "
' Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For
there is no power but of God ; the powers that be aie ordained
of God. Whosoever therefore resisteth the power resisteth the

AS STATED IN THE SCRIPTURES. 255
ordinance of God : and they that resist shaU receive to them
selves damnation. For rulers are not a lerrour to good works,
but to the evU. WUt thou then not be afraid of the power ?
Do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same;
for he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do
that which is evU, be afraid ; for he beareth not the sword hi
vain : for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath
upon him that doeth evU. Wherefore ye must needs be sub
ject, not only for -wi-ath, but also for conscience sake. For, for
this cause pay you tribute also : for they are God's ministers,
attending continuaUy upon this very thing. Render therefore
to all then dues : tribute lo whom tribute is due, custom to,
whom custom, fear to whom fear, honour lo whom honour.'
1 Peter, ii. 13—18,
' Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's
sake : whether it be to the king as supreme ; or unto govern
ours, as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of
evU doers, and for the praise of them that do well. For so is
the will of God, that with well-doing ye may put to silence the
ignorance of foolish men : as free and not using your Uberty for
a' cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God.'
To comprehend the proper import of these instructions, let
the reader reflect, that upon the subject of civU obedience there
are two questions ; the first, whether to obey government be a
moral duty and obUgation upon the conscience at aU : the se
cond, how far, and to what cases, that obedience ought to ex
tend : — that these two questions are so distinguishable in the
imagmation, that it is possible to treat of the one, without, any
thought ofthe other ; and lastly, that if expressions which relate
to one of these questions be transferred and applied to the other,
it is with great danger of giving them a signification very differ
ent from the author's meaning. This distinction is not only
possible, but natmal. If I met with a person who appeared to
entertain doubts, whether civil obedience were a moral duty
which ought to be voluntaiily discharged, or whether it were
not a mere submission to force, like that which we yield to a
robber v. ho holds a pistol to our breast, I should represent to
him the use and offices of civU government, the end and the
necessity of civU subjection ; or, if I preferred a diflerent theory,
I should explam to him the social compact, urge him with the

256 DUTY OF CJVIL OBEDIENCE,
obhgation and the equity of Ms implied promise and tacit con
sent to be governed by the laws ofthe slate from- which he re
ceived protection ; or I should argue, perhaps, that nature her
self dictated the law of subordination, when she planted with
in us an inclination to associate with our species, and framed
us with capacities so various and unequal. From whatever
principle 1 set out, I should labour to infer from it this conclu
sion, ' That obedience to the state is to be numbered amongst
the relative duties of human life, for the transgression of which
we shaU be accountable at the tribunal of divine justice, wheth
er the magistrate be able to punish us for it or not ; ' and being
arrived at this conclusion, I should stop, having delivered the
conclusion itself, and throughout the whole argument expressed
the obedience, which I inculcated, in the most general and un-
quahfied terms ; all reservations and restrictions being super
fluous, and foreign to the doubts I was employed to remove.
If in a short time afterwards I should be accosted by the
same person, with complaints of pubhc grievances, of exorbi
tant, taxes, of acts of cruelty and oppression, of tyrannical en
croachments upon- the ancient or stipulated rights of the peo
ple, and should be consulted whether it were lawful to revolt,
or justifiable to join in an attempt to shake off the yoke by open
resistance ; I should certainly consider myself as having a case
and question before me very different from the former. I
should now define and discriminate. I should reply, that if
public expediency be the foundation, it is also the measure of
civU obedience ; that the obUgation of subjects and sovereigns
is reciprocal ; that the duty of aUegiance, whether it be founded
in UtUity or compact, is neither unMniled nor unconditional ;
that peace may be purchased too dearly ; that patience becomes
culpable pusUlanimity, when it serves only to encourage om-
rulers to increase the weight of our burthen, or lo bind it the
faster ; that the submission which surrenders the liberty of a
nation, and entaUs slavery upon future generations, is enjoined
by no law of rational moraUty ; finaUy, I should inslract
the inquirer to compare the perU and expense of his enterprize
with the effects it was expected to produce, and lo make choice
of thd alternative, by which not his own present reUef or pro
fit, but the whole and permanent interest of the state was Uke
ly to be best promoted. If any one who had been present at
both these conversations should upbraid me with change or in
consistency of opinion, should retort upon me the passive doc-

AS ^TATfiO IN fHfi SCftlPTtfRES, 2S7
trine which I before taught, the large and absolute terlns in
which I then delivered lessons of obedience and submissionj 1
should account myself unfairly deaft with. I should reply,
that the only difference which the language of the two con
versations presented was, that I added now many exception^
and limitations, which were omitted or unthought of then ;
that this difference al'ose naturally from the two occasions, such
exceptions being as necessary lo the subject of our present con
ference, as they Would have been superfluous and unseasonable
in the former. Now the difference in these two conversations is
precisely the distinction to be taken in interpreting those pas^^
sages of scripture, concerning which we are debating, They
inculcate the duty, they do not describe the extent of iti They
enforce the obligation by the proper sanctions of Christianity,
without intending either to enlarge or contract, without Con
sidering indeed the limits by " which it is bounded. This is
also the method in which the same Apostles enjoin the duty
of servants to their masters, of children to their parents, of
wives to their husbands : ' Servants, be subject to your mas
ters.' — ¦' Children, obey your parents in all things.'—' Wives,
submit yourselves unto yom own husbands,' The same con
cise and absolute form of expression occurs in aU these pre
cepts ; the same sUence, as to any exceptions or distinctions :
yet no one doubts but that the commands of masters, parents,
and husbands, are often so immoderate, unjust, and inconsis
tent with other obligations, that they both may and ought to
be resisted. In letters or dissertations written professedly upott
separate articles of morality, we might with more reason have
looked for a precise delineation of our duty, and some degree -
of modern accuracy hi the rules which were laid down for our
direction : but in those short collections of practical Maxims
which compose the conclusion, or some smaU portion, of a
doctrinal or perhaps controversial epistle, we cannot be sur
prised to find the author more sohcitious lo impress the duty,
than curious to enumerate exceptions.
The consideration of this distinction is alone sufficient to
•vindicate these passages of scripture from any explanation which "
may be put upon them, in favour of an unlimited passive obe
dience. But if we be permitted lo assume a supposition, which
many commentalOTS proceed upon as a certainty, that the first
Christians privately cherished an opinion, that their conVeraon
to Christiafiily entitled them to ne\v immunities, to aii exeftip-
voL. III. 33

258 DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE,
,tipn, as of right (however they might give way to necessity),
from the authority of the Roman sovereign, we are furnished
with a StUl more apt and satisfactory interpretation of the
Apostle's words. The two passages apply wkh great propri
ety to the refutation of this errour : they teach the Chiistian
convert to obey the magistrate 'for the, Lord's sake;' — 'not
only for wrath, but for conscience sake ; ' — ' that there is no
power but of God ; ' — ' that the powers that be,' even the pre
sent rulers of the Roman empire, though heathens and usur-
pej-s, seeing they are in possession of the actual and necessary
authority of civil government, ' are ordained of God,' and, con
sequently, entitled ,to receive obedience from those who profess
themselves Ihe.pecuUar servants of God, in a greater (certainly
not in a less) degree than from any others. They briefly de
scribe the office of ' civil governours, the punishment of evil
doers, and the praise of them that do weU ; ' from which descrip
tion of the use of government, they justly infer the duty of sub
jection, which duty, being as extensive as the reason upon
which it is founded, belongs to Christians, no less than lo the
heathen members of the community. If it be admitted, that
the, two Aposties wrote with a view to this particular question,
it wUl be confessed, that then words cannot be transferred to a
question totally different from this, with any certainty of carry
ing along with us their authority and intention. There exists
no resemblance between the case of a primitive convert, who dis
puted the jurisdiction ofthe Roman government over a disciple
of Christianity, and his who, acknowledging the general au
thority of the state over, aU its subjects, doubts whether that au
thority be not, in some important branch of it, so Ml constituted,
or abused, as to warrant the endeavours of the people to bring
about a reformation by force. Nor can we judge what reply
the Aposties would have made to this second question, if it
had been proposed to them, from any thing they have delivered
upon the first ; any more than, in the two consultations above
described, it could be known beforehand what 1 would say in
the latter, from the answer which 1 gave to the former.
The only defect in this account is, that neither the scrip
tures, nor any subsequent history ofthe early ages ofthe church,
furnish any direct attestation of the existence of such disaffec
ted sentiments ainongst the primitive converts. They supply
indeed some circumstances wMch render probable the opinion,
Jthat extravagant notions of the political rights of the CMistian

AS STATED IN THE SCRIVTURES. 259
state were at that lime entertained by many proselytes to the
religion. From the question proposed to Christ, ' Is it lawful
to give tribute unto Caesar ? ' it may be presumed that doubts
had been started in the Jewish schools concerning the obliga,-'
liori, or even the lawfulness, of submission to the Roman yoke.
The accounts deUvered by Josephus, of various insurrections of
the Jews of that and the foUowing age, excited by this princi
ple, or upon this pretence, confirm the presumption. Now, as
the Christians were at first chiefly taken fi-om the Jews, con
founded with them by the rest of the world, and, from the
affinity of the two religions, apt to intermix the doctrines of
both, it is not to be wondei-ed at, that a tenet, so flattering to
the self-importance ofthose who embraced it, should have been
commuiiicated lo the new institution. Again, the teachers of
Christianity, amongst the privileges which their religion con
ferred upon its professors, were Avonl to extol the 'liberty into
which they were caUed,' — ' in which Christ had made them
free.' This liberty, which was intended of a deliverance
from the various servitude, in which they had heretofore lived,
to the domination of sinful passions, to the superstition of the
Gentile idolatry, or the incumbered ritual of the Jewish dispen
sation, might by some be interpreted to signify an emancipation
from aU restraint which was imposed by an authority merely
human. At least they might be represented by their enemies
as maintaming notions of this dangerous tendency. To some
errour or calumny of this kmd, the words of St Peter seem to
aUude : ' For so is the wUl of God, that with well-doing ye
may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men : as free, and
not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness (i. e. sedi
tion), but as the servants of God.' After aU, if any one think
this conjecture too feebly supported by testimony to be relied
upon in the interpretation of scripture, he wUl then revert to
the considerations aUeged in the preceding part of this chapter.
; After sO copious an account of what we apprehend to be the
general design and doctrine of these much agitated passages,
Utile need be added in explanation of particular clauses. St
Paul has said, ' Whosoever resisteth the power, resisteth the or
dinance of God.' This phrase, 'the ordinance of God,' is by
many so intei-preted as to authorize the most exalted and
superstitious ideas of the regal character.- But, surely, sUch
interpreters have sacrificed truth to adulation. For, in the
first place, the expression, as used by St Paul, is just as appli-

MO CIVIL LIBERTY.
cable to one kind of government, and to one kmd of succes
sion, as to another ;— to the elective magistrates of a pure repub
lic, as to an absolute hereditary monarch. In the next place,
it is not affirmed of the supreme magistrate exclusively, that
he is the ordinance of God ; the title, whatever it imports, be
longs to every inferiour officer of the state as much as lo the
highest, The divine right of kings is, Uke the divine right of
other niagistrates, — the law ofthe land, or even actual and qmet
possession of their office ; a right ratified, we humbly presume,
by the divine approbation, so long as obedience lo then authority
' appears to be necessary or conducive lo the common welfare.
Princes are ordained of God by virtue only of that general decree
by which he assents and adds the sanction of his wUl, to every
b,w of society, which promotes his owm purpose, the commu
nication of human happiness; according to which idea of their
origin and constitution (and without any repugnancy to the
words of St Paul), they are by St Peter denominated the
ordinance oi man.

CHAPTER V.
OF OJVIJ, LIBERTY,
Civil Liberty is the not being restrained by any law,
hut what conduces in a greater degree to the public welfare.
To do what we wUl, is natmal Uberty ; to do what we will,
consistently vnth the interest of the community to which we
belong, is civU Uberty; that is to say, the only liberty to be de
sired in a state of civU society,
I should wish, no doubt, to be aUowed to act in every instance
as I pleased, but I reflect that the rest also of mankind would
then do the same ; in which Sale of universal independence
emd self-direction I should meet with so many checks and ob-j
glades to my own wUl, from the interference and opposition of
other men's, that not only my happiness, but my liberty,
would be less, than wMlst the whole community were subject
to the dominion of equal laws.
The boasted Ubeyly of a state of nature exists only in a stele
of soUtudek In every kind and d^ee of union and mter-
course with his species, it is possible thai the liberty of the in'

CIVIL LIBERTY. 261
dividual may be augmented by the vei-y kws which restrain
it ; because he may gain more from the limitation of other
men's freedom than he suffers by the diminution of his own.
Natural liberty is the right of common upon a waste ; civil lib
erty is the safe, exclusive, unmolested /enjoyment of a cultivated
inclosure. The definition of civil liberty above laid down imports, that
the laws of a free people impose no restraints upon the private
wUl of the subject, which do not conduce in a greater degree
to the public happiness ; by which it is intimated, 1. That re
straint itself is an evil; 2. That this evU ought to be over
balanced by some public advantage ; 3. That the proof of
this advantage Ues upon the legislature ; 4. That the law be
mg found to produce no sensible good effects, is a sufficient rea
son for repeahng it, as adverse and mjurious to the rights of
a free citizen, without demanding specific evidence of its bad
effects. This maxim might be remembered with advantage
in a revision of many laws of this country ; especiaUy of the
game laws ; of the poor laws, so far as they lay restrictions up
on the poor themselves ; of the laws agamst Papists and Dis
senters : and, amongst people enamoured lo excess and jealous
of their liberty, it seems a matter of surprise that this princijAe
has been so imperfectly attended to.
The degree of actual Ubeity always beaimg, accordmg to
this account of it, a reversed proportion to the number and se
verity of the restrictions which, are either useless,, or the util
ity of which does not outweigh the evU of the restraint, it fol
lows, that every nation possesses some, no nation perfect Uber
ty ; that this Uberty may be enjoyed under every form of gov
ernment ; that it may be impaired indeed, or increased, but
that it is neither gained, nor lost, nor recovered, by any sin
gle regulation, change, or event whatever ; that, consequently,
those popular phrases which speak of a free people ; of a na
tion of slaves ; which eal one revolution the era of liberty ; or
another the loss of it;, with many expressions of a UkeabsoMte
form, are inteUigibleonly in a comparative sense,
Heitce aW we are enabled to apprehend the distiBcticHi be
tween personal and civil liWly. A citizen of the freest repub
lic in. the world may be impriscMied for Ms crimes ; and thouglj
Jiis personal freedom be restrained by bolts and fettms, so loiBg
as his confinement is the effect of a benefidal public lia>w, his
civil liberty is not ift-«scled. If thia instance appear dwhiousj

262 CIVIL LIBERTY.
the following wUlbe plainer^ A passenger from the Levant,
who, upon his return to England, should be conveyed to a laza
retto by an order of quarantine, with whatever impatience he
might desire his enlargement, and though he saw a guard
placed at the door lo oppose his escape, or even ready to destroy
his life if he attempted it, would hardly accuse government of en
croaching upon his civil freedom ; nay, might, perhaps, be all
the whUe congratulating himself that he had at length set
his foot again in a land of liberty. The manifest expediency
of the measure not only justifies it, but reconciles the most
odious confinement with the perfect possession, and the loftiest
notions of civil Uberty. And if this be true of the coercion of a
prison, that it is compatible with a state of civil freedom, it can
not with reason be disputed of those more moderate constraints
which the ordinary operation of govemment imposes upon the
wUl of the individual. It is not the rigour, but the inexpediency
of laws and acts of authority, which makes them tyrannical.
There is another idea of civil Uberty, which, though neither
so simple nor so accurate as the former, agrees better -with the
significa-tion, which the usage of common discom-se, as weU as
the example of many respectable writers upon the subject, has
affixed to the term. This idea places liberty in secm-ity ; ma
king it to consist not merely in an actual exemption from the
constraint of useless and noxious laws and acts of dominion,
but in^ bemg free from the danger oi having any such hereaf
ter imposed or exercised. Thus, speaking of the political slate
of modern Europe, we are accustomed to say of Sweden, that
she hath lost her liberty bjr the revolution which lately look
place in that country ; and yet we are assured that the people
contmue lo be governed by the same laws as before, or by
"others which are wiser, mUder, and more equitable. What
then have they lost ? They have lost the power and functions
of their diet ;. the constitution of their states and orders, whose
deliberations and concurrence were requned in the formation
and establishment of every public law ; and thereby have part
ed with the security which they possessed against any attempts
of the crown to harass its subjects, by oppressive and useless
exertions of prerogative. The loss of this security we denomi
nate the loss of liberty. They have changed not their laws,
but their legislature; not then enjoyment, but their safety?
not their present bm-thens, but their prospects of futme gi-iev-
ances : and this we pronounce -a change from the condition of

CIVIL LIBERTY. 263
freemen lo that of slaves. In like manner, in our own coun
try, the act of parliament," in the reign of Henry the Eighth,
which gave to the king's proclamation the force of law,, has
properly been caUed a complete and formal surrender of the
hberty of the nation ; and would have been so, although no pro
clamation were issued in pursuance of these new powers, or none
but what was recommended by the highest wisdom and utility.
The security was gone. Were it probable that the welfare
and accommodation of the people would be as studiously, and
as providently, consulted in the edicts of a despotic prince, as
by the resolutions of a popular assembly, then would an abso
lute form of government be no less free than the purest demo
cracy. The different degree of care and knowledge of the
public mterest which may reasonably be expected from the
different form and composition of the legislature, constitutes the
distinction, in respect of liberty, as well between these two ex
tremes, as between aU the intermediate modifications of civil
government. The definitions which have been framed of civil liberty, and
which have become the subject of much unnecessary altercation,
are most of them adapted to this idea. Thus one poUtical
writer makes the very essence of the subject's liberty to consist
in his being governed by no laws but those to which he hath
actually consented ; another is satisfied with an indirect and
virtual consent ; another, again, places civil Uberty in the sepa
ration of the legislative and executive offices of government ;
another, in the being governed by law, that is, by known,
preconstiluted, inflexible rules of action and adjudication ; a
fifth, in the exclusive right of the people to tax themselves by
their own representatives ; a sixth, m the freedom and purity
of elections of representatives ; a seventh, in the control which
the democratic part of the constitution possesses over the mUi
tary estabUshment. Concerning which, and some other simi
lar accounts of civU hberty, it may be observed that they aU
labour under one inaccuracy, viz. that they describe not so
much liberty itself, as the safe-guards and preservatives of lib
erty : for example, a man's being governed by no laws, but
those to which he has given his consent, were it practicable, is
no otherwise necessary to the enjoyment of civU liberty, than
as it affords a probable security against the dictation of laws,
imjiosing superfluous i-eslrictions upon his private wUl. ' This
remark is appUcable lo the rest*, The diversity of these defiiu-

264 OP DIFFERENT FORMS
lions will not surprise Us, when we consider that there is no cofl'
Irariety or opposition amongst them whatever; for by how
many different provisions and precautions civU liberty is fenced
and protected, so many different accounts of liberty itself, aU
sufficiently cxmsislent -with trath and with each other, may,
according to this mode of explaining the term, be framed and
adopted. ' 'Truth cannot be offended by a definition, but propriety may.
In which -view those definitions of liberty ought to be rejected,
which, by making that essential to civil freedom which is un
attainable in experience, enflame expectations that can never
be gratified, and disturb the public content with complaints,
which no wisdom or benevolence of government can remove.
It will not be thought extraordinary, that an idea, which oc
curs so much oftener as the subject of panegyric and careless
declamation, than of just reasoning or correct knowledge, should
be attended with uncertainly and confusion ; or that it should
be found impossible to contrive a definition, which may include
the numerous, unsettied, and ever varying significations, which
the term is made to stand for, and at the same time accord
with the condition and experience of social life.
Of the two ideas that have been stated of civU liberty, which
ever we assume, and whatever reasoning we found upon them,
concerning its extent, nature, value, and preservation, this is
the conclusion ; — that that people, government, and constitu
tion, is the freest, which makes the best provision for the en
acting of expedient and salutary laws.

CHAPTER VI,
OF DIFFERENT FORMS OF GOVERNMENT,
As a series of appeals must be finke, there necessarUy ex
ists in every government a power from which the constitution
has provided no appeal : and which power, for that reason,
may be termed absolute, omnipotent, uncontroUable, arbitrary,
despotic ; and is aUke so in aU countries.
The person, or assembly, in whom this power resides, is
called the sovereign, or the supreme power of the state.
Since to the same power universally appertains the office of

OF DIFFERENT FORMS OF GOVERNMENT. 265
establishing pubUc laws, it is caUed also the legislature oi the
state. A government receives its denomination from the form of
the legislature ; which form is likewise what we commonly
mean by the constitution of a country.
Political writers enumerate three principal forms of govern
ment, which, however, are lo be regarded rather as the simple
forms, by some combination and mlermixture of which aU ac
tual governments are composed, than as any where existing in
a pure and elementary state. These forms are,
I. Despotism, or absolute monarchy, where the legislature
is in a single person.
II. An ARISTOCRACY, where the legislature is in a select as
sembly, the members of which either fill up by election the va
cancies in their own body, or succeed to their places in it by
inheritance, property, tenure of certain lands, or in respect of
some personal right, or qualification.
III. A REPUBLIC, or democracy, where the people at large,
either coUectively or by representation, constitute the legisla
ture. The separate advantages of monarchy are, unity of coun
cil, activity, decision, secrecy, dispatch ; the military strength
and energy which result from these qualities of government ;
the exclusion of popular and aristocratical contentions ; the
preventing, by a known rule of succession, of all competition
for the supreme power ; and thereby repressing the hopes, in--
trigues, and dangerous ambition of aspiring citizens.
The mischiefs, or rather the dangers, of monarchy are,
tyranny, expense, exaction, mUitary domination ; unnecessary
wars, waged to gratify the passions of an individual ; risk of
the character of the reignmg prince ; ignorance in the govern
ours of the interests and accommodation of the people, and a
consequent deficiency of salutary regulations ; want of con
stancy and uniformity in the rales of government, and, pro
ceeding from thence, insecurity of person and property.
The separate advantage of an aristocracy consists in
the wisdom which may be expected from experience and educa
tion- — a permanent councU naturaUy possesses experience ;
and the members, who succeed to their places in it by inheri
tance, wiU, probably, be trained and educated with a view to
the stations which they are destined by their birth to occupy.
Themischiefsof an aristocracy are, dissensions in the
VOL. III. 34

266 OF DIFFERENT FORMS
ruling orders of the state, which, from the want of acommon
superior, are liable to proceed to the most desperate extremities ;
oppression of the lower orders by the privjleges of the higher,
arid by laws partial to the separate interest of the lawmakers.
The advantages of a hepublic are, liberty, or exemption
from needless restrictions ; equal laws ; regulations adapted to
the wants and circumstances of the people ; pubhc spirit, fru-
gaUty, averseness to war ; the opporluniles which democratic
assembhes afford to men of every description, of producing then
abiUties and counsels to public observation, and the exciting
thereby, ahd calling forth lo the service of the commonwealth,
the faculties of its best citizens.
The evils of a republic are, dissensions, tumults, fac
tion ; the atteriipts of powerful citizens to possess themselves
of the empne ; the confusion, rage, and clamour, which are
the inevitable consequences of assembling multitudes, and
of propounding questions of state to the discussion of the peo
ple; the delay and disclosure of pubhc counsels and designs;
and the imbeciUty of measures retarded by the necessity of
obtaining the consent of numbers : lastly, the oppression ofthe
provinces which are not admitted to a participation in the leg
islative power.
A mixed government is composed by the combination of
two or more of the simple forms of government above describ
ed ; — and m whatever proportion each form, enters mto the
constitution of a government, in the same proportion may both
the advantages and evils, which we have attributed lo that
form, be expected ; that is, those are the uses to be maintamed
and cultivated in each part of the constitution, and these are
the dangers to be provided against in each. Thus, if secrecy
and dispatch be truly enumerated amongst the separate excel
lencies of regal government, then a mixed government, which
retains monarchy in one part of its constitution, should be care
ful that the other estates, of the empire do not, by an officious
and inquisitive interference with the executive functions,
wMch are, or ought to be, reserved to the admmistration ofthe
prmce, interpose delays, or divulge what it is expedient to con
ceal. On the other hand, if profusion, exaction, mUitary dom
ination, and needless wars, be justly accounted natural proper
ties of monarchy, in its simple unqualified form ; then are
these the objects to which, in a mixed government, the aristo
cratic and populai- part of the constitution ought to direct their

OF GOVERNMENT. 267
vigilance ; the dangers against which they should raise and
fortify their barriers ; these are departments of sovereignty, over
which a power of inspection and control ought to be deposited
with the people.
The same observation may be repealed of aU the other ad
vantages and inconveniencies which have been ascribed to the
several simple forms of government ; and affords a rale where
by to direct the construction, improvements, and administration
of mixed governments, subjected however to this remark, that
a quality sometimes results from the conjunction of two simple
forms of government, which belongs not to the separate exist
ence of either : thus corruption, which has no place in an abso
lute monarchy, and littie in a pure repubhc, is sure to gain ad
mission into a constitution which divides the supreme power
between an executive magistrate and a popular councU.
An hereditary monarchy is universaUy to be preferred to
an elective monarchy. ' The confession of every writer on the
subject of civU government, the experience of ages, the example
of Poland, and of the papal dominions, seem to place this
amongst the few indubitable maxims which the science of poli
tics admits of. A crown is loo splendid a prize lo be confer
red upon merit : the passions or interests of the electors exclude
all consideration of the qualities of the competitors. The same
observation holds concerning the appointments to any office
which is attended with a great share of power or emolument.
Nothing is gained by a popular choice worth the dissensions,
tumults, and interruption of regular industry, -with which it is
inseparably attended. Add to this, that a kmg, who owes his
elevation to the event of a contest, or to any other cause than a
fixed rule of succession, wiU be apt lo regardone part of his sub
jects as the associates of his fortune, and the other as conquered
foes. Nor should it be forgotten, amongst the advantages of
an hereditary monarchy, that, as plans of national improve
ment and reform are seldom brought to maturity by the exer
tions of a single reign, a nation cannot attain to tlie degree of
happiness and prosperity to which it is capable of being car
ried, unless an uniformity of counsels, a consistency of pubUc
measures and designs, be continued through a succession of
ages. This benefit may be expected with greater probabiUty
where the supreme power descends in the same race, and where
each prince succeeds, in some sort, to, the aim, pursuits, and
disposition of his aiicestor, than if the crown, at every Change,

268 OF DIFFERENT FORMS
devolve upon a stranger, whose first care wiU commonly be to
puU down what his predecessor had buUl up ; and to substitute
systems of administration, which must, in their turn, give way
to the more favourite novelties of the next successor.
Aristocracies are of two kinds. Fnst, where the power
of the nobiUty belongs to them in their coUective capacity alone ;
that is, where, although the government reside in an assembly
ofthe order, yet the members of that assembly separately and in
dividually possess no authority or privilege beyond the rest of
the community : — ;this describes the constitution of Venice.
Secondly, where th^ nobles are severally invested -with great
personal power and immunities, and where the power of the
senate is little more than the aggregated power of the indivi
duals who compose it: — this is the constitution of Poland, Of
these two forms of govemment, the first is more tolerable than
the last ; for, although the members of a senate should many,
or even all of them, be proffigate enough lo abuse the authority
of their stations in the prosecution of private designs, yet, not
being all under a temptation to the same injustice, not having
aU the same end lo gain, it would stiU be difficult to obtain the
consent of a majority to any specific act of oppression which the
iniquity of an individual might prompt Mm to propose : or, if
the wiU were the same, the power is more confined; one tyrant,
whether the tyranny reside in a single person, or a senate, can
not exercise oppression at so many places, at the same time,
as it may be carried on by the dommion of a numerous nobUi-
ly over their respective vassals and dependants. Of aU species
of domination, this is the most odious : the freedom and satis
faction of private life are more constrained and harassed by it
than by the most vexatious law, or even by the lawless will of
afi arbitrary monarch, from whose knowledge, and from whose
injustice, the greatest part of his subjects are removed by their
distance, or concealed by their obscurity.
Europe exhibits more than one modern example, where the
people, aggrieved by the exactions, or provoked by the enor
mities, of their immediate superiours, have joined with the
reigning prince in the overthrow of the aristocracy, deliberate
ly exchanging their condition for the miseries of despotism.
About thfe middle of the last century, the commons of Den
mark, weary of the oppressions which they had long suffered
from the nobles, and exasperated by some recent insults, pre- _
sented themselves at the foot of the throne with a formal offer

OF GOVERNMENT. 269
of their consent to establish unUmited dominion in the king.
The revolution in Sweden, stUl more lately brought about with
, the acquiescence, not to say the assistance, of the people, owed
its success to the same cause, namely, to fhe prospect of deliver
ance that it afforded from the tyranny which their nobles ex
ercised under the old constitution. In England the people be
held the depression of the barons, under the house of Tudor,
with satisfaction, although they saw the crown acquiring there
by a power which no limitations that the constitution had then
provided were likely lo confine. The lesson to be drawn from
such events is this, that a mixed government, which admits a
patrician order into its constitution, ought to circumscribe the
personal privUeges of the nobUily, especiaUy claims of heredita
ry jurisdiction and local authority, with a jealousy equal to the
sohcitude with which it wishes its own preservation. For noth
ing so alienates the minds of the people from the government
under which they live, by a perpetual sense of annoyance and
inconveniency, or so prepares them for the practices Of an en
terprising prince or ja. factious demagogue, as the abuse which
almost always accompanies the existence of separate immuni
ties. Amongst the inferiour, but by no means mconsiderable ad
vantages of a democratic constitution, or of a constitution in
which the people partake of the power of legislation, the foUow
ing should not be neglected.
I, The direction which it gives lo the education, studies,
and pursuits of the superiour orders of the community. The
share which this has in formmg the pubUc manners and na
tional character is very important. In countries, m which the
gentry are excluded from all concern in the government, scarce
ly any thing is left which leads to advancement, but the pro
fession of arms. They who do not addict themselves to this
profession (and miserable must that counli-y be, which constant
ly employs the mUitary service of a great proportion of any or
der of its subjects) .are commonly lost by the mere want of ob
ject and destmation; that is, they either faU,, without reserve,
mto the most sottish habits of animal gratification, or entkely
devote themselves to the attainment of those futile arts and
decorations which compose the business and recommendations
of a court : on the other hand, where the whole, or any effec
tive portion of civil power is possessed by a popular assembly,
more serious pursuits wiU be encouraged; purer morals, and

270 OF DIFFERENT FORMS
a, more inteUeclual character, -will ehgage the public esteem;
those faculties, which qualify men for deliberation and debate,
and which are the fruit of sober habits, of early and long con
tinued application, wiU be roused and animated by the reward,
which, of aU others, most readily awakens the ambition of the
human mind, poUtical dignity and importance.
II. Popular elections procure to the common people courtesy
from their superiours. Thatcontemptuous and overbearing in
solence, with which the lower orders of the community are
wont to be treated by the higher, is greatly mitigated where
the people have something to give. 'The assiduity with which
their favour is sought upon these occasions, serves to generate
settled habits of condescension and respect ; and as human life
is more embittered by affronts than injuries, whatever con
tributes to procure mildness and civility of manners towards
those who are most liable to suffer from a contrary behaviour,
corrects, with the pride, in a great measure the-Rvil of inequal
ity, and deserves to be accounted amongst the most generous
institutions of social life.
III. The satisfactions which the people in free governments
derive from the knowledge and agitation of political subjects ;
such. as the proceedmgs and debates of the senate; the conduct
and characters of muiislers ; the revolutions, intrigues, and con
tentions of parties ; and, m general, from the discussion of pub
lic measures, questions, and occurrences. Subjects of this sort
excite just enough of interest and emotion lo afford a moderate
engagement to the thoughts, -without rising to any painful de
gree of anxiety, or ever leaving a fixed oppression upon the spir
its: — and what is this, but the end and aim of all those amuse
ments, which compose so much of the business of Ufe and of
the value of riches? For my part, (and I believe it to be the case
with most men who are arrived at the middle age, and occupy
the middle classes of life), had I all the money, which I pay m
taxes to government, at liberty to lay out upon amusement and
diversion, I know not whether 1 could make choice of any in
which I could find greater pleasure than what I receive from
expecting, hearing, and relating pubhc news ; reading parlia
mentary debates and proceedings ; canvassing the pohtical ar
guments, projects, predictions, and mlelUgence, which are con
veyed, by various channels, lo every corner of the kingdom.
These topics, excitmg universal curiosity, and being such as al
most every man is ready to form and prepared to deUver his

OP GOVERNMENT. 271
opinion about, greatly promote, and, I think, improve conversa
tion. They render it more rational and more innocent. They
supply a substitute for drinking, gaming, scandal, and obsceni
ty. Now the secrecy, the jealousy, the feolitude, and precipita
tion of despotic governments, exclude aU this. But the loss,
you say, is trifling. I know that it is possible to render even
the mention of it ridiculous, by representing it as the idle em
ployment of the most insignificant part of the nation, the fol
ly of vUlage-slatesmen and coffee-house politicians : but I aUow
not,hing to be a trifle which ministers to the harmless gratifl-
calion of multitudes ; nor any order of men to be insignfficant,
whose number bears a respectable proportion lo the sum of the
- whole community.
We have been accustomed to an opinion, that a republi
can form of government suits- only with the affaus of a sniaU
stale: which opmion is founded in the consideration, that un
less the people, m every district of the empire, be admitted to
a share in the national representation, the government is not,
as to them, a repubhc; that elections, where the constituents
are numerous, and dispersed through a wide extent of country,
are conducted with difficulty, or rather, indeed, managed by
the intrigues and combinations of a few, who a;re situated near
the place of election, each voter considering his single suffrage
as too minute a portion of the general mterest to deserve his
care or attendance, much less lo be worth any opposition lo m-
fluence and application ; that whUsl we contract the represen
tation within a compass small enough lo admit of orderly de
bate, the interest of the constituent becomes too small, of the
representative too gi-eat. It is difficult also to maintam any
connexion between them. He who represents two hundred
thousand is necessarUy a stranger lo the greatest part of those
who elect him; and when Ms interest amongst them ceases to
depend upon an acquamtance with their persons and charac
ter, or a care or knowledge of their affans; when such a rep
resentative finds the treasures and honours of a great empire
at the disposal of a few, and himself one of the few, there is
little reason to hope that he wiU not prefer to his pubhc duty
those temptations of personal aggrandizement which his situ
ation offers, and which the price of his vote wiU always pur
chase. All appeal lo the people is precluded by the unpossibU-
ity of coUecting a sufficient proportion of their force and num
bers. The factions and the unanimity of the senate are equal-

272 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
ly dangerous. Add to these considerations, that in a demo
cratic constitution the mechanism is too complicated, and the
motions loo slow, for the operations of a great empire; whose
defence and government require execution and despatch, in
proportion to the magnitude, extent, and variety of its con
cerns. There is weight, no doubt, in these reasons; but much
of the objection seems to be done away by the contrivance of
a federal republic, which, distribulmg the country into districts
of a commodious extent, and leaving to each district its internal
legislation, reserves to a convention of the slates the adjustment
of their relative claims ; the levying, direction, and government
of the common force of the confederacy ; the requisition of sub
sidies for the support of this force; the making of peace and
war ; the entering into treaties ; the regulation of foreign com
merce; the equalization of duties upon imports, so as to prevent
the defrauding ofthe revenue of one province by smuggUng
articles of taxation from the borders of another ; and like-wise
so as lo guard against undue partiaUties in the encouragement
of trade. To what limits such a republic might, without in
conveniency, enlarge its domimons, by assuming neighbouring
provinces into the confederation ; or how far it is capable of
uniting the liberty of a small commonwealth with the safely
of a powerful empire ; or whether, amongst co-ordinate powers,
dissensions and jealousies would not be likely to arise, which,
for ^ant of a common superiour, might proceed lo fatal extrem
ities, are questions, upon which the records of mankind do not
authorize us to decide with tolerable certainty. The experi
ment is about to be tried in America upon a large scale.

CHAPTER VII.
OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
By tjie CONSTITUTION of a country, is meant so much of its
law, as relates to the designation and form -of the legislature; the
rights and functions of the several parts of the legislative body;
the constraction, office, and jurisdiction of courts of justice. The
constitution is one principle division, section, or title, ofthe code
of public laws ; distinguished from the rest only by the supe
riour importance 6i the subject of which it treats. Therefore the

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 273
terms constitutional andimconstitutional mean legal and iUe-
gal. The distinction and the ideas, which these terms denote,
are founded in the same authority with the law of the land
upon any other subject ; and to be ascertained by the same in
quiries. In England the system of pubhc jurisprudence is
made up of acts of- parliament, of decisions of courts of law,
and of immemorial usages : consequently, these are the prin
ciples of which the English constitution itself consists, the
sources from which all our knowledge of its nature and hinita-
tions is to be deduced, and the authorities to which aU appeal
ought to be made, and by which every constitutional doubt and
question can alone be decided. This plain and intelhgible de
finition is the more necessar)^ to be preserved in our thoughts,
as some writers upon the subject absurdly confound what is
constitutional with what is expedient ; pronouncing forthwith a
measure to be unconstitutional, which they adjudge in any re
spect to be detrimental or dangerous, whilst others, again ascribe
a kind of transcendent authority, or mysterious sanctity, to the
constitution, as if it were founded in some higher original than
that which gives force and obligation to the ordinary laws and
statutes of the realm, or were inviolable on any other account
than its mtrmsic utUily. An act of parUament in England can
never be unconstitutional, in the strict and proper acceptation
of the term ; in a lower sense it may, viz. when it mUitates
with the spirit, contradicts the analogy, or defeats the provision
of other laws, made to regulate the form of govemment. Even
that flagitious abuse of their trust, by which a parUament of
Henry the Eighth conferred upon the king's proclamation the
authority of law, was unconstitutional only in this latter sense.
Most of those who treat of the British constitution consider it
as a scheme of government forniaUy planned and contrived by
our ancestors, in some certain era of our national history, and as
set up in pursuance of such regular plan and design. Some
thing of this sort is secretly supposed, or i-eferred to, in the ex
pressions of those who speak of the ' principle of the constitution,'
of bringing back the constitution to its 'first prmciples,' of restor
ing it lo its ' original purity,' or ' primitive model.' Now this
appears to me an erroneous conception of the subject. No such
plan was ever formed, consequently no such first principles, or
origmal model, or standard, exist. I mean there never was a
date or point of time in om history, when the government of
England was to be set up anew, and when it was referred to
VOL. III. 35

274 . BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
any single person, or assembly, or committee, to frame a char
ter for the future govemment of the country : or when a con-
stitutionj so prepared and digested, was by common consent re
ceived and established. In the time'of the civil wars, or rath
er between the death of Charles the First and the restoration of
his son, many such projects were pubUshed, but none were car
ried into execution. The great charter, and the bill of rights,
were wise and strenuous efforts to obtain security against cer
tain abuses of regal power, by which the subject had been for
merly aggrieved ; but these were, either of them, much too par
tial modifications of the constitution to give it a new original.
The constitution of England, like that of most countries in Eu
rope, hath grown out of occasion and emergency ; from the fluc
tuating policy of different ages ; from the contentions, success
es, interests, and opportunities of different orders and parties
of men in the community. It resembles one ofthose old man
sions, which, instead of being built all at once, after a regular
plan, and according to the rules of architecture at present es
tablished, has been reared in different ages ofthe art, has been
altered from time to time, and has been continually receiving
additions and repairs suited to the taste, fortune, or conveniency
of its successive proprietors. In such a building we look in
vain for the elegance and propoition, for the just order and cor
respondence of parts, which we expect in a modem edifice ; and
which external symmetry, after aU, contributes much more per
haps to the amusement of the beholder, than the accommoda
tion of the inhabitant.
In the British, and possibly in all other constitutions, there ex
ists a wide difference between- the actual state of the govemment
and the theory. The one results from the other ; but still they
are different. When we contemplate the theory of the British
government, we see the king invested with the most absolute
personal impunity ; with a power of rejecting laws, which have
been resolved upon by both houses of parliament ; of conferring
bj'^ his charter, upon any set or succession of men he pleases, the
privilege of sending representatives into one house of parUa
ment, as by his immediate appointment he can place whom he
will in the other. What is this, a foreigner might ask, but a
more circuitous despotism ? Yet, when we turn our attention
from the legal extent to the actual exercise of royal authority
in England, we see these formidable prerogatives dwindled into
mere ceremonies ; and, in their stead, a sure and commanding

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 275
influence, of which the constitution, it seems, is totally ignorant,
growing out of that enormous patronage, which the increased
territory and opulence of the empire have placed in the dispo
sal ofthe executive magistrate.
Upon questions of reform, the habit of reflection to be encour
aged, is a sober comparison of the constitution under which we
live, not with models of speculative perfection, but with the ac
tual chance of obtaining a better. This turn of thought will
generate a political disposition, equaUy removed from that pue
rile admiration of present establishments, which sees no fault,
and can endure no change, and that distempered sensibiUty,
which is alive only to perceptions of inconveniency, and is too
impatient to be deUvered from the uneasiness which it feels, to
compute either the perU or expense of the remedy. Political
innovations commonly produce many effects beside those that
are intended. The direct consequence is often the least im
portant. Incidental, remote, and unthought of e-^dls or advan
tages frequently exceed the good that is designed, or the mis
chief that is foreseen. It is from the sUent and unobserved op
eration, from the obscure progress of causes set at work for dif
ferent purposes, that the greatest revolutions take their rise.
When BUzabeth, and her immediate successor, applied them
selves to the encouragement and regulation of trade by many
wise laws, they knew not, that, together with wealth and in
dustry, they were diffusing a consciousness of strength and
independency, which would not long endure, under the forms
of a mixed govemment, the dominion of arbitrary princes.
When itwas debated whether the mutiny act, the law by
which the army is governed and maintained, should be tempo
rary or perpetual, little else probably occurred to the advocates
of an annual bill than the expediency of retaining a control
over the most dangerous prerogative of the crown, — the direc
tion and command of a standing army ; whereas, in its effect,
this single reservation hais altered the whole frame and quality
of the British constitution. For smce, in consequence of the
mUitary system which prevails in neighbouring and rival na
tions, as weU as on account of the internal exigencies of
government, a standing army has become essential to the safety
and administration of the empne, it enables parliament, by
discontinuing this necessary provision, so to enforce its reso
lutions upon any other subject, as to render the kmg's dissent
to a law, which has received the approbation of both houses,.

276 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
loo dangerous an experiment any longer to be advised. A
contest between the king and parUament cannot now be per
severed in -without a dissolution of the government. Lastly,
when the constitution conferred upon the crown the nomma-
tion lo aU employments in the public service, the authors of
this arrangement were led to it, by the obvious propriety of
leaving to a master the choice of his servants ; and by the
manifest inconveniency of engaging the national councU,
upon every vacancy, in those personal contests which attend
elections to places of honour and emolument. Our ancestors
did not observe that this disposition added an influence to the
regal office, which, as the number and value of public employ
ments increased, would supersede in a great measure the forms,
and change the character of the ancient constitution. They
knew not, what the experience and reflection of modern ages
has discovered, that patronage universaUy is power ; that he who
possesses in a sufficient degree the means of gratifying the de
snes of mankind after wealth and distinction, by whatever
checks and forms his authority may be limited or disguised,
will direct the management of public affairs. Whatever be the
mechanism of the political engine, he will guide the motion.
These instances are adduced in order to Ulustrale the proposi
tion which we laid down, that, in politics, the most important
and permanent effects have, for the most part, been incidental
and unforeseen : and this proposition we mculcale, for the sake
of the caution which it teaches, that changes ought not to be
adventured upon without a comprehensive discernment of the
consequences, — without a knowledge, as weU of the remote
tendency, as of the immediate design. The courage of a
statesman should resemble that of a commander, who, how
ever regardless of personal danger, never forgets, that, with
his own, he commits the lives and fortunes of a multitude ;
and who does not consider it as any proof of zeal or valour, to
stake the safety of other men upon the success of a perilous
or desperate enterprize.
There is one end of civU government pecuUar lo a good con
stitution, namely, the happiness of its subjects ; there is anoth
er end essential to a good govemment, but common to it with
many -bad ones, — ^its own preservation. Observing that the best
form of government would be defective, which did not provide
for its o^wn permanency, in our poUtical reasonings We consider
aU such, provisions as expedient ; and are content to accept as

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 277
a sufficient ground for a measure, or law, that it is necessary
or conducive lo the preservation of the constitution. Yet, in
truth, such provisions are absolutely expedient, and such an
excuse final, only whUsl the constitution is worth preservmg ;
that is, untU it can be exchanged for a better. I premise this
distinction, because many things in the EngUsh, as in every con
stitution, are to be vmdicated and accounted for, solely from their
tendency to maintain the government in its present stale, and ,
the several parts of it in possession ofthe powers which the con
stitution has assigned lo them ; and because I would wish it to be
remarked that such a consideration is always subordinate to
another, — the value and usefulness of the constitution itself.
The Government of England, which has been sometimes
called a mixed government, sometimes a limited monarchy, is
formed by a combination of the three regular species of govern
ment ; the monarchy, residing in the king ; the aristocracy, m
the House of Lords ; and the repubhc, bemg represented by
the House of Commons. The perfection intended by such a
scheme of government is, to unite the advantages of the several
simple forms, and to exclude the mconveniencies. To what
degree this purpose is attained or attainable in the British con
stitution ; wherein it is lost sight of or neglected ; and by
what means it may in any part be promoted with better success,
the reader wUl be enabled lo judge, by a separate recoUection of
these advantages and inconveniencies, as enumerated jn the pre
ceding chapter, and a distinct apphcation of each to the poht
ical condition of this country. We wUl present om remarks up
on the subject in a brief account ofthe expedients by which the
British constitution provides,
Ist, For the interest of its subjects.
2dly, For its own preservation.
The contrivances for the first -of these purposes are the fol
lowing :
In order to promote the estabUshment of salutary pubhc laws,
every citizen of the state is capable of becoming a member of
the senate; and every senator possesses the right of propound
ing lo the dehberation ofthe legislature whatever law he plea
ses. Every district of the empire enjoys the privUege of choosing
representatives, informed of the interests and chcumstances
jlnd desnes of then constituents, and entitled by their situation
to communicate that information to the national councU. The

278 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
nieanest subject has some one whom he can call upon lo bring
forward his complaints and requests to pubUc attention.
By annexing the right of voting for members of the House
of Commons to different qualifications in different places, each
order and profession of men in the community become virtuaUy
represented; that is, men of aU orders and professions, states
men, courtiers, country gentlemen, lawyers, merchants, manu
facturers, soldiers, sailors, interested in the prosperity, and ex
perienced m the occupation of their respective professions, ob
tain seats in parliament.
The elections, at the same time, are so connected with the
influence of landed property, as to afford a certainty that a con
siderable number of men of great estates will be returned to
parliament ; and are also so modified, that men the most emi
nent and successful in their respective professions, are the most
likely, by their riches, or the weight of their stations, to pre
vaU in these competitions.
The number, fortune, and quaUty of the members ; the va
riety of interests and characters amongst them ; above all, the
temporary duration of their power, and the change of men
-whioh every new election produces, are so many securities to
the public, as well against the subjection of their judgments to
any external dictation,, as against the formation of a junto in
their own body, sufficiently powerful to govern then decisions.
The representatives are so intermixed with the constituents,
and the constituents with the rest of the people, that they can
not, without a partiality too flagrant to be endured, impose any
burden upon the subject, in which they do not share them
selves ; nor scarcely can they adopt an advantageous regula
tion, m which their own interests -will not participate of the ad
vantage. The proceedings and debates of parUament, and the parlia
mentary conduct of each representative, are known by the peo
ple at large.
The representative is so far dependant upon the constituent,
and political importance upon public favour, that a member of
parliament cannot more effectuaUy recommend himseff to em
inence and advancement m the state, than by contrivmg and
pati-onizmg laws of public utiUty.
When intelUgence of the condition, wants, and occasions of
the people, is thus coUected from every quarter, when such a
variety of invention, and so many understandings, are set at

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 279
-work upon the subject, it may be presumed, that the most, eli
gible expedient, remedy, pr improvement, wiU occur to some
one or other : and when a wise counsel, or beneficial regula
tion, is once suggested, it may be expected, from the disposi
tion of an assembly so constituted as the British House of
Commons is, that it cannot faU of receiving the approbation
of a majority.
To prevent those destructive contentions for the supreme
power, which are sure to take place where the members of the
state do not hve under an acknowledged head, and a known
rule of succession ; to preserve the people in tranquiUity at
home, by a speedy and vigorous execution of the laws ; to pro
tect their- mterest abroad, by strength and energy in military
operations, by those advantages of decision, secrecy, and de
spatch, which belong lo the resolutions of monarchical coun
cils ; — for these purposes, the constitution has committed the
executive government to the administration and limited au
thority of an hereditary king.
In the defence of the empne ; in the maintenance of its pow
er, dignity, and privileges, with foreign nations ; in the advance
ment of its trade by treaties and conventions ; and in the pro
viding for the general admmistration of municipal justice, by a
proper choice and appointment of magistrates, the mclination
of the kmg and of the people usuaUy coincides : in this part,
therefore, of the regal office, the constitution intrusts the pre
rogative with ample powers.
The dangers principally to be apprehended from regal gov
emment, relate to the two articles taxation and punishment.
In every form of goyernment, from which the people are ex
cluded, it is the mterest of the governours to gel as much, and
of the governed to give as little, as they can : the power also of
punishment, in the hands of an arbitrary prince, oftentimes be
comes an engine of extortion, jealousy, and revenge. Wisely,
therefore, hath the British constitution guarded the safety of
the people, in these two points, by the most studious precau
tions. Upon that of taxation, evely law which, by the remotest
construction, may be deemed to levy money upon the proper
ty of the subject, must originate, that is, must first be proposed
and assented to, in the House of Commons : by which regula
tion, accompanymg the weight which tliat assembly possesses
in aU its functionslthe levying of taxes is almost exclusively

280 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
reserved to the popular part of the constitution, who, it is
presumed, wUl not tax themselves, nor then feUow subjects,
without being first convinced of the necessity ofthe aids which
they grant.
The application also of the public supplies, is watched with
the same circumspection -as the assessment. Many taxes are
annual ; the produce of others is mortgaged, or appropriated to
specific services ; the expenditure of aU of them is' accounted
for in the House of Commons ; as computations of the charge
of the purpose, for which they are wanted, are previously sub
mitted to the same tribunal.
In the inffiction of punishm,ent, the power of the crown,
and of the magistrate appointed by the crown, is confined by
the most precise limitations : the guilt of the offender .must be
pronounced by twelve men of his own order, indifferently cho
sen out of the county where the offence was committed : the
punishment, or the Umits to which the punishment may be
extended, are ascertained, and affixed to the crime, by laws
whioh knew not the person of the crimmal.
And whereas arbitrary or clandestine confinement is the m-
jury most lo be dreaded from the strong hand of the executive
government, because it deprives the prisoner at once of protec
tion and defence, and delivers him mto the power, and to the
mahcious or interested designs, of his enemies ; the constitution
has provided against this danger -with double sohcitude. The
ancient writ of habeas corpus, the habeas corpus act , of
Charles the Second, and the practice and determinations of our
sovereign courts of justice founded upon these laws, afford a
complete remedy for every conceivable case of Ulegal imprison
ment.* * Upon complaint in -writing by, or on behalf of, any person in confinement, to
any of the four courts of -Westminster Hall, in term time, or .to the Lord Chan
cellor, or one of the Judges, in the vacation ; and upon a probable reason being
suggested to question the legality of the detention, a writ is issued to the person
in whose custody the complainant is alleged to be, commanding him within a
certain limited and short time to produce the body of the prisoner, and the au
thority under which he is detained. Upon the return of the writ, strict and in
stantaneous obedience to which is enforced by very severe penalties, if no lailrful
cause of imprisonment appear, the court or judge, before whom the prisoner is
brought, is authorized and bound to discharge him ; even though he may have
been committed by a secretary, or other high officer of state, by the privy coun
cil or by the king in person : so that no subject of this realm can be held in con
finement by any power, or under any pretence whatever, provided he qan find
means to convey nis complaint to one of the four courts of "Westminster Hall,
or, during their recess, to any of the Judges of the^ same, unless all these several

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 281
Treason bemg that charge, under colour of which the de
struction of an obnoxious individual is often sought ; and
government being at all times more immediately a party in the
prosecution ; the law, beside the general care with which it
watches over the safety of the accused, in this case, sensible of
the unequal contest in which the subject is engaged, has as
sisted his defence with extraordinary indulgencies. By two
statutes, enacted since the Revolution, every person mdicted
for high treason shaU have a copy of his mdiclment, a list of
the witnesses to be produced, and of the jury impanneUed,
deUvered lo hun ten days before the trial ; he is also permitted
to make his defence hy counsel : — privileges which are not al
lowed lo the prisoner, in a trial for any other crime : and, what
is of more importance to the parly than aU the rest, the tes
timony of two -witnesses, at the least, is required lo convict a
person of treason ; whereas, one positive witness is sufficient
in almost every other species of accusation.
We proceed, in the second place, to inquire in what manner
the constitution has provided for, its own preservation ; that is,
in what manner each part of the legislature is secured in the
exercise of the powers assigned to it, from the encroachment
of the other parts. The security is sometimes caUed the bal
ance of the constitution; and the political equiUbrium, which
this phrase denotes, consists in two contrivances; — a balance of
power, and a balance of mterest. By a balance of power is
meant, that there is no power possessed by one part of the le
gislature, the abuse, or excess of which is not checked by some
antagonist power, residing in another part. Thus the power
of the two houses of parUament to frame laws is checked by
the kmg's negative ; 'that, if laws subversive of regal govern
ment should obtain the consent of parhament, the reigning
prince, by interposing his prerogative, may save the necessary,
rights and authority of his station. On the other hand, the
arbitrary application of this negative is checked by the privi
lege which pariiament possesses, of refusing supplies of moa-
ey to the exigencies of the king's administration. The con-
stitutional maxim, ' that the kmg can do no wrong,' js bal--
anced by another maxim, not less constitutional, ' that the il-
tribunals agree in determining his imprisonment to be legal. He my m^ke aK
plication to them, in succession ; and if, one out of the numbgr be lound, who,
thinks the prUoner entitled to his Uberty, that one possess.cs authonty tp i;estQK,
it to him.
VOL. III. 36

282 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
legal commands of the king do not justify those who assist,
or concur, in carrymg them into execution;' and by a second
rule, subsidiary to this, ' that the acts of the crown acquire not
a legal force, UntU authenticated by the subscription of some
of its great officers.' The wisdom of this contrivance is wor
thy of observation. As the Mng could not be punished, with
out a civil war, the constitution exempts his person from trial
or account ; but, lest this impunity should encourage a^Ucen-
lious exercise of dominion, various obstacles are opposed to the
private wiU of the sovereign, when directed to iUegal olijects.
The pleasure of the crown must be announced with certam
solenuiities, and attested by certam officers of state. In some
cases, the royal order must be signified by a secrietary of slate ;
in others, it must pass under the privy seal, and, in many,
under the great seal. And when the kmg's command is reg
ularly published, no misChief can be achieved by it, without
the mmislry and compUance of those to whom it is directed.
Now aU who either concm m an illegal order by authenticating
its pubUcation ¦with their seal or subscription, or who in any
manner assist in caixymg it into execution, subject themselves
to prosecution and punishment, for the part they have taken ;
and are not permitted to plead or produce the command of
the kmg, in justification of their obedience,* But further ; the
power of the crown to direct the miUlary force of the king
dom, is balanced by the annual necessity of resorting to par
Uament for the mamlenance and government of that force.
The power of the king to declare war, is checked by the priv
ilege of the House of Commons, to grant or withhold the sup
plies by which the war must be carried on. The kmg's choice
of his mmislers is controUed by the obligation he is under of
appomlmg those men lo offices in the state, who are found ca
pable of managing the affairs of his government, with the two
houses of parliament. Which consideration imposes such a
* Amongst the checks, which pailiament holds over the administration of
public affairs, I forbear to mention the. practice of addressing the kin^, to kiiow
.by whose advice he resolved upon a particular measure ; and of punishing the
authors of that advice, for the counsel they had given. Not because I fllink
- this method either unconstitutional or improper, but for this reason ; — ^that it
does not so much subject the king to the controul of parUament, as it supposes
him to be already in subjection. For if the king were so far out of the reach
of the resentment of the House of Commons, as to be able with safety to refuse
the information requested, or to take upon himself the responsibility inquired af
ter, there must be an end of all proceedings founded in tMs mode of application.

BRITISH CONSTITUITON. 283

necessity upon the crown, as hathm a, great measure subdued
the influence of favouritism ; insomuch that it is become no
uncommon spectacle in this country, lo see men promoted by
the king to the highest offices and richest preferments which
he has m his power lo bestow, vvho have been distuiguished
by their opposition to his personal mcUnations.
By the balance of interest which accompames and givps
efficacy to the balance of power, is meant this : — that the re
spective interests of Ijie three estates of the empire are so dis
posed and adjusted, that whichever of the three shaU attempt
any encroacMnent, the other two wUl unite in resistmg it.
If the kmg should endeavour to extend his authority, by con
tracting the power and privUeges of the Commons, the House
of Lords would see their own dignity endangered by every ad
vance which the crown made to independency upon the reso
lutions of parliament. The admission of arbitrary power is
no less formidable to the grandeur of the aristocracy, than it is
fatal to the Uberty of the repubhc | that is, it would reduce the
nobiUty from the hereditary share they possess in the national
councils, in which their real greatness consists, to the being
made a part of the empty pageantry of a despotic court. On
the other hand, ff the House of Commons should mtfenCh up
on the distinct provmce, or usurp the established prerogative
ofthe crown, the House of Lords would receive an instant
alarm from every new stretch of popular power. In every con
test in which the king may be engaged with the representative
body, in defence of his «stabUshed share of authority, he wiU
find a sure ally in the collective power of the nobUity. An at
tachment to the monarchy, from which they derive then own
distinction ; the allurements of a court, m the habits and with
the sentiments of wMch they have been brought up ; then ha
tred of equaUty, and of aU leveUmg pretensions, which may
ultimately afl^ct the privileges, or even the existence of their
order ; in short, every principle and every prejudice which are
wont to actuate human conduct, wiU determine their choice to
the side and support of the crown. Lastly, ff the nobles them
selves should attempt to re-vive the superiorities which then an
cestors exercised under the feudal constitution, the king and tjie
people would alike remember, how the one had been msulted,
and the other enslaved, by that barbarous tyranny. They
would forget the natural oppositition of their views and incUna-

284 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
tions, when they saw themselves iMealened -with the return
of a domination, wMch was odious and intolerable to both.

The reader wiU have observed, that in describing the Brit
ish constitution. Utile notice has been taken of the House of
Lords. The proper use and design of this part of the consti
tution, are the foUowing : First, lo enable the king, by his
right of bestowing the peerage, to reward the servants of the
public, in a manner most grateful to them, and at a smaU ex
pense to the nation ; secondly, to fortffy the power and to se
cure the stabiUty of regal government, by an order of men nat
uraUy aUied to its mterests ; and, thirdly, lo answer a purpose,
which, though of superiour importance to the other two, does ,
not occur so readUy to our observation ; namely, to stem the
progress of popular finy. Large bodies of men are subject lo
sudden frenzies. Opinions are sometimes circulated amongst
a multitude without proof or examination, acquiring confidence
and reputation merely by being repeated from one lo another;
and pasgjpns founded upon these opmions, diffusing themselves
¦with a rapidity which can neither be accounted for nor resisted,
may agitate a country with the most violent commotions.
Now the only' way to stop the fermentation, is to divide the
mass ; that is, to erect different orders in the community, with
.separate prejudices and interests. And this may occasionaUy
hecome the use of an hereditary nobility, invested Avith a share
of legislation. Averse to those prejudices which actuate the
minds of the vulgar ; accustomed to condemn the clamour of
the populace ; disdaming lo receive laws and opmions from
Aheir mferiom-s in rank, they wiU oppose resolutions which are
funded in the foUy and -violence of the lower part of the com
munity. Were the voice of the people always dictated by re
flection ; did every man, or even one man in a hundred, think
1 for, himseff, or actually consider the measure he weis about lo
,apprDve or censure ; or even were the common people tolerably
steadfast in the judgment which they formed, I should hold the
interference of a superiour order not only superfluous, but wrong;
for when ej/:ery thing is aUowed lo difference of rank and educa
tion, which the actual state of these advantages deserves,, that,
after aU, is most likely to be right and expedient, which ap
pears to be so to the separate judgment and decision of a great

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 285
majority of the nation ; at least, that, in general, is right for
them, which is agreeable lo their fixed opinions and desires.
But when we observe what is urged as the public opinion; to
be, in truth, the opinion only, or perhaps the feigned profes
sion, of a few crafty leaders ; that the numbers who join m the
cry, serve only to sweU and multiply the sound, without any
accession of judgment, -or exercise of understanding ; and that
oftentimes the wisest counsels have been thus overborne by
tumult and uproar ; — we may conceive occasions to arise, in
which the commonweaUh may be saved by the reluctance of
the nobiUty to adopt the caprices, or lo yield lo the vehemence
of the common people. In expecting this advantage from an
order of nobles, we do not suppose the nobUily to be more un
prejudiced than others ; we only suppose that then prejudices
will be different from, and may occasionaUy counteract those
of others.
If the personal privileges of the peerage, which are usually
so many injuries -to the rest of the community, be restramed,
I see little inconveniency in the increase of its number ; for it
is only dividing the same quantity of power amongst more
hands, which is rather favourable to public freedom than other-
-wise. The admission of a smaU number of ecclesiastics into the
House of Lords, is but an equitable compensation to the clergy
for the exclusion of their order from the House of Commons.
They are a set of men considerable by their number and pro
perly, as weU as by their influence, and the duties of their sta
tion ; yet whilst every other profession has those amongst the
national representatives, who, being conversant in the same
occupation, are able to state, and naturaUy disposed lo support,
the rights and interests of the class and caMng to which they
belong, the clergy alone are deprived of this advantage : which
hardship is made up lo them by introducing the prelacy mto
parliament ; and if bishops, from gratitude or expectation, be
more obsequious to the will of the crown than those who pos
sess great temporal inheritances, they are properly inserted into
that part of the constitution, from which much or frequent re
sistance to the measures of government is not expected.
I acknowledge, that I perceive no sufficient reason for ex
empting the persons of members of either house of parUament
fr'om arrest for debt. The counsels or suffrage of a single sen
ator,' especiaUy of one who in the management of his, own

286 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
affairs may justly be suspected of a want of pradence or hon
esty, can seldom be so necessary to those of the pubUc as to
justify a departure from that wholesome policy, by which . the
laws of a commercial state punish and stigmatize msolvency.
But whatever reason may be pleaded for their personal im
munity, when this privilege of parhament is extended to do
mestics and retainers, or when it is permitted to impede or de
lay the comse of judicial proceedings, it becomes an absurd
sacrifice of equal justice to imaginary dignity.
There is nothmg in the British constitution so remarka
ble, as the irregularity of the popular representation. The
House of Commons consists of five hundred and forty-eight
members, of whom two hundred are elected by seven thou
sand constituents; so that a majority of these seven thousand,
¦without any reasonable title lo superiour weight or influence
in the slate, may, under certam circumstances, decide a ques
tion against the opimon of as many milUons. Or to place '
the same object in another point of view ; if my estate be situa
ted in one county ofthe Mngdom, I possess the ten thousandth
part of a single representative ; if m another, the thousandth ;
if in a particular district, I may be one m twenty who choose
two representatives ; if m a stiU more favoured spot, I may en
joy the right of appointing two myself If I have been bom, or
d^jveU, or have served an apprenticeship in one town, I am rep
resented in the national assembly by two deputies, in the choice
of whom I exercise an actual and sensible share of power ; if
accident has iMown my birth, or habitation, or service, into
another town, I have no representative at aU, nor more power
or concern in the election of those who make the laws by
which I am governed, than if I was a subject of the Grand
Seignior: — and this partiality subsists without any pretence
whatever of merit or of propriety, to justify the preference of
one place to another. Or, thhdly, lo describe the slate of na
tional representation as it exists, in reality, it may be affirmed,
I beUeve, with trath, that about one half of the House of Com
mons obtain their seals in that assembly by the election of the
people, the other half by purchase, or by the nomination of
single proprietors of great estates.
'This is a flagrant incongruity m the constitution ; but it is
one of those pbjections which strike most forcibly at fiist sight.
The effect of aU reasoning upon the subject is to duninfeh
the first impression : on which account it deserves the more at-

- BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 287
tentive examination, that we may be assured, before we adven
ture upon a reformation, that the magnitude ofthe evU justifies
the danger of the experiment. In the few remarks that foUow,
we would be understood, in the first place, to decUne all con
ference with those who wish to alter the form of government of
these kmgdoms. The reformers with whom we have to do,
are they, who, whilst- they change this part of the system,
would retain the rest. If any Englishman expect more happi
ness to his country under a republic, he may very consistently
recommend a new modelling of elections lo parliament; be
cause, if the King and House of Lords were laid aside, the
present disproportionate representation would produce nothmg
but a confused and ill-digesled oUgarchy. In Uke manner we
wave a controversy -with those writers who insist upon repre
sentation as a natural right :* we consider it so far only as a
right at aU, as it conduces to pubUc utUity ; that is, as it con
tributes lo the establishment of good laws, or as it secures to the
people the just admmistration of these laws. These effects de
pend upon the disposition and abUities of the national counsel
lors. Wherefore, if men the most likely by their quaUfications
to know and to promote the public interest, be actuaUy returned
to parliament, it signifies Utile who return them. If the prop-
erest persons be elected, what matters it by whom they are
elected? At least, no prudent statesman would subvert long es
tabhshed or even settled rules of representation, -without a pros
pect of procuring wiser or better representatives. This then
bemg weU observed, let us, before we seek to obtam any thing
more, consider duly what we aheady have. We have a House
of Commons composed of five hundred and forty-eight members,
in which number are found the most considerable landholders
and merchants of the kingdom ; the heads of the army, and
navy, and the law; the occupiers of great offices m the state;
together -with many private individuals, emment by then
knowledge, eloquence, or activity. Now, if the country be not
safe in such hands, in whose may it confide its mterests? If
such a number of such men be Uable to the influence of cor-
* If this right be natural, no doubt it must be equal; and the right, we may
add, of one sex, as weU as of the other. "Whereas every plan of representation,
that we have heard of, begins by excluding the votes of women ; thus cutting off,
at a single stroke, one Haff of the pubUc from a right which is asserted to be in
herent in all i a right too, as some reijresent it, not only universal, but unaliena
ble, and indefeasible, and imprescriptible.

288 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
rapt motives, what assembly of men wiU be secure from the
saifie danger? Does any new scheme of, representation promise
to coUeCt together more wisdom, or to produce firmer integri
ty? In this view of the subject, and attending not to ideas of
order and proportion (of which many minds are much enam
oured), but to effects alone, we may , discover just excuses for
those parts of the present representatioh, which appear lo a
hasty observer most exceptionable and absurcj. It should be
remembered, as a maxim extremely apphcable to, this subject,
that no order or assembly of men whatever can long maintain
their place and authority in a mixed govemment, of which
the members do not individuaUy possess a respectahle share of
personal importance. Now whatever may be the defects of
the present arrangement, it infaMbly secures a great weight of
property to the House of Commons, by rendering many seats in
that house accessible to men of large fortunes, and to such^ men
alone. By which means those characters are engaged in the
defence of the separate rights and mterests of this branch of
the legislature, that are best able to support its claims. The
constitution of most of the smaU boroughs, especiaUy the bur
gage tenme,' contributes, though undesignedly, lo the same
effect ; , for the appointment of the representatives we find com-
nioMy annexed lo certain great inheritances. Elections pure
ly popular are in this respect uncertain ; in tunes of tranquilUty,
the natural ascendency of wealth wiU prevail; but when the
minds of men are enflamed by political dissensions, this influ
ence often yields to more impetuous motives. — The variety of
tenures and qualifications, upon which the right of voting is
founded, appears to me a recommendation of the mode which
now subsists, as it lends lo mtroduce into parliament a corres-
pondmg mixtm-e of characters and professions. It has been long
observed that conspicuous abilities are most fiequently found
with the representatives of smaU boroughs. And this is noth
ing more than what the laws of human conduct might teach
us to expect: when such boroughs are set to sale, those men
are Ukely to become purchasers, who are enabled by their tal
ents to make the best of their bargain: when a seat is not sold,
but given by the opulent proprietor of a bmgage tenure, the
patron finds his own interest consulted, by the reputation and
abUities of the member whom he nominates. If certam of the
nobiUty hold the appointment of some part ofthe House of Com
mons, it serves to maintain that alUance 'between the two

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 289
branches of the legislature, which no good citizen would wish
to see dissevered : it helps lo keep the government of the country
in the House of Commons, in which it would not perhaps long
continue to reside, if so powerful and wealthy apart of the na
tion as the peerage compose were excluded from aU share and
interest in its constitution. If there be a few boroughs so cir
cumstanced as lo Ue at the disposal of the crown, whilst the
number of such is kno-wn and smaU, they may be tolerated
with httle danger. For where would be the impropriety, or the
inconveniency, if the King at once should nominate a Umited
number of his servants lo seals in parhament ; or, what is the
same thing, if seats m parliament were annexed to the posses
sion of certain of the most efficient and responsible offices ui
the slate? The present representation, after aU these deduc
tions, and under the confusion in which it confessedly Ues, is
StUl in such a degree popular, or rather representatives are so
connected with the mass of the community by a society of in
terests and passions, that the wiU of the people, when it is de
termined, permanent, and general, almost always at length
prevails. Upon the whole, in the several plans which have been sugges
ted, of an equal or a reformed representation, it will be difficult
to discover any proposal that has a tendency to throw more of
the busmess of the nation into the House of Commons, or to col
lect a set of men more fit to transact that business, or in general
more mterested m'the national happiness and prosperity. One
consequence, however, may be expected from these projects,
namely, ' less flexibihty lo the mfluence of the crown.' And
since the dimmution of this influence is the declared and per
haps the sole design of the various schemes that have been pro
duced, whether for regulating the elections, contracting the du
ration, or for purifying the constitution of Parliament by the ex-
clusion of placemen and pensioners ; it is obvious to remark,
that the more apt and natural, as -weU as the more safe and
quiet way of attaining the same end, would be, by a direct re
duction of the patronage of the crown, which might be effected
to a certain extent without hazarding farther consequences.
Superfluous and exorbitant emoluments of office may not only
be suppressed for the present ; but provisions of law be devised,
which should for the future restrain within certain limits the
number and value of the offices m the donation of the kuig.
But whilst we dispute concerning different schemes of refor-
voL. iir. 37

290 BRITISH CONSTITUTION.
mation, aU directed to the same end, a previous doubt occurs
in the debate, whether the end itseff be good, or safe ; — ^wheth
er the influence so loudly complained of can be destroyed, or
even much diminished, without danger lo the state. Whilst
the zeal of some men beholds this influence with a jealousy,
which nothing but its entire aboUtion can appease, many wise
and virtuous politicians deem a considerable portion of it to be
as necessary a part of the British constitution, as any other in
gredient in the composition ; — lo be that, indeed, which gives
cohesion and solidity to the whole. Were the measures of go
vernment, say they, opposed from nothing but principle, govern
ment ought to have nothing but the rectitude of its measures to
support them ; but since opposition springs from other motives,
government must possess an influence to counteract these mo
tives ; to produce, not a bias ofthe passions, but a neutrality ; —
it must have some weight to cast into the scale, lo set the
balance even. It is the nature of power, always lo press upon
the boundaries which confine it. Licentiousness, faction, en
vy, impatience of controul or inferiority ; the secret pleasure of
mortifying the great, or the hope of dispossessing them ; a con
stant wiUingness to question and thwart whatever is dictated or
even proposed by another ; a disposition common lo aU bodies of
' men, lo extend the claims and authority of their orders ; above
all, that love of power, and of sho^wing it, which resides more
or less in every human breast, and which, m popular assem
blies, is inflamed, like every other passion, by communication
and encouragement : these motives, added to private designs
and resentments, cherished also by popular acclamation, and
operating upon the great share of power aheady possessed by
the House of Commons, might induce a majority, or at least a
large parly of men in that assembly, lo unite in endeavouring
to draw to themselves the whole government of the state ; or, at
least, so lo obstruct the conduct of pubhc affairs, by a wanton
and perverse opposition, as to render it impossible for the wisest
statesmen to carry forwards the business of the nation with suc
cess or satisfaction.
Some passages of our national history afford grounds for
these apprehensions. Before the accession of James the First,
or, at least, durmg the reigns of his three immediate predeces
sors, the government of England was a government by force ;
that is, the king carried his measmes in parhament by intim
idation. A sense of personal danger kept the members of

BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 291
the House of Commons in subjection. A conjunction of fortu
nate causes deUvered at last the parUament ahd nation from
slavery. That overbearing system, which had decUned in the
hands of James, expired early in the reign of his son. After
the restoration there succeeded in its place, and since the rev
olution has been melhodicaUy pursued, the more successful ex
pedient of influence. Now we remember what passed between
the loss of lerrour, and the establishment of mfluence. The
transactions of that interval, whatever we may think of their
occasion or effect, no friend of regal government would -wish
lo see revived. — But the affairs of this kingdom afford a more
recent attestation to the same doctrme. In the British colonies
of North America the late assemblies possessed much of the
power and constitution of our House of Commons. The kmg
and govemment of Great Britain held no patronage hi the
country, which could create attachment and mfluence suffi
cient to counteract that restless arrogating spirit, wMch, in
popular assembhes, when left lo itself, wUl never brook an an- "
Ihority that checks and interferes with its own. To this cause,
excited perhaps by some unseasonable provocations, we may
attribute, as lo their true and proper original, we wUl not say
the misfortunes, but the changes that have taken place in the
British empne. The admonition, which such examples sug
gest, wiU have its weight with those, who are content with
the general frame of the English constitution ; and who con
sider stability amongst the first perfections of any government.
We protest, however, against any construction, by which
what is here said shaU be attempted to be applied lo the justi
fication of bribery, or of any clandestine reward or solicitation
whatever. The very secrecy of such negocialions confesses or
begets a conciousness of guilt; which when the mmd is once
taught to endure without uneasiness, the character is prepared
for every compUance : and there is the greater danger in these
corrupt practices, as the extent of their operation is unUmited
and unknown. Our apology relates solely lo that mfluence,
which results from the accepta;nce or expectation of public
preferments. Nor does the influence, which we defend, require
any sacrifice of personal .probity. In political, above aU other
subjects, the arguments, or rather the conjectures, on each side
of the question, are often so equaUy poised, that thevvisest
judgments may be held in suspense: these I caU subjects of
indifference. But again, -when the subject is not indifferent

292 BRITISH CONSTITUTION. ,
in itself, it wiU appear .such to a great part of those to whom
it is proposed, for want of information, or reflection, or experi
ence, or of capacity lo coUect and weigh the reasons by which
either side is supported. These are subjects of apparent in
difference. This indifference occurs still more frequently in
personal contests; in which we do not often discover any rea
sons of public UtUity for the preference of one competitor to
another. These cases compose the pro-vince of influence : that
• is, the decision in these cases wiU inevitably be determmed
by influence of some sort or other. The only doubt is, what
influence shaU be admitted. If you remove the influence of
the crown, it is only to make way for influence from a different
quarter. If motives of expectation and gratitude be -with
drawn, other motives wiU succeed in their place, acting probably
in an opposite direction, but equally irrelative and external to
the proper merits of the question. There exist, as we have
seen, passions in the human heart, which will always make a
strong party against the executive power of a mixed govern
ment. According as the disposition of parliament is friendly
or adverse to the recommendation of the crown in matters
Avhich are reaUy or apparently indifferent, as indifference hath
been now explained, the business of the empire wUl be li-ans-
acted with ease and convenience, or embarrassed with endless
contention and difficulty. Nor is it a conclusion founded in
justice, or warranted by experience, that, because men are indu
ced by views of interest to yield their consent to measures, con
cerning which their judgment decides nothing, they may be
brought by the same influence to act in deliberate opposition
to knowledge and duty. Whoever reviews the operations of
govemment in this country since the revolution, -will find few
even of the most questionable measures of administration,
about which the best instructed judgment might not have
doubted at the time ; but of which he may affirm with cer
tainty, they were indifferent to the greatest part of those who
concurred in them. From the success, or the facUity, with
which they who dealt out the patronage of the crown carried
measures like these, ought we to conclude, that a similar appli
cation of honours and emoluments would procure the consent
of parliament to counsels evidently detrimental lo the common
welfare? Is there not, on the contrary, more reason to fear,
that the prerogative, if deprived of influence, would not be long
able to support itself? For when we reflect upon the power of

OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 293
the House of Commons to extort a compliance with its resolu
tions from the other parts of tlie legislature; or lo put to death
the constitution by a refusal of the annual grants of money to
the support of the necessary functions of government ; — when
we reflect also what motives there are, which, in the vicissitudes
of political interests and passions, may one day arm and pomt
this power against the executive magistrate ; — when we attend
to these considerations, we shaU be led perhaps to acknow
ledge, that there is not more of paradox than of truth in that
important, but much decried apophthegm, ' that an indepen
dent parliament is incompatible with the existence ofthe mon
archy.'

CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE.
The first maxim of a free state is, that the laws be made
by one set of men, and administered by another : in other
wort^,' that the legislative and judicial characters be kept sep
arate. When these offices are united in the same person or
assembly, particular laws are made for particular cases, spring
ing oftentimes from partial motives, and directed lo private
ends : whUst they are kept separate, general laws are made
by ohe body of men, without foreseeing whom they may affect;
and, when made, must be appUed by the other, let them affect
whom they wiU.
For the sake of illustration, let it be supposed, in this coun
try, either that, parliaments being laid aside, the courts of
Westminster HaU made their own laws ; or that the two houses
of parUament, with the king at their head, tried and decided
causes at their bar: it is evident, in the first place, that the de
cisions of such a judicature would be so many laws ; and, in
the second place, that, when the parlies and the interest to be
affected by the la.w were known, the mflinalions of the law
makers would inevitably attach on one side or the other; and
thal^ where there were neither any fixed rules to regulate theii-
determmations, nor any superiour power lo control their pro
ceedings, these mclmations would interfere with the integrity
of public justice. The consequence of which must be, that

294 OP THE ADMINISTRATION
the subjects of such a constitution woidd Uve either without
any constant laws, that is, without any known, pre-eslabUshed
rules of adjudication whatever; or under laws made for par
ticular cases and particular persons, and/ partaking of the con
tradictions and iniquity of the motives to which they owed
their origin.
Which dangers, by the division of the legislative and judi
cial fiinctions, are m this country effectually provided against.
ParUament knows not the individuals upon whom its acts
wUl operate; it has no cases or parlies before it; bo private de
signs to serve : consequently its resolutions will be suggested
by the consideration Of universal effects and tendencies, which
always produces impartial, and commonly advantageous regu
lations. When laws are made, courts of justice, whatever be
the disposition of the judges, must abide by them ; for the
legislative being necessarily the supreme power of the state,
the judicial and every other power is accountable to that ; and
it cannot be doubted but that the persons, who possess the sov
ereign authority of government, wiU be tenacious of the laws
which they themselves prescribe, and sufficiently jealous ofthe
assumption of dispensing and legislative power by any others.
This fundamental rule of civU- jurisprudence is violated in
the case of acts of attainder or con&cation, in biUs of pams and
penalties, and in aU ex post facto laws whatever, in which
parUament exercises the double office of legislator and judge.
And whoever either understands the value of the rule itseff,
or coUects the Mstory of those instances in which it has been
invaded, will be induced, I beUeve, lo acknowledge, that it
had been -wiser and safer never lo have departed from it. He
wiU, confess, at least, that nothmg but the niost manifest and
immediate perU of the commonwealth will justify a repetition of
these dangerous examples. If thelaws m being do' not pun
ish an offender, let him go unpunished ; let the legislatme,
admonished of the defect of the laws, provide against the com-
missitm of future crimes of the same sort. The escape of one
deUnquent can never produce so much harm to the communi
ty as may arise from the mfraction of a rale, upon which the
purity of pubUc justice, and the existence of civU Uberty, essen-
tiaUy depend.
The next security for the impartial administration of justice,
especially m decisions to wMch government is a party, is the in
dependency of the judges. As protection against every iUegal

OF JUSTICE. 295
attack upon the rights of the subject by the servants of the
crown is to be sought for from these tribunals, the judges ofthe
land become not unfrequently the arbitrators between the king
and the people : on whicli account they ought to be independ
ent of either ; or, what is the same thing, equally dependent
upon both ; that is, if they be appointed by the one, they should
be removable only by the other. This was the policy which
dictated that memorable improvement in our constitution, by
which the judges, who before the revolution held their offices
during the pleasure of the king, can now only be deprived of
them by an address fiom both, houses of parliament ; as the
most regular, solemn, and authentic way, by which the dissat
isfaction of the people can be expressed. To make this inde
pendency of the judges complete, the pubhc salaries of their
office ought not only to be certam both in amount and contin
uance, but so liberal as to secure their integrity from the temp
tation of secret bribes : which liberaUty wiU answer also the far
ther purpose of preservmg then jurisdiction from contempt, and
their characters from suspicion ; as weU as of rendermg the
office worthy of the ambition of men of eminence in their pro
fession. A third precaution lo be pbserved in the formation of courts
of justice is, that the number of the judges be smaU. For, be
side that the violence and tumult inseparable from large assem
blies are inconsistent with the patience, method, and atten
tion requisite injudicial mvesligations ; beside that aU passions
and prejudices act with augmented force upon a coUected mul
titude : beside these objections, judges when they ai-e numerous
divide the shame of an unjust determmation ; they shelter
themselves under one another's example ; each man thinks
bis own character hid m the crowd : for which reason the judges
ought always to be so few, as that the conduct of each may
be conspicuous to public observation ; that each may be re
sponsible in his separate and paiticulax reputation for the deci
sions in which he concurs. The truth of the above remark
has been exempUfied m tMs country, in the effects of that -wisfe
regulation which transfen-ed the trial of parliamentary elections
from the House of Commons at large to, a select committee of
that house, composed of thirteen members. This alteralwn,
simply by reducing the number of the judges, and, m conse
quence of that reduction, exposing the judicial conduct of each
to pubhc animadversion, has given to a judicatme, whkhhad

296 OF THE ADMINISTRATION
been long swayed by interest and solicitation, the solemnity
and virtue of the most upright tribunals. I should prefer an
even to an odd number of judges, and four to almost any oth
er number; for in this number, beside that it sufficiently con
sults the idea of separate responsibility, nothing can be decided
but by a majority of three to one : and when we consider that
every decision establishes a perpetual precedent, we shall allow
that it .ought to proceed from an authority not less than this.
If the court be equally divided, nothing is done ; things remain
as they were ; with some inconveniency, indeed, to the parties,
but without the danger to the public of a hasty precedent.
A fourth requisite in the constitution of a court of justice,
and equivalent to many checks upon the discretion of judges,
is, that its prbceedings be carried on in public, apertis foribus ;
not only before a promiscuous concourse of bystanders, but in
the audience of the whole profession of the law. The opin
ion of the Bar concerning what passes wUl be impartial ; apd
wiU commonly guide that of the public. The most corrupt
judge wUl fear to indulge his dishonest wishes in the presence
of such an assembly : he must encounter, what few can sup
port, the censure of his equals and companions, together with
the indignation and reproaches of his counli-y.
Something is also gained to the public by appointing two
or three courts of concurrent jurisdiction, that it may remain m
the option ofthe suitor to which he wiU resort. By this means
a tribunal which may happen to be occupied by ignorant or sus
pected judges, ,wiU be deserted for others that possess more of
the confidence of the nation.
But, lastly, if several courts, co-ordinate to and indepen
dent of each other, subsist together in the country, it seems
necessary that the appeals from aU of them should meet and
terminate in the same judicature ; in order that one supreme
tribunal, 'by whose final sentence all others are boimd and
concluded, may superintend and preside over the rest. This
constitution is necessary for two pui-poses : to preserve an uni
formity in the decisions of inferiour courts, and to maintain
to each the proper limits of its jurisdiction. Without a com
mon superiour, different comts might establish contradictory
rules'of adjudication, and the contradiction be final and with
out remedy ; the same question might receive opposite deter
minations, according as it was brought before one court Or
another, and the determination in each be ultimate and irre-

OF JUSTICE. 297 '
versible. A common appeUant jurisdiction prevents, or puts
an end to this confusion. For when the judgments upon ap
peals are consistent, which may be expected, whUst it is the
same court which is at last resorted to, the different courts, from
which the appeals are brought, wUl be reduced lo a like con
sistency with one another. Moreover, if questions arise between
courts, independent of each other, concerning the extent and
boundaries of their respective jurisdiction, as each wUl be desi
rous of enlargmg its own, an authority which both acknowledge
can alone adjust the controversy. Such a power, therefore,
must reside somewhere, lest the rights and repose ofthe country
be distracted by the endless opposition and mutual encroach
ments of its courts of justice,
There are two kinds of judicature ; the one where the of
fice of the judge is permanent in the same person, and conse
quently w.here the judge is appomted and kno-wn -long before
the trial ; the other, where the judge is determined by lot at
the lime of the trial, and for that turn only. The one may
be caUed a fixed, the other a casual judicatme. From the
former may be expected those qualifications which are prefer-.
red and sought for in the choice of judges, and that knowl
edge and readiness which result from experience in the office.
But then, as the judge is known beforehand, he is accessible
to the parties ; there exists a possibUity of secret management
and undue practises : or, in contests between the crown and
the subject, the judge appomted by the crown may be suspect
ed of partiality "to his patron, or of entertaining incUnalions
favourable to the authority from which he derives Ms own.
The advantage attending the second kmd of judicature is m-
differency ; the defect, the want of that legal science which
produces uniformity and justice in legal deciswns. The con
struction of EngUsh courts of law, in which causes are tried
by a jmy, with the assistance of a judge, combines the two
species together with pecuUai- success. This admnable con
trivance unites the wisdom of a fixed with the integrity of a
casual judicature ; and avoids, in a great measure, the incon
veniencies of both. The judge imparts to the jury the bene
fit of Ms erudition and experience ; the jmy, by their disinter
estedness, check any corrupt partiaUties which previous apph
cation may have produced in the judge. If the determina
tion was left to the judge, the party might suffer under the su
periour interest of his adversary : if it was left to an unia-
VOL. iir. 38

298 OF THE ADMINISTRATION
strucled jury, his rights would be m stiU greater danger from
the ignorance of those who were to decide upon them. The
present wise admixture of chance and choice in the constitu
tion of the cdui-t in which his cause is tried, guards him equal
ly against the fear of injmy from either of these causes.
In proportion to the acknowledged exceUency of this mode
of trial, every deviation from it ought to be watched with vigi^
lance, and Eidmitled by the legislatme vrith caution and reluc
tance. Summary convictions before justices of the peace, es
peciaUy for offences against, the game laws; courts of con
science ; extending the jurisdiction of coiuls of equity ; urgmg
too far the distinction between questions of law and matters of
fact,— are aU so many infringements Upon this great charter
of pubUc safety.
Nevertheless, the trial by jury is sometimes found inade
quate lo the a,dministration of equal justice. This imperfec
tion lakes place cMefly in disputes m which some popular
passion or prejudice mlervenes ; as where a particular order of
men advance claims upon the rest of the community, wMch
is the case of the clergy contendmg for tythes ; or where an
order of men are obnoxious by their profession, as are officers of
the revenue, bailiffs, baUiffs' followers, and other low ministers
of the law ; Or where one of the parties has an interest in com
mon -with the general interest of the jurors, and that of the
other is Opposed to it, as in contests between landlords and
tenants, between lords of manors and the holders of estates
under them ; or, lastly, where the mmds of men are mflamed
by poUtical dissensions or rehgious hatred. These prejudices
act most powerfuUy upon the common people, of which order
juries are made up. The force and danger of them are also
increased by the very circumstance of taking juries out of the
comity m which the subject of dispute arises. In the neigh
bourhood of the parties the cause is often prejudged : and these
secret decisions Ofthe mind proceed commonly more upon sen
timents of favour or haired ; — upon some opmion concerning
the sect, famUy, profession, character, connexions, or circum
stances of the parties, — ^ihan upon any knowledge or discus
sion of the proper merits of the question. More exact justice
would, m many instances, be rendered to the suitors, if the
determmation were left entirely to the judges ; provided wC
could depend upon the same purity of conduct, when the pow
er of these magistrates was enlarged, wMch they have long

OF JUSTICE. 299
manifested in the exercise of a mixed and restramed authori
ty. But this is an experiment too big vidth public danger to
be hazarded. The effects, however, of some local prejudices,
might be safely obviated by a law empowering the court, in
wMch the action is brought, to send the cause to trial in a dis
tant county : the expenses attendmg the change of place al-
-ways faMng upon the party who appUed for it
"There is a second division of courts of justice, wMch pre
sents a new alternative of difficulties. Either one, two, or a
few sovereign courts may be erected m the metropolis, for the
whole kingdom lo resort to ; or comts of local jurisdiction may
be fixed in various provinces and districts of the empire.
Great, though opposite, inconveniences attend each arrange
ment. If the court be remote and solemn, it becomes, by
these very quaUties, expensive and dUatory : the expense is
unavoidably increased when witnesses, parlies, and agents,
must be brought to attend from distant parts of the country :
and, where the whole judicial business of a large nation is col
lected mto a few superiour tribunals, it wUl be found impossi
ble, even if the prohxily of forms which retards the progress
of causes were removed, to give a prompt hearing to every
complaint, or an immediate answer to any. On the other
hand, if, to remedy these evUs, and to render the administra
tion of justice cheap and speedy, domestic and summary tribu
nals be erected in each neighbourhood, the advantage of such
courts wiU be accompanied with aU the dangers of ignorance
and partiality, and with the certain mischief of confusion and
contrariety in their decisions. The law of Engknd, by its
circuit, or itinerary courts, contains a provision for the distribu
tion of private justice, in a great measure reUeved from both
these objections. As the presiding magistrate comes into the
county a stranger to its prejudices, rivalships, and connexiong,
he brings with him none of those attachments and regards,
wMch are so apt to pervert the course of justice, when the par
ties and the judges inhabit the same neighbomhood. Agam,
as iMs magistrate is usuaUy one of the judges of the supreme
tribunals of the kingdom, and has passed his Ufe in the study
and admmistration of the laws, he possesses, it may be pre
sumed, those professional qualifications, which befit the digm-
ty and unportance of his station. Lastly, as both he, and the
advocates who accompany Mm m his circuit, are employed in
the business of those superiour courts (to which also their pro-

300 OF THE ADMINISTRATION
ceedmgs are amenable), they wiU naturaUy conduct theffl*
selves by the rules of adjudication which they have applied or
learned there ; and by this means maintain, what constitutes
a principal perfection of civil government, one law of the land
in every part and district ofthe empire.
Next to the constitution of courts of justice, we are natural
ly led to consider the maxims which ought to guide their pro
ceedings : and, upon this subject, the chief inquiry wUl be,
how far, and for what reasons, it is expedient to adhere to for
mer determinations ; or whether it be necessary for judges to
attend to any other consideration than the apparent and par
ticular equity of the case before them. Now although to as
sert, that precedents estabhshed by one set of judges ought to
be incontrovertible by their successors in the same jurisdiction,
or by those who exercise a higher, would be to attribute to
the sentence of those judges all the authority we ascribe to the
most solemn acts of the legislature ; yet the general security
of private rights, and of civil life, requires, that such prece
dents, especiaUy if they have been confirmed by repeated ad
judications, should not be overlMown, without a detection of
manifest, errour, or without some imputation of dishonesty up
on the court by whose judgment the question was first deci
ded. And this deference to prior decisions is founded upon
two reasons; first, that the discretion of judges may be bound
down by positive rales ; and, secondly, that the subject, upon
every occasion in which Ms legal mterest is concerned, may
know beforehand how lo act, and what to expect. To set
judges free from any obhgation to conform themselves lo the
decisions of their predecessors, would be to lay open a latitude
of judgmg, with which no description of men can safely be m-
trasted : it would be to aUow space for the exercise of those
concealed partialities, which, since they cannot by any human
policy be excluded, ought to be confined by boundaries and
landmarks. It is m vain to allege, that the superinlendency
of parliament is always at hand lo control and pimish abuses
of judicial discretion. By what rales can parUament proceed ?
How shaU they pronounce a decision to be wrong, where there
exists no acknowledged measme or standard of what is right ;
which; in a multitude of mstances, would be the case, if prior
determinations were no longer lo be appealed to ?
Dimmishing the danger of partiality, is one thing gained
by adhering to precedents ; but not the prmcipal thing.

OF JUSTICE. SOI
The subject of every system of laws must expect that deci
sion in his own ca,se, which he knows that others have receiv
ed in cases similar lo his. If he expect not this, he can ex
pect nothing. There exists no other rule or principle of rea
soning by which he can foretell, or even conjecture, the event
of a judicial contest. To remove therefore the grounds of this
expectation, by rejecting the' force and authority of precedents,
is to entail upon the subject the worst property of slavery, — to
have no assmance of his rights or knowledge of his duly. The
quiet also of the country, as well as the confidence and satis
faction of each man's mind, requires uniformity in judicial
proceedings. Nothing queUs a spirit of litigation Uke despair
of success : therefore nothing so completely puts an end to
iaw-suits as a rigid adherence to known rules of adjudication.
Whilst the event is uncertam, which it eVer must be, whUst
it is uncertain whether former determinations upon the same
¦subject -wiU be followed or not, law-suits wUl be endless and
innumerable : men wUl commonly engage m them, either
from the hope of prevaUmg, in their claims, which the small
est chance is sufficient lo encourage ; or with the design of in
timidating their adversary by the lerrours of a dubious Utiga-
tion. When justice is rendered to the parties, only half the
husiness of a court of justice is done : the more important part
of its office remams ;— to put an end, for the^ future, to every
fear, and quai-rel, and expense, upon the same pomt ; and so
to regulate its proceedings, that not only a doubt once decided
may be slnred no more, but that the whole train of law-suits,
which issue from one uncertainty, may die with the parent
question. Now this advantage can only be attained by con
sidering each decision as a direction to succeeding judges.
And it should be observed, that every departure from former
determmations, especiaUy if they have been often repealed or
long submitted lo, shakes the stabUity of aU legal title. It is
not fixing a- point anew ; it is leavmg every thing unfixed. For
by the same stretch of power by which the present race of
judges take upon them to contradict the judgment of Iheu prede
cessors, those who try the question next may set aside theirs.
From an. adherence however to precedents, by wMch so much
is gamed to the pubhc, two consequences arise which are often
lamented ; the hardship of particular determinations, and the in
tricacy of the law as a science. To the first of these com
plaints, we must apply this reflection ;— ' That uniformity is

302 OF THE ADMINISTRATION
of more importance than equity, in proportion as a general un
certainty would be a greater evU than particular injustice.'
The second is attended -with no greater mconveniency than
that of erecting the practice of the law into a separate profes
sion : which this reason, we allow, makes necessary; for ff we
attribute so much authority lo precedents, it is expedient that
they be known, in every cause, both to the advocates and to
the judge : this knowledge cannot be general, since it is the
fruit oftentimes of laborious research, or demands a memory
stored with long-coUected erudition.

To a mind revol-ving upon the subject of human jurispru
dence, there frequently occurs this question : — Why, since the
maxims of natural justice are few and evident, do there arise
so many doubts and controversies in their application ? Or, m
other words, how comes it lo pass, that although the principles
of the law of nature be simple and for the most part sufficient
ly ob-vious, there should exist nevertheless, in evei-y syslein of
municipal laws, and m the actual administration of relative
justice, numerous uncertainties and acknowledged difficulty?
Whence, it may be asked, so much room for litigation, and so
many subsisting disputes, if the rules of human duty be nei
ther obscure nor dubious ? If a system of moraUty, contain
mg both the precepts of revelation, and the deductions of rea
son, may be comprised within the compass of one moderate
volume ; and the moraUst be able, as he pretends, to describe
the rights and obhgalions of mankind, in aU the different gela
tions they may hold to one another ; what need ofthose codes of
positive and particular institutions, of those tomes of statutes
and reports, which require the employment of a long life even
to peruse ? And this question is immediately connected with
the argument which has been discussed in the preceding
paragraph ; for, unless there be found some greater uncertain
ly in the law of nature, or what may be called natmal equity,
when it comes to be appUed to real cases and to actual adjudi
cation, than what appears in the rules and principles of the
science, as deUvered in the -writmgs of those who treat of the
subject, it were better that the determination of every cause
should be left to the conscience of the judge, unfettered by
precedents and authorities ; smce the very purpose, for which

OF JUSTICE. 303
these are mtroduced, is to give a certainty to judicial proceed
ings, which such proceedings would want without them.
Now lo account for the existence of so many sources of
litigation, notwithstanding the clearness and perfection of na
tural justice, it should be observed in the first place, that
treatises of morality always suppose facts to be ascertained ;
and not only so, but the intention likewise of the parties to be
known and laid bare. ^ For example, when we pronounce
that promises ought to be fuMUed in that sense in which the
promiser apprehended, at the lime of making the promise, the
other party received and understood it ; the apprehension of
one side, and the expectation of the other, must be discovered,
before this rule can be reduced to practice, or appUed to the
determination of any actual dispute. Wherefore the discussion
of facts which the moralist supposes to be settled, the discovery
of intentions which he presumes lo be kno-wn, slUl remain lo
exercise the inquiry of courts of justice. And as these facts
and intentions are often to be mferred, or rather conjectured,
from obscure indications, from suspicious testimony, or from a
comparison of opposite and contendmg probabilities, they afford
a never faUing supply of doubt and litigation. For which rea
son, as hath been observed m a former part of this work, the
science of morality is lo be considered rather as a direction to-
the parties, who are conscious of their own thoughts, and mo
tives, and designs, lo which consciousness the teacher of mo
rahty constantly appeals ; than as a guide to the judge, or to
any third person, whose arbitration must proceed upon rules of
evidence, and maxims of credibiUty, with which the moraUst
has no concern.
Secondly, there exist a multitude of cases, in which the law
of nature, that is, the law of pubhc expediency, prescribes no
thing, except that some certain rule be adhered lo, and that
the rule actuaUy estabUshed be preserved ; it either being in
different what rule obtains, or, out of many rules, no one be
mg so much more advantageous than the rest, as to recom
pense the inconveniency of an alteration. In aU such cases
the law of nature sends us to the law of the land. She directs
that either some fixed rule be introduced by an act of the leg
islature, or that the rule which accident, or custom, or common
consent, hath aheady estabhshed, be steadUy maintained.
Thus, in the descent of lands, or the mherilance of personals
from intestate proprietors, whether the kmdred of the grandmo
ther, or of the great-grandmother, shaU be preferred in the sue-

304 OF THE ADMINISTRATION
cession ; whether the degrees of consanguinity shall be computed
through the common ancestor, or from him ; whether the widow
shaU take a third or moiety of her husband's fortune ; whether
sons shall be preferred to daughters, or the elder to the younger ;
whether the distinction of age shaU be regarded amongst sis
ters, as well as between brothers ; in these, and in a great va
riety of questions which the same subject suppUes, the law of
nature determines nothing. The only answer she returns to
our mquiries is, that some certain and general rule be laid down
by public authority ; be obeyed when laid down ; and that
the quiet of the country be not disturbed, nor the expectation
of heirs frustrated by capricious innovations. This silenee or
neutrality of the law of nature, which we have exemplified in
the case of intestacy, holds concerning a great part of the
questions that relate lo the right or acquisition of properly.
Recourse then must necessarUy be had to statutes, or precedents,
or usage, to fix what the law of nature has left loose. The
interpretation of these statutes, the search after precedents, the
investigation of customs, compose therefore an unavoidable,
and at the same time a large and intricate portion of forensic
business. Positive constitutions or judicial authorities are, in
Uke manner, wanted to give precision to many things, which
are in their nature indeterm,inate. The age of legal discre
tion ; at what lime of Ufe a person shall be deemed competent
lo the performance of any act which may bind Ms property ;
whether at twenty, or twenty-one, or earlier or later, or at some
point of time between these years, can only be ascertained
by- a positive ride of the society to which the party belongs.
The Ime has not been drawn by nature ; the human under
standing advancing to maturity by msensible degrees, and its
progress varying m different individuals. Yet it is necessary,
for the sake of mutual security, that a precise age be fixed, and
that what is fixed be known lo all. It is on these occasions
that the intervention of law supplies the inconstancy of nature.
Again, there are other things which are perfectly arbitrary,
and capable of no certainty but what is given to them by positive
.regulation. It is fit that a Umited time should be assigned lo
defendants, to plead to the complaints aUeged agamst them ;
and also that the default Of pleading -within a certam time
shoidd be taken for a confession of the charge ; but to how
many days or months that term should be extended, though
necessary to be known -with certainty, cannot be known at all

OF JUSTICE. 305
by any information which the law of nature affords. And the
same remark seems applicable to almost aU those rules of pro
ceeding, which constitute what is , called the practice of the
court ; as they cannot be traced out by reasoning, they must
be settled by authority.
Thndly, in contracts, whether express or implied, which in
volve a great number of conditionL=, as in those which are
entered into between masters and servants, principals and
agents ; many also of merchandise, or for works of art ; m
some likewise which relate to the negotiation of money or biUs,
or to the acceptance of credit or security ; the original design
and expectation of the parties was, that both sides should be
guided by the course and custom of the country in transac
tions of the same sort. Consequently, when these contracts
come to be disputed, natural justice can only refer to that cus
tom. But as such customs are not always sufficiently uniform
or notorious, but often lo be collected from the production and
comparison of instances and accounts repugnant to one anoth
er ; and each custom being only that, after aU, which amongst a
variety of usages seems to predominate, we have here also am
ple room for doubt and contest.
Fourthly, as the law of nature, founded in the very constrac
tion of human society, which is formed to endure through a se
ries of perishing generations, requires that the just engagements
a man enters into should contmue in force beyond his own hfe ;
it follows that the private rights of persons frequently depend up
on what has been transacted, m tunes remote from the present,
by their ancestors or predecessors, by those under whom they
claim, or to whose obligations they have succeeded. Thus the
qnestions which usuaUy arise between lords of manors and then-
tenants, between the king and those who claim royal fran
chises, or between them and the person affected by these fran
chises, depend upon the terms of the original grant. In lUie
manner every dispute concerning tythes, in which an exemp
tion or composition is pleaded, depends upon the agreement
which took place between the predecessor of the claimant and
the ancient owner of the land. The appeal to these grants
and agreements is dictated by natural equity, as weU as by the
municipal law : but concerning the existence, or the conditions '
of such old covenants, doubts wUl perpetuaUy occur, to which
the law of nature affords no solution. The loss or decay of
records, the peiishableness of living memory, the corruption and
VOL, III. 39

306 OF THE ADMINISTRATION
carelessness of tradition, aU conspire to multiply uncertainties
upon this head ; what cannot be produced or proved must be
left to loose and fallible presumption. Under the same head
may be included another topic of altercation ; — the tracing out
of boundaries, which tune, or neglect, or unity of possession,
or mixture of occupation, has confounded or obhterated. To
which should be added a difficulty which often presents itself
in disputes concerning rights of way, both public and private,
and of those easements which one man claims in another
man's property ; nainely, that of distinguisMng, after a lapse of
years, the use of an indulgence from the exercise of a right,
-Fifthly, the quantity or extent of an mjury, even when the
cause and author of it aie known, is often dubious and unde
fined. If the injury consist in the loss of some specific right,
the value of the right measures the amount of the injury ; but
what a man may have suffered in his person, from an assault ;
in his reputation, by slander ; or in the comfort of his hfe, by
the seduction of a -wife or daughter ; or what sum of money
shall be deemed a reparation for damages such as these, can
not be ascertained by any rules which the law of nature sup
pUes. The law of nature commands that reparation be made ;
and adds to her command, that, when the aggressor and the
sufferer disagree, the damage be assessed by authorized and
indifferent arbitrators. Here then recourse must be had lo
courts of law, not only with the permission, but in some mea
sure by the direction, of natural justice.
Sixthly, when controversies arise in the interpretation of
written laws, they for the most part arise upon some contingen
cy which the composer of the law did not foresee or think of.
In the adjudication of such cases, this dilemma presents itself ;
if the laws be permitted lo operate only upon the cases which
were actuaUy contemplated by the law makers, they wiU al
ways be found defective : if they be extended lo every case to
which the reasoning, and spirit, and expediency of the provi
sion seem to belong, without any fm-ther evidence of the in
tention of the legislature, we shaU aUow to the judges a Uberty
of applying the law, which wUl fall very little short of the
power of maldng it. If a literal construction be adhered to,
the law wiU often faU of its end : if a loose and vague exposi
tion be admitted, the law might as well have never been.enact-
ed ; for this hcense wiU bring back into the subject all the dis
cretion and uncertainty which it was the design of the legisla-

OF JUSTICE. 307
ture to take away. Courts of justice are, and always must be,
embarrassed by these opposite difficulties ; and as it -can never
be known beforehand, in what degree either consideration may
prevail in the mind of the judge, there remains an unavoidable
cause of doubt, and a place for contention.
Seventhly, the deUberations of courts of justice upon every
new question are encumbered with additional difficulties, in
consequence of the authority which the judgment of the court
possesses, as a precedent to future judicatures ; which authori
ty appertains not only to the conclusions the court delivers,
but to the principles and arguments upon Vhicli they are built.
The view of this effect makes it necessary for a judge to look
beyond the case before him ; and, beside the attention he owes
to the truth and justice of the cause between the parties, to re
flect whether the principles, and maxims, and reasoning,
which he adopts and authorizes, can be applied with safety to
all cases which admit of a comparison with the present. The
decision of the cause, were the effects of the decision to stop
there, might be easy ; but the consequence of estabUshmg the
principle, which such a decision assmnes, may be difficult,
though of the utmost importance, lo be foreseen and regulated.
Finally, after all the certainty and rest that can be given
to points -of law, either by the mterposition of the legislature
or the authority of precedents, one principal source of disputa
tion, and into which indeed the greater part of legal controver
sies may be resolved, wUl remain stiU, namely, ' the competi
tion of opposite analogies.' When a point of law has been once
adjudged, neither that question, nor any which completely,
and in all its circumstances, corresponds with that, can be
brought a second lime into dispute : but questions arise, which
resemble this only indirectly and in part, in certain views. and
circumstances, and which may seem lo bear an equal or a great
er affinity lo other adjudged cases ; questions which can be
brought within any affixed rule only by analogy, and which
hold a relation by analogy to different rules. It is by the urg
ing of the different analogies that the contention of the bar is
carried on : and it is m the comparison, adjustment and recon-,
cUiation of them with one another ; in the discerning of such
distinctions, and in the framing of such a determination, as
may either save the various rules aUeged in the cause, or, if
that be impossible, may give up the weaker analogy to the
stronger, that the sagacity and wisdom of the court are seen

308 OF THE ADMINISTRATION
and exercised. Amongst a thousand instances of this, we may
cite one of general notoriety, in the contest that has lately been
agitated concerning literary property. The personal industry,
which an author expends upon the composition of his work,
bears so near a resemblance to that, by which every other kind
of property is earned, or deserved, or acquired ; or rather there
exists such a correspondency between what is created by the
study of a man's mind, and the production of his labour in any
other way of applying it, that he seems entitled lo the same
exclusive, assignable, and perpetual right in both ; and that
right to the same protection of law. This was the analogy
contended for on one side. On the other hand, a book, as to
the author's right m it, appears similar lo an invention of art,
as a machine, an engine, a medicine : and since the law per
mits these to be copied, or imitated, except where an exclusive
use or sale is reserved to the inventor by patent, the same lib
erty should be aUowed in the publication and sale of books.
This was the analogy maintained by the advocates of an open
trade. And the competition of these opposite analogies consti
tuted the difficidty of the case, as far as the same was argued,
or adjudged, upon principles of, common law. — One example
may serve to iUustrate our meaning ; but whoever takes up a
volume of reports wUl find most of the arguments it contains
capable of the same analysis ; although the analogies, it must
be confessed, are sometimes so entangled as not to be easily
unraveUed, or even perceived.
Doubtful and obscure points of law are not however nearly
so numerous as they are apprehended lo be. Out of the mul
titude of causes, whiph in the course of each year are brought
to trial in the metropolis, or upon the circuits, there are few in
which any pomt is" reserved for the judgment of superiour
courts. Yet these few contain aU the doubts with which the
law is chargeable : for, as lo the rest, the uncertainty, as hath
been shown above, is not in the law, but in the means of hu
man information.

There are two pecuUarities in the judicial constitution of
this country, wMch do not carry -with them that evidence of
their propriety which recomniends almost every other part of
the system. The first of these is the rale, wMch requires

OF JUSTICE. 309
that juries be unanimou,s in their verdicts. To expect that
twelve men, taken by lot out of a promiscuous multitude,
should agree in their opinion upon points confessedly dubi
ous, and upon which oftentimes the wisest judgments might-
be held in suspense ; or to suppose that any real unanimity,
or change of opinion, in the dissenting jurors, could be procur
ed by confining them unlU they aU consented to the same
verdict ; bespeaks more ofthe conceit of a barbarous age, than
of the policy which could dictate such an institution as that of
juries. Nevertheless, the effects of this rule are not so detri
mental, as the rule itself is unreasonable ; in crimmal prosecu
tions it operates considerably in favour of the prisoner ; for if a
juror find it necessary to surrender to the obstinacy of others,
he wiU much more readUy resign his opinion on the side of
mercy than of condemnation : in ci-vil suits it adds weight lo
the direction of the judge ; for when a conference with one
another does not seem hkely to produce, in the jury, the agree
ment that is necessary, they wiU naturaUy close their disputes
by a common submission to the opinion delivered from the
bench. However, there seems to be less of the concurrence
of separate judgments in the same conclusion, consequently
less assurance that the conclusion is founded in reasons of ap
parent truth and justice, than if the decision were left to a
plurality, or lo some certain majority of voices.
The second chcumstance in our constitution, which, how
ever it may succeed in practice, does not seem to have been
suggested by any intelhgible fitness in the nature of the thmg,
is the choice that is made of the House of Lords as a court of
appeal from every civU court of judicature in the kingdom ;
and the last also and highest appeal to which the subject can
resort. There appears to be nothing in the constitution of that
assembly ; in the education, habits, character, or professions of
the members Avho compose it ; in the mode of then appomt-
ment, or the right by which they succeed lo their places in it,
that should quahfy them for this arduous office : except, per
haps, that the elevation of their rank and fortune affords a
secmily against the offer and mfluence of smaU bribes. Offi
cers of the army and na-vy, comtiers, ecclesiastics; young
men who have just attained the age of twenty-one, and who
have passed their youth in the dissipation and pursuits wMch
commonly accompany the possession or inheritance of great
fortunes ; country gentlemen, occupied m the management of

310 OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE.
their estates, or in the care of their domestic concerns and
family interests ; the greater part of the assembly bom to their
station, that is, placed in it by chance ; most of the rest advan
ced to the peerage for services, and from motives, utterly un
connected with legal erudition : — these men compose the tri
bunal, to which the constitution intrusts the interpretation of
her laws, and the ultimate decision of every dispute between
her subjects. These are the men assigned to review judgments
of law, pronounced by sages of the profession, who have spent
their lives in the study and practice of the jurisprudence of their
country. Such is the order wMch our ancestors have estab
lished. The effect only proves the truth of this maxim : —
' That when a single institution is extremely dissonant from
other parts of the system to which it belongs,' it wUl always
find some way of reconciUng itself to the analogy which gov
erns and pervades the rest.' By constantly placing in the
House of Lords some of the most eminent and experienced law
yers in the kingdom ; by caUing to their aid the advice of the
judges, when any abstract question of law awaits thefr deter
mination ; by the almost implicit and undisputed deference,
which the uninformed part of the house find it necessary to pay
to the learning of their coUeagues, the appeal to the House of
Lords becomes in fact an appeal to the collected wisdom of our
supreme courts of justice ; receiving indeed solemnity, but
little perhaps of direction, from the presence of the assembly in
which it is heard and determined.
These, however, even if real, are minute imperfections.
A politician, who should sit down to deUneate a plan for the
dispensation of public justice, guarded against aU access to in
fluence and cxirruption, and bringing together the separate
advantages of knowledge and impartiality, would find, when he
had done, that he had been transcribmg the judicial constitu
tion of England. And it may leach the most discontented
amongst us to acquiesce in the government of his country, to
reflect, that the pure, and -wise, and equal administration of
the laws, forms the first end and blessing of social union ;
and that this blessing is enjoyed by Mm m a perfection, which
he -wUl seek in vain in any other nation of the world.

( 311 )
CHAPTER IX.
OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
The proper end of human punishment is," not the satisfac
tion of justice, but the prevention of crimes. By the satisfac
tion of justice, I mean the retribution of so much pain for so
much guilt; which is the dispensation we expect at the hand
of God, and which we are accustomed to consider as the order
of things that perfect justice dictates and requires. In what
sense, or whether with truth in any sense, justice may be said
to demand the punishment of offenders, I do not now inquire;
but I assert, that this dem,and is not the motive or occasion of
human punishment. What would it be lo the magistrate, that
offences went altogether unpunished, if the impunity of the
offenders were followed by no danger or prejudice to the com
monwealth? The fear lest the escape of the criminal should
encourage him, or others by his example, to repeat the same
crime, or to commit different crimes, is the sole consideration^
which authorizes the infliction of punishment by human laws.
Now that, whatever it be, which is the cause and end of the
punishment, ought undoubtedly to regulate the measure of its
severity. But this cause appears to be founded, not in the
guilt of the offender, but in the necessity of preventing the re
petition of the offence : and hence results the reason, that crimes
are not by any government punished in proportion to their
guUt, nor in aU cases ought to be so, but in proportion to the dif
ficulty and the necessity of preventing, them. Thus the steal-
mg of goods privately out of a shop, may not, in its moral qual
ity, be more criminal than the stealmg of them out of a house ;
yet being equaUy necessary, and more difficult, to be prevent
ed, the law, in certain chcumstances, denounces against it a
severer punishment. The crime must be prevented by some
means or other; and consequently, whatever means appear
necessary to this end, whether they be proportionable to the
guUt of the criminal or not, are adopted rightly, because they
are adopted upon the principle which alone justifies the inflic
tion of punishment at aU. From the same consideration it al
so foUows, that punishment ought not lo be employed, much
less rendered severe, when the crime can be prevented 1iy any

312 , OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
Other means. Punishment is an evil to which the magistrate
resorts only from its being necessary to the prevention of a
greater. This necessity does not exist, when the end may be
attained, that is, when the public may be defended from the
effects of the crime, by any other expedient. The sanguinary
laws which have been made against counterfeiting or dimin
ishing the gold com of the kingdom might be just, untU the
method of detecting the fraud, by weighing the money, was
introduced into general usage. Since that precaution was
practised, these laws have slept; and an execution under
them at this day would be deemed a measure of unjustifiable
severity. The same principle accounts for a circumstance,
which has been often censured as an absurdity in the penal
laws of this, and of most modern nations, namely, that
breaches of trust are either not punished at aU, or punished
with less rigour than other frauds. — Wherefore is it, some
have asked, that a violation of confidence, which increases the
guilt, should mitigate the penalty? — This lenity, or rather
forbearance, of the laws, is founded in the most reasonable
distinction. A due circumspection in the choice of the per
sons whom they trust; caution in limiting the extent of that
trast ; or the requiring of sufficient security for the faithful dis
charge of it, will commonly guard men from injuries of this
description: and the law wUl not mterpose its sanctions to
protect negUgence and credulity, or to supply the place of
domestic care and prudence. To be convinced that the law
proceeds entii-ely upon this consideration, we have only to
observe, that where the confidence is unavoidable, where no
practicable vigUance could watch the offender, as^in the case
of theft committed by a servant in the shop or dwelUng-house
of his master, or upon property to which he must necessarily
have access, the sentence of the law is not less severe, and
its execution commonly more certain and rigorous, than if no
trust at all had uitervened.
It is in pursuance of the same principle, which pervades in
deed the whole system of penal jurisprudence, that the facihty
with which any species of crimes is perpetrated, has been gene
raUy deemed a reason for aggravating the punishment. Thus,
sheep-stealing, horse-steaUng, the stealing of cloth from tenters
or bleaching-grounds, by our laws, subject the offenders to sen
tence of death : not that these crunes are in, then nature more
heinous than many sunple felonies which are punished by

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. ' 313
imprisonment or transportation, but because the property, be
ing more exposed, requnes the tei-rour of capital punishment
to protect it. This severity would be absurd and unjust, if the
guUt of the offender were the immediate cause and "measure of
the punishment ; but is a consistent and regular consequence
of the supposition, that the right of punishment results from
the necessity of preventing the crime : for, if this be the end
proposed, the severity of the punishment must be increased in
proportion to the expediency and the difficulty of attaining this
end ; that is, in a proportion compounded of the mischief of the
crime, and of the ease with which it is executed. The dUfi
culty of discovery is a circumstance to be included in the same
consideration. It constitutes indeed, with respect to the crime,
the facUity of which we speak. By how much therefore the
detection of an offender is more rare and uncertain, by so much
the more severe must be the punishment when he is detected.
Thus the writing of incendiary letters, though in itself a per
nicious and alarming injury, calls for a more eondign and
exemplary pmiishment, by the very obscurity with which the
crime is committed.
From the justice of God we are taught to look for a grada
tion of punishment, exactly proportioned to the guilt of the
offender : when therefore, in assigning the degrees of human
punishment, we introduce considerations distinct from that
guUt, and a proportion so varied by external circumstances,
that equal crimes frequently undergo unequal punishments,
or the less crime the greater ; it is natural to demand the reason
why a different measure of punishment should be expected
from God, and observed by man ; why that rule, which befits
the absolute and perfect justice of the Deity, should not be the
rule which ought to be pursued and imitated by human laws.
The solution of this difficulty must be sought for in those pe
cuUar attributes of the divine nature, which distmguish the
dispensations of Supreme Wisdom from the proceedmgs of
human judicature. A Being whose knowledge penetrates
every concealment, from the operation of whose wUl no art or
flight can escape, and m whose hands punishment is sm-e ;
such a Being may conduct the moral govemment of Ms crea
tion, in the best and wisest manner, by pronouncing a law
that every crune shall finaUy receive a punishment propor
tioned to the guflt which it contains, abstracted from any
foreign consideration whatever ; and may testify his veracity
VOL. III. 40

314 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
to the spectators of his judgments, by carrymg this law into
strict execution. But when the care of the public safety is
intrusted to men, whose authority over their feUow creatures
is limited by defects of power, and knowledge ; from whose
utmost vigUance and sagacity the greatest offenders often lie
hid ; whose wisest precautions and speediest pursuit may be
eluded by artifice or concealment ; a different necessity, a new
rule of proceeding, results from the very imperfection of their
faculties. In then hands the uncertainty of pumshment
must be compensated by the severity. The ease with which
crimes are committed or concealed, must be counteracted by
additional penalties and increased lerrours. The very end
for which human government is established, requires that its
regulations be adapted to the suppression of crimes. This end,
whatever it may do in the plans of infinite -wisdom, does not,
in the designation of temporal penalties, always coincide with
the proportionate punishrnent of guilt.
There are two methods of administermg penal justice.
The first method assigns capital punishments, to few offen
ces, and inflicts it invariably.
'The second method assigns capital punishments to ma,ny
kinds of, offences, but infficts it only upon a few examples of
each kind.
The latter of which two methods has been long adopted in
iMs country, where, of those who receive sentence of death,
scarcely one. in ten is executed. And the preference of iMs to
the former method seems to be founded in the consideration,
that the selection of proper objects for capital punishment
principally depends upon circumstances, which, however easy
to perceive in each particular case after the crime is commit
ted, it is impossible to enumerate ok. define beforehand ; or lo
ascertain however -with that exactness, which is requisite in
legal descriptions. Hence, although it be necessary to fix by
precise rules of law the boundary on one side, that is, the
Uimt.towMch the punishinent may be extended ; and also
that nothing less than the authority of the whole legislatme
be suffered to determine that boundary, and assign these rales ;
yet the mitigation of punishment, the exercise of lenity, may
without. danger be intrusted to the executive magistrate, whose
discretion will operate upon those numerous unforseen, muta
ble, and mdefinite circumstances, both of the crime and the
criminal, which constitute or qualify the malignity of each

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 315
offence. Without the power of relaxation lodged in a li-vmg
authority, either some offenders would escape capital punish
ment, whom the pubhc safety required to suffer ; or some
would undergo this pumshment, where it was neither deser
ved nor necessary. For if judgment of death were reserved
for one or two species of crimes only, which would probably
be the case if that judgment was intended to be executed
withput exception, crimes might occur of the most dangerous
example, and accompanied -with circumstances of hemous ag
gravation, which did not faU within any description of offences
that the laws had made capital, and which consequently could
not receive the punishment their own mahgnity and the pub
Uc safety required. What is worse, it would be known, be
forehand, tha^ such crimes might be committed without dan
ger lo the offender's, hfe. On the other hand, if, to reach
these possible cases, the whole class^of offences lo which they
belong be subjected to pains of death, and no power of remit
ting this, severity remain any where, the execution of the laws
wiU become more sangumary than the pubhc compassion
would endm-e, or than is necessary to the general security.
The law of- England is constructed upon a different and a
better pohcy. By the nmnber of statutes creating capital of
fences, it sweeps into the net every crime, which, under any
possible circumstances, may merit the punishment of death ;
but, when the execution of this sentence comes lo be deUbera-
ted upon, a smaU proportion of each class are singled out, the
general character, or the pecuhar aggravations of whose crimes
render them fit examples of public justice. By this expedient,
few actuaUy suffer death, whilst the di-ead and danger of it
hang over the crimes of many. The tenderness of the law
cannot be taken advantage of The Ufe of the subject is
spared, as far as the necessity of restraint and intimidation
permits ; yet no one wiU adventure upon the commission of
any enormous crime, from a knowledge that the laws have
not pro-vided for its punishment. The wisdom and humanity
of this design furnish a just excuse for the multipUcity of cap
ital offences, which the laws of England are accused of crea
ting beyond those of other countries. The charge of cruelty is
answered by observing, that these laws were never meant to be
carried into mdisciiminale execution; that the legislature,
when it eslabhshes its last and highest sanctions, trusts to the
benignity of the crown to relax their severity, as often as

316 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
circumstances appear to palliate the offence, or even as often as
those circumstances of aggravation are wanting, which render
ed this rigorous interposition necessary. Upon this plan, k is
enough to vindicate the lenity of the laws, that some instances
are to be found m each class of capital crimes, which require
the restraint of capital punishment, and that this restraint could
not be appUed without subjecting the whole class to the same
condemnation. There is however one species of crimes, the making of
which capital can hardly, I think, be defended even upon the
comprehensive principle just now stated ; I mean that of pri
vately stealing from the person. As every degree of force is
excluded by the description of the crime, it wiU be difficult to
assign an example, where either the amount or circumstances
of the theft place it upon a level with those dangerous at
tempts, lo which the punishment of death should be confined.
It -vviU be stiU more difficult to show, that, without gross and
culpable negUgence on the part of the sufferer, such examples
can ever become so frequent, as to make it necessary to con
stitute a class of capital offences, of very wide and large ex
tent. The prerogative of pardon is properly reserved to the chief
magistrate. The power of suspending the laws is a privilege
of loo Mgh a nature to be committed lo many hands, or lo
those of any inferiour officer in the state. The king also can
best coUect the advice by which his resolutions shaU be govern
ed; and is at the same time removed at the greatest distance
fi-om the influence of private motives. But let this power be
' deposited where it ^tU, the exercise of it ought to be regarded,
not as a favour lo be yielded lo soUcitation, granted to friend
ship, or, least of aU to be made subservient to the conciUating
or gratifying of poUtical attachment, but as a judicial act ; as a
dehberation to be conducted with the same character of im
partiality, -with the same exact and dUigent attention lo the
proper merits and circumstances of the case, as that which the
judge upon the bench was expected to maintain and show in
the trial of the prisoner's guUt< The questions whether the
prisoner be guttty, and whether, being guilty, he ought to be
executed, are equally questions of public justice. The adju
dication of the latter question is as much a function of magis
tracy as the trial of the former. The pubhc welfare is interes
ted in both. The conviction of an offender should depend

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 317
upon nothing but the proof of his gmlt ; nor the execution of
the sentence upon any thing besides the quaUty and circum
stances of his crime. It is necessary lo the good order of socie
ty, and to the reputation and authority of government, that
this be known and behoved lo be the case in each part of the
proceeding. Which reflections sliow, that the admission of
extrinsic or oblique considerations, in dispensing the power of
pardon, is a crime, in the authors and advisers of such unmer
ited partiaUty, of the same nature with that of corruption in
a judge. Aggravations which ought to guide the magistrate in the
selection of objects of condign punisMnent are principaUy these
three, — repetition, cruelty, combination. The two first, it is
manffest, add lo every reason upon which the justice or the
necessity of rigorous measures can be founded ; and, with re
spect to the last circumstance, it may be observed, that when
thieves and robbers are once collected into gangs, their vio
lence becomes more formidable, the confederates more despe
rate, and the difficulty of defending the public against their
depredations much greater, thaii in the case of solitary adven
turers. Which several considerations compose a distinction,
that is properly adverted to in deciding upon the fate of con
victed malefactors.
In crimes, however, which are perpetrated by a multitude, or
by a- gang, it is proper to separate, in the punishment, the
ringleader from his followers, the principal from his acconi-
pUces, and even the person who struck the blow, broke the
lock, or first entered the house, from those who joined him in
the felony; not so much on account of any distinction m the
guilt of the offenders, as for the sake of castmg an obstacle in
the way of such confederacies by rendering it difficult for the
confederates to settle who shall begm the attack, or to find a
man amongst then number wUling to expose himself to great
er danger than his associates. This is another instance in
which the punishment, which expediency dnecls, does not
pursue the exact proportion of the crime.
Injmies effected by lerrour and violence, are those which it
is the fii-st and chief concern of legal government to repress;
because, their extent is unlimited ; because, no private precau
tion can protect the subject against them; because, they en
danger hfe and safety, as weU as property; and lastly, be
cause they render the condition of society wretched, by a sense

318 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
of personal insecurity. These reasons do not apply to frauds,
which circumspection may prevent; which must wait for op
portunity; which can proceed only to certain Umits; and by
the apprehension of which, although the busmess of Ufe be m-
commoded, life itself is not made miserable. The appearance
of this distmction has led some humane writers to express a
wish, that capital punishments might be confined to crunes
of violence.
, In estimating the comparative malignancy of crimes of vio
lence, regard is to be had, jiot only to the proper and intended
mischief of the crime, but tp the fright occasioned by the at
tack, lo the general alarm excited by it in others, and to the
consequences which may attend future attempts of the same
kind. Thus, in affixing the punishment of burglary, or of
breaking mto dweUing-houses by night, we are to consider
not only the peril to which the most valuable property is ex
posed by this crime, and which may be called the direct mis
chief of it, but the danger also of murder ui case of resistance,
or for the sake of preventing discovery, and the universal dread
-with which the sUenl and defenceless hour of rest and sleep
must be disturbed, were attempts of this sort lo become fre
quent; 'and which dread alone, even -without the mischief
which is the object of it, is not only a public evil, but almost
of all evils the most insupportable. These circumstances place
a difference between the breaking into a dwelUng house by
day, and by night ; which difference obtams m the punish
ment of the offence by the law of Moses, and is probably to
be found in the judicial codes of most countries, from the ear
liest ages to the present.
Of frauds, or of injuries which are effected without force, the
most noxious Mnds are forgeries, counterfeiting or diminish
ing of the coin, and the steaUng of letters in the course of their
conveyance ; masmuch as these practices lend to deprive the
public of accommodations, which not oMy improve the conven
iences of social Ufe, but are essential lo the prosperity, and even
the existence, of commerce. Of these crimes it may be said,
that although they seem to affect property alone, the mischief
of their operation does not terminate there. For let it be sup
posed, that the remissness or lenity of the laws should, in any
country, suffer offences of this sort to grow mto such a fre
quency, as to render the use of money, the circulation of bills,
or the public conveyance of letters no longer safe or practica-

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 319
ble ; what would foUow, but that every species of trade and of
activity must decline under these discouragements ; the sources
of subsistence fail, by which the inhabitants of the country,
are supported ; the country itself, where the intercourse of ci-
¦vU life was so endangered and defective, be deserted ; and that,
beside the distress and poverty which the loss of employment
would produce to the industrious and valuable part of the ex
isting community, a rapid depopulation must take place, each
generation becoming less numerous than the last ; tiU solitude
and barrenness overspread the land ; until a desolation simUar
to what obtains in many countries of Asia, which were once
the most civiUzed and frequented parts of the world, succeed
in the place of crowded cities, of cultivated fields, of happy and
weU-peopled regions ? When therefore we carry forwards our
views to the more distant, but not less certain,' consequences,
of these crimes, we perceive that, though no living creature
be destroyed by them, yet human Ufe is diminished ; that an
offence, the particular consequence of which deprives only an
individual of a smaU portion of his property, and which even
in its general tendency seems to do nothing more than obstruct
the enjo3^ment of certam pubhc conveniences, may neverthe
less, by its ultimate effects, conclude in the laying waste of
human existence. This observation wiU enable those, who
regard the divine rule of ' Ufe for life, and blood for blood,' as
the only authorized and justifiable measure of capital punish
ment, to perceive, with respect lo the effects and quaUty of the
actions, a greater resemblance than they suppose lo exist be
tween certain atrocious frauds, and those crimes which attack
personal safety.
In the case of forgeries there appears a substantial difference
between the forging of biUs of exchange, or of securities which
are circulated, and of which the circulation and currency are
found to serve and facihtate valuable purposes of commerce ;
and the forgmg of bonds, leases, mortgages, or of instruments
which are not commonly transferred from one hand to anoth
er; because, in the former case, credit is necessarily given to
the signature, and without that credit the negotiation of such
property could not be carried on, nor the public ulUity sought
from it be attained : in the other case, all possibUity of deceit
might be precluded, by a dnect communication between the
parties, or by due care in the choice of their agents, with Uttle
interruption to business, and without destroying, or much en-

320 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
cumbering, the uses for which these instruments are calcula
ted. This distinction I apprehend to be not only real, but
precise enough to afford a fine of division between forgeries,
wMch, as the law now standi, are almost universaUy capital,
and punished -with imdistinguishing severity.
Perjury is another crime of the same class and magnitude
And, when we consider what reUance is necessarUy placed up
on oaths ; that all judicial decisions proceed upon testimony ;
that consequently there is not a right that a man possesses, of
which false witnesses may not deprive him ; that reputation,
property, and Me itself Ue open to the attempts of perjury.; that
it may often be committed without a possibihty of contradiction
or discovery : that the success and prevalency of this vice tend
to introduce the most grievous and fatal injustice into the ad
ministration of human affairs, or such a distrust of testimony
as must create universal embarrassment and confusion ; when
we reflect upon these mischiefs, we shaU be brought, probably,
to agree with the opinion of those, who contend that perjury,
in its punishment, especiaUy that which is attempted in solemn
evidence, and in the face of a court of justice, should be placed
upon a level with the most flagitious frauds.
The obtaining of money by secret threats, whether we re
gard the difficulty -with wMch the crime is traced out, the
odious imputations lo which it may lead, or the proffigate con
spiracies that are sometimes formed to carry it into execution,
deserves to be reckoned amongst the worst species of robbery.
The frequency of capital executions m this country, owes its
necessity lo three causes ; — much hberty, great cities, and the
want of a punishment short of death, possessing a sufficient de
gree of lerrour. And if the taking away of fhe life of malefec-
tors be more rare in other countries than in ours, the reason
wUl be found in some difference in these articles. The liber
ties of a free people, and slUl more the jealousy with which
these liberties are watched, and by which they are preserved,
permit not those precautions and restraints, that inspection,
scrutiny, and controul, which are exercised with success in ar
bitrary governments. For example, neither the spirit of the
laws, nor of the people, wiU suffer the detention or confine
ment of suspected persons, -without proofs of their guUt, which
it is often impossible to obtam ; nor wiU they allow that mas
ters of famiUe^ be obliged to record and render up a descrip
tion of the strangers or minales whom they entertain ; nor

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 321
that an account be demanded, at the pleasure of the magis
trate, of each man's time, employment, and means of sub
sistence ; nor secmities to be required when these accounts ap
pear unsatisfactory or dubious ; -nor men to be apprehended
upon the mere suggestion of idleness or vagrancy ; nor to be
confined to certain districts ; nor the inhabitants of each dis
trict to be made responsible for one another's behaviour ; nor
passports to be exacted from all persons entering or leaving
the kingdom ; least of all will they tolerate the appearance of
an armed force, or of military law ; or suffer the streets and
pubhc roads to be guarded and patroUed by soldiers ; or, lastly,
intrust the police with such discretionary powers, as may
make sure of the guilty, however they involve the innocent.
These expedients, although arbitrary and rigorous, are many
of them effectual ; and m proportion as they render the com
mission or concealment of crimes more difficult, they subtract
from the necessity of severe punishment. — Great cities mul
tiply crimes by presenting easier opportunities and more in
centives lo hbertmism, which in low life is commonly the m-
troduclory Stage to other enormities ; by coUecting thieves and
robbers into the same neighbom-hood, which enables them to
form communications and confederacies, that increase their
art and courage, as weU as strength and wickedness ; but
prmcipaUy by the refuge they afford to viUany, in the means
of concealment, and of subsisting in secrecy, which crowded
towns supply to men of every description. These temptations
and facihlies can oMy be counteracted by adding to the num
ber of capital punishments. — But a third cause, which increa
ses the frequency of capital executions m LIngland, is a defect
of the laws, in not being provided with any other pmiishment
than that of death, sufficiently terrible to keep offenders in
awe. Transportation, which is the sentence second in the or
der of severity, appears to me to answer the purpose of exam
ple very imperfectly ; not only because exile is in reaUty a slight
punishment lo those who have neither property, nor friends,
nor reputation, nor regular means of subsistence at home; and
because their situation becomes Uttle worse by their crime
than it was before they committed it ; but because the punish
ment, whatever it be, is unobserved and unknown. A trans
ported convict may suffer under his sentence, but Ms suf
ferings are removed from the view of his countrymen : his
misery is unseen ; Ms condition strikes no lerrour into the
VOL. III. 41

322 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
minds of those, for whose warning and admonition it was in
tended. This chasm in the scale of punishment pi-oduces
also two further imperfections in the administration of penal
justice : the first is, that the same punishment is extended to
crimes of very different chara;cter and malignacy : the sec
ond, that/ punishments separated by a great interval, are as
signed to crimes hardly distinguishable m their guUt and
mischief The end of punishment is two-fold, amendment and ex
ample. In the first of these, the reformation of criminals,
little has ever been effected, and little, I fear, is practicable.
From every species of punishment that has hitherto been de-
¦vised, from imprisonment and exile, from pain .and infamy,
malefactors return more hardened in theii- crimes, and more
instructed. If there be any thing that shakes the soul of a
confiiined vUlain, it is the expectation of approaching death.
The horrours of this situation may cause such a wrench in
the mental organs, as to give them a holding turn : and I
think it probable, that many of those who are executed, would,
if they were delivered at the point of death, retain such a re-
membrance-of their sensations, as might preserve them, unless
urged by extreme want, from relapsing into their former crimes.
But this is an experiment that, from its nature, cannot be re
peated often.
Of the reforming punishments which have not yet been
tried, none promises' so much success as that of solitary impris
onment, or the confinement of criminals in separate apart
ments. This improvement augments the lerrour of the pun
ishment ; secludes the criminal from the society of his fellow-
prisoners, in which society the worse are sure to corrupt the
better ; weans him fi-om the knowledge of his companions,
and from the love of that turbulent, precarious life, in which
his vices had engaged him ; is calculated lo raise up in him
reflections on the folly of his choice, and to dispose his mind to
such bitter and continued penitence, as may produce a lasting
alteration m the principles of his conduct.
As aversion to labour is the cause from which half of the
vices of low hfe deduce their origin and continuance, punish
ments ought to be contrived -with a view to the conquering of
this disposition. Two opposite expedients have been recom
mended for this purpose ; the one, solitary confinement, with
hard labour ; the other, solitary confinement with nothing to

OP CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 323
do. Both expedients seek the same end ;— to reconcile the idle
to a life of industry. The former hopes to eflect this by mak
ing labom habitual; the latter by making idleness insup
portable : and the preference of one method to the otiier de
pends upon the question, whether a man is more likely to be
take himself, of his own accord, lo work, who has been ac
customed to employment, or who has been distressed by the
want of it ? When jails are once provided for the separate
confinement of prisoners, which both proposals require, the
choice between them may soon be determined by experience.
If labour be exacted, I would leave the whole, or a portion, of
the earnings to the prisoner's use, and I would debar him
from any other provision or supply ; that his subsistence, how
ever coarse or penurious, may be proportioned to his diUgence,
and that he may taste the advantage of industry, together
with the loU. I would go further ; 1 would measure the con
finement, not by the duration of time, but by quantity of work,
in order both to excite industry, and to render it more volun
tary. But the principal difficulty remains sliU ; namely, how
to dispose of criminals after then enlargement. By a rule of
life, which is perhaps too invariably and indiscriminately ad
hered to, no one will receive a man or woman out of a jail,
into any service or employment whatever. This is the com
mon misfortune of pubUc punishments, that they preclude the
offender from aU honest means of future support. * It seems
incumbent upon the state to secure a mamtenance to those
who are wUhng lo work for it ; and yet it is absolutely neces
sary to divide criminals as far asunder fi-om one another as
possible. Whether male prisoners might not, after the term
of their confinement was expired, be distributed in the coun
try, detained within certain limits, and employed upon the
pubhc roads ; and females be remitted to the overseers of
country parishes, lo be there fuinished with dwelUngs, and
with the materials and implements of occupation ; whether by
these, or by what other methods, it may be posssible lo effect
the two purposes of employm,ent and dispersion, well merits
the attention of aU who are anxious to perfect the internal reg
ulation of their country.
* Until this inconvenience be remedied, small offences had perhaps better go
unpunished; I do not mean that the laws should exempt them from punish.
ment, but that private persons should be tender in prosecuting them.

324 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
Torture is appUed either to obtain confessions of guiU, or to
exasperate or prolong the pains of death. No bodily punish
ment, however excruciating or long continued, receives the
name of torture, unless it be designed to kUl the criminal by a
more Ungering death, or to extort from Mm the discovery of
some secret, which is supposed to Ue concealed in his breast.
The question by torture appears to be equivocal in its effects ;
for, smce extremity of pain, and not any consciousness of re
morse in the mind, produces those effects, an innocent man
may sink under the torment, as well as he who is guilty.
The latter has as much to fear fi-om yielding as the former.
The instant and almost ii-resistible desire of relief may draw
from one sufferer false accusations of himself or others, as it
may sometimes extract the trath out of another. This ambi
guity renders the use of torture, as a means of procuring in
formation in criminal proceedings, liable to the risk of griev
ous and irreparable injustice. For which reason, though rec
ommended by ancient and general example, it has been pro
perly exploded from the mild and cautious system of penal ju
risprudence estabUshed in this country.
Barbarous spectacles of human agony are justly found fault
with, as tending to harden and deprave the public feeUngs,
and to destroy that sympathy with which the sufferings of
our feUow creatures ought always to be seen ; or, if no effect
of this kmd foUow from them, they counteract m some meas
ure their own design, by sinking men's abhorrence of the
crime in their commiseration of the criminal. But if a mode
of execution could be devised, which would augment the hor-
rour of the punishment, without offending or impairmg the
public sensibiUty by cruel or unseemly exhibitions of death, it
rnight add something to the, efficacy of the example ; and, by ,
being reserved for a few atrocious crimes, might also enlarge
the scale of punishment : an addition to which seems want
ing ; for, as the matter remains at present, you hang a mal
efactor for a simple robbery, and can do no more to the vUlain
who has poisoned his father. Somewhat of the sort we have
been describing was the proposal not long since suggested, of
casting mmderers into a den of wild beasts, where they would
perish in a manner dreadful to the.imagination, yet concealed
from the view.
Infamous punishments are mismanaged m this country,
with respect both to the crimes and the criminals. In the first

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 325
place, they ought to be confined lo offences which are held in
undisputed and universal detestation. To condemn to the
pillory the author or editor of a libel against the state, who has
rendered hunself the favourite of a parly, if not of the people,
by the very act for which he stands there, is to gratify the of
fender, and lo expose the laws lo mockery and insidt. In the
second place, the delinquents who receive this sentence are for
the most part such as have long ceased either lo value reputa
tion, or to fear shame ; Of whose happiness, and of whose en
joyments, character makes no part. Thus the low ministers
of hbertinism, the keepers of bawdy or disorderly houses, are
threatened in vain with a punishment that affects a sense
which they have not ; that applies solely lo the imagination,
to the virtue and the pride of human nature. The piUory, or
any other infamous distinction, might be employed rightly,
and with effect, in the punishment of some offences of higher
life ; as of frauds and peculation in office ; of coUusions and
connivances, by which the public treasury is defrauded; of
breaches of trust ; of perjury, and subornation of perjury ; of
the clandestine and forbidden sale of places ; of flagrant abuses
of authority, or neglect of duty ; and, lastly, of corruption in
the exercise of confidential or judicial offices. In aU which,
the more elevated was the station of the criminal, the more
signal and conspicuous would be the triumph of justice.
The certainty of punishment is of more consequence than
the severity. Criminals do not so much flatter themselves
with the lenity of the sentence, as with the hope of escapmg.
They are not so apt to compare what they gain by the crime
with what they may suffer from the punishment, as to en
courage themselves with the chance of concealment or ffighl.
For which reason a vigilant magistracy, an accurate poUce,
a proper distribution of force and intelligence, together with
due rewards for the discovery and apprehension of malefactors,
and an undeviatmg unpartiaUty m carrying the laws into ex
ecution, contribute more to the restramt and suppression of
crimes than any violent exacerbations of punishinent. And
for the same reason, of all contrivances directed to this end,
those perhaps are most effectual which faciUlate the conviction
of criminals. The offence of counterfeitmg the com could not
be checked by aU the lerrours and the utmost severity of law,
whUst the act of coinmg was necessary to be established by
specific proof The statute which made the possession of the

326 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS.
implements of coining capital, that is, which constituted that
possession complete evidence of the offender's guilt, was the
first thing that gave force and efficacy to the denunciations of
law upon this subject. The statute of James the Fii-st, rela
tive to the murder^of bastard children, which ordains that the
concealment of the birth should be deemed inconteslible proof
of the charge, though a harsh law, was, m like manner with
the former, well calculated to put a stop to the crime.
It is upon the principle of this observation; that I apprehend
much harm to have been done to the community, by the over
strained scrupulousness, or weak timidity of juries, which de
mands often such proof of a prisoner's guilt, as the nature and
secrecy of his crime scarce possibly admit of ; and which holds
it the part of a safe conscience not to condemn any man,
whilst there exists the minutest possibility of his innocence.
Any story they may happen to have heard or read, whether
real or feigned, in which courts of justice have been misled by
presumptions of guilt, is enough, m their mmds, to found an
acquittal upon, where positive proof is wanting. 1 do not
mean that juries should indulge conjectures, should magnify
suspicions into proofs, or even that they should weigh probabil
ities in gold scales ; but when the preponderation of evidence
is so manifest as to persuade every private understanding of
the prisoner's guUt ; when it furnishes the degree of credibility,
upon which men decide and act in aU other doubts, and which
experience hath shown that they may decide and act upon
with sufficient safety ; lo reject such proof, fiorii an msinuation
of uncertainty that belongs to aU human affairs, and from a
general dread lest the charge of innocent blood should Ue at
their doors, is a conduct which, however natural lo a mind
studious to its own quiet, is authorized by no considerations of
rectitude or utiUty. It counteracts the care and damps the ac
tivity of govemment: it holds out public encouragement to
viUany, by confessing the impossibiUty of bringing villains to
justice; and that species of encomagement which, as hath
been just now observed, the minds of such men are most apt
to entertain and dweU upon. ;
There are two popular ma±ims, which seem lo have a con
siderable influence in producing the injudicious acquittals of
which we complain. One is — 'That circumstantial e-vidence
faUs short of positive proof This assertion, in the unqualified
sense in wMch it is applied, is not trae. A concurrence of

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 327
Well-authenticated circumstances composes a stronger ground
of assurance than positive testimony, unconfirmed by cncum
stances, usuaUy affords. Circumstances cannot lie. The con
clusion also which results from them, though deduced by only
probable inference, is commonly more to be relied upon than
the veracity of an unsupported solitary witness. The danger
of being deceived is less, the actual instances of deception are
fewer, in the one case than the other. What is caUed positive
proof in criminal matters, as where a man swears to the per
son of the prisoner, and that he actuaUy saw Mm commit the
crime -with which he is charged, may be founded in the mis
take or perjury of a single witness. Such mistakes, and such
perjuries, are not without many examples. Whereas, to im
pose upon a court of justice a chain of circumstantial evidence
in support of a fabricated accusation, requires such a number
of false witnesses as seldom meet together ; an union also of
skill and wickedness which is stUl more rare ; and, after aU,
this species of proof lies much more open to discussion, and is
more likely, if false, lo be contradicted, or lo betray itself by
some unforeseen inconsistency, than that direct proof, which
being confined within the knowledge of a singL' person, which
appeaUng to, or slandmg connected with, no external or coUa-
leral circumstances, is incapable, by its very simplicity, of be
ing confronted with opposite probabUities.
The other maxim which deserves a simUar examination is
this — ' That it is better that ten guilty persons escape, than
that one mnoceht man should suffer.' If by saymg it is bet
ter, he meant that it is more for the pubUc advantage, the pro
position, I think, cannot be maintained. The security of civU
life, which is essential to the value and the enjoyment of every
blessing it contains, and the interruption of which is followed
by universal misery and confusion, is protected chiefly by the
dread of punishment. The misfortune of an individual (for
such may the sufferings, or even the death, of an innocent per
son be called, when they are occasioned by no evil mtention)
cannot be placed in competition with this object. I do not
contend that the Iffe or safety of the meanest subject ought, in
any case, to be knowingly sacrificed : no principle of judica
ture, no end of punishment can ever require that. But when
certam rules of adjudication must be pursued, when certain
degrees of credibUity must be accepted, in order to reach the
crimes with which the pubhc are infested ; courts of justice

328 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
should not be deterred from the application of these rules by
every suspicion of danger, or by the mere possibility of con
founding the innocent with the guUty. They ought rather to
reflect, that he who falls by a mistaken sentence, may be con-
sidere4 as falUng for his country ; whilst he suffers under the
operation of those rales, by the general effect and tendency of
which the welfare of the community is maintamed and up
holden.

CHAPTER X.
OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, AND OF TOLE
RATION.
'A RELIGIOUS estabUshment is no part of Christianity; it
is only the jneans of inculcating it.' Amongst the Jews, the
rights and offices, the order, family, and succession of the
priesthood were marked out by the authority which declared
the law itseff. These, therefore, were parts of the Jewish re
Ugion, as weU as the means of transmitting it. Not so -with
the new mstitution. It cannot be proved that any form of
church government was laid down in the CMistian, as it had
been in the Jewish Scriptures, with a -view of fixing a consti
tution for succeeding ages ; and wMch constitution, conse
quently, the disciples of Christianity would every where, and
at aU limes, by the very law of their reUgion, be obliged to
adopt. Certainly no command for iMs purpose was delivered
by CMist himself; and if it be shown that the Apostles ordam-
ed bishops and presbyters amongst their first converts, it must
be remembered that deacons also and deaconesses were ap
pointed by them, -with functions very dissimUar to any which
obtain m the church at present. The truth seems to have
been, that such offices were at first erected m the Christian
church, as the good order, the instruction, and the exigencies
of the society at that lime required, without any intention, at
least -without any declaxed design, of regulating the appomt-
menl, authority, or the distinction of Christian ministers under
future circmnstances. This reserve, if we may so caU it, in
the Christian Legislator, is sufficiently accounted for by two

AND OP TOLERATION. 329
considerations: First, that no precise constitution could be
framed, which would suit with the condition of Christianity in
its primitive stale, and with that which it was lo assume when
it should be advanced mto a national religion. Secondly,
that a particular designation of office or authority amongst the
mmisters of the new religion, might have so interfered -with
the arrangements of civU policy, as to have formed, in some
countries, a considerable obstacle to the progi-ess and reception
of the religion itself.
The authority therefore of a church establishment is foun
ded in its utility : and whenever, upon this principle, we de
liberate, concerning the form, propriety, or comparative excel
lency of different eslabhshments, the single view, under wMch
we ought to consider any of them, is that of ' a scheme of in
struction ; ' the single end we ought lo propose by them is,
' the preservation and communication of religious knowledge.'
Every other idea, and every other end that have been mixed
with this, as the makmg of the church an engine, or even an
ally of the state ; converting it into the means of strengthen
ing or diffusing influence ; or regardmg it as a support of regal
in opposition to popular forms of govemment, have served only
to debase the institution, and to introduce into it numerous cor
ruptions and abuses.
The notion of a religious establishment comprehends iMee
things : a clergy, or an order of men secluded from other pro
fessions lo attend upon the offices of religion ; a legal provision
for the maintenance of the clergy; and the confining of that
provision lo the teachers of a particular sect of Christianity.
If any one of these three thmgs be wanting ; ff there be no
clergy, as amongst the Q,uakers; or if the clergy have no
other provision than what they derive from the voluntary con
tribution of their hearers ; or, ff the provision which the laws
assign to the support of reUgion be extended lo various sects
and denominations of Christians, there exists no national re
ligion or established church, according lo the sense which these
terms .are usually made to convey. He, therefore, who would
defend ecclesiastical establishments, must show the separate
UtiUty of these three essential parts of then constitution.
1. The question ffi-st in order upon the subject, as weU as
the most fundamental m its importance, is, whether the
knowledge and profession of Christianity can be mamtamed m
a country without a class of men set apart by pubhc authority
VOL. III. 42 " '

330 OP RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS.
to the Study and teaching of reUgion, and to the conducting of
pubUc worship; and for these purposes secluded from other
employments. I add this last circumstance, because in it
consists, as I take it, the substance of the controversy. Now
it must be remembered, that Christianity is an historical relig
ion, founded in facts which are related to have passed, upon
discourses which were holden, and, letters which were written,
in a remote age, and distant country of the world, as weU as
under a stale of Ufe and manners, and during the prevalency
of opinions, customs, and institutions, very unlike any which
are found amongst mankind at present. Moreover, this reU
gion, having been first pubUshed in the country of Judea, and
being built upon the more ancient reUgion of the Jews, is
necessarUy and intimately connected -with the sacred wri
tmgs, with the Mstory and polity of that smgular people: to
whicli must be added, that the records of both revelations are
preserved m languages which have long ceased to be spoken
in any part of the world. Books which come down to us
from times so remote, and under so many causes of unavoida
ble obscurity, cannot it is evident, be imderstood without study
and preparation. The languages must be learned. The va
rious writings which these volumes contam must be carefuUy
compared with one another, and -with themselves. What
remains of contemporary authors, or of authors connected
with the age, the country, or the subject of om scriptures, must
be perused and consulted, in order to mterpret doubtful forms
of speech, and to explam aUusions which refer to objects or
usages that no longer exist. Above aU, the modes of expres
sion, the habits of reasonmg, and argumentation, which
were then in use, and tp which the discourses even of inspired
tecichers were necessarily adapted, must be sufficiently known,
and can only be known at aU by a due acquamtance with
ancient Uterature. And, lastly, to, estabUsh the genuuieness
and integrity of the canonical scriptures themselves, a series
of testimony, recognizing the notoriety and reception of these
books, must be deduced from times near to those of their first
pubUcation, down the succession of ages iMough which they
have been transmitted to us. The qualifications necessary
for such researches demand, it is confessed, a degree of leisure,
and a kind of education, inconsistent with the exercise of any
other profession; but how few are there amongst the clergy,
from whom any thing of this sort can be expected! How

AND OP TOLERATION, 331
smaU a proportion of then number, who seem Ukely either to
augment the fund of sacred literature, or even to coUect what
is already known !,— To this objection it may be repUed, that
we sow many seeds to raise one flower. In order to produce
a few capable of impro-ving and continuing the slock of
Christian eradition, leisure and opportunity must be affraded
to great numbers. Origmal knowledge of this kind can nev
er be universal; but it is of the utmost importance, and it is
enough, that there be, at aU times, found some qualified for
such mquiries, and m whose concmTing and mdependent con
clusions upon each subject, the rest of the Christian commu
nity may safely confide : whereas, without an order of clergy
educated for the purpose, and led to the prosecution of these
studies, by the habits, the leisure, and the object of their voca
tion, it may weU be questioned whether the learning itself
would not have been lost, bj'^ which the records of our faith
are mterpreted and defended. We contend, therefore, that an
order of clergy is necessary to perpetuate the evidences of re
velation, and to interpret the obscurity of these ancient wri
tings, in which the reUgion is contained. But beside this,
whicli forms, no doubt, one design of their institution, the more
ordinary offices of public teachmg, and of conductmg public
worship, call for qualifications not usuaUy to be met -with amidst
the employments of civU Ufe. It ha? been acknowledged by
some, who cannot be suspected of making unnecessary conces
sions in favour of eslabhshments, ' to be barely possible, that a
person who was never educated for the office should acquit him-
•self with decency as a public teacher of reUgion.' And that
surely must be a very defective poUcy which trasls lo possi
bilities for success, when provision is to.be made for regular
and general instruction. Little objecliMi to this argument
can be drawn from the example of the Quakers, who, it may
be said, fiirmsh an experimental proof that the worship and
profession of CMistianity may be upholden, without a sepa
rate clergy. These sectaries every where subsist in conjunc
tion with a regular establishment. They have access to the
¦writmgs, they profit by the labours of the clergy, m common
with other CMistians. They participate in that general diffu
sion of reUgious knowledge, which the constant teaching of a
more regular mmistry keeps up m the country: -with such
aids, and under such circumstances, the defects of a plan may

332 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
not be much felt, although the plan itseff be altogether unfit
for general unitation. ^
2. If then an order of clergy be necessary, ff it be neces
sary also to seclude them from the employments and profits of
other professions, it is evident they ought to be enabled to de
rive a mamtena-nce from their own. Now this maintenance
must either depend upon the voluntary contributions of their
hearers, or arise from revenues assigned by authority of law.
To the scheme of voluntary contribution there exists this in-
sm-mountable objection, that few would- ultunately contribute
any thing at aU. However the zeal of a sect, or the novelty
of a change, might support such an experiment for a while,
no reUance could be placed upon k as a general and perma
nent provision. It is at all limes a bad constitution, which
presents temptations of interest in opposition to the duties of
rehgion ; or which makes the offices of rehgion expensive lo
those who aUend upon them ; or which aUows pretences of
conscience to be an excuse for not sharing in a pubUc burden.
If, by decUnmg to fiequent religious assemblies, men could
save their money, at the same time that they indulged their
indolence, and theii- disincUnation to exercises of seriousness
and reflection ; or if, by dissenting from the national religion
they could be excused from contributing lo the support of the
mimsters of religion, it is to be feared that many would lake
advantage of the option which was thus imprudently left open
to them, and that this liberty might finally operate to the de
cay of virtue, and an iirecoverable forgetfulness of aU religion
in the country. Is there not too much reason to fear, that, if
it were referred lo the discretion of each neighbourhood, wheth
er they would mamtam amongst them a teacher of religion or
not, many districts would remain unpro-vided with any ; that,
with the difficulties wMch encumber every measure requiring
the co-operation of numbers, and where each individual of the
number has an interest secretly pleading against the success
of the measure itself, associations for the support of Christian
worship and instruction would neither be numerous nor long
contmued ? The devout and pious might lament in vain the
want or the distance of a religious assembly : they could not
form or maintain one, without the concurrence of neighbours
who fell neither then zeal nor their Uberality.
From the difficulty with which congregations would be es
tablished and upheld upon the voluntary plan, let us carry

AND OP TOLERATION. 333
our thoughts to the condition of those who are lo officiate m
them. Preaching, in time, would become a mode of begging.
With what sincerity, or with what dignity, can a preacher
dispense the truths of Christianity, whose thoughts are perpet
ually soUcited to the reflection how he may increase his sub
scription ? His eloquence, if he possess any, resembles rather
the exhibition of a player who is computing the profits of his
theatre, than the, simplicity of a man, who, feelmg himseff
the awful expectations of religion, is seeking to bring others
to such a sense and understanding of their duty as may save
their souls. Moreover, a little experience of the disposition of
the common people -wUl in every country inform us, that it is
one thmg to edify them in Christian knowledge, and anoth
er to gratify their taste for vehement, impassioned oratory;
that he, not only whose success, but whose subsistence depends
upon collecting and pleasing a crowd, must resort lo other
arts than the acquirement and communication of sober and pro
fitable instruction. For a preacher to be thus at the mercy of
his audience; lo be obliged to adapt his doctrines to the plea
sure of a capricious multitude; to be continuaUy affecting a
style and manner neither natural lo him, nor agreeable lo ' his
judgment ; to live in constant bondage to tyrannical and inso
lent direclors, are circumstances so mortifying, not only to the
pride of the human heart, but to the vhluous love of indepen
dency, that they are rarely submitted to without a sacrifice of
principle, and a depravation of character; — at least it may be
pronounced, that a ministry so degraded would soon faU mto
the lowest hands ; for it would be found impossible to engage
men of worth and abUity m so precarious and humiUatmg a
profession. If m deference then to these reasons, it be admitted, that a
legal provision for the clergy, compulsory upon those who con
tribute to it, is expedient; the next question wUl be, whether
this provision should be confined lo one sect of Christianity,
dr extended indifferently to aU. Now it should be observed,
that iMs question never can offer itself where the people are
agreed in their religious opinions ; and that it never ought to
arise, where a system may be framed of doclrmes and worship
¦wide enough lo comprehend then disagreement ; and which
might satisfy aU by unitmg aU in the articles of their common
faith, and m a mode of divme worship that omits every sub
ject of controversy or offence. Where such a comprehension

334 OP RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
is practicable, the comprehending reUgion ought to be made
that of the state. But if this be despaired of: if religious opin
ions exist, not only so various, but so contradictory, as lo ren
der it impossible to reconcUe them to each other, or to any one
confession of faith, rule of disciphne, or form of worship; if,
consequently, separate congregations and different sects must
unavoidably continue in the country: under such circumstan
ces, whether the laws ought lo estabUsh "one sect in preference
to the rest, that is, whether they ought lo confer the provision
assigned to the maintenance of rehgion upon the teacher of
one system of doctrines alone, becomes a question of necessary
discussion and of great importance. And whatever we may
determine concerning speculative rights and abstract i proprie
ties, when we set about the framing of an ecclesiastical consti
tution adapted to real life, and lo the actual state of reUgion in
the country, we shaU find this question very nearly related to
and prmcipaUy indeed dependent upon another; namely, ' In
what way, or by whom, ought the mmisters of reUgion lo be
appointed V If the species of patronage be retamed to which
we are accustomed in this country, and which aUows private
mdividuals to nominate teachers of religion for districts and
congregations to which they are absolute strangers ; -without
some lest proposed to the persons nominated, the utmost dis
cordancy of religious opinions might arise between the several
teachers and their respective congregations. A popish patron
might appoint a priest to say mass to a congregation of pro-
testanls ; an episcopal clergyman be sent lo officiate m a par
ish of presbyterians ; or a presbyterian divme to inveigh against
the errours of popery before an audience of papists. The re
quisition then of subscription, or any other lest by which the
national reUgion is guarded, may be considered merely as a
restriction upon the exercise of private patronage. The laws
speak to the private patron thus : ' Of those whom we have
previously pronounced lo be filly quaUfied to teach rehgion, we
aUow you lo select one: but we do not allow you to decide
what reUgion shaU be estabUshed m a particular district ofthe
country; for which decision you are nowise fitted by any qual
ifications wMch, as a private patron, you may happen to pos
sess. If it be necessary that the point be deternuned for the
inhabitants by any other vriU than their own, it is surely bet
ter that it should be determined by a deliberate resolution of
the legislatme, than by the casual inclination of an individual,

AND OF TOLERATION. 335
by whom the right is purchased, or to whom it devolves as a
mere secular inheritance.' Wheresoever, therefore, this consti-^
tulion of patronage is adopted, a national religion, or the legal
preference of one particular reUgion lo all others, must almost
necessarUy accompany it. But, secondly, let it be supposed
that the appointment of the minister of reUgion was in every
parish left lo the choice of the parishioners, might not this
choice, we ask, be safely exercised without its being limited to
the teachers of any particular sect ? The effect of such a Ub
erty must be, that a papist, or a presbyterian, a melhodist, a
moravian, or an anabaptist, would successively gain possession
of the pulpit, according as a majority of the party happened at
each election to prevaU. Now with what violence the conffict
would upon every vacancy be renewed ; what bitter animosi
ties would be revived, or rather be constantly fed and kept
ahve m the neighbourhood; -with what unconquerable aver
sion the teacher and his reUgion would be received by the de
feated party, may be foreseen by those who reflect with how
much passion every dispute is carried on, in which the name
of reUgion can be made to mix itself; much more where the
cause itself is concerned so immediately as it would be in this.
Or, thirdly, if the state appomt the mmisters of rehgion, this
constitution wiU differ little from the estabUshment of a nation
al religion ; for the state wiU, undoubtedly, appoint those, and
those alone, whose reUgious opinions, or rather whose reUgioUs
denominations, agree with its o-wn ; unless it be thought that
any thmg would be gained to reUgious Uberty by transferrmg
the choice of the national reUgion from the legislature of the
country to the magistrate who administers the executive gov
ernment. The oaly plan which seems lo render the legal
mamtenance of a clergy practicable, without the legal prefer
ence of one sect of Christians to others, is that of an experi
ment which is said to be attempted or designed in some of the
new slates of North America. The nature of the plan is thus
described : — A tax is levied upon the inhabitants for the gen
eral support of religion; the coUector of the tax goes round
with a register m his hand, m which are inserted, at the head
of so many dislmct columns, the names of the several reUgious
sects that are professed in the country. The person who
is caUed upon for the assessment, as soon as he has paid Ms
quota, subscribes his name and the sum in which of the col
umns he pleases; and the amount of what is coUected in each

336 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
column is paid over to the minister of that denomination. In
this scheme it is not left to the option of the subject, whether
he wUl contribute, or how much he shaU contribute, lo the
mamlenance of a Christian ministry : it is only referred to his
choice to determine by what sect his contribution shaU be re
ceived. The above arrangement is undoubtedly the best that
has been proposed upon this principle : it bears the appearance
of liberality and justice ; it may contain some soUd advantages;
nevertheless, it labours under inconveniencies which will be
found, I think, upon trial, lo overbalance aU its recommenda
tions. It is scarcely compatible with that, which is the first
requisite in an ecclesiastical estabhshmenl, — ^the division of the
country into parishes of a commodious extent. If the parishes
be smaU, and ministers of every denommation be stationed in
each, which the plan seems to suppose, the expense of theii-
maintenance .will ^become loo burthensome a charge. for the
country to support. If, to reduce the expense, the districts be
enlarged, the place of assembUng wiU oftentimes be too far re
moved from the residence of the persons who ought to resort
to it. Again, the making the pecuniary success of the different
teachers of religion to depend upon the number and wealth of
their respective foUowers, would naturaUy generate strifes and
indecent jealousies amongst them ; as weU as produce a po
lemical and proselyting spuit, founded in or mixed with views
of private gain, which would both deprave the principles of the
clergy, and distract the country with endless contentions.
' The argument, then, by which ecclesiastical establishments
are defended, proceeds by these steps. The knowledge and pro
fession of Christianity cannot be upholden without a clergy ; a
clergy cannot be supported -without a legal pro-vision ; a legal
provision for the clergy cannot be constituted without the pref
erence of one sect of Christians to the rest : and the conclusion
wUl be convemenlly satisfactory in the degree in which the
truth of these several propositions can be made out.
If it be deemed expedient to establish a national reUgion,
that is to say, one sect in ,pi-eference to aU others ; some test,
by which the teachers of that sect may be distmgmshed from
the teachers of different sects, appears lo be an indispensable
consequence. The existence of such an estabUshment suppo
ses it : the very notion of a national reUgion includes that of a
test. But this necessity, wMch is real, hath, according to the fash-

AND OF TOLERATION. 337
ion of human affairs, furnished to almost every church a pre
tence for extending, multiplying, and continuing such tests
beyond what the occasion justified. For though some purpo
ses of order and tranquiUity may be answered by the estab
lishment of creeds and confessions, yet they are at all times at
tended with serious mconveniences. They check inqmry;
they violate Uberty ; they ensnare the consciences of the cler
gy by holding out temptations to prevarication ; however they
may express the persuasion, or be accommodated to the con
troversies, or lo the fears, of the age in which they are com
posed, in process of tune, and by reason of the changes which
are wont to take place in the judgment of mankind upon reli
gious subjects, they come at length to contradict the actual
opimons of the church, whose doclrmes they profess to contam ;
and they often perpetuate the proscription of sects and tenets,
from which any danger has long ceased lo. be apprehended.
It may not foUow from these objections, that tests and sub
scriptions ought to be abohshed ; but it foUows, thai they ought
lobe made as simple and easy as possible ; that they should be
adapted, from lime lo lime, to the varying sentiments and cir
cumstances of the church m which they are received; and
that they should at no lime advance one step farther than some
subsisting necessity requires. If, for instance, promises of con
formity to the rites, liturgy, and offices of the church, be suffi
cient lo prevent confusion and disorder in- the celebration of di
vme worship, then such promises ought lo be accepted in the
place of stricter subscriptions. If articles oi peace, as they are
caUed, that is, engagements not lo preach certain doctrines,
nor to revive certain controversies, would exclude indecent al
tercations amongst the national clergy, as weU as secure to the
pubUc teaching of rehgion as much of uniformity and quiet as
is necessary to edification ; then confessions oi faith ought to
be converted into articles of peace. In a word, it ought to be
held a sufficient reason for relaxmg the terms- of subscription,
or for dropping any or aU of the articles lo be subscribed, that
no present necessity requires the strictness wMch is complain
ed of, or that it should be extended to so many points of doc
trine. The division of the country into districts, and the stationrag
in each district a teacher of reUgion, forms the substantial part
of every church establishment. The varieties that have been
introduced into the government and disciplme of different
VOL. III. 43

338 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
churches are of inferiour importance, when compared with this,
in which they aU agree. Of these economical questions, none
seems more material than that which has been long agitated
in the reformed churches of Christendom, whether a parity
amongst the clergy, or a distinction of orders in the muiistry,
be more conducive to the general ends of the institution. In
favour of that system whicli the laws of this country have pre
ferred, we may aUege the foUowmg reasons : that it secures
tranquillity and subordination amongst the clergy themselves ;
that it corresponds with the gradations of rank in civil life, and
provides for the edification of each rank, by stationing in each
an order of clergy of their own class and quality; and lastly,
that the same fund produces more effect, both as an aUuremenl
to men of talents to enter into the church, and as a stimulus to
the industry of those who are already m it, when distributed
into prizes of different value, than when divided mto equal
shares. After the state has once established a particular system of
faith as a national religion, a question -wUl soon occur, con
cerning the treatment and toleration of those who dissent from
it. This question is properly preceded by another, concerning
the right which the civil magistrate possesses to interfere in
matters of religion at aU : for, although this right be ac
knowledged whilst he is employed solely in providing means
of pubhc instruction, it wUl probably be disputed, mdeed it ev
er has been, when he proceeds to inffict penalties, to unpose re
straints or incapacities on the account of reUgious distinctions.
They who admit no other just original of civil government,
than what is founded in some stipulation with its subjects, are
at hberty to contend that the concerns of religion were except
ed out of the social compact ; that, in an affair which can on
ly be transacted between God and a man's own conscience, no
commission or authority was ever delegated to the' civU mag
istrate, or could indeed be transferred from the person Mmseff
to any other. We, however, who have rejected this theory, be
cause we cannot discover any actual contract between the state
and the people, and because we cannot allow an arbitrary fic
tion to be made the foundation of real rights and of real obU
gations, find ourselves precluded from this distinction. The
reasoning which deduces tlie authority of civU government
from the -WiU of God, and which coUects that wiU from public
expediency alone, binds us to the unreserved conclusion, that

AND OP TOLERATION. 339
the jurisdiction of the magistrate is Umited by no consideration
but that of general utUity : in plainer terras, that whatever be
the subject to be regulated, it is lawMl for him to interfere
whenever his interference, in its general tendency, appears to
be conducive to the common interest. There is nothmg in
the nature of reUgion, as such, which exempts it from the au
thority of the legislator, when the safety or welfare of the com
munity requires his interpoation. It has been said, indeed,
that reUgion, pertainmg lo the interests' of a Ufe to come, lies
beyond the; province of ci-vU govemment, the office of which
is confined lo the affairs of this life. But, in reply lo this ob
jection, it may be observed, that when the laws interfere even
in religion, they interfere only with temporals ; their effects ter
minate, then power operates only upon those rights and inter
ests, which confessedly belong lo their disposal. The acts of
the legislature, the edicts of the prince, the sentence of the judge,
cannot affect my salvation-; nor do they, without the most ab- '
surd arrogance, pretend lo any such power : but they may de
prive me of Uberty, of property, and even of Ufe itself, on ac
count of my religion ; and however I may complain of the in
justice of the sentence, by which I am condemned, I cannot
allege, that the magistrate has transgressed the boundaries of
his" jurisdiction ; because the property, the liberty, and the Ufe
ofthe subject, m,ay be taken away by the authority of the laws,
for any reason, which, iff the judgment of the legislature, ren
ders such a measure necessary to the common welfare. More
over, as the precepts of reUgion may regulate aU the offices of
life, or may be so construed as to extend lo all, the exemption
of religion from the control of human laws might afford a plea,
wMch would exclude civil government from every authority
over the conduct of its subjects. ReUgious Uberty is, like civfl
Uberty, hot an immunity from restraint, but the being restram
ed by no law, but what in a greater degree conduces lo the
public welfare.
SliU it is right ' to obey God rather than man.' Nothing
that we have said encroaches upon the truth of this sacred
and undisputed maxim : the right of the. magistrate to ordain,
and the obligation of the subject to obey, in matters of reUgionj
may be very different ; and wiU be so as often as tiiey flow
from opposite apprehensions of the di-vine vdll. In affans that
are properly of a civil natme ; in 'the things that are Caesar's,'
this difference seldom happens. The law authorizes the act

340 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
which it enjoins ; revelation being either sUent upon the sub-.
ject, or referring to the laws of the country, or requiring only
that men act by some fixed rule, and that this rule be estab
lished- by competent authority. But when human laws inter
pose their dnection in matters of religion, by dictating, for ex
ample, the object or the mode of divine worship ; by prohibi
ting the profession of some articles of faith, and by exacting;
that of others, they are liable to clash with what private persons
beUeve lo be already settled by precepts of revelation ; or to
contradict what God himself, they think, hath declared to be
true In this case, on wMchever side the mistake lies, or
whatever plea the slate may allege lo justify its edict, the sub
ject can'have none lo excuse his compUance. The same con
sideration also points out the distmction, as lo the authority of
the state, between temporals and spirituals. The magistrate is
not to be obeyed in teniporala more than in spuituals, where a
repugnancy is perceived between his commands and any cred
ited manifestations of the divine wiU ; but such repugnancies
are much less likely to arise in one case than the other.
When we grant that it is lawful for the magistrate to inter
fere in religipn as often as his interference appears to him to
conduce, in its general tendency, to the public happiness ; it
may be argued, from this concession, that, since salvation is the
highest interest of mankind, and since, consequently, to advance
that is to promote the public happiness m the best way, and in
the greatest degree, in which it can be promoted, it foUows, that
it is not only the right, but the duty of every magistrate, in
vested with supreme power, to enforce upon his subjects the re
ception of that reUgion, which he deems most acceptable to
God ; and to enforce it by such methods as may appoM most
effectual for the end proposed. A popish king, for example,
who should believe that salvation is not attainable out of the
precincts of the Romish church, would derive a nghl from
our principles (not to say that he would be bound by them)
to employ the power with which the constitution mtrasted
him, and which power, in absolute monarchies, commands the
lives and fortunes of every subject of the empire, in reducing
his people within that communion. We confess that this con
sequence is inferred from the principles we have laid down
concerning the foundation of civil authority, not without the
resemblance of a regular deduction : we confess also that it is
¦a conclusion which it behoves us to dispose of ; because, if it

AND OF TOLERATION. 341
reaUy foUow from our theory of government, the theory itself
ought to be given up. Now it wiU be remembered, that the
terms of our proposition are these : ' That it is lawful for the
magistrate to mlerfere m the affairs of reUgion, whenever his
interference appears lo him lo conduce, by its general tenden
cy, to the pubhc happiness,' The clause of ' general tenden
cy,' when this rule comes to be applied, wiU be found a very
significant part of the dneclion. It obliges the magistrate to
reflect, not only whether the religion which he wishes lo prop
agate amongst his subjects, be tiiat which wiU best secure
their eternal welfare ; not only, whether the methods he em
ploys be Ukely to effectuate the establishment of that religion ;
but also upon this further question, whether the kind of inter
ference, which he is about lo exercise, if it were adopted as a
common maxim amongst slates and princes, or received as a
general rule for the conduct of govemment in matters of reh
gion, would upon the whole, in the mass of instances in which
his example might be imitated, conduce to the furtherance of
human salvation. If the magistrate, for example, should
thmk that, although the application of his power might, in
the mstance concerning which he deUberales, advance the true
religion, and together with it the happiness of his people, yet
that the same engine, m other hands, who might assume the
right to use it with the same pretensions of reason and author
ity that he himself aUeges, would more frequently shut out
truth, and obstruct the means of salvation ; he would be bound
by this opinion, still admitting public utility to be the supreme
rule of his conduct, to refrain from expedients, which, what
ever particular effects he may expect from them, are, in their
general operation, dangerous or hurtful. If there be any diffi
culty in the subject, it arises from that which is the cause of
every difficulty in morals ; — the competition of particular and
general consequences ; or, what is the same thing, the sub
mission of one general rule to another rule which is stiU more
general. Bearing then in mind that it is the general tendency of
the measure, or, m other words, the effects which would arise
from the measme being generally adopted, that fixesupon it
the character of rectitude or injustice ; we proceed to inquire
what -is the degree and the sort of interference of secular laws
in matters of reUgion, which are likely to be beneficial to the
public happiness. There are two maxims which wUl in a

342 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
great measure regulate our conclusions upon this head. The
first is, that any form of Christianity is better than no religion
at aU : the second, that, of dUferenl systems of faith, tiiatisthe
best which is the truest. The first of these positions wUl hard-
< ly be disputed, when we reflect, that every sect and modifica
tion of Christianity holds out the happiness and misery of-
another Ufe, as depending chiefly upon the practice of virtue
or of vice in this ; and that the distmctions of vntue and vice
are nearly the same in aU. A person who acts under the im
pression of these hopes and fears, though combined with many
errours and superstitions, is more lUiely to advance both the
pubUc happiness and his own, than one who is destitute of aU
expectation of a future account. The latter proposition is
founded in the consideration that the principal importance
of religion consists in its influence upon the fate and condition
of a future existence. This influence belongs only to that re
Ugion which comes from God. A political religion may be
framed, which shaU embrace the purposes, and describe the
duties, of poUtical society perfectly weU ; but if it be not deUv
ered by God, what assurance does it afford, that the decision's
of the divine judgment wUl have any regard to the rules which
it contains ? By a man who acts with a view to a future judg
ment, the authority of a religion is the first thing inquired af
ter ; a religion which wants authority, -with him wants every
thing. Since then this authority appertains, not to the rehgion
which is most commodious,^to the reUgion which is most
sublime and efficacious, — to the religion which suits best with
the form, or seems most calculated to uphold the power and
StabUity of civil government, but only lo that religion which
comes from God ; we are justified in pronouncing the true re
ligion, by its very truth, and independently of aU considera
tions of tendencies, aptnesses, or any other mternal quaUties
whatever, to be universaUy the best. '
From the first proposition follows this inference, that when
the stale enables its subjects to learn some form of Christiani
ty, by distributing teachers of a religious system throughout
the country, and by providing for the maintenance of these
teachers at the public expense ; that is, in fewer terms, when
the laws establish a national religion, they exercise a power
and an interference, which are Ukely, in their general ten
dency, to promote the interest of mankind ; for even suppos-
mg the species of Christianity which the laws patronize to be

AND OF TOLERATION. 343
erroneous and coiTupt, yet when the option Ues between this
religion and no religion at aU, which wOuld be the conse
quence of leaving the people without any pubhc means of in
struction, or any regular celebration of the offices of Christiani
ty, our proposition leaches us that the former alternative is
constantly to be preferred.
But after the right of the magistrate to establish a particular
religion has been, upon this principle, admitted ; a doubt some
times presents itself, whether the religion which he ought to es
tablish be that which he himself professes, or that which he
observes to prevaU amongst the ma-jority of the people. Now
when we consider this question with a view to the formation
o:^ a general rule, upon the subject, which view alone can fur
nish a just solution of the doubt, it must be assumed to be an
equal chance whether of the two religions contains more of
truth, that of the magistrate, or that of the people. The
chance then that is left lo truth being equal upon both sup
positions, the remaining consideration -wiU be, from which ar
rangement more efficacy can be expected ; — from an order of
men appointed to teach the people their own reUgion, or to
convert them to another. In my opinion the advantage Ues
on the side of the former scheme ; and this opmion, if it be as
sented lo, makes it the duly of the magistrate, in the choice of
the rehgion which he establishes, to consult the faith of the •
nation rather than his own.
The case also of dissenters must be determmed by the prin
ciples just now stated. Toleration is of two kinds ; the allow
ing lo dissenters the unmolested profession and exercise of their
religion, but with an exclusion from offices of trust and emol
ument in the state, which is a partial toleration ; and the ad
mitting them, -without distinction, to all the civU privUeges and
capacities of other citizens, which is a complet<i toleration.
The expediency of toleration, and consequently the right of
every citizen to demand it, as far as relates to liberty of con
science, and the claim of being protected in the free and safe
profession of his religion, is deducible from the second of
thbse propositions, which we have delivered as the grounds of
our conclusions upon the subject. That proposition asserts
truth, and truth in the abstract, to be the supreme perfection
of every religion.- The advancement, consequently, and dis
covery of truth, is that end lo which aU regulations concern
mg religion ought principaUy to be adapted. Now every spe-

344 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
cies of intolerance which enjoins suppression and sUence ; and
every species of persecution wMch enforces such injunctions, is
adverse to the progress of truth ; forasmuch as it causes that
to be fixed by one set of men, at one time, which is much bet
ter, and with much more probabUity of success, left to the in
dependent and progressive inquiries of separate individuals.
Truth results from discussion and from controversy ; is inves
tigated by the labours and researches of private persons. What
ever, therefore, prohibits these, obstructs that industry and that
liberty, which it is the common mterest of mankind to promote.
In religion, as in other subjects, truth, if left to itself, will ahnost
always obtain the ascendency. If different religions be profes
sed in the same country, and the minds of men remain unfet
tered and unawed by intimidations of law, that religion which
is founded in maxims of reason and credibiUty, will graduaUy
gain over the other to it. _ I do not mean that men -wiU forra-
aUy renounce their ancient religion, but that they wUl adopt
into it the more rational doctrines, the improvements and dis
coveries of the neighbouring, sect ; by which means the worse
reUgion, without the ceremony of a reformation, wiU insensibly
assimUate itself to the better. If popery, for instance, and pro
testantism were permitted to dwell quietly together, papists
might not become protestanta (for the name is commordy the
last thing that is changed*), but they would become more en
lightened and mformed ; they would by Uttle and Utile incor
porate mto their creed many of the tenets of protestantism, as
well as imbibe a portion, of its spirit and moderation.
The justice and expediency of toleration we found prima
rily in its eonduciveness to truth, and m the superiour value of
truth to that of any other quaUty winch a reUgion can pos
sess: this is the principal argument; but there are some aux-
Uiary considerations too important to be omitted. The confi
ning of the subject to the reUgion of the state, is a needless
violation of natm-al Uberty, and in an instance in which con
straint is always grievous. Persecution produces no smcere
conviction, nor any real change of opinion; on the contrary,
it vitiates the public morals by driving men to prevarication,
and commonly ends in a general though secret mfideUty, by
* Would we let the name stand, we might often attract men, -without their
perceiving it, much nearer to ourselveg, than, if they did perceive it, tUey would
be willing to come.

AND OF TOLERATION! 345
imposing, under the name of revealed reUgion, systems of doc
trine which men cannot believe, and dare not examine: finah
ly, it disgraces the character, and wounds the reputation, of
Christianity itself, by making it the author of oppression, cru
elty, and bloodshed.
Under the idea of religious toleration I include the toleration
of aU books of serious argumentation ; but I deem it no in-
frmgment of religious liberty to restram the circulation of rid'-
icule, mvective, and mockery, upon reUgious subjects; because
tMs species of writing appUes solely to the passions, weakens
the judgment, and contaminates the imagination of its readers;
has no tendency whatever lo assist either the investigation or
the impression of truth; on the contrary, whilst it stays not lo
distinguish between the authority of different religions, it de
stroys alike the influence of aU.
Concerning the admission of dissenters from the established
reUgion to offices and employments m the public service, which
is necessary to render toleration complete, doubts have been
entertained with some appearance of reason. It is possible
that such reUgious opmions may be holden as are utterly in
compatible with the necessary functions of civil government;
and which opinions consequently disqualify. those who main
tam them, from exercising any share in its administration.
There have been enthusiasts who held that Christianity has
abohshed aU distinction of property, and that she enjoins upon
her foUowers a community of goods. With what tolerable pro
priety could one of this sect be appointed adjudge or a magis
trate, whose office it is lo decide upon questions of private right,
and to protect men in the exclusive enjoynienl of then pro
perty? It would be equaUy absurd to intrast a mUitary com
mand to a duaker, who beheves, it to be contrary to the gos
pel to take up airins. This is possible; therefore it cannot be
laid down as an universal Irjiih, that religion is not m its na
ture a cause which wiU justify exclusion fi-om pubUc employ
ments. When we examine, however, the sects of Christianity
which actually prevaU in the world, we must confess that,
with the smgle exception of refusing lo bear arms, we find no
tenet in any of them which incapacitates men for the service
of the state. It has indeed been asserted that discordancy of
rehgions, even supposing each religion lo be free from any er
rours that affect the safety or the conduct of government, is
enough to render men unfit to act together, in pubhc stations.
VOL. HI. 44

346 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS,
But upon what argument, or upon what experience is this as
sertion founded ? I perceive no reason why men of different
religious persuasions may not sit upon the same bench, delib
erate in the same councU, or fight in the same ranks, as well
as men of various or opposite opinions upon any controverted
topic of natural philosophy, history, or ethics.
There are two cases m which test laws are wont to be ap
pUed, and in which, if in any, they may be defended. One
is where two or more rehgions are contending for establish- •
ment ; and where there appears no way of putting an end to
the contest but by ^ving to one religion such a decided su
periority in the legislature and government of the country, as
to secure it against danger from any other. I own that I
should assent to this precaution with many scruples. If the
dissenters from the establishment become a majority of the
people, the establishment itself ought lo be altered or quaUfied.
If there exist ainongst the different sects of the countiy such a
parity of numbers, interest, and power, as lo render the pref
erence of one sect to the rest, and the choice of that sect, a
matter of hazardous success, and of doubtful election, some
plan simUar to that which is meditated in North America,
and which we have described in a precedmg part of the pres
ent chapter, though encumbered -with great difficulties, may
perhaps suit better with this divided stale of pubhc opinions,
than any constitution of a national church whatever. In all
other situations, the establishment wiU be strong enough to
maintain itseff. However, if a test be applicable with justice
upon this principle at aU, it ought to be appUed in regal gov
ernments to the chief magistrate himself, whose power might
otherwise overthrow or change the established reUgibn of the
country, in opposition to the wiU and sentiments of the peo
ple. The second case of exclusion, and in which, I think, the
-measure is more easUy vindicated, is that of a country in
which some disaffection lo the subsisting government happens
to be connected with certain religkius distinctions. The st&,te
undoubtedly has a right to refuse its pOwer and its confidence
to those -who seek its destruction. Wherefore, if the generaU
ty of any reUgious sect enlerlam dispositions hostfle to the con
stitution, and if government have no other way of Imowmg its
enemies than by the religion which they jM-ofess, the profes-
soi-s of that religion may justly be excluded from offices of

AND OP TOLERATION. 347
ti-ust and authority. But even here it should be observed,
that it is not against the religion that government shuts its
doors, but against those political principles, which, however
independent they may be of any article of religious faith, the
members of that communion are found in fact to hold. Nor
would the legislator make religious tenets the test of men's in-
chnations towards the state, if he could discover any other
that was equally certain and notorious. Thus, if the mem
bers of the Romish church, for the most part, adhere to the in
terests, or maintain the right of a foreign pretender lo the
crown of these kingdoms ; and if there be no way of distin
guishing those who do from those who do ' not retain such
dangerous prejudices ; government is well warranted in fencing
out the whole sect from situations of trust and power. But
even in this exainple, it is not to popery that the laws object,
but to popery as the mark of jacobitism ; an equivocal indeed
and fallacious mark, but the best, and perhaps the only one,
that can be devised. But then it should be remembered, that
as the connexion between popery and jacobitism, which is the
sole cause of suspicion, and jthe sole justification of those se
vere and jealous laws which have been enacted against the
professors of that religion, was accidental in its origin, so prob
ably it wiU be temporary in its duration ; and that these restric
tions ought not to continue one day longer than some visible
danger renders them necessary lo the preservation of pubUc
tranquiUity. After aU, it may be asked. Why should not the legislator
direct his test against the political principles themselves which
he -wishes lo exclude, rather than encounter them through the
medium of religious tenets, the only crime and the only dan
ger of which consist ki their presumed aUiknce with the for
mer ? Why, for example, should a man be required to re
nounce transubslanliatibn, before h^ be admitted to an office
in the state, when it might seem lo be sufficient that he ab
jure the Pretender ? " There are but two answers that can be
given to the objection which this question contams : ffist, that
it is not opimons which the laws fear, so much as incUnations ;
and that poUtical inclinations are not so easily detected by the
affirmation or denial of any abstract proposition in poUlics, as
by the discovery of the religious creed with -which they are
wont to be united : secondly, that when men renounce their
reUgion, they commonly quit aU connexion with the members

348 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, &c.
of the church which they have left ; that church no longer ex
pecting assistance or friendship from them ; whereas particular
persons might insinuate themselves into offices of trust and
authority, by subscribing political assertions, and yet retain
their predUection for the interests of the reUgious sect'\o which
they continued lo belong. By which means government
would sometimes find, though it could not accuse the individu
al, whom it had received into its service, of disaffection to the
ci-vil estabUshment, yet that, through him, it had communica
ted the aid and influence of a powerful station to a party who
were hostile to the constitution. These answers, however, we
propose rather than defend. The measure certainly cannot
be defended at aU, except where the suspected union between
certain obnoxious principles in politics, and certain tenets in.
reUgion, is nearly universal ; in which case it makes little dif
ference lo the subscriber, whether the test be religious or polit
ical ; and the state is somewhat better secured by the one
than the other.
The result of our examination of those general tendencies,
by which every interference of civU government in matters of
religion ought to be tried, is this : ' That a comprehensive
national religion, guarded by a few articles of peace and con
formity, together with a legal provision for the clergy of that
religion ; and with a complete toleration of aU dissenters from
the established chm-ch, without any other Umilation or excep
tion, than what arises from the conjunction of dangerous polit
ical dispositions with certain religious tenets, appears to be, not
only the most just and liberal, but the wisest and safest system,
which a slate can adopt ; inasmuch as it unites the several per
fections which a religious constitution ought to aim at : — Uber
ty of conscience, -with means of instruction ; the progress of
trath, with the peace of society ; the right of private judgment,
with the care of the pubhc safety.'

( 349 )

CHAPTER XI.
OF POPULATION AND PROVISION; AND OF AGRI
CULTURE AND COMMERCE, AS SUBSERVI-
, ENT THERETO.
The final view of aU rational politics is, lo produce the
greatest quanity of happiness in a given tract of country.
The riches, strength, and glory of nations ; the topics which
history celebrates, and which alone almost engage the praises,
and possess the admiration of mankind, have no value fuither
than as they contribute to this end. When tliey interfere
with it, they are evUs, and not the less real for the splendour
that surrounds them.
Secondly, although we speak of communities as of sentient
beings ; although we ascribe to them happmess "and misery,
desires, interests, and passions, nothing reaUy exists or feels
but individuals. The happiness of a people is made up of
the happiness of smgle persons ; and the quantity of happmess
can only be augmented by increasmg the number of the per
cipients, or the pleasure of their perceptions.
Thirdly, nolwithstandmg that diversity of condition, espe
ciaUy different degrees of plenty, freedom, and security, great
ly vary the quantity of happiness enjoyed by the same num
ber of individuals ; and notwithstanding that extreme cases
may be found, of human beings so galled by the rigours of
slavery, that the increase of numbers is only the amplification
of misery ; yet, within certain limits, and within those limits
to which civU life is diversified under the temperate govern
ments that obtam in Europe, it may be affirmed, I iMnk, with
certamly, that the quantity of happiness produced in any given
district, so far depends upon the number of mhabitants, that,
in comparmg adjoinmg periods in the same country, the col
lective happiness wiU be nearly in the exact proportion of the
numbers, that is, t-wice the number of mhabitants wUl produce
double the quantity of happmess ; m distant periods, and dif
ferent countries, under great changes or great dissimilitude of
civil condition, although the proportion of enjoyment may faU
much short of that of the numbers, yet still any considerable

350

OF POPULATION, PROVISION,

excess of numbers wiU usually carry with it a preponderation
of happiness ; that, al least, it may, and ought to be assumed in
aU poUtical deUberations, that a larger portion of happiness is
enjoyed amongst ten persons, possessing the means of healthy
subsistence, than can be produced by five persons, under every
advantage of power, affluence, and luxmy.
From these principles it foUows, that the quantity of happi
ness in a given district, akhough it is possible it may be mcieas-
ed, the number of mhabitants, remaining the same, is chiefly
and most naturaUy affected by alteration of the numbers :
that, consequently, the decay of population is the greatest evU
that a state can suffer ; and the improvement of it the object
wMch ought, in aU countries, to be aimed at in preference lo
every other poUtical purpose whatsoever.
The importance of population, and the superiority of it to
every other national advantage, are pomts necessary to be in
culcated, and to be understood ; inasmuch as false estimates,
or fantastic notions of national grandeur, are perpetuaUy
dra-wing the attention of statesmen and legislators from the
care of this, which is at all limes, the true and absolute inter
est of a country : for which reason, we have staled these points
with unusual formaUty. We wUl confess, however, that a
competition can seldom arise between the advancement of pop
ulation and any measure of sober utiUly ; because, in the or
dinary progress of human affairs^ whatever, in any way, con
tributes to make a people happier, lends to render them more
numerous. In the fecundity of the human, as of every other species of
animals,, nature has provided for an indefinite multiplication.
Mankmd have increased lo their present number from a sm
gle pair : the offspring of early marriages, in the ordmary course
of procreation, do more than replace the parents : m countries,
and under circumstances very favoraable lo subsistence, the
population has been doubled in the space of twenty years ; the
havoc occasioned by wars, earthquakes, fiimine, or pestilence,
is usuaUy repaned In a short lime. These indications suffi
ciently demonstrate the tendency of nature, m the human spe
cies, to a continual, increase of its numbers. It becomes there
fore a question that may reasonably be propounded, what are
the causes which confine or check the natm-al progress of this
multipUcation? And the answer which first presents itsetf to
the thoughts of the Mquirer is, that the population of a conn-

AGRICULTURE. AND COMMERCE. '35i
try must stop when the countiy can maintain no More, that
is, when the inhabitants are already so numerous as lo exhaust
all the provision which the soU can be made to produce. This,
however, though ,an insuperable bar,wiU seldom be found to
be that which actually checks the progress of population in
any country of the world ; because the number of the people
have seldom, in any country, jnrived at this Umit, or even ap
proached to it. The fertility of the ground, in temperate re
gions, is capable of being improved by cultivation to an extent
which is unkno-wn : much, however, beyond the state of im
provement in any country m Europe. In our own, which
holds almost the first place in the knowledge and encourage
ment of agriculture, let it only be supposed that every field in
England, of the same original quaUty with those in the neigM
bourhood of the metropoUs, and consequently capable of the
same fertiUty, were by a Uke management made lo yield an
equal produce ; audit may be asserted, I believe, with truth,
that the quantity of hUman provision raised in the island
would be increased five fold. The two principles, therefore,
upon which population seems primarUy to depend, the fecun
dity of the species, and the capacity of the soU, would in most,
perhaps in all countries, enable it to proceed much ftuther than
it has yet advanced. The number of marriageable women,
who, in each country, remain unmarried, afford a compulation
how much the agency of nature in the diffusion of human
life is cramped and contracted ; and the quantity of waste,
neglected, or mismanaged surface, — together with a compari
son, like the preceding, of the crops raised from the soU m the
neighbourhood of populous cities, and under a perfect state of
cultivation, with those which lands of equal or superiour qual
ity yield in different situations, — wiU show in what pr opontioH
the indigenous productions of the earth are capable of being
further augmented.
The fundamental poposition upon the subject of popuie^
tion, which must guide every endeavour to improve it, and
from wMch every conclusion concerning it may be deduced,
is this : ' Wherever the commerce between the sexes is regu
lated by marriage, and a provision for that mode of subsistence,
to which each class of the community is accustomed, can be
procmed with ease and certamly, there the number of the peo
ple wiU mcrease ; and the rapidity, as wdl as the extent ef the

S52 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
increase, wiU be proportioned lo the degree in which these
causes exist.'
This proposition we wiU draw out into the several prmciples
which it contains.
I. First, the proposition asserts the ' necessity of confining
the intercourse of the sexes to the marriage union.' It is only
in the marriage union that this intercourse is sufficiently pro
lific. Beside wMch, famUy establishments alone are fitted to
perpetuate a succession of generations. The offsprmg of a
vague and promiscuous concubinage are not only few, and Ua
ble to perish by neglect, but are seldom prepared for or intro
duced into situations suited to the raising of famihes of their
own. Hence the advantages of marriage. Now nature, in
the constitution of the sexes, has provided a stimulus which
wiU infallibly secure the frequency of marriages, with aU their
beneficial effects upon the state of population, pro-vided the
male part of the species be prohibited fiom irregular gratifica
tions. This impulse, which is sufficient to surmount almost
every impediment lo marriage, wiU operate in proportion lo
the difficulty, expense, danger, or infamy, the sense of guUt,
or the fear of punishment, which attend licentious indulgen
cies. Wherefore, in countries in which subsistence is become
scarce, it behoves the state to watch over the public morals
with increased solicitude : for nothmg but the instinct of na
ture, under the restraint of chastity, wiU mduce men lo under
take the labour, or consent to the sacrffice of personal Uberty
and indulgence, which the support of a famUy, in such circum
stances, requires.
II. The second requisite which our proposition states, as
necessary to the success of population, is, ' The ease and cer
tainty with which a provision can be procured for that mode
of subsistence to which each class of the community is accus
tomed.' It is not enough that men's natural wants be sup
plied, that a provision adequate to the real exigencies of hu
man life be attainable : habitual superfluities become actual
wants; opmion and fashion convert articles of ornament and
luxury into necessaries of Ufe. And it must not he expected
from men in general, at least in the present relaxed state of
morals and discipline, that they wUl enter into marriages
which degrade their condition, reduce their mode of living, de
prive them of the accommodations to which they have been
accustomed, or even of those ornaments or appendages of rank

AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 353
and station, which they have been taught lo regard as belong
ing to their birth, or class, or profession, or place in society.
The same consideration, namely, a view lo their accustomed
mode of hfe, which is so apparent in the superiour orders of
the .people, has no less influence upon those ranks which com
pose the mass of the community. The Mnd and quality of
food and liquor,, the species of habitation, furnitme, and cloth
ing, to which the common people of each country are habilu-
¦ ated, must be attainable with ease and certainty before mama-
ges wiU be sufficiently early and general lo carry the progress
of population to its just extent. It is in vam to allege, that a
more simple diet, ruder habitations, or coarser apparel, would
be sufficient for the purposes of Ufe and health, or even of
physical ease and pleasme. Men wiU not marry with this en-
com-agement. For instance, when the common people of a
country are accustomed to eat a large proportion" of animal food,
lo drink wme, spirits, or beer, to wear shoes and stockings, to
dweU in stone houses, they wUl not marry to Uve in clay col
lages, upon roots and mUk, with no other clothing than skins,
or what is necessary to defend the trunk of the body from the
effects of cold ; although these last may be aU that the susten
tation of Ufe and health requkes, or that even contribute much
to animal comfort and enjoyment.
The ease, then, and certainty, with which the means can
be procm-ed,-nol barely of subsistence, but of that mode of sub
sisting which custom hath in each country established, form
the point upon which the state and progress of population
chiefly depend. Now, there are three causes which evidently
regulate this point : the mode itself of subsisting which pre-
vaUs in the country : the quantity of provision suited lo that
mode of subsistence, which is either raised in the country, or
imported into it ; and lastiy, the distribution of that provision.
These three causes merit dislmct considerations.
I. The mode of Uvmg which actuaUy obtains in a country.
In China, where the mhabitants frequent the sea shore, or
the bajiks of large rivers, and subsist in a great measure upon
fish, the population is described to be excessive. This peculi
arity arises, not probably from any civil advantages, any care
or poUcy, any particular constitution or superiour wisdom of
government ; but simply from hence, that the species of food
to which custom hath reconcUed the, desires and. inclinations
ofthe inhabitants, is that whichj of all others, is procmed in
VOL, in. 45

354 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
the greatest abundance, with the most ease, and stands m need
of the least preparation. The natives of Indostan being con
fined, by the laws of their reUgion, to the use of vegetable food,
and requiring little except rice, which the country produces in
plentiful crops ; and food, in warm cUmates, cOihposing the
only want of Ufe ; these countries are populdus, under aU the
injuries of a despotic, and the agitations of ah unsettled gov
ernment. If any revolution, or what would be caUed perhaps
refinement of manners, should generate in these people a taste
for the flesh of animals, sunUar to what prevails amongst the
Arabian hordes ; should introduce flocks ahd herds mto grounds
which are now covered with corn ; should teach them to ac
count a certain portion of this species of iodA amongst the ne
cessaries of life ; the population, from this smgle change, would
suffer m a few jears a great diminution : and this dimmution
would foUow, in spite of every effort of the laws, or even of any
improvement that might lake place in their civU Condition.
In Ireland, the simpUcity of Uving alone maintains a consider
able degree of population, under great defects of poUce, indus
try, and commerce.
Under this head, and fiom a view of theSe cbhsidferations,
taay be understood the true evil and pl-Oper danger of luxury.
Luxury, as it supplies employment and promotes industry,
'assists population. But then there is another Consequence at
tending it, wMch counteracts and often overbalances these ad
vantages. When, by intrOducMg more superfluities into gen
eral reception, luxury has rendered the usual accommodations
of Iffe more expensive, artificial, and elaborate, the difficulty of
maintaming a fanuly, conformably with the estabhshed mode
of Uving, becomes greater, and what each man has to spare
from his personal consumption proportionably less : the effect
of which is, that marriages grow less frequent, agreeably to
the maxim above laid down, and wMch must be remembered
as the foundation of aU our reasonmg upon the Subject, that
men -will not mary to sink then place or condition m society,
or to forego those mdulgencies, which their own habits, or what
they observe amOngsl their equals, have rendered necessary to
then satisfaction. TMs prmciple is applicable to every article
of diet and dress, lo houses, Mrniture, attendance ; and this ef
fect wiU be felt in every class of the community. For instance,
the custom of weaiing broadcloth and fine Unen repays the
shepherd and flax-grower, fefeds the manufactm-er, enriches the

AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERGJE. 355
merchant, gives not only support but existence tp multitudes
of fanuUes : hitherto, therefore, the effects are beneficial ; and
were these the only effects, such elegancies, or, if you please to
caU them so, suc^ luxuries, could not be loo universal- But,
here follows the mischief: w^en once fiashion hath annexed
the use of these artiples pf dress to any certam class, the mid-
dUng ranks for example, ofthe community, each individual, of
that rank finds them to be necessaries oi life ; that is, finds
himself objiged to comply wit)i the example of his equals, and
to mamtain that appeaiance which the custom of society re
quires. This obhgation creates such a demand upon his m-;
come, and withal adds so much to the cost and burthen of a
family, as to put it out of Ms power to maiTy, with the prospect
of continuing his habits, or of mamtainmg his place and situ
ation in tihe world. We see, in this description, the cause
which induces men to waste then Eye^ in a barren ceUbacy ;
and iMs cause, which impairs the very somce of population, is
justly placed to the account of luxury.
It appears, then, that luxury, considered with a view to
population, acts by two opposite effects; and it seems probiable
that tl^re exists a point m the scale, to which luxury may as
cend, or to wMch the wants -pf mankmd may be multipUed
with advantage to the conamunity, and beyond which the
pi;ej,udicial consequences begm to prepondicrate. The deter
mination of this point, though it assume the form of an arith
metical problem, d^ends upon circumstances too numerous,
intricate, and undemed, to admit of a precise solution. How
ever, from what ha^ been observed concernmg the tendency, of
luxmy to dimmish marriages, in wMch tendency the evil of it
resides, the foUowing general conclusions may be established.
1st. That, ,of different k^ds of lux;ury, those are the most
mnocejil, which afford employment to the greatest number oif
artists and manufacturers ; or those, iri other words, in wjiich
the pritie of the work bears the greatest proportion to that of
the raw material. Thus, luxury in dress or furnitnre is uni
versally preferable to luxury in eating, because the aijlicles
wMch constitute the one, aie more the production of human
art and industry, than those wMch supply the other., ,
2dly. That it is the diffusion, rather than the ^egree .of
luxury, which is to be dreaded as a natipnal evU. The .mis
chief of .luxury consists, as we haye seen, in the obstruction
which it fiirms to marriage. Now, it is ordy a small pai-t of

356 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
the people that the higher ranks in any country compose ; for
which reason, the facUity or the difficulty of supporting the ex
pense of their station, and the consequent increase or diminu
tion of marriages among them, wUl influence the stale of
population but Uttle, So long as" the prevalency of luxury is
confined to a few of elevated rank, much of the benefit is felt,
and little of the inconveniency. But when the imitation of
the same manners descends, as it always wiU do, into the mass
of the people ; when it advances the requisites of Jiving beyond
what it adds to men's abUities to purchase them, then it is
that luxury checks the formation of famiUes, in a degree that
ought to alarm the pubUc fears.
3dly. That the condition most favourable to population is
that of a laborious, frugal people, minislermg to the demands
of an opulent, luxurious nation ; because this situation, whUst
it leaves them every advantage of luxury, exempts them fi-om
the evUs which naturaUy accompany its admission into any
country, n. Next to the mode of Uvmg, we are lo consider ' the
quantity of provision suited to that mode, which is either raised
in the country, or imported into it : ' for this is the order in
which we assigned the causes of population, and undertook lo
treat of them. Now, if we measure the quantity of provision
by the number of human bodies it -wUl support in due health
and vigour, this quantity, the extent and quaUty of the soU
from which it is raised being given, wiU depend greatly upon
the kind. For instance, a pieCe of ground capable of supply
ing animal food sufficient for the subsistence of ten persons,
would sustain, at least, the double of that number with grain,
roots, and milk. The first resource of savage life is in the
flesh of vdld animals ; hence the numbers amongst savage na
tions, compared with the tract of country which they occupy,
are universally smaU ; because this species of provision is, of
all others, suppUed m the slenderest proportion. The next
step was the invention of pastmage, or the rearing of flocks
and herds of lame animals : iMs alteration added lo the stock
of provision' much. But the last and principal improvement
was lo foUow; namely, tillage, or the artificial production of
corn, esculent plants, and roofs. This discovery, whilst it
changed the quaUly of human food, augmented the quantity
in a vast proportion. So far as the slate of population is gov
erned and limited by the quantity of provision, perhaps there

AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 357
is no single cause that affects it so powerfully, as the kind
and quality of food which chance or usage hath introduced
into a country. In England, notwithstanding the produce of
the soU has been, of late, considerably increased, by the enclo
sure of wastes, and' the adoption, in many places, of a more
successful husbandry, yet we do not observe a corresponding
addition lo the number of inhabitants ; the reason of which
appears to me to be the more general consumption of animal
food amongst us. Many ranks of people whose ordmary diet
was, in the last century, prepared almost entirely from milk,
roots, and vegetables, now require every day a considerable
portion of the flesh of animals. Hence a great part of the
richest lands of the country are converted to pasturage. Much
also of the bread-corn, which went directly to the nourishment
of human bodies, now only contributes to it by fattening the
flesh of sheep and oxen: The mass and volume of provisions
are hereby diminished ; and what is gained in the melioration
of the soil, is lost in the quahty of the produce. This con
sideration leaches us, that tiUage, as an object of national care
and encouragement, is universaUy preferable to pasturage ; be
cause the kind of provision which it yields goes much further
in the sustentation of human life. - TiUage is also recommen
ded by this additional advantage, that it affords- employment
to a much more numerous peasantry. Indeed, pasturage
seems lo be the art of a nation, either imperfectly ci-vjUjzed, as
are many of the tribes which cultivate it in the internal parts
of Asia ; or of a nation, like Spain, declinmg from its summit
by luxmy and inactivity.
The kind and quality of provision, together with the ex
tent and capacity of the soU from which it is raised, bemg the
same ; the quantity procured wUl principally depend upon two
circumstances, the ability oi the occupier, and the encourage
ment wMch he receives. The greatest misfortune of a coun
try is an indigent tenaiitry. Whatever be the native advan
tages of -the soU, or even the skUl and mdustry of the occupi
er, the want of a sufficient capital confines every plan, as weU
as cripples and weakens every operation of husbandry. This
evU is "felt, where agriculture is accounted a servUe oi mean
employment; where farms are extremely subdivided, and
badly fm-nished with habitations ; where leases are unknown
or are of short or ' precarious duration. With respect to the
encouragement of husbandry; in this, as in every other em-

358 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
ployment, the true reward of industry is in the price hud sale
of the produce. The exclusive right to the produce is the on
ly mcitement wMch acts Constantly and universaUy ; the on
ly spring wMch keeps human labom jn motion. AU there
fore that the laws can do, is lo secure iMs right to the occu
pier of the ground, that is, to constitute such a system of ten
ure, that the fuU and entire advantage of every improvement
go lo the benefit of the improver ; that every man work for
himself, and not for another ; and that no one share m the
profit who does not assist in the production. By the occupier
I here mean, not so much the person who performs the work,
as him who procures the labour and directs the management :
and I consider the whole profit as received by the occupier,
when the occupier is benefited by the whole value of what is
produced, which is the case ¦with the tenant who pays a fixed
rent for the use of land, no less than with the proprietor who
holds it as his own. The one has the same mterest M the pro
duce, and in the advantage of every improvement, as the .olM
er. Likewise the proprietor, though he grant out Ms estate to
farm, may be considered as the occupier, in so much as he reg
ulates the occupation by the choice, aupermtendency, and enr
couragement of his tenants, by the disposition of his lands, by
erecting bmldmgs, providing accommodations, by prescribing
conditions, or supplying implements and materials of iniprover
ment ; and is entitled, by the rule pf public expediency above-
mentioned, to receive, in the advance of his rent, a share of
thelienefit which arises from the increased produce of his esr
tate. The violation of this fundamental maxim of agrarian
poUcy constitutes the cMef objection to the holdmg of lands
by the state, by the long, by corporate bodies, by private per
sons m right of their dfiees or benefices. The inconveniency
to the pubUc arises not so much from the unalienable quaUty
of lands thus holden in perpetuity, as from hence, that proprie
tors of this desaription seldom contribute much either of atten
tion or expense to the cultiyation of their estates, yet claim, by
the rent, a share m the pjrofit of every improvement that is
made upon them. This complamt can only be .obviated by
'kmg leases at a fixed rent,' wMch convey a large portion of
the mterest to those who actuaUy conduct the cultivation,
The same objection is appUcaUe to the holding of lands by
fcH-eign proprietors, and in some degiee to estates of too gj:eat
extent being placed in the same hands.

AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 359
III. Beside the production, of provision, there remains to be
considered the distribution. — It is m vamthat provisions
abound m the country, unless I be able to obtain a share of
them. This reflection belongs to every individual. The plen^
ty of provision produced, the quantity of the pubUc slock,
affords subsistence to mdividuals, and encouragement to the
formation of famihes, only in proportion as it is distributed^
that is, m proportion as these mdividuals are aUowed to draw
from it a supply bf their own wants. The distribution, there-
fdre, becomes of equal consequence to population with the pro
duction. Now, there is but one prmciple of distribution that
can ever become umyersal, namely, the principle of ' exchange ; '
or, in other words, that every man have something to give m
return for what he wants. Bounty, however it may come in
aid of another principle, however it may occasionaUy quaUfy
the rigour, or supply the imperfection of an established rule of
distribution, can never itself become that rule or prMciple ; be
cause men -wUl not work to give the produce of their labour
k-Way. Moreover, the only equi^valents that can be offered in
eichange for provision are poieer and labour. All property
is paiver. What we caU property in landis the pOiVer to use
it and to exclude others from the use; Money is the repre
sentative of povier, because it is convertible into power : the
value of it consists in its faculty of procuring power over things
and persons. But power wMch results from civU conventions,
and of this Mnd is what we caU a man's fortune or estate, is
necessarUy confined to a few, and is withal soon exhausted :
whereas the capacity of labour is every man's natural posses
sion, and composes a cbnstant and renewing fund. The hke,
therefore, or produce of personal industry, is that which the
bulfcof eveiy community must brmg to market, in exchange
for the means 6i subsistence ; in other words, employment
must, in every country, be the medium of distribution, and
the somce of supply to mdividuals. But when we consider
the production and distribution of provision, as dislmct from,
ahd independent of, each other ; when, supposing the same
quantity to be produced, we inquire in what way, or accord
ing to what iiUe, it may hie distributed, we are led to a con
ception of the subject not at aU agreeable to truth and reality ;
for, in truth and rieaUty, though provision must be produced
before it be distributed, yet the production depends, in a great
measure, upon the distribution. The quantity of provision

360 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
raised out of the ground, so far as the raising of it requh-es
human art or labom-, will evidently be regulated by the de
mand j the demand, or, in other words, the price and sale, be
ing that which alone rewards the care, or excites the dUigence
of the husbandman. But the sale of provision depends upon
the number, not of those who want, but of those who have
something to offer in return for what they want; not of those
who would consume, but of those who can buy ; that is, upon
the number of those who have the fruits of some other kmd of
industry lo tender in exchange for what they stand m need of
from the production of the soU.
We see, therefore, the connexion between population and
employment. Employment affects population ' ilirectly,' as it
affords the only medium of distribution by which individuals
can obtain from the common stock a supply for the wants of
their families : it affects population ' indirectly,' as it augments
the slock itseff of provision, in the only way by which the pro
duction of it can be effectuaUy encouraged, by furnishing pur
chasers. No man can purchase without an equivalent ; and
that equivalent, by the generaUty of the people, must m every
country be derived from employment.
And upon this basis is founded the public benefit of trade,
that is to say, its subserviency to population, in which its only
real utiUty consists. Of that industry, and of those arts and
branches of trade, which are employed in the production, con
veyance, and preparation of any principal species of human
food, as of the business of the husbandman, the butcher, baker,
brewer, corn-merchant, &c. we acknowledge the necessity:
likewise of those manufactmes wMch fm-nish us with warm
clothing, convenient habitations, domestic utensils, as of the
weaver, tailor, smith, carpenter. Sec. we perceive (in climates,
however, like ours, removed at a distance from the sun) the
eonduciveness to population, by their rendermg human Ufe
more healthy, -vigorous, and comfortable. But not one haff of
the occupations which compose the trade of Europe, faU with
in either of these descriptions. Perhaps two thnds of the man
ufactures in England are employed upon articles of confessed
luxmy, ornament, or splendour ; m the superfluous embellish
ment of some articles which are useful m their kind, or upon
others which have no conceivable use or value, but what is
founded in caprice or fashion. What can be less necessary, or
less connected with the sustentation of human Ufe, than the

AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 361
whole produce of the sUk, lace, and plate manufactory ? yet
what multitoides labom- in the different branches of these arts I
What can be imagined more capricious than the fondness for
tobacco and snuff? yet how many various occupations, and
how many thousands m each, are set at work m administermg
to this frivolous gratification ! Concetmng trades of this kind,
(and this kind comprehends more than half of the trades that
are exercised), it may fairly be asked, ' How, since they add
nothmg to the stock of provision, do they tend to increase the
number of the people?' We are taught lo say of trade, 'that it
maintains multitudes ;' but by what means does it maintain
them, when it produces nothmg upon which the support of hu
man life depends? — In like manner with respect to foreign
commerce ; of that merchandise which brmgs the necessaries
of life into a country, which unports, for example, corn, or cat
tle, or cloth, or fuel, we aUow the tendency lo advance popula
tion, because it increases the stock of provision by which the
people are subsisted. But iMs effect of foreign commerce is so
little seen in om- own country, that, I believe, it may be affirm
ed of Great Britain, what Bishop Berkley said of a neighbour
ing island, that, if it were encompassed with a waU of brass
fifty cubits high, the country might mamtain the same num
ber of inhabitants that find subsistence in it at present ; and that
every necessary, and even every real comfort and accommoda
tion of human Ufe might be supplied in as gi-eat abundance as
they now are. Here, therefore, as before, we may fairly ask,
by what operation it is, that foreign commerce, which briagsi
into the country no one article of human subsistence, promotes.
the multiplication of human life ?
The answer of this mqmry wiU be contained in the discus
sion of another, viz.
Since the soil wiU maintain many.more than it can em
ploy, what must be done, supposing the country to be full,
with the remamder of the inhabitants ? They who, by the
rules of partition, (and some such must be established in every
country), are entitled to the land ; and they who, by their la
bom upon the soU, acquire a right in its produce, wiU not part
with their properly for nothing ; or, rather, they wiU no lon
ger raise from the soil what they can neither use themselves,
nor exchange for what they want. Or, lastly, if these were
wUling to distribute what they could spare of the provision
which the ground yielded, to others who .had no share or con-
voL. III. 46

362 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
cern m the property or cultivation of it, yet still the most enor
mous mischiefs, woidd ensue from great numbers remaining
unemployed. The idleness of one half of the community
would overwhelm the. whole -with confusion and disorder. One
only way presents itself of removmg the difficulty which this
question slates, and which is simply this ; that they, whose
work is not wanted, nor can be employed in the raising of pro
vision out of the ground, convert theii- hands and ingenuity to
the fabrication of articles which may gratify and requite those
who are so employed, or' who, by the division of lands in the
country, are entitled lo the exclusive possession of certain parts
of them. By this contrivance aU thuigs proceed weU. The
occupier of the ground raises from it the utmost that he can
procure, because he is repaid for what he can spare by some
thmg else which he wants, or with which he is pleased : the
artist or manufacturer, though he have neither any property
in the soil, nor any concern in its cultivation, is regularly sup
plied with the produce, because he gives, m exchange ft>r what
he stands m need of, somethmg upon which the i-eceivei: pla
ces an equal value : and the community is kept quiet, while
both sides are engaged in their respective occupations.
It appeals, then, that the business of one haff of mankind
is, to set the other half at work ; that is, to pro-vide articles
which, by tempting the desires, may stimidale the industry,
and call forth the acti-vily of those, upon the exertion of whose
industry, and the application of whose faculties, the produc-t
tion of human provision depends. A certain portion only of
human labour is, or can be; productive ; the rest is instru
mental ; — both equaUy necessary, though the one have no
other object than to excite the other. It appears also, that it
signffies nothing, as to the main purpose of trade, h6w super
fluous the aiticles which it furnishes are ; whether the want of
them be real or imaginary ; whether it be founded m natme
or m opinion, m fashion, habit, or emulation ; it is enough
that they be actuaUy desired and sought after. Flourishing
cities are raised and supported- by Iradmg in • tobacco : pop
ulous towns subsist by the manufactory of ribbons. A watch
may be a very unnecessary appendage to the dress of a peas
ant ; yet if the peasant wiU tiU the ground in order lo obtain
a watch, the true design of trade is answered : and the watch
maker, while he polishes the case, or files the wheels of his
machine, is contributing to the production of com as effectual-

AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE, 363
ly, though not so directly, as if he handled the spade oi- held
the plough. The use of tobacco has been mentioned aheady,
not only as an acknowledged superfluity, but as affording a
remarkable example of the caprice of human appetite ; yet, ff
the fisherman wUl ply his nets, or the mariner fetch rrce from
foreign countries, in order to procure to himself this indul
gence, the market is supplied with two important articles of
provision, by the instrumentality of a merchandise, which has
no other apparent use than the gratification of a vitiated palate.
But it may come lo pass that the husbandman, land-owner,
or whoever he be that is entitled to the. produce of the soU,
wUl no longer exchange it for what the manufacturer has to
offer, He is already supplied to the extent of his desires.
For mstance, he wants no more cloth; he wUl no longer
therefore give the weaver corn, in return for the produce of his
looms ; but he would readUy give it for tea, or for vidne. When
the weaver finds this to be the case, he has noUimg to do but
to send his cloth abroad in exchange for tea or for wine, which
he may barter for that provision wMch the offer of his cloth
wiU no longer procure. The circulation is thus revived : and
the benefit of the discovery is, that, whereas the number of
weavers, who could find subsistence from their employment,
was before Umited by the consumption of cloth in the country,
that number is now augmented, m proportion lo the demand
for tea and for -wine. "This is the principle of foreign com
merce. In the magmtude and complexity of the machine,
the principle of motion is sometimes lost or unobserved ; but
it is always simple and the same, to whatever extent it may
be diversified and enlarged in its operation.
The effect of trade upon agriculture, the process of which
we have been endeavouring lo describe, is visible m the neigh
bourhood of trading towns, and in those districts which caiTy
on a communication with the markets of Iradmg towns. The
husbandmen are busy and skUful ; the peasantry laborious ;
the land is managed to the best advantage, and double the
quantity of corn or herbage (articles wMch are ultimately con
verted into hmnan pro-vision) raised from it, of what the same
soU yields m remoter and more neglected parts of the country.
Wherever a thriving manufactory finds means to establish it
self, a new vegetation springs up around it., I believe it is
true that agriculture never arrives at any considerable, much
less at its highest, degree of perfection, where it is not connec-

364 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
ted with trade, that i§, where the demand for the produce is
not increased bythe consumption of trading cities.
Let it be remembered then, that agriculture is the immediate
source of hmnan provision ; that trade conduces to the produc
tion of provision only as it promotes agriculture; that the
whole system of commerce, vast and various as it is, hath no
other pubUc importance than its subserviency to this end.
We return to the proposition we laid down, ' that emjdoy-
ment universaUy promotes population,' From this proposition
it foUows, that the comparative utiUty of different branches of
national commerce is measured by the number w,hich each
branch employs. Upon which principle a scale may easily
be constracted, which shall assign lo the several kinds and di
visions of foreign trade their respective degrees of public impor
tance. In this scale the first place belongs lo the exchange
of -wrought goods for raw materials, as of broad-cloth for raw
silk; cutlery for wool ; clocks or watches for iron, flax, or furs ;
because this traffic provides a market for the labour that has
already been expended, at the same lime that it supplies ma
terials for new industry. Population always flourishes where
this species of commerce obtains to any considerable degree.
It is the cause of employment, or the certam indication. As
it takes off the manufactures of the country, it promotes em-
iployment ; as it brmgs in raw materials, it supposes the exis
tence of manufactories in the country, and a demand for the
article when manufactured. — The second place is due to that
commerce, which barters one species of wrought goods for
another, as stuffs for caUcoes, fustians for cambrics, leather for
paper, or wrought goods for articles which require no farther
preparation, as for wine, oil, tea, sugar, <fec. This also assists
employment ; because, when the country is stocked with one
kind of memufacture, it renews the demand by converting
«it mto another : but it is mferiour to the former, as it promotes
this end by one side only of the bargain, — by what it carries
out. — The last, the lowest, and most disadvantageous species.
of conunerce, is the exportatiojci of raw materials in return for
wrought goods : as when wool is sent abroad to purchase vel
vets ; hides or peltry, to procure shoes, hats, or linen cloth.
This trade is unfavourable to population, because it leaves no
room or demand for employment, either in what it takes out
of the country, or in what it brings into it. Its operation on
both sides is noxious. By its exports it diminishes the very

AGRICULTURE AND COMMERCE. 365
subject upon which the indusli-y of the inhabitants ought to
be ^ exercised ; by its imports it lessens the encouragement of
that mdustry, in the same proportion that it supplies the con-
sumptionof the country -with the produce of foreign labour.
Of different branches of manufactory, those are, in their na
ture, the most beneficial, in which the price of the wrought
article exceeds in the highest proportion that of the raw mate
rial : for this excess measures the quantity of employment, or,
in other words, the number of manufacturers which each
branch sustams. The produce of the ground is never the most
advantageous article of foreign commerce. Under a perfect
stale of pubhc economy, the soil of the country should be ap
plied solely to the raising of provision for the inhabitants, and
its trade be supplied by their industry. A nation wUl never
reach its proper extent of population, so long as its principal
commerce consists m the exportation of corn or cattle, or even
of wine, oU, tobacco, madder, mdigo, timber ; because these last
articles take up that surface which ought to be covered with
the materials of human subsistence.
¦ It must be here however noticed, that we have all along con
sidered the inhabitants of a counti-y as maintained by the pro
duce of the country ; and that what we have said is applicable
¦with strictness to this supposition alone. Tlje reasoning, ne
vertheless,- may easUy be adapted "to a different case ^ for when
provision is not produced, but imported, what has been affirm
ed concermng provision, wiU be, m a great measure, true of
that article, whether it be money, produce, or labour, which is
exchanged for provision. Thus, when the Dutch raise mad
der, and exchange it for corn ; or when the people of America
plant tobacco, and send it to Europe for cloth ; the cultivation
of madder and tobacco becomes as necessary lo the subsistence
of the mhabitants, and by consequence wiU affect the state of
population in these countries as sensibly, as the actual produc
tion of food, or the manufactory of raiment. In like manner,
when the same inhabitants of HoUand earn money by the car
riage of the produce of one country to another, and with that
money purchase the provision from abroad which then own
land is not extensive enough to supply, the increase or decUne
of this carrying trade wiU influence the numbers of the people
no less than simUar changes would do in the cultivation of the
soii. The few principles already established wiU enable us lo de-

366 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
scribe the effects' upon population .which may be expected fi-om
the foUowing important .articles of national conduct and econo
my. I. Emigration. .Emi§-ra^iow may be either the overflow
ing of a country, or the desertion. As the increase of the spe
cies is indefinite; and the number of inhabitants, which any
given tract of surface can support, finite ; it is evident that great
numbers may be constantly leaving a country, and yet the
country remam constantly full.' Or whatever be the cause
which mvincibly Umits the population of a country, when the
number of the people has arrived at that Umit, the progress of
generation, beside contmuing the succession, wiU supply mul
titudes for foreign emigration. In these two cases emigration
neither indicates any poUtical decay, nor in truth diminishes
the number of the people ; nor ought to be proMbited or dis
couraged. But eimgrants may reUnquish their country from a
sense of insecuritj'^, oppression, annoyance, and inconveniency.
Neither, again, here is it emigration which wastes the people,
but the evUs that occasion it. It would be m vain, if it were
practicable, to confine the mhabitants at home ; for the same
causes, which drive them out of the country, would prevent
then multipUcation tf they remamed in it. Lastly, men may
be tempted to change their situation by the aUurement of a
better climate, of a more refined or luxurious manner of living;
by the prospect of wealth ; or, sometimes, by the mere nomi
nal advantage of higher wages and prices. . This class of em
igrants, with whom alone the laws can interfere -with effect, -wiU
never, I tMnk, be numerous. With the genemUty of a people,
the attachment of mankmd lo their homes and country, the
irksomeness of seekmgnew habitations, and of Uving amongst
strangers, -wiU outweigh, so long as men possess the necessa
ries of Iffe m safety, ox at least so long as they can obtain a
provision for that mode of subsistence, which the class of citi
zens lo which they belong are accustomed to enjby, aU the
inducements that the advantages of a foreign land can offer.
There appear, therefore, to be few cases in which emigration
can be prohibited with advantage lo the state ; it appears also
that emigration is an equivocal symptom, which wUl probably
accompany the decUne of the pohtical body, but wMch may
Ukewise attend a condition of perfect health and vigour.
n. Colonization. The only view under which our sub
ject wiU permit us to consider colonization, is in its tendency

' AGRICULTURE AND COMMERCE. 367
to augment the population of the parent state. Suppose a
¦ fertile, but empty island, to lie withm the reach of a country,
in which arts and manufactures are aheady established ; sup
pose a colony sent out from such a country to take possession
of the island, and to hve there under the protection and au
thority of their native government ; the new settlers wiU na
turaUy convert then labom ho the cultivation of the vacant
soU, and with the produce of that soU, wUl diaw a sopply of
manufactures fiom their countrymen at home. Whilst the
mhabitants continue few, and lands cheap and fresh, the col-,
onists wiU find it easier and more profitable to raise corn, or
rear cattle, and with corn and caltie to purchase wooUen cloth,
for instance, or linen, than to spin or weave these articles for
themselves. The mother country, meanwhile, derives from
this connexion an mcrease both of provision and employment.
It promotes at once the two great reqmsites upon which the
facility of subsistence, and by consequence the slate of popula
tion, depend, production and distribution ; and iMs m a
manner the most direct and beneficial. No situation can be
imagined more fevourable lo population, than that of a coun
try which works up goods for others, wMlst these others are
cultivating new tracts of land for them. For as, in a genial
cUmate, and from a fi-esh soU, the labour of one man wiU raise
provision enough for ten, it is manifest that, where aU are em
ployed in agricultme, much the greater part of the produce
wiU be spared from the consumption ; and that three out of
four, at least, of those who are maintained by it, wUl reside in
the country which receives the redundancy. When the new
country does not remit provision lo the old one, the advan
tage is less ; but stiU the exportation of wrought goods, by
whatever return they are paid for, advances population in that
secondary way, in which those trades promote it that are not
employed in thel prod\jclion of provision. Whatever prejudice,
therefore, some late events have excited against schemes of col
onization, the system itseff is founded m apparent national
UtUity ; and what is more, upon principles favourable to the
common interest of human nature : for it does not appear by
what other method newly-discovered and unfrequented countries
can be peopled, or dming the infancy of their establishment
be protected or supplied. The errour wMch we of this na
tion at present lament, seems lo have consisted not so much
in the original formation of Colonies, as in the subsequent

368

OF POPULATION, PROX^ISION,

management ; in imposing restrictions too rigorous, or in con
tinuing them too long ; in not perceiving the pomt of tune
when the nresistible order and progi-ess of human affans de
manded a change of laws and policy.
III. Money. Where money abounds, the people are
generaUy numerous: yet gold and silver neither feed nor
clothe mankind; nor are they m aU countries converted mto
provision by purchasing the necessaries of Ufe at foreign mar
kets ; nor do they, in any country, compose those articles of per
sonal or domestic ornament, which certain orders ofthe commu
nity have learnt to regard as necessaries of Ufe, and without the
means of procmmg which they -wiU not enter into famUy es
tablishments : — at leeist this property of the precious metals ob
tains in a very smaU degree. The effect of money upon the
number of the people, though visible to observation, is not ex
plamed without some" difficiUty. To understand this connex
ion properly, we must return to the proposition with which we '
concluded our reasonmg upon the subject, ' that population is
cMefly promoted by employment,' Now of employment monty
is partly the mdication, and partly the cause. The oMy way
in which money regulai'ly and spontaneously j^ow* into a coun
try, is in return for the goods that are sent out of it, or the
work that is performed by it; and the only way in wMch money
is retained in a country, is by the country supplying, m a great
measure, its own consumption of manufactures. Consequent
ly, the quantity of inoney found in a country, denotes the
amount of labour and eniployment ; but slUl, employment, not
money, is the cause of population ; the accumulation of money
being merely a coUateral effect of the same cause, or a cncum-
stance wMch accompanies the existence, and measures the
operation of that cause. And this is trae of money only whilst
it is acquired by the industry of the inhabitants. The trea
sures which belong to a country bythe possession of mines, or
by the exaction of tribute fi-om foreign dependencies, afford no
conclusion concerning the state of population. The influx
from these sources may be immense, and yet the country re
main poor and iU peopled ; of which we see an e^egious ex
ample in the condition of Spain, since the acqmsition of its
South American dominions.
But, secondly, money may become also a real and an oper
ative cause of population, by acting as a stimulus lo industry,
and by facUitating the means of subsistence. The eilse of sub-

AGRICULTURE AND COMMERCE. 369
sistence, and the encouragement of industry, depend neither
upon the price of labom, nor upon the price of provision, but
upon the proportion which one bears to the other. Now the
influx of money into a country naturaUy tends to advance this
proportion ; that is, every fresh accession of money raises the
price of labour before it raises the price of provision. When
money is brought from abroad, the persons, be they who they
wiU, into whose hands it first arrives, do not buy up provision
with it, but apply it to the purchase and payment of labour.
If the state receives it, the state dispenses what it receives
amongst soldiers, saUors, artificers, engmeers, shipwrights,
workmen : tf private persons brmg home treasures of gold and
silver, they usuaUy expend them in the huUding of houses^
the improvement of estates, the purchase of furniture, dress,.
equipage, in articles of luxury or splendour : if the merchant
be enriched by returns of his foreign commerce, he appUes his
encreased capital lo the enlargement of his busmess at home.
The money ere long comes to market for provision, but it
comes thither iMough the hands of the manfaclurer, the artist,
the husbandman, and labomer. Its effect, therefore, upon the
price of art ahd labour wHl precede its effect upon the price of
provision ; and, during the interval between one effect and the
other, the means of subsistence wUl be multipUed and faciU-
laled, as well as industry be excited by new rewards. When
the greater plenty of money m circulation has produced an ad
vance in the price of provision, corresponding to the advanced
price or labour, its effect ceases. The labourer no longer
gains any thing by the increase of Ms -wages. It is not, there
fore, the quantity of specie coUected into a country, but the
continual increase of that quantity, from which the advantage
arises to employment and population. It is only the acces
sion of money which produces the effect, and it is qnly by
money constantly flowmg into a country that the effect can be
constant. Now whatever consequence arises to the "country
from the influx of money, the contrary may be expected to
follow from the dinunution of its quantity ; and accordingly
we find, that whatever cause drains off the specie of a country,
faster than the streams which feed it can supply, not otdy im
poverishes the country, but depopulates it. The knowledge
and experience of this effect have given occasion to a phrase
which occurs in almost every discourse upon commerce or
poUtics. The balance of trade with any foreign nation is
VOL. III. 47

370 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
said to be against or m favour of a countiy, simply as it tends
to carry money out, or bring it in ; that is, according as the
price of the imports exceeds or faUs short of the price of the
exports. So invariably is the increase or diminution of the
specie of a country regarded as a test of the pubhc advantage
or detriment, which arises from any branch of its commerce.
IV. Taxation. As taxes take nothing out of a country ;
as they do not diminish the pubhc stock, only vary the distri
bution of it, they are not necessarUy prejudicial to population.
If the stale exact money from certain members of the com
munity, she dispenses it also amongst other members of the
same community. They who contribute to the revenue, and
they who are supported or benefited by the expenses of gov
ernment, are to be placed one against the other ; and whUst
what the subsistence of one pait is profiled by receivmg, com
pensates for what that of the other suffers by paying, the com
mon fund of the society is not lessened. This is true : but it
must be observed, that although the sum distributed by the
state be always equal to the sum collected fi-om the people, yet
the gam and loss to the means of subsistence may be very
unequal ; and the balance wUl remain on the wrong or the
right side of the account, accordmg as the money passes by
taxation from the industrious to the idle, from . the many to
the few, from those who want to those who abound, or in a
contrary direction. For mstance, a tax upon coaches, to be
laid out in the repair of roads, would probably improve the
population of a neighbourhood ; a tax upon collages, to be ul
timately expended in the purchase and support of coaches,
would certainly diminish it. In like manner, a lax upon
wine or lea distributed in bounties lo fishermen or husband
men, would augment, lhe_pro^vision .of a country; a tax upon
fisheries and husbandly, however indirect or concealed, to be
converted, when raised, lo the procmmg of wine or tea for the
idle and opulent, would naturally impair the public stock.
The effect, therefore, of taxes upon the means of subsistence
depends not so much upon the amount of the sum levied, as
upon the object ofthe tax, and the application. Taxes like-
vnse may be so adjusted as to conduce to the restraint of luxu
ry, and the correction of vice ; to the encouragement of indus
try, trade, agriculture, and marriage. Taxes, thus contrived,
become rewards and penalties ; not only sources of revenue,
but instruments of police. Vices mdeed themselves cannot be

agriculture AND COMMERCE. 371
taxed without holdmg forth such a conditional toleration of
them as to destroy men's perception of their guilt : a tax comes
to be considered as a commutation : the materials, however,
and incentives of vice may. Although, for instance, drunk
enness would be, on this account, an unfit object of taxation,
yet pubhc houses and spirituous Uquors are very properly sub
jected lo heavy imposts.
Nevertheless, although it may be trae that taxes cannot be
pronounced to be detrimental to pippulalion, by any absolute
necessity m their nature ; and though, under some modifica
tions, and when Urged only to a certain extent, they may
even operate in favour of it ; yet it wiU be found, in a great
plurality of instances, that tiieir tendency is noxious. Let it
be supposed that nine famiUes inhabit a neighbomhood, each
possessmg barely the means of subsistence, or of that mode of
subsistence -which custom hath established amongst them ; let
a tenth famUy be quartered upon these, to be supported by a
tax raised from the nme ; or rather, let one of the nine have
his income augmented by a simUar deduction fiom the in
comes of the rest ; m either of these cases, it is evident that
the whole district would be broken up. For as the entire in
come of each is supposed to be barely sufficient for the estab
Ushment which it mainlams, a deduction of any part destroys
that establishment. Now it is no answer lo this objection, it is
no apology for the grievance, to say, that nothing is taken out
of the neighbourhood ; that the slock is not diminished : the
mischief is done by derangmg the distribution. Nor, again,
is the luxury of one fanuly, or even the maintenance of an
additional famUy, a recompense to the country for the ram of
nine others. Nor, lastly, wUl it alter the effect, thbUgh it
may conceal the cause, that the contribution, instead of bemg
levied directly upon each day's wages, is mixed up in the
price of some article of constant use and consumption, as in a
tax upon candles, malt, leather, or fuel. This example iUus-
lustrates the tendency of taxes to obstruct subsistence; and
the mmutest degree of this obstruction wiU be felt in the form
ation of famiUes. The example, indeed, forms an extreme
case : the evU is magnffied, in order to render its operation dis
tinct and visible. In real Iffe, famiUes may not be broken up
or forced from their habitation, houses be quitted, or countries
suddenly deserted, m consequence pf any new imposition what'
ever ; but marriages wiU become gradually less frequent.

372 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
It seems necessary, however, to dislingmsh between the op
eration of a new tax, and the effect of taxes which have been
long established. In the course of circulation the money may
flow back lo the hands from which it was taken. The pro
portion between the supply and the expense of subsistence,
wMch had been disturbed by the tax, may at length recover
itseff again. In the mstance just now slated, the addition of
a tenth famUy to the neighbourhood, or the enlarged expenses
of one of the nine, may, in some shape or other,, so advance
the profits, or increase the employment of the rest, as to make
fuU restitution for the share of their properly of which it deprives
them ; or, what is more likely to happen, a reduction may take
place in their mode of Uvmg, suited to the abridgment of their
incomes. Yet sliU the ultimate and permanent effect of tax
ation, though distinguishable from the impression of a new tax,
is generaUy adverse to population. The proportion above spo
ken of, can only be restored by one side or other of the foUowing
alternative : by the people either contracting their wants, which
al the same time dimmishes consumption and employment ;
or by the raismg the price of labour, which necessarily addmg
to the price of the productions and manufactures of the coun
try, checks their sale at foreign meukets. A nation wMch is
burthened with taxes, must always be undersold by a nation
which is free from them, unless the difference be made up by
some singular advantage of climate, soU, skiU, or industry. 'This
quaUty belongs to aU taxes which affect the mass of the com
munity, even when imposed upon the properest objects, and
appUed to the fairest pui-poses. But abuses are inseparable
from the disposal of pubUc money. As governments are
usuaUy admmistered, the produce of pubUc taxes is expend
ed upon a train of gentry, in the mainUining of pomp, or in
tiie purchase of influence. The cSnversion of property which
taxes effectuate, when they are employed in this manner, is
attended with obvious evUs. It takes from the industrious lo
give to the idle ; it mcreases the number of the latter ; it tends to
accumulation ; it sacrifices the convemency of many to the
luxmy of a few ; it makes no relmn to the people, from whom
the tax is drawn, that is satisfactory or inteUigible ; it encourages
no activity which is useful or productive.
The sum to be raised bemg settled, a wise statesman wUl
contrive his taxes principaUy with a view lo their effect upon
population: that is, he wUl so adjust them as to give the least

AGRICULTURE AND COMMERCE. 373
possible obstruction to those means of subsistence by which
the mass of the community is maintained. We are accus
tomed to an opinion that a tax, lo be just, ought to be accu
rately proportioned to the circumstances of the persons who pay
it. But upon what, it might be asked, is this opinion founded;
unless it could be shown that such a proportion interferes the
least with the general conveniency of subsistence ? whereas I
should rather beUeve, that a tax, constructed with a view to
that conveniency, ought to rise upon the different classes of
the community, in a much Mgher ratio than the simple pro
portion of their incomes. The point to be regarded, is not what
men have, but what they can spare ; and it is evident that a
man who possesses a thousand pounds a year, can more easi
ly give up a hundred, than a man with a hundred pounds a
year can part with ten; that is, those habits of Ufe which are
reasonable and mBoce,nt, and upon the abiUty lo continue which
the formation of families depends, wiU be much less affected
by the one deduction than the other: it is stiU more evident,
that a man of a hundred pounds a year would not be so much
distressed m his subsistence, by a demand from hun of ten
pounds, as a man of ten pounds a year would be by the loss
of one: to which we must add, that the population of every
country being replenished by the marriages of the lowest ranks
of the society, then accommodation and rehef become of more
importance to the state, than the conveniency of any higher
but less numerous order of its citizens. But whatever be the
proportion which pubhc expediency directs, whether the sim
ple, the dupUcate, or any higher or intermediate proportion of
men's incomes, it can never be attained by any single tax-
as no single object of taxation can be found, which measm:es
the abiUty of the sublet with sufficient generaUty and exact
ness. It is only by a system and variety of taxes mutually
balancing and equalizing one another, that a due proportion
can be preserved. For instance, tf a tax upon; lands press with
greater hardship upon those who live in the counti-y, it may
be properly counterpoised by a tax upon the rent of houses
which wiU affect- principaUy the inhabitants of large towns!
Distmctions may also be framed m some taxes, which shaU
aUow abatements or exemptions to mamed persons ; to the
parents of a certain number of legitimate chUdren; to imprat
vers of the soU ; to particular modes of cultivation, as to tillage
in prefereace to pasturage; and in general to that industry

374 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
which is immediately productive, in preference to that which
is only instrumental ; but, above all, wMch may leave the
heaviest part of the burden upon the methods, whatever they
be, of acquirmg wealth without industry, or even of subsislmg
in idleness.
V. Exportation of bread-corn. Nothing seems to
have a more positive tendency to reduce the number ofthe peo
ple, than thfe sending abroad part of the provision by which
they are maintained; yet this has been the poUcy of legislators
very studious of the improvement of their countiy. In order
to reconcile ourselves to a practice, which appears to militate
with the chief mterest, that is, with the population of the coun
try that adopts it, we must be remmded of a maxim which
belongs lo the productions both of natme and art, 'that it is
impossible to have enough -without a superfluity.' The point
of sufficiency cannot, in any case, be so exactly hit upon, as lo
have nothing to spare, yet never to want. This is pecuUarly
true of bread-corn, of which the annual increase is eilremely
variable. As it is necessary that the crop be adequate to the
consumption in a year of scarcity, it must, of , consequence,
greatly exceed it in a year of plenty. A redundancy there
fore vviU occasionally arise from the very care that is taken to
secure the people against the danger of want; and it is • man
ifest that the exportation of this redundancy subtracts nothing
from the number that can regularly be maintained by the pro
duce of the soU. Moreover, as the exportation of corn, under
these circumstances, is attended -with no direct mjury to pop
ulation, so the benefits, which indirectly arise to population
from foreign commerce, belong to iMs, in common with other
species of trade; together with the peculiar advantage of pre
senting a constant incitement to the skill and industiy of the
husbandman, by the promise of a certain sale and an adequate
price, under every contingency of season and produce. There
is another situation, in which com may not only be exported,
but in which the people can thrive by no other means; that
is, of a newly «eltied country with a fertile soU. The export
ation of a large proportion of the corn which a country pro
duces, proves, it is true, that the inhabitants have not yet at-
tamed to the number which the country is capable of main-
aming; but it does not prove but that they may be hastening
lo this limit with the utmost practicable celerity, which is the
perfection to be sought for in a young establishment. In aU

AGRICULTURE AND COMMERCE. 373
cases except those two, and in the former of them to any great
er degree than what is necessary lo take off occasional redun^
dancies, the exportation of corn is either itself noxious to pop
ulation, or argues a defect of population arismg from some oth
er cause.
VI. Abridgment of labour. It has long been made a
question, whether those mechanical contrivances, which abridg
ed labour, by performing the same work by fewer hands,
be detrunental or not to the population of a country. From
what has been delivered in preceding parts of the present chap
ter, it wiU be evident that this question is equivalent to anoth
er, whether such contrivances diminish or not the quantity of
employment. Their first and most obvious effect undoubted
ly is this ; because, if one man be made to do what three men
did before, two are immediately discharged ; but if, by some
more general and remoter consequence, they mcrease the de
mand, for work, or, what is the same thmg, prevent the dimi
nution of that demand, in a greater proportion than they con
tract the number of hands by which it is performed, the quan
tity of employment, upon the whole, will gain an addition.
Upon which principle it may be observed, firstly, that when
ever a mechanical invention succeeds in one place, it is neces
sary that it be imitated in every other where the same man
ufacture is carried on ; for it is manifest that he, who has the
benefit of a conciser operation, wiU soon outvie and underseU
a competitor who continues lo use a more circuitous labour.
It is also true, in the second place, that whoever first discov
er or adopt a mechanical improvement, wiU, for some time,
draw to themselves an increase of employment ; and that
this preference may continue even after the improvement ha^
become general : for, in every kind of trade, it is not only a
great but permanent advantage, to have once pre-occupied the
pubhc reputation. Thirdly, after every superiority which
might bederiveAfromi the possession of a secret has ceased, it
may be weU questioned, whether even then any loss can ac
crue to employment. The same money wiU be spared to the
same article stiU. "Wherefore, in proportion as the article can
be afforded at a lower price, by reason of an easier or shorter
process in the manufacture, it wiU either grow into more gen
eral use, or an improvement wiU take place in the quality and
fabric, which wUl demand a proportionable addition of hands.
The number of persons employed m the manufactory of stock-

376 OF POPULATION, PROVISION,
ings has not, I apprehend, decreased, since the invention of
stocking-miUs, The amount of what is expended upon the
article, after subtracting from it the price of the raw material,
and consequently what is paid for work in this branch of our
manufactories, is not less than it was before. Goods of a finer
texture are worn in the place of coarser. This is the change
which the invention has produced ; and which compensates
to the manufactory for every other mconveniency. Add to
which, that in the above, and in almost every instance, an
improvement which conduces to the recommendation of a
manufactory, either by the cheapness or the quaUty of the
goods, draws up after it many dependent employments, in
which no abbreviation has taken place.

From the reasoning that has been pursued, and the various
considerations suggested m this chapter, a judgment may, in
some sort, be formed, how far regulations of law are in their
nature capable of contributing to the support and advancement
of population. I say how far : for, as in many subjects, so
especiaUy in those which relate to commerce, to plenty, to riches,
and to the number of people, more is wont to be expected from
laws, than laws can do. Laws can only imperfectly restrain
that dissoluteness of manners, which, by diminishmg the fre
quency of marriages, impairs the very source of population.
Laws cannot regulate the wants of mankind, their mode of
living, or their desne of those superfluities which fashion, more
irresistible than laws, has once mtroduced mto general usage ;
or, in other words, has erected into necessaries of Ufe. Laws
cannot mduce men to enter into nianiages, when the expen
ses of a famUy must deprive them of that system of accommo
dation lo which they have habituated then expectations.
Laws, by their protection, by assuring to the labourer the fruit
and profit of Ms labour, may help to make a people industri
ous; but, without industry, the laws cannot provide either
subsistence or employment; laws cannot make com grow
without toil and care ; or trade flourish without art and dUi
gence, In spite of all laws, the expert, laborious, honest work
man -wiU be employed,^ in preference to the lazy, the unskU-
ftd, the fraudulent, and evasive ; and this is not more true of
two mhabitants ofthe same vUlage, than it is of the people of

AGRICULTURE, AND COMMEECBi 377
two different countries, which commumcate either -with each
other, or with the rest of the world. The natural basis of trade
is rivalship of quality and price ; or, which is the same thing,
of skiU and industry. Eveiy attempt to force trade by opera
tion of law, that is, by compeUing persons to buy goods at one
market, which they can obtain cheaper and better from anoth
er, is sure to be either eluded by the quick-sightedness and in
cessant activity of private interest, or to be frustrated by retali"
alion. One half of the commercial laws of many slates are
calculated merely to counteract the restrictions wMch have
been imposed by other slates. Perhaps the only way in which
the interposition of law is salutary in trade, is m the preven
tion of frauds.
Next to the indispensable requisites of internal peace and
security, the chief advantage which can be derived to popula
tion from the interference of law, appears to me to consist in
the encomagement of agriculture. This, at least, is the di
rect way of increasing the number of the people ; every other
mode being effectual only by its mfluence upon this. Now
the prindpal expedient by which such a pmpose can be pro
moted, is to adjust the laws of property, as neai-ly as possible,
to the foUowing rules; first, 'to give to the occupier all the
power over the soU which is necessary for its perfect cultiva'
tion ; ' — secondly, ' to assign the whole profit of every impravef
ment lo the persons by whose activity it is carried on.' What
we call property in land, as hath been observed above, is pow
er over it. Now it is indifferent lo the pubUc in whose hands
this power resides, ff it be rightly used : it matters not to whom
the land belongs, if it be well cultivated. When we lament
that great estates are often united in the same hand, or com
plain that one man possesses what would be sufficient for a
thousand, we suffer ourselves to be misled by words. The
owner of ten thousand pounds a year consumes httie more of
the produce of the soU than the owner of ten pounds a year.
If the cultivation be equal, the estate, in the hands of one great
lord, aflfords subsistence and employment to the same number
of persons as it would do tf it were divided amongst a hundred
proprietors. In like manner we ought to judge of the effect
upon the pubUc interest, which may arise from lands being
holden by the king, or by the subject ; by private persons, or
by corporations ; by laymen, or ecclesiastics ; in fee, or for Ufe ;
by virtue of pffice, or in right of inheritance. I do not mean
VOL. III. 48

378 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, &c.
that these varieties make no difference, but I mean that all
the difference they do make respects the cultivation of the
lands which are so holden.
There exist in this country conditions of tenure which con
demn the land itself to perpetual steriUty. Of this kind is the
right of common, which precludes each proprietor from the im
provement, or even the convenient occupation, of his estate,
-without (what seldom can be obtained) the consent of many
others. This tenure is also usually embarrassed by the inter
ference of manorial claims, under which it often happens that
the surface belongs to one owner, and the soU to another ; so
that neither owner can stir a clod without the concurrence of
his partner in the property. In many manors, the tenant is
restrained from granting leases beyond a short term of years ;
which renders every plan of solid improvement impracticable.
In these cases the owner wants, what the first rule of rational
policy requires, ' sufficient power over the soil for its perfect cid-
tivation.' This power ought to be extended lo him by some
easy and general law of enfranchisement, partition, and inclo
sure ; which, though compulsory upon the lord, or the rest of
the tenants, whUst' it has in view the mehoralion of the soil,
and lenders an equitable compensation for every right that it
takes away, is neither more arbitrary, nor more dangerous to
the stabUity of property, than that which is done in the con
struction of roads, bridges, embankments, navigable canals, and
indeed in almost every public work, in which private owners of
land are obhged lo accept that price for their property which
an indifferent jury may award. It may here, however, be pro
per to observe, that although the inclosure of wastes and pas
tures be generally beneflcial lo population, yet the inclosure of
lands in liUage, m order to convert them into pastures, is as
generaUy hurlfiil.
But, secondly, agi-iculture is discouraged by every constitu
tion of landed property which lets in those, who have no con
cern m the improvement, to a participation ofthe profit. This
objection is applicable to aU such customs of manors as subject
the proprietor, upon the death ofthe lord or tenant, or the aUen-
alion of the estate, to a fine apportioned to the improved value
ofthe land. But of aU institutions which are in this way ad
verse to cultivation and improvement, none is so noxious as
that of tithes. A claimant here enters into the produce, who
contributed no assistance whatever to the production. When

OF WAR, &c. 379
years, perhaps, of care and'toU have matured an improvement ;¦
when the husbandman sees new crops ripening to his skiU and
industry ; the moment he is ready to put his sickle to the grain,
he finds hunseff compeUed to divide his harvest with a stranger.
Tithes are a tax not only upon mdustry, but upon that indus
try which feeds mankind ; upon that species of exertion which
it is the aim of aU wise laws to cherish and promote ; and to
uphold and excite which, composes, as we have seen, the main
benefit that the community receives from the whole system of
trade, and the success of commerce. And, together with the
more general inconveniency that attends the exaction of tithes,
there is this, additional evil, in the mode at least according lo
which they are coUected al present, that they operate as a
bounty upon pasturage. The burthen of the lax falls with
its chief, if not with its whole weight, upon tiUage ; that is to
say, upon that precise mode of cultivation which, as hath been
shown above, it is the business of the state to reUeve and re
munerate, in preference to every other. No measure of such
extensive concern appears to me so practicable, nor any single
alteration so beneficial, as the conversion of tithes into com
rents. This commutation, I am convinced, might be so ad
justed, as to secure to the tithe-hoMer a complete and perpetual
equivalent for his mterest, and to leave to industry its fuU op
eration and entne reward.

CHAPTER XII.
OF VTAR, AND OF MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS.
Because the Christian Scriptures describe wars, as what
they are, as crimes or judgments, some have been led to beUeve
that it is unlawful for a Christian to bear arms. But it should
be remeinbered, that it may be necessary for individuals to
unite then force, and for this end to resign themselves lo the di
rection of a common wUl ; and yet it may be true that that will
is often actuated by crimmal motives, and often determmed lo
destructive purposes. Hence, although the origin of wars be as
cribed m Scripture to the operation of lawless and maUgnant

380 OF WAR, AND OF
passions;* and though war itself be enumerated among the
sorest calamities with which a land can be visited, the profes
sion of a soldier is no where forbidden or condemned. When
the soldiers demanded of John the Baptist what they should
do, he said unto them, ' Do violence lo no man, neither accuse
any falsely, and be content with your wages.' t In which an
swer we do not find that, in order to prepare themselves for re
ception of the kingdom of God, it was required of soldiers lo re
linquish their profession, but only that they should beware of
the vices of which that profession was accused. The precept
which follows, ' Be content with your wages,' supposed them
to continue in then situation. It was of a Roman centurion
that Christ pronounced that memorable eulogy, ' I have not
found so great faith, no, not in Israel.' t The first Gentile
convert § who was received into the Christian church, and to
whom the gospel was imparted by the immediate and especial
direction of heaven, held the same station : and in the history
of this transaction we discover not the smaUpst intimation, that
Cornelius, upon becoming a Christian, quitted the service of
the Roiiiatt legion ; that his profession was objected to, or his
continuance in it considered as in any wise inconsistent with
his new character.
In applying the principles of morahty to the affairs of nations,
the difficulty which meets us arises from hence, ' that the par
ticular consequence sometimes appears lo exceed the value of
the general rule.' In this circumstance is founded the only
distinction that exists between the case of independent states,
and of independent individuals. In the transactions of private
persons, no advantage that results from the breach of a gener
al law of justice, can compensate to the pubUc for the violation
of the law : in the concerns of empire, this may sometimes be
doubted. Thus, that the faith of promises ought to be main
tained, as far as is lawfiil, and as far as was intended by the
parlies, whatever inconveniency either of them may suffer by
his fidelity, in the intercourse of private life, k seldom dispu
ted ; because it is evident to almost every man who reflects up
on the subject, that the common happiness gains more by the
preservation of the rule, than it coUld do by the removal ofthe
inconveniency. But when the adherence to a pubUC treaty
would enslate a whole people, would block up seas, rivers, or
* James, iv. I. t Luke, iii. 14. t Luke, -vii. 9. § Acts, x. I.

MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 381
harbours, depopulate cities, condemn fertUe regions to eternal
desolation, cut off a countiy from its sources of provision, or de
prive it of those commercial advantages, to which its climate,
produce, or situation naturally entitle it ; the magnitude of the
particular e-vU induces us to call in question the obligation of
the general rule. . Moral phUosophy furnishes no precise solu
tion to these doubts. She cannot pronounce that any rule of
moraUty is so rigid as to bend to no exceptions ; nor, on the
other band, can she comprise these exceptions within any pre
vious description. She confesses that the obUgation of every
law depends upon its ultimate utiUty ; that, this utiUty havmg
a finite and determmale value, situations may be feigned, and
consequently may possibly arise, in which the general tenden
cy is outweighed by the enormity of the particular mischief :
but she recaUs, al the same time, lo the consideration ofthe in
quirer, the almost inestimable importance, as of other general
rules of relative justice, so especiaUy of national and personal
fidelity ; the unseen, if not unbounded, extent of the miscMef
which must foUow from the want of it ; the danger of leaving
it to the sufferer to decide upon the comparison of particular
and general consequences ; and the stiU greater danger of such
decisions being drawn into future precedents. If treaties, for
mstance, be no longer binding than whilst they are conven
ient, or until the inconveniency ascend lo a certain point, which
point must be fixed by the judgment, or rather by the feeUngs, ^
of the complaining party ; or if such an opmion, after being
authorized by a few examples, come at length to prevaU ; one
and almost the only method of averting or closing the calami
ties of war, of either preventing or putting a stop to the destrac
tion of mankind, is lost to the world for ever. We do not say
that no evil can exceed this, nor any possible advantage com-
jiensate it ; but we say that a loss, wMch affects all, wiU scarce
ly be made up to the common stock of human happiness by any
benefit that can be procured to a single nation, which, however
respectable when compared with any other single nation, bears
an inconsiderable proportion to the whole. These, however, are
the principles upon which the calculation is to be formed. It
is enough, in this place, to remark the cause wMch produces
the hesitation that we sometimes feel, in applying rules of per
sonal probity to the conduct of nations.
As between mdividuals it is found impossible to ascertain
every duty by an immediate reference to pubhc utility, not
only because such- reference is oftentimes too remote for the

382

OF WAR, AND OP

direction of private consciences, but because a multitude of
cases arise in which it is indifferent to the general interest by
what rule men act, though it be absolutely necessary that
they act by some constant and known rule or other ; and as
for these reasons certain positive constitutions are wont to be
established in every society, which, when established, become
as obligatory as the original principles of natural justice
themselves ; so, hkewise, it is between independent commu-
mties. Together with those maxuns of universal equity
which are common, to states and to individuals, and by which
the rights and conduct of the one as weU as the other ought to
be adju,sted, when they faU within the scope and application
of such maxims ; there exists also amongst sovereigns a sys
tem of artificial jurisprudence, under the name of the law of
nations. In this code are found the rules which determme
the right to vacant or newly-discovered countries ; those
which relate to the protection of fugitives, the privUeges of
ambassadors, the condition and duties of neutraUty, fhe im
munities of neutral ships, ports, and coasts, the distance from
shore to which these immunities extend, the distinction be
tween free and contraband goods, and a variety of subjects of
the same kind. Concermng which examples, and indeed the
principal part of what is caUed the jus gentium, it may be
observed, that the rules derive their moral force, by which I
mean the regard that ought to be paid to them by the con
sciences of sovereigns, not from their internal reasonableness
or justice, for many of them are perfectly arbitrary ; nor yet
from the authority by which they were established, for the
gi-eater part have grown insensibly into usage, without any
public compact, formal acknowledgment, or even known
original ; but simply from the fact of their being established,
and the general duty of conforming to established rules upon
questions, and between parties, where nothing but positive
regulations can prevent disputes and where disputes are fol
lowed by such destructive consequences. The first of the
instances which we have just now enumerated, may be select
ed for the iUustration of this remark. The nations of Europe
consider the sovereignly of newly-discovered countries as be
longing to the prince or state whose subject makes the discov
ery ; and, in pursuance of this rule, it is usual for a na-vigator,
who faUs upon an unknown shore, to take possession of it, in
the name of his sovereign al home, by erecting his standard,

MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. S83
or displaying his flag upon a desert coast. Now nothing can
be more fanciful, or less substantiated by any considerations
of reason or justice, than the right which such discovery, or
the transient occupation and idle ceremony that accompany it,
confer upon the country of the discoverer. Nor can any stip
ulation be produced, by. which the rest of the world have
bound themselves to submit to this pretension. Yet when we
reflect that the claims to newly-discovered countries can hard
ly be settied, between the different nations which frequent
them, without some positive rule or other ; that such claims,
if left unsettled, would prove sources of rumous and fatal con
tentions ; that the i-ule aheady proposed, however arbitrary,
possesses one principal quality of a rule, — determination and
certainty ; above all, that it is acquiesced in, and that no one
has power to substitute another, however he might contrive a
better, in its place : when we reflect upon these properties of the
rule, or rather upon these consequences of rejecting its autho
rity, we are led lo ascribe to it the vhtue and obligation of a
precept of natural justice, because we perceive m it that which
is the foundation of justice itself, public importance and utUily.
And a prince who should dispute this rule, for the want of re
gularity in its formation, or of inteUigible justice in its prmciple,
and by such disputes should disturb the tranquiUity of nations,
and at the same lime lay the foundation of future disturbances,
would be little less criminal than he who breaks the public
peace by a violation of engagements lo which he had himself
consented, or by an attack upon those national rights which
are founded immediately in the law of nature, and in the
first perceptions of equity. The same thing, may be repeated
of the rules which the law of nations prescribes in the other in
stances that were mentioned, namely, that the obscurity of
their 'origin, or the arbitrariness of their principle, subtracts
nothing from the respect that is due lo them, when once es
tablished.

War may be considered with a view to its causes and to its
conduct. The justifying causes of war are deliberate invasions of
right, and the necessity of maintainmg such a balance of pow
er ainongst neighbouring nations, as that no single state, or

384 OP WAR, AND OF
confederacy of states, be strong enough to overwhelm the rest.
The objects of just war are precaution, defence, or reparation.
In a larger sense, every just war is a defensive war, inasmuch
as every just war supposes an injury perpetrated, attempted,
or feared.
The insufficient causes, or unjustifiable motives of war,
are the famUy alliances, the personal friendships, or the per
sonal quarrels of princes ; the internal disputes which are car
ried on m other nations ; the justice of other wars, the exten
sion of territory, or of trade; the misfortunes or accidental
weakness of a neighbouring or rival nation.
There are two lessons of rational and sober policy, which,
if it were possible to inculcate them into the councils of princes,
would exclude many of the motives of war, and allay that
restless ambition wliich is constantly slirrmg up one part of
mankind against another. The first of these lessons admon
ishes princes to ' place their glory and their emulation, not in
extent of territory, but in raising the greatest quantity of hap
piness out of a given territory.' The enlargement of territory
by conquest is not only not a just object of war, but, in the
greater part of the mstances in which it is attempted, not even
desirable. It is certainly not desirable where it adds nothing to
the numbers, the enjoyments, or the security of the conquer
ors. What commonly is gained lo a na]tion, by the annexing
of new dependencies, or the subjugation of other countries to
its dominion, but a -wider frontier to defend ; more interfering
claims lo ¦vindicate ; more quarrels, more enemies, more re-
beMons to encounter ; a greater force to keep up by sea and
land ; more seiviees to provide for, and more estaMishments to
pay 1 And, in order to draw fi'om these acquisitions some
thmg that may make up for the charge of keeping them, a
revenne is to be extoited, or a monopoly to be enforced and
watehed, at an expense which costs half their produce. Thus
the provinces are oppressed, in order lo pay for being iU gov
erned ; and the origmal stale is exhausted in maintaining a
feeble authority over discontented subjects. No assignable
portion of country is benefited by the change ; and if the sov
ereign appear to Mmself to be enriched or strengthened, when
every part of his dominion is made poorer and weaker than it
was, it is probable that he is deceived by appearances. Or
were it true that the grandeur of the prince is magnified by
those exploits : the glsry which is pui'chaaed, and the ambi-

MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 385
lion which is gratffied, by the dislre^of one countiy without
adding to the happiness of another, which at the same time
enslaves the new and impoverishes the ancient part of the
empire, by whatever names it may be known or flattered,
ought lo be an object of universal execration ; and oftentimes
not more so lo the vanquished, than to the very people whose
armies or whose treasures have achieved the victory.
There are, indeed, two Cases in which the extension of ter
ritory may be of real advantage, and to both parties. The
first is, where an empire thereby reaches to the natural bound
aries which divide it from the rest of the woi'ld. Thus we
account the British Channel the natural boundary which sep
arates the nations of England and France : and if France
possessed any countries on this, or England any cities or, prov
inces on that side of the sea, ihe recovery of such towns and
districts to what maybe caUed their natural sovereign, though
it may noi be a just reason for commencing war, would be a
proper use to make of victory. The other case is, where
neighbouring states, being severally too smaU and weak to de
fend themselves against the dangers that surround them, can
only be safe by a strict and constant junction of their strength ;
here conquest wiU effect the purposes of confederation and al
liance ; and the union which it pi'oduces is often more close
and permanent than that which results from voluntary associ
ation. , Thus, if the heptarchy had contmued in England, the
diffei-ent kingdoms of it might have separately faUeii a prey
to foreign invasion : and although the interest and danger of
one part of the island were in truth common to every other
part, it might have been difficult lo have circulated this per
suasion amongst independent nations ; or lo have united them
in any regular or steady opposition lo thedr continental ene
mies, had not the valour and fortune of an enterprising prince
incorporated the whole into a smgle monarchy. Here the
conquered gained as much by the revolution as the conquer
ors. In hke manner, and for the same reason, when the two
royal famUies of Spain were met together in one race of prin
ces, and the several provmces of France had devolved into the
possession of a smgle sovereign, it became unsafe for the in
habitants of Great Britain any longer to remam under separate
governments. The union of England and Scotland, which
transformed two quarrelsome neighbours into one powerful
empire, and which was first brought about by the course of
VOL, III. 49

386 OF WAR, AND OF
succession, and afterwards completed by amicable convention,
would have been a fortunate conclusion of hostUities, had it
been effected by the operations of war. These two cases be
ing admitted, namely, the obtaining of natural boundaries
and barriers, and the including under the same government
those who have a common danger and a common enemy to
guard against, I know not whether a third can be thought of,
in which the extension of empire by conquest is useful even
to the conquerors.
The second rule of pradence which ought to be recommen
ded lo those who conduct the affairs of nations, is, ' never to
pursue national honour as dislmct from national interest.'
This rule acknowledges that it is often necessary to assert the
honour of a nation for the sake of its interest. The spirit and
courage of a people are supported by flattering their pride. Con
cessions which betray too much of fear or weakness, though
they relate to points of mere ceremony, invite demands and
attacks of more serious importance. Our rule aUows aU this ;
and only directs that, when points of honour become subjects
of contention between sovereigns, or are likely to be made the
occasions of war, they be estimated witii a reference to utiUty,
and not by them,selves. ' The dignity of his crown, the hon
our of his flag, the glory of his arms,' in the mouth of a prince,
are stalely and imposmg terms ; but the ideas they inspire are
insaliable,^ It may be always glorious to conquer, whatever
be the justice of the war, or the price of the victory. The dig-
mty of a sovereign may not permit him to recede from claims
of homage and respect, at whatever expense of national peace
and happiness they are to be mamtained, however unjust they
may have been in their origmal, or in their continuance however
useless to the possessor, or morttfyii^ and vexatious to other
states. The pursuit of honour, when set loose from the ad-
momlions of pradence, becomes in kings a wild and romantic
passion : eager lo engage, and gathering fury in its progress,
it is checked by no difficulties, repelled by no dangers ; it for
gets or despises those considerations of safety, ease, wealth,
and plenty, which, in the eye of trae'pubUc wisdom, compose
the objects to which the renown of arms, the fame of victory,
are only instrumental and subordmate.- The pursuit of mter
est, on the other hand, is a sober principle ; computes costs
and consequences ; is cautious of entering into war ; stops in
time : when regulated by those universal maxims of relative

MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 387
justice, which belong to the affairs of communities as well as
of private persons, it is the right principle for nations to pro
ceed by ; even when it trespasses upon these regulations, it is
much less dangerous, because much more temperate, than the
other. li. The conduct of war. — If the cause and end of war be
justifiable, aU the means that appear necessary lo the end are
justifiable also. This is the prmciple which defends those ex
tremities to which the -violence of war usuaUy proceeds : for,
smce war is a contest by force between parties who acknow
ledge no common superiour, and since it mcludes not in its
idea the supposition of any convention which should place lim
its to the operations of force, it has naturaUy no boundary but
that in which force termmates, the destruction of the Ufe
agamst which the force is directed. Let it be observed, how
ever, that the license of war authorizes no acta of hostihty but
what are necessary or conducive to the end and object of the
war. Gratuitous barbarities boiTow no excuse from this plea :
of wMch kind is every cruelty and every insult that serves on
ly to exasperate the sufferings, or lo mcense the hatred, of an
enemy,- without weakemng his strength, or m any manner
tending to procure Ms submission ; such as the slaughter bf
captives, the subjeclmg them lo indignities or torture, the vi
olation of women, the profanaticm of temples, the demolition
of public buUdmgs, Ubraries, statues, and in general the de
struction or defacing of works that conduce nothing to annoy
ance or defence. These enormities are prohibited not only by
the practice of civUized nations, but by the law of nature itself;
as having no proper tendency to accelerate the termination, or
accomplish the object of the war ; and as containing that
which in peace and war is equaUy unjustifiable, — ultimate and
gratuitous mischief.
There are other restrictions imposed upon the conduct of
war, not by the law of natme primarUy, bat by the laws of
war first, and by the law of nature as seconding and ratifying
the laws of war. The laws of war are part of the law of na
tions ; and founded, as to their authority, upon the same prin
ciple with the rest of that code, namely, upon the fact of their
being estabUshed, no matter when or by whom ; upon the ex
pectation of their being muluaUy observed^ m consequence of
that establishmeflt ; and upon the general utility which results
from such observance. The binding force of these rales ia

388 OF WAR, AND OP
the greater, because the regard that is paid to them must be
universal or none. , The breach of the rule can only be pun
ished by the subversion of the rule itself: on which account,
the whole mischief that ensues from the loss ofthose salutary
restrictions which such rules prescribe, is justly chargeable up
on the first aggressor. To this consideration may be referred
the duly of refraining in war from poison and from assassina
tion. If the law of nature dtmply be consulted, it may be dif
ficult lo distinguish between these and other methods of, de
straction, w'iic'i are practised without scruple by nations al
war. If it be lawful to kUl an enemy at aU, it seems lawful
to do so by one mode of death as well as by another ; by a
dose pf poison, as by the point of a sword ; by the hand of an
assassin,, as by the attack of an army : for if it be said that one
species of assault leaves to an enemy the power of defending
Mmself against it, and that the other does not ; it may be an
swered, that we possess at least the same right to cul off an en
emy's defence, that we have to seek his destruction. In this
manner might the question be debated, if there existed no rule
or law of war upon the subject. But when we observe that
such pi-actices are at present excluded by the usage and opin
ions of civilized nations ; that the first recourse to them would
be followed" by instant retaliation ; that the mutual license
wMch such attempts must introduce, would fill both sides with
the misery of continual dread and suspicion, without adding
to the strength or success of either ; that when the example
came to be more generaUy imitated, which it soon would be,
after the sentiment that condemns it had been once broken in
upon, it would greatly aggravate the horrours and calamities
of war, yet procure no superiority to any of the nations enga
ged ill it : when we view these effects,, we join in the pubUc
reprobation of such fatal expedients, as oi the admission
ainongst manldnd of new and enormous evils without necessity
or advantage. The law, of nature, we see al length, forbifk
these innovations, as so many transgressions of a beiieficial
general rule actually subsisting.
The license of war then acknowledges two Uinilations : it
authorizes no hostUities which have not an apparent tendency
lo effectuate the. object of the war ;, ,k respects those positive
laws which the custom of nations hath sanctified, and which,
whilst they are mutually conformed to, mitigate the calamities

MILITARY ESTABUSHMENTS. 389
of war, without weakening its operations, or diminishing J;he
power or safety of belligerent states.

Long and various experience seems to have convinced the na
tions of Europe, that nothing but a standing army can op
pose a standing army, where the numbers on each side bear
any moderate propcfftion to one another. The first standing
army that appeared in Europe after the fall of the Roman
legion, was that which was erected in France by Chailes VII.
about the middle of the fifteenth century : and that the institu
tion hath since become general, can only be attributed to the
superiority and success which are every where observed lo at
tend it. The truth is, the closeness, regularity, and quickness
of their movements; the unreserved, instantaneous, and almost
mechanical obedience to ordei-s; the sense of personal honour,
and the familiarity with danger, which belong to a discipUned,
veteran, and embodied soldiery, give such firmness and inti-e-
pidity lo their approach, such weight and execution to then-
attack, as are not to he withstood by loose ranks of occasional
and newly levied troops, who are Uable by their inexperience lo
disorder and confusion, and in whom fear is constantly augment
ed by novelty and surprise. It is possible that a militia, with a
great excess of numbers, and a ready supply of recruits, may
sustain a defensive or a flying war agamst regular troops ; it is
also true that any service, which keeps soldiers for a while to
gether, and inures them hy little and little to the habits of
war and the dangers of action, transforms them in effect into
a slandmg army. But upon this plan it may be necessary
for almost a whole' nation to go out to war to repel an invader ;
beside that, a people so unprepared must always have the seat,
and with it the miseries of war, at home, being utterly inca
pable of carrying their operations into a foreign country.
Frmn the acknowledged superiority of standing armies, it fol
lows, not only that it is unsafe for a nation to disband its reg
ular troops, whilst neighbouring kingdoms retain thens; but al
so that regular troops provide for the public service at the
least possible expense. I suppose a certain quantity of military
strength to be necessary, and I say that a standing aimy
costs the community less than any other estabUshment which
{H-esents to an enemy the same force. The constant drudg-

390 OP WAR, AND OF
•eryof low employments is not only incompatible with any great
degree of perfection or experlness in the profession of a soldier,
hut the profession of a soldier almost always unfits men for the
business of regular occupations. Of three mhabitants of a vU
lage, it is better that one should addict hunseff entirely to arms,
and the other two stay constantly at home lo cultivate the
ground, than that aU the three should mix the avocations of
a camp with the business of husbandry. By the former ar
rangement the country gains one complete soldier, and two
industrious husbandmen ; from the latter it receives three raw
mUitia-men, who are at the same time iMee idle and piofli-
gate peasants. It should be considered, also, that the emergen
cies of war wait not for seasons. Where there is no slandmg
army ready for immediate service, it may be neccessary to call
the reaper from the fields in harvest, or the ploughman in seed
time; and the povision of a whole year may perish by the in
terruption of one month's labour. A standing army, therefore,
is not only a more effectual, but a cheaper method of providing
for the public safely,- than any other, because it adds more
than any other lo the common strength, and takes less from
that which composes the wealth of a nation, its stock of produc
tive industry.
There is yet another distinction between slandmg armies
and miUlias, wMch deserves a more attentive consideration than
any that has been mentioned. When the slate reUes for its de
fence upon a miUlia, it is necessary that arms be put into the
hands ofthe people al large. The niUilia itself must be numer
ous, in propoition to the want or inferiority of its discipline, and
the imbecilities or defects of its constitution. Moreover, as
such a militia must be supplied by rotation, aUotment, or some
mode of succession whereby they who have served a certain
time are replaced by fresh] draughts from the country, a much
greater number will be instructed in the use of arms, and will
have been occasionaUy embodied together, than are actuaUy
employed, or than are supposed lo be wanted, at the same
lime. Now what effects upon the civU condition of the coun
try may be looked for from this general diffusion of the mUita
ry character, becomes an inquiry of great importance and deU
cacy. To me it appears doubtful whether any govermnent can
be long secure, where the people are acquamted with the use
of arms, and accustomed to resort to them. Every faction
wiU find itself at the head of an army ; every disgust wiU ex-

MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 391
cite commotion, and every commotion become a civU war.
Nothing, perhaps, can govern a nation of aimed citizens but
that which governs an army, — despotism. I do not mean
that a regular government would become despotic by traming
up, its subjects lo the knowledge and exercise of arms, but
that it would ere long be forced to give way lo despotism in
some other shape ; and that the country would be liable to
what is even worse than a settled and constitutional despo
tism, — to perpetual rebeUions, and to perpetual revolutions ;
to short and violent usurpations ; to the successive tyranny of
governours, rendered cruel and jealous by the danger and m-
stabUity of iheh situation.
The same purposes of strength and efficacy which make a
standing army necessary at aU, make it necessary, m mixed
governments, that this army be submitted to the managranent
and direction of the prince :• for, however weU a popular coun
cil may be qualified for the ofiices of legislation,, it is altogeth
er unfit for the conduct of war : in which, success usually de
pends upon vigour and enterprize ; upon secrecy, despateh,
and unanimity ; upon a quick perception of opportunities, and
the power of seizmg every opportunity immediately. It is
likewise necessary that the obedience of an army be as prompt
and active as possible ; for which reason it ought to be made
an obedience of will and emulation. Upon this consideration
is founded the expediency of leaving to the prmce not only
the government and destination of the army, but the appoint
ment and promotion of its officers : because a design is then
alone Ukely to be executed with zeal and fideUty, when the
person who issues the order, chooses the mstruments, and re
wards the service. To which we may subjoin, that, in gov
ernments like ours, if the direction and officering of the ar
my were . placed in the hands of the democratic part of the
constitution, this power, added to what they aheady possess,
would so overbalance all that would be left of regal preroga
tive, that little would remain of monarchy in the constitution,
but the name and expense ; nor would these probably remain
long. Whilst we describe, however, the advantages of standing
armies, we must not conceal the danger. These .properties
of their constitution, — the soldiery being separated m a gr^^
degree from the rest of the community, their being closely lint
ed amongst themselves by habits of society and subordination,

392 OF vTAii, &c.
and the dependency of the whole chain upon the will and fa
vour of the prince, — however essential they may be lo the pur
poses for which armies are kept up, give them an aspect in
no wise favourable to public liberty. The danger howev
er is diminished by maintaining, on aU occasions, as much
alUance of interest, and as much intercourse of sentiment, be
tween the military part of the nation and the other orders of
the people, as are consistent with the union and discipline of
an army. For which purpose officers of the army, upon whose
disposition towaids the commonwealth a great deal may de
pend, should be taken from the principal families of the coun
try, and al the same time also be encouraged lo establish in it
families of their own, as well as be admitted to seats m the
senate, to hereditary distinctions, and to aU the civU honours
and privileges that are compatible with their profession : which
circumstances of connexion and situation will give them such a
share in the general rights of the people, and so engage their
incUnations on the side of public Uberty, as to afford a reason
able security that they cannot be brought, by any promises of
personal aggrandizernent, to assist in the execution of meas
ures which might enslave their posterity, their kindred, and
their country.

END or" VOL. III.

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