That they are diftindl principles of adion, though both lead to the Came condud in life, I Ihall have occafion to fhew, when I come to treat oC confcience.
7'he Tendency of this Principle.
IT has been the opinion of the wifeft men, in all ages, that this principle, of a regard to our good upon the whole, in a man duly enlightened, leads to the pradice of every virtue.
This was acknowledged, even by Epicurus; and the beft mo- ralifts among the ancients derived all the virtues from this prin- ciple. For, among them, the whole of morals was reduced to this queftion, What is the greatelt good? Or what courfe of condud is beft for us upon the whole?
In order to refolve this queftion, they divided goods into three clafles, the goods of the body; the goods of fortune, or external goods, and the goods of the mind; meaning, by the laft, wifdon^ and virtue.
Comparing thefe different claffes of goods, they ftiewed, with convincing evidence, that the goods of the mind arc, in many refpeds, fuperior to ihofe of the body and of fortune, not only as they have more dignity, are more durable, and lefs expofed to CHAP. III. to the ftrokes of fortune, but chiefly as they are the only goods in our power, and which depend wholly on our condudt.
Epicurus himfelf maintained, that the wife man may be hap- py in the tranquillity of his mind, even when racked with pain, and ilruggling with adveriity.
They obferved very juftly, that the goods of fortune, and even thofe of the body, depend much on opinion j and that, when our opinion of them is duly corre(5ted by reafon, we fhall find them of (mail value in themfelves.
How can he be happy who places his happinefs in things which it is not in his power to attain, or in things from which, when attained, a fit of ficknefs, or a flroke of fortune, may tear him afunder.
The value we put upon things, and our uneafinefs in the want of them, depend upon the ftrength of our defires j corred the defire, and the uneafinefs ceafes.
The fear of the evils of body and of fortune, is often a greater evil than the things we fear. As the wife man moderates his defires by temperance, fo, to real or imaginary dangers, he. oppofes the fhield of fortitude and magnanimity, which raifes him above himfelf, and makes him happy and triumphant in thofe moments wherein others are mofl raiferable.
Thefe oracles of reafon led the Stoics fo faras to maintain. That all defires and fears, with regard to things not in our power, ought to be totally eradicated; that virtue is the only good I, that what we call the goods of the body and of fortune, are really things indifferent, which may, according to circum- ftances, prove good or ill, and therefore have no intrinfic good- nefs in themfelves; that our fole bufinefs ought to be, to adl our THE TENDENCY OF THIS PRINCIPLE. 217 our part well, and to do what is right, without the lead concern CH \P. IH. about things not in our power, which we ought, with perfect acquicfcencc, to leave to the care of hiin who governs the world.
This noble and elevated conception of human wifdom and duty was taught by Socrates, free from the extravagancies which the Stoics afterwards joined with it. We fee it in the Alcibiades of Plato; from which Juvemal hatii taken it in his tenth fatire, and adorned it with the graces of poetry.
Omnibus in terris quae funt a gadibus ufque Auroram et Gangen, pauci dignofcere poflunt Vera bona, atque illis multum diverfa, remota Erroris nebula. Qiiid cnim ratione tiniemus? Aut cupimus? Qiiid tarn dextera pede concupis ut te Conatus non poeniteat, votique peradli? Nil ergo optabunt homines? Si concilium vis, Permittes Ipfis expendere numinibus, quid Conveniat nobis, rebufque fit utile noftris. Nam pro jucundis aptillima quxque dabunt Dii. Charior eft illis homo quam fibi. Nos animorum Impulfu, et ca;ca magnaque cupidine dudi, Conjugium petimus, partumque uxoris; at illis Notum qui pueri, qualifque futura fit uxor. Fortem pofce animum, et mortis terrore carentem, Qui fpatium vitae extremum inter munera ponat Naturse; qui ferre queat quofcunque labores, Nefciat irafci, cupiat nihil, et potiores Herculis oerumnas credat, fa»vofque labores Et venere, et coenis, et pluniis, Sardanapali.
Monftro quid ipfe tibi polfis dare. Semita certe Tranquillae per virtuteni patet unica vitae. Nullum numen abeft fi fit prudentia; fed te Nos facimus fortuna Deam, cceloque locamus.
E c Even CHAP. III. Even Horace, in his ferious moments, falls into this fyftemv Nil admirari, prope res eft una Numici, Solaque quae poffit facere et fervare beatum.
We cannot but admire the Stoical fyftem of morals, even when we think that, in fome points, it went beyond the pitch of human nature. The virtue, the temperance, the fortitude and magnanimity of fome who fincerely embraced it, amidft all the flattery of fovereign power and the luxury of a court, will be everlafting monuments to the honour of that fyftem^ and to the honour of human nature.
That a due regard to what is bell: for us upon the whole," in an enlightened mind, leads to the pradice of every virtue, may be argued from conlidering what we think befl: for thofe for whom we have the ftrongell affedion, and whofe good we ten- der as our own. In judging for ourfelves, our paffions and ap- petites are apt to bias our judgment; but when we judge for others, this bias is removed, and we judge impartially.
What is it then that a wife man would wifli as the greateft good to a brother, a fon, or a friend?
Is it that he may fpend his life in a conftant round of the pleafures of fenfe, and fare fumptuoufly every day?
No, furely j we wifh him to be a man of real virtue and worth. We may wilh for him an honourable ftation in life j but only with this condition, that he acquit himfelf honourably m it, and acquire jufl reputation, by being ufeful to his country and to mankind. We would a thoufand times rather wifli him honourably to undergo the labours of Hercules, than to dif- folve in pleafure with Sardanapalus.
Such THE TENDENCY OF THIS PRINCIPLE. 219 Such would be the wilh of every man of undcrflanding for CilAP.iir. the friend whom he loves as his own foul. Such ihinj^s, there- fore, he judj^es to be heft for him upon the whole; and if lie judges otherwife for himfelf, It is only becaufe his judgment is perverted by animal pafCons and defires.
The fum of what has been faid in thefe three chapters amounts to this: There is a principle of acftion in men that are adult and of a found mind, which, in all ages, has been called reafon, and let in oppofition to the animal principles which we call the pajjlons. The ultimate objeCl of this principle is what we judge to be good upon the whole. This is not the objed of any of our animal principles, they being all direded to particular objeds, without any comi)arif(>n with others, or any conlideration of their being good or ill upon the whole.
What is good upon the whole cannot even be conceived with- out the exercife of reafon, and therefore cannot be aa objeC\ to beings that have not feme degree of reafon.
As foon as we have the conception of this objed, we are led, by ovw conilitution, to defire and purfue it. It juftly claims a preference to all objeds of purfuit that can come in competition with it. In preferring it to any gratification that oppofes it, or in fubmitting to any pain or mortification which it requires, we ad according to reafon; and every fuch adion is accompanied with felf-approbation and the approbation of mankind. The contrary adions are accompanied with ftiame and lelf-condem- nation in the agent, and with contempt in the fpedator, as foolilh and unreafonable.
The right application of this principle to our condud re- quires an extenlive prolped of human life, and a corred j'ldg- CHAP, m. nient and eftimate of its goods and evils, with refped to their intrinfic worth and dignity, their conftancy and duration, and their attainablenefs. He muft be a wife man indeed, if any fuch man there be, who can perceive, in every inftance, or even in every important inftance, what is beft for him upon the whole, if he have no other rule to dired his conduct.
However, according to the beft judgment which wife men have been able to form, this principle leads to the pra<flice of every virtue. It leads diredly to the virtues of prudence, tem- perance and fortitude. And, when we confider ourfelves as fe- cial creatures, whofe happinefs or mifery is very much connedl- ed with that of our fellow-men j when we confider, that there are many benevolent affedlions planted in our conftitution, whofe exertions make a capital part of our good and enjoyment; from thefe confiderations, this principle leads us alfo, though more indiredlly, to the prad:ice of juftice, humanity, and all the fecial virtues.
It is true, that a regard to our own good cannot, of itfelf, produce any benevolent affedlion. But, if fuch affedlions be a part of our conftitution, and if the exercife of them make a ca- pital part of our happinefs, a regard to our own good ought to lead us to cultivate and exercife them, as every benevolent af- fedlion makes the good of others to be our own.
CHAP.
DEFECTS OF THIS PRINCIPLE.
DefeEls of this Principle.
HAVING explained the nature of this principle of adlion, and fhewn in general the tenor of condu<5l to which it leads, I fhall conclude what relates to it, by pointing out fome of its defedts, if it be fuppofed, as it has been by fome Philofo- phers, to be the only regulating principle of human conduct.
Upon that fuppofition, it would neither be a fufficiently plain rule of condudt, nor would it raife the human character to that degree of perfedion of which it is capable, nor would it yield fo much real happinefs as when it is joined with another ra- tional principle of adion, to wit, a difinterefted regard to duty.
Firji^ I apprehend the greater part of mankind can never at- tain fuch extenfive views of human life, and fo correft a judg- ment of good and ill, as the right application of this principle requires.
The authority of the poet before quoted is of weight in this point. " Pauci dignofcere pofl'unt vera bona, remota erroris ne- " bula." The ignorance of the bulk of mankind concurs with the ftrength of their paflious to lead them into error in this mofl: important point.
Every man, in his calm moments, wiflies to know what is heft for him on the whole, and to do it. But the difficulty of dif- covering it clearly, amidfl fuch variety of opinions and the im- portunity of prefent dcfires, tempt men to give over the fearch, and to yield to the prefeut inclination.
Though CHAP. IV. Though Phllof(3phers and morallfts have taken much laudable pains to corredt the errors of mankind In this great point, their inftrudlons are known to few; they have little influence upon the greater part of thofe to whom they are known, and fome- times little even upon the Philofopher hiinfelf.
Speculative difcoveries gradually fpread from the knowing to the ignorant, and diffufe themielves over all, fo that, with re- gard to them, the world, it may be hoped, will Hill be growing wifer. But the errors of men, with regard to what is truly good or ill, after being difcovered and refuted in every age, are ilill prevalent.
Men ftand in need of a fharper monitor to their duty than a dubious view of diflant good. There is reafon to believe, that a prefent fenfe pf duty has, in many cafes, a ftronger influence than the apprehenfion of difl;ant good would have of itfelf. And it cannot be doubted, that a fenfe of guilt and demerit is a more pungent reprover than the bare apprehenfion of having miftaken our true intereft.
The brave foldier, in expofing himfelf to danger and death, is animated, not by a cold computation of the good and the ill, but by a noble and elevated fenfe of military duty.
A Philofopher fliews, by a copious and jufl: indudion, what is our real good and what our ill. But this kind of reafoning is not eafily apprehended by the bulk of men. It has too little force upon their minds to refifl; the fophiflry of the pafllons. They are apt to think, that if fuch rules be good in the general, they may admit of particular exceptions, and that what is good for the greater part, may, to fome perfons, on account of parti- cular circumftances, be ilk Thus, I apprehend, that, if we had no plainer rule to direcfl our DEFECTS OF THIS PRINCIPLE. 223 our conduct: in life than a rt\e;ard to our grcatcll good, the great- Cfiap. iv, eft part of mankind would be fatally mifled, even by ignorance ^ "^ ' of the road to it.
m Secondly, Though a fteady purfuit of our own real good may, III an enlightened mind, produce a kind of virtue which is en- titled to fonie degree of approbation, yet it can never produce the noblefl: kind of virtue, which claims our higheft love and efteem.
We account him a wife man who Is wife for himfelf; and, if he i^rofecutes this end through dilHculties and temptations that lie in his way, his character is far fuperior to that of the man •who, having the fame end in view, is continually llarting out of the road to it, from an attachment to bis appetites and paflions, and doing every day what he knows he ihall heartily repent.
Yet, after all, this wife man, whofe thoughts and cares are all centered ultimately in himielf, who indulges even his focial af- fedtions only with a view to his own good, is not the man whom we cordially love and efteem.
Like a cunning merchant, he carries his goods to the beft market, and watches every opportunity of putting them oft' to the beft account. He does well and wileiy. But it is for him- felf. We owe him nothing upon this account. Even when he does good to others, he means only to ferve himfelf; and there- fore has no juft claim to their gratitude or affection.
This iurcly, if it be virtue, is not the nobleft kind, but a low and mercenary fpecies of it. It can neither give a noble eleva- tion to the mind tliat poft^fles it, nor attract the efteem and love of others.
Our cordial love and efteem is due only to the man whofe foul ESSAY III.
CHAP. IV. foul is not contraded within itfelf, but embraces a more exten- five objedl: who loves virtue, not for her dowry only, but for her own fake: whofe benevolence is not felfifh, but generous and difinterefled: who, forgetful of himfelf, has thecommongood at heart, not as the means only, but as the end: who abhors what is bafe, though he were to be a gainer by it, and loves that which is right, although he fhould fuffer by it.
Such a man we efteem the perfedl man, compared with whom, he who has no other aim but good to himfelf, is a mean and defpicable charader.
Difinterefled goodnefs and reditude, is the glory of the Di- vine Nature, without which he might be an objedt of fear or hope, but not of true devotion. And it is the image of this divine attribute in the human character, that is the glory of man.
To ferve God and be ufeful to mankind, without any concern about our own good and happinefs, is, I believe, beyond the pitch of human nature. But to ferve God and be ufeful to men, merely to obtain good to ourfelves, or to avoid ill, is fervility, and not that liberal fervice which true devotion and real vir- tue require.
Thirdly^ Though one might be apt to think, that he has the befl chance for happinefs, who has no other end of his delibe- rate adions but his own good; yet a little confideration may fatisfy us of the contrary.
A concern for our own good is not a principle that, of itfelf, gives any enjoyment. On the contrary, it is apt to fill the mind with fear, and care, and anxiety. And thefe concomitants of this principle, often give pain and uneafinefs, that overbalance the good they have in view.
We DEFECTS OF THIS PRINCIPLE. 225 We may here compare, in point of prefcnt happinefs, two ima- ginary characters; the firft, of the man who has no other ulti- mate end of liis deliberate actions but his own good; and who has no regard to virtue or duty, but as the means to that end. The fecond character is that of the man who is not indifferent with regard to his own good, but has another ultimate end per- fedly confiftent with it, to wit, a difmterefted love of virtue, for its own fake, or a regard to duty as an end.
Comparing thcfe two characters in point of happinefs, that we may give all poilible advantage to the fehilh principle, we fliall fuppofe the man who is aduated iblely by it, to be fo far enlight- ened as to fee it his intereft to live foberly, righteoufly, and god- ly in the world, and that he follows the fame courfe of conduct from the motive of his own good only, which the other does, in a great meafure, or in fome meafure, from a fenfeofduty and reftitude.
We put the cafe fo as that the difference between thefe two perfons may be, not In what they do, but in the motive from which they do it: and, I think, there can be no doubt that he who adts from the noblefl: and molt generous motive, will have moft happinefs in his conduct.
The one labours only for hire, without any love to the work. The other loves the work, and thinks it the noblefl and moft honourable he can be employed in. To the firlt, the mortifica- tion and felf-denial which the courfe of virtue requires, is a grievous talk, which he fubmits to only through nccellity. To the other it is victory and triunjph, in the moll honourable warfare.
It ought farther to be confidered, That although wife men have concluded that virtue is the only road to happinefs, this F f conclufion CHA? IV, ^!!^1^' conclufion is founded chiefly upon the natural refpecl men have for virtue, and the good or happinefs that is intriiific to it and arifes from the love of it. If we fuppofe a man, as we now do, altogether deftitute of this principle, who confidered virtue only as the means to another end, there is no reafon to think that he would ever take it to be the road to happinefs, but would wander forever feeking this objedl, where it is not to be found.
The road of duty is fo plain, that the man who feeks it, with an upright heart, cannot greatly err from it. But the road to happinefs, if that be fuppofed the only end our nature leads us to purfue, would be found dark and intricate, full of fuares and dangers, and therefore not to be trodden without fear, and care, and perplexity.
The happy man therefore, is not he whofe happinefs is his only care, but he who, with perfedl refignation, leaves the care of his happinefs to him who made him, while he purfues with ardor the road of his duty.
This gives an elevation to his mind, which Is real happinefs. Inftead of care, and fear, and anxiety, and difappointment, it brings joy and triumph. It gives a relifh to every good we en- joy, and brings good out of evil.
And as no man can be indifferent about his happinefs, the good man has the confolation to know, that he confults his hap- pinefs moft effedtually, when, without any painful anxiety about future events, he does his duty.
Thus, I think. It appears. That although a regard to our good upon the whole, be a rational principle in man, yet, if it be fup- pofed the only regulating principle of our condudl, it would be a more uncertain rule, it would give far lefs perfedion to the human OF THE NOTION OF DUTY, y^. 227 human charadter, and far IcTs happinefs, than wlien joined with '^^^^^- ^-^ anotlicr rational principle, to wit, a regard to duty.
Of the Notion of Duty, ReSJ'itudcy moral Obligation.
A Being endowed with the animal principles of aclion on- ly, may be capable of being trained to certain purpofes by difcipline, as we fee many bnxte-animals are, but would be altogether incapable of being governed by law.
The fubjedl of law muft have the conception of a general rule of condud^, which, without fome degree of reafon, he cannot have. He mufl likewife have a fufficient inducement to obey the law, even when his ftrongeft animal defires draw him the contrary way.
This inducement may be a fenfe of intereft, or a fenfe of duty, or both concurring.
Thefe are the only principles I am able to conceive, which can reafonably induce a man to regulate all his adtions accord- ing to a certain general rule or law. They may therefore be juQIy called the rational principles of adion, fince they can have no place but in a being endowed with reafon, and fince it is by them only, that man is capable either of political or of moral government.
Without them human life would be like a fhip at fea without hands, left to be carried by winds and tides as they happen. It belongs to the rational part of our nature to intend a certain port, as the end of the voyage of life j to take the advuntat^e of F f 2 wind«; CHAP. V. winds and tides when they are favourable, and to bear up a- gainfl them when they are unfavourable.
A fenfe of interefl: may induce us to do this, when a fuitable reward is fet before us. But there is a nobler principle in the conftitution of man, which, in many cafes, gives a clearer and more certain rule of conducSt, than a regard merely to interefl: would give, and a principle, without which man would not be a moral agent.
A man is prudent when he confults his real interefl:, but he cannot be virtuous, if he has no regard to duty.
I proceed now to confider this regard to duty as a rational principle of adlion in man, and as that principle alone by which he is capable either of virtue or vice.
I fliall firfl: offer fome obfervations with regard to the general notion of duty, and its contrary, or of right and wrong in hu- man condud, and then confider how we come to judge and determine certain things in human condud to be right, and others to be wrong.
With regai-d to the notion or conception of duty, I take it to be too fimple to admit of a logical definition.
We can define it only by fynonymous words or phrafes, or by its properties and neceflary concomitants, as when we fay that it is what we ought to do, what is fair and honeft, what is ap- provable, what evei'y man profeffes to be the rule of his con- dud, what all men praife, and what is in itfelf laudable, though no man fliould praife it.
I obferve, In the }iext place, That the notion of duty cannot be OF THE NOTION OF DUTY, ^r. 229 be refolved into that of intereft, or what is moll for our happi- chap. v.
nets.
Every man may be fatisfied of this who attends to his own conceptions, and the language of all mankind fliews it. When I fay, this is my intercfl, I mean one thing; when I fay, it is my duty, I mean another thing. And though the fame courfe of adtion, when rightly underftood, may be both my duty and my intcreft, the conce])tions are very different. Both are reafon- able motives to adion, but quite diftinct in their nature.
I prefume it will be granted, that in every man of real worth, there is a principle of honour, a regard to what is honourable or dilhonourable, very diftind: from a regard to his intereft. It is folly in a man to difregard his intereft, but to do what is dif- honourable is bafenefs. The firft may move our pity, or, in fome cafes, our contempt, but the lafl; provokes our indignation.
As thefe two principles are different in their nature, and not refolvable into one, fo the principle of honour is evidently fupe- rior in dignity to that of intereft.
No man would allow him to be a man of honour, who fliould plead his interelt to juflify M'hat he acknowledged to be dif- honourable; but to facrifice intcrell to honour never cofls a blufh.
It likewife will be allowed by every man of honour, that this principle is not to be refolved into a regard to our reputation among men, otherwife the man of honour would not defer\-e to be trufted in the dark. He would have no averfion to lie, or cheat, or play the coward, when he had no dread of being dif- covered.
I take it for granted, therefore, that every man of real honour feels CHAP. V.^ feels an abhorrence of certain acftions, becaufe they are in them- felves bafe, and feels an obligation to certain other ad;ions, be- caufe they are in themfelves what honour requires, and this, in- dependently of any conlideration of intereft or reputation.
This is an immediate moral obligation. This principle of ho- nour, which is acknowledged by all men who pretend to cha- radler, is only another name for what we call a regard to duty, to reditude, to propriety of condu6t. It is a moral obligation which obliges a man to do certain things becaufe they are right, and not to do other things becaufe they are wrong.
Afk the man of honour, why he thinks himfelf obliged to pay a debt of honour? The very queftion fhocks him. To fuppofe that he needs any other inducement to do it but the principle of honour, is to fuppofe that he has no honour, no worth, and de- ferves no efteem.
There is therefore a principle in man, which, when he adls according to it, gives him a confcioufnefs of worth, and when he adls contrary to it, a fenfe of demerit.
From the varieties of education, of fafhion, of prejudices, and of habits, men may differ much in opinion with regard to the extent of this principle, and of what it commands and forbids; but the notion of it, as far as it is carried, is the fame in all. It is that which gives a man real worth, and is the objed: of mo- ral approbation.
Men of rank call it honour, and too often confine it to certain virtues that are thought mofl effential to their rank. The vul- gar call it honejly, probityy virtue, confcience. Philofophers have given it the names of the moral fenfe, the moral faculty, reBitude.
The univerfality of this principle in men that are grown up to OF THE NOTION OF DUTY, ffff. 33» to years of underftandinjjj and reflcdion, is evident. The words. ^J' J that exprefs it, the names of the virtues which it commands, and of the vices which it forbids, the ought and oug/jl not which exprefs its didlates, make an efleniial part of every language. The natural aflc-dions of refped to worthy characters, of re- fentment of Injuries, of gratitude for favours, of indignation againft tlie worthlefs, are parts of the human conftitutiun which fui)pofe a right and a wrong in condudl. Many tranfac- tions that arc found neceflary in the rudeft focieties go upon the fame fuppofition. In all teftimony, in all promiles, and in all contrads, there is necefHirily implied a moral obligation on one party, and a truft in the other, grounded upon this obligation.
The variety of opinions among men in points of morality, is not greater, but, as 1 apprehend, much Icfs than in fpcculative points; and this variety is as eafily accounted for, from the common caufes of error, in the one cafe as in the other j fo that it is not more evident, that there is a real diftinclion between true and falfe, in matters of fpeculation, than that there is a real diftiniition between right and wrong in human condud.
Mr Hume's authority, if there were any need of it, is of weight in this matter, becaufe he was not wont to go ralhly into vulgar opinions.
" Thofe, fays lie, who have denied the reality of moral dl- " rtindions, may be ranked among the difingenuous difputants " (who really do not believe the opinions they defend, but engage " in the controverfy, from affedation, from a fpirit of oppofitit)n, *' or from a defire of fhewingwit and ingenuity fuperior to the red " of mankind); nor is it conceivable, that any human creature " could ever ferioufly believe, that all charaders and adions " were alike entitled to the regard and affedion of every one.
** Let a man's iufenfibility be ever fo great, he muft often be " touched ESSAY III.
CHAP, v.^ « touched with the images of right and wrong j and let his pre- " judices be ever Co obftinate, he mufl obferve that others are fuf- " ceptible of like impreflions. The only way, therefore, of con- " vincing an antagonift of this kind is to leave him to himfelf. " For, finding that nobody keeps up the controverfy with him, " it is probable he will at laft, of himfelf, from mere wearinefs, " come over to the fide of common fenfe and reafon."
What we call rl^bi and honourable in human condudl, was, by the ancients, called honejlum, to xatAw j of which Tully fays, " Quod vere dicimus, etiamfi a nuUo laudetur, natura efle lauda- " bile."
All tlie ancient feels, except the Epicureans, diftinguifhed the honejlum from the utile, as we diflinguifh what is a man's duty from what is his intereft.
The word offichnn, xoMwv, extended both to the honejlum and the utile: So that every reafonable adlion, proceeding either from a fenfe of duty or a fenfe of intereft, was called ojfficium. It Is defined by Cicero to be, " Id quod cur fadlum fit ratio " probabilis reddi poteft." We commonly render It by the word duty, but it is more extenfive; for the word duty, in the Englifh language, I think, is commonly applied only to what the ancients called honejlum. CicERO, and Panjetius before him, treating of offices, firft point out thofe that are grounded upon the honejlum, 2iX\A next thofe that are grounded upon the utile.
The moft ancient philofophical fyftem concerning the princi- ples of adlion In the human mind, and, I think, the moft agree- able to nature, is that which we find In foir.e fragments of the ancient Pythagoreans, and which is adopted by Plato, and ex- plained In fome of his dialogues.
According to this fyftem, there is a leading principle in the foul.
foul, which, like the fuprcme power in a commonwealth, his chap. v. authority and right to jj;overn. Tliis leadin;^ princijjle they called reafon. It is that which diftin^uiihes men that are adult from brutes, idiots and infants. The inferior principles, which are under the authority of the leading principle, are our paf- fions and appetites, which we have in common with the brutes.
Cicero adopts this fyftem, and exprefles it well in few words. " Duplex enim eft vis animorum atque naturae. Una pars in " ajjpetitu pofita eft, quae hominem hue et illuc rapit, quie eft " i^fjii grcece, altera in ratione, quae docet, et cxplanat quid faci- " endum fugiendumve lit. Ita fit ut ratio prxfit appetitus ob- " temperet."
This divifion of our acftive principles can hardly indeed be ac- counted a difcovery of philofophy, becaufe it has been common to the unlearned in all ages of the world, and fcems to be dic- tated by the common fenfe of mankind.
What I would now obferve concerning this common divifion of our active powers, is, that the leading principle, which is called reafon, comprehends both a regard to what is right and honourable, and a regard to our happincfs upon the whole.