Although thefe be really two diftind principles of adlion, it is very natural to comprehend them under one name, becaufe both are leading principles, both fuppofe the ufe of reafon, and, when rightly underftood, both lead to the fame courfe of life. They are like twp fountains whofe ftreams unite and run in the lame channel.
When a man, on one occafion, confults his real happinefs in things not inconfillent with his duty, though in oppolition to the Iblicitation of appetite or paflion; and when, on another occafion, without any Itlfifli confideration, he does what is right G g and CHAP. V. ^^^] honourable, becaufe it is fo; in both thefe cafes, he adls reafonably; every man approves of his condud, and calls it reafonable, or according to reafon.
So that, when we fpeak of reafon as a principle of adlion in man, it includes a regard both to the honejlum and to the utile. Both are combined under one name; and accordingly the dic- tates of both, in the Latin tongue, were combined under the name officium, and in the Greek under xaflrxoi*.
If we examine the abftradl notion of duty, or moral obliga- tion, it appears to be neither any real quality of the ad:ion con- fidered by itfelf, nor of the agent confidered without refpedl to the adlion, but a certain relation between the one and the other.
When we fay a man ought to do fuch a thing, the ought, which exprefles the moral obligation, has a refpeft, on the one hand, to the perfon who ought, and, on the other, to the adion which he ought to do. Thofe two correlates are eflential to every moral obligation; take away either, and it has no ex- iftence. So that, if we feek the place of moral obligation among the categories, it belongs to the category of relation.
There are many relations of things, of which we have the mod diftindt conception, without being able to define them lo- gically. Equality and proportion are relations between quanti- ties, which every man underflands, but no man can define.
Moral obligation is a relation of its own kind, which every man underftands, but is perhaps too fimple to admit of logical definition. Like all other relations, it may be changed or anni- hilated by a change in any of the two related things, I mean the agent or the adion.
Perhaps OF THE NOTION OF DUTY, Wc. 235 Perhaps it may not be improper to point out briefly the cir- CHAP, v, cumftances, both in the ndion and in the aj^L-nt, wliich are ne- ceflary to conllitute moral obligation. The univerfal agreement of men in thefe, fliews that they have one and the lame notion of it.
With regard to the adion, it mufl be a voluntary adion, or preftation of the perfon obliged, and not of another. There can be no moral obligation upon a man to be fix feet high. Nor can I be under a moral obligation that another perfon fliould do fuch a thing. His adlions mufl be imputed to hiinfelf, and mine' only to me, either for praife or blame.
I need hardly mention, that a perfon can be under a moral obligation, only to things within the fphere of his natural power.
« As to the party obliged, it is evident, there can be no moral obligation upon an inanimate thing. To fpeak of moral obliga- tion upon a ftone or a tree is ridiculous, becaufe it coutradids every man's notion of moral obligation.
The perfon obliged mufl have underflanding and will, and fome degree of adive power. He mufl not only have the na- tural faculty of underflanding, but the means of knowing his obligation. An invincible ignorance of this deflroys all moral obligation.
The opinion of the agent in doing the adion gives it its mo- ral denomination. If he does a materially good udion, without any belief of its being good, but from fome other principle, it is no good adion in him. And if he does it with the belief of its being ill, it is ill in him.
Thus, if a man fliould give to his neighbour a potion which CHAP. V. [je really believes will poifon him, but which, in the event, proves falutary, and does much good; in moral eftimation, he is a poi- foner, and not a benefactor.
Thefe qualifications of the ad:ion and of the agent, in mo- ral obligation, are felf-evident; and the agreement of all men in them fhows, that all men have the fame notion and a diflindl notion of moral obligation.
Of the Senfe of Duty.
w E are next to confider, how we learn to judge and deter- mine, that this is right, and that is wrong.
The abftradl notion of moral good and ill would be of no ufe to diredl our life, if we had not the power of applying it to. particular adions, and determining what is morally good, and what is morally ill.
Some Phllofophers, with whom I agree, afcribe this to an ori- ginal power or faculty in man, which they call the moral fenfe, the moral faculty, confcience. Others think, that our moral fenti- ments may be accounted for without fuppofing any original fenfe or faculty appropriated to that purpofe, and go into very different fyftems to account for them.
I am not, at prefent, to take any notice of thofe fyftems, be- caufe the opinion firfl mentioned feems to me to be the truth, to wit, That, by an original power of the mind, when we come to years of underftanding and refledion, we not only have the notions OFTHESENSEOFDUTY. 237 notions of right:iiul wrong in condud, but perceive certain cftat. vr. tilings to be right, and others to be wrong. s/— — ' The name of the moral fcnfe, thougii more frequently given to confcience fince Lord Shaftesbury and Dr Hutcheson wruie is not new. The fitifns reEl'i et boricjli is a phrafe not unfrequent among the ancients, neither is the fenfe of duty among us.
It lias got this name of fenfe ^ no doubt, from fome analogy which it is conceived to bear to the external fenfes. And if we have juft notions of the oilice of tiie external fenfes, the analogy is very evident, and I fee no reafon to take oiVence, as fome have done, at the name ot the moral fcnfe.
The offence taken at this name feems to be owing to this, That Philofophcrs have degraded the fenfes too much, and de- prived them of the moft important part of their office.
We are taught, that, by the fenfes, we have only certain ideas which we could not have otherwife. They are reprefented as powers by which we have fenfations and ideas, not as powers by which we judge.
This notion of the fenfes I take to be very lame, and to con- tradidl what nature and accurate refledion teach concerning them.
A man who has totally loft the fenfe of feeing, may retain ve- ry diftinct notions of the various colours; but he cannot judge of colours, becaufe he has loft the fenfe by which alone he could judge. By my eyes I not only have the ideas of a fquare and a circle, but I perceive this furface to be a fquare, that to be a circle.
By my ear, I not only have the idea of founds, loud and fofi, acute and grave, but 1 immediately perceive and judge this found to CHAP. VI. to be loud, that to be foft, this to be acute, that to be grave. Two or more fynchronous founds I perceive to be concordant, others to be difcordant.
Thefe are judgments of the fenfes. They have always been called and accounted fuch, by thofe whofe minds are not tinc- tured by philofophical theories. They are the immediate teftimony of nature by our fenfes; and we are fo conftituted by nature, that we mull receive their teftimony, for no other reafon but becaufe it is given by our fenfes.
In vain do Sceptics endeavour to overturn this evidence by metaphyfical reafoning. Though we fhould not be able to an- fwer their arguments, we believe our fenfes ftill, and reft our moft important concerns upon their teftimony.
If this be a juft notion of our external fenfes, as I conceive it is, our moral faculty may, I think, without impropriety, be cal- led the moral fenfe.
In its dignity it is, without doubt, far fuperior to every other power of the mind j but there is this analogy between it and the external fenfes, That, as by them we have not only the ori- ginal conceptions of the various qualities of bodies, but the ori- ginal judgments that this body has fuch a quality, that fuch another^ fo by our moral faculty, we have both the original conceptions of right and wrong in condudl, of merit and demerit, and the original judgments that this condud is right, that is wrong ', that this charader has worth, that, demerit.
The teftimony of our moral faculty, like that of the external fenfes, Is the teftimony of nature, and we have the fame reafon to rely upon it.
The truths immediately teftified by the external fenfes are the firft OF THE SENSE OF DUTY.
lirft principles from which we rcafon, with regard to the mate- Cli^? vr. rial world, and from which all our knowledge of it is deduced.
The truths immediately teftified by our moral faculty, are the firfl: principles of all moral reafoning, from which all our know- ledge of our duty muft be deduced.
By moral reafoning, I undcrftand all reafoning that is brought to prove that fuch conducl: is right, and deferring of moral ai>- probation, or that it is wrong, or that it is inditlereut, and, in it- felf, neither morally good nor ill.
I think, all we can properly call moral judgments are redu- cible to one or other of thefe, as all human actions, confidered in a moral view, are either good, or bad, or indifferent.
I know the term moral reafoning is often ufed by good writers in a more extenfive ['tn(t; but as the reafoning I now fpeak of Is of a peculiar kind, diflind from all others, and therefore ought to have a diftind name, I take the liberty to limit the name of moral reafoning to this kind.
Let It be underftood therefore, that in the reafoning I call morale the conclufion always is, That fomething in the conduct of moral agents is good or bad, in a greater or a lefs degree, or indifferent.
All reafoning muft be grounded on firft principles. This holds in moral reafoning, as in all other kinds. There muft therefore be in morals, as in all other fclences, rirft or felf-evi- dent principles, on which all moral reafoning is grounded, and on which it ultimately refts. From fuch felf-evidcnt princi])les, conclufions may be drawn fynthetically with regard to the mo- ral condu(5t of life; and particular duties or virtues may be traced back to fuch principles, analytically. But, without fuch principles, CHAP. VI. principles, we can no more eftablifli any conclufion in morals, than we can build a caftle in the air, without any foundation.
An example or two will ferve to illuftrate this.
It is a firft principle in morals. That we ought not to do to another, what we fhould think wrong to be done to us in like circumflances. If a man Is not capable of.perceiving this in his cool moments, when he refledls ferioufly, he is not a moral agent, nor is he capable of being convinced of It by reafon- From what topic can yon reafon with fuch a man? You may polfibly convince him by reafonlng, that It Is his Intereft to ob- ferve this rule j but this Is not to convince him that it is his du- ty. To reafon about juftice with a man who fees nothing to be juft or unjuft ', or about benevolence with a man who fees no- thing In benevolence preferable to malice, is like reafonlng with a blind man about colour, or with a deaf man about found.
It is a quefllon in morals that admits of reafonlng. Whether, by the law of nature, a man 'ought to have only one wife?
We reafon upon this queftlon, by balancing the advantages and difadvantages to the family, and to foclety In general, that are naturally confequent both upon monogamy and polygamy. And If It can be fhewn that the advantages are greatly upon the fide of monogamy, we think the point Is determined.
But, if a man does not perceive that he ought to regard the good of fociety, and the good of his wife and children, the rea- fonlng can have no effed; upon him, becaufe he denies the firft principle upon which it Is grounded.
Suppofe again, that we reafon for monogamy from the inten- tion OF THE SENSE OF DUTY. 24* tion of nature, difcovercd by the projiortion of mules and of fc- CHAP. VL males that are born; a proportion which correfixmds pcr:fcCi\y with monogamy, but by no means with polygamy. This argu- ment can have no weight with a man who does not perceive that he ought to have a regard to the intention of nature.
Thus we fhall find that all moral rcafonings reft upon one or more firft princijiles of morals, whofe truth is immediately per- ceived without reafoning, by all men come to year') of under- Handing.
And this indeed is common to every branch of human know- ledge that deferves the name of fcience. There muft be fnii principles proper to that fcience, by which the whole fupcr- ftrudlure is fupported.
The firft: principles of all the fciences, muft be the immediate didates of our natural faculties]; nor is it pollible that we fliould have any other evidence of their truth. And in different fci- ences the faculties which didate their firft principles are very different.
Thus, in aftronomy and in optics, in which fuch wonder- ful difcoveries have been made, that the unlearned can hardly believe them to be within the reach of human capacity, the firft principles are phrcnomena attefted folely by that little or- gan, the human eye. If we diftjclieve its report, the whole of thofe two noble fabrics of fcience, falls to pieces like the vi- fions of tlie night.
The principles of mufic all depend upon the teftimony of the ear. The principles of natural philofophy, upon the fadls at- tefted by the fenfes. The principles of mathematics, upon the neceffary relations of quantities confidered abftradly, fuch as, That equal quantities added to equal quantities make equal H h fums, P^'"^?- ^'l- Turns, and the like; which neccflary relations are immediately- perceived by the underftanding.
The fcience of politics borrows its principles from what we know by experience of the charader and conduct of man. We confider not what he ought to be, but wliat he is, and thence conclude what part he will a6l in different fituations and cir- cumllances. From fuch principles we reafon concerning the caufes and effeds of different forms of government, laws, cuf- toms, and manners. If man were either a more perfedl or a more iraperfed, a better or a worfe creature than he is, politics would be a different fcience from what it is.
The firft principles of morals are the Immediate ditftates of the moral faculty. They Ihew us, not what man is, but what he ought to be. Whatever is Immediately perceived to be juft, honeft, and honourable, In human condudl, carries moral obli- gation along with it, and the contrary carries demerit and blame; and, from thofe moral obligations that are immediately per- ceived, all other moral obligations mull be deduced by reafon- ing.
He that will judge of the colour of an objedl, mufl; confult his eyes, In a good light, when there is no medium or contiguous objeds that may give It a falfe tinge. But In vain will he con- fult every other faculty In this matter.
In like manner, he that will judge of the firft principles of morals, muft confult his confclence, or moral faculty, when he is calm and dlfpaflionate, unbialled by intereft, affedlon, or fafhion.
As we rely upon the clear and dlftlnd teftlmony of our eyes, concerning the colours and figures of the bodies about us, we have the fame reafon to rely with fecurity upon the clear and unblafled OF THi: SENSE OF DUTY. 243 unblanecl tefllmony of our confcicncc, with rcgirJ to what we CH.MVVL ought and ought not to do. In many cafes, moral worth and demerit are difccrncd no lefs clearly by the Lift of thofe natural faculties, than hgure and colour by the full.
The faculties which nature hath given us, are the only en- gines we can ufe to find out the truth. ^V^e cannot indeed prove that thofe faculties are not fallacious, unlcfs God fliould give us new faculties to fit in judgment upon the old. But we are born under a neccfTity of truftiiig them.
Every man in his fenfes believes his eyes, his ears, and his other fenfes. He believes his confcioufnefs with refpedl to his own thoughts and purpofes, his memory, with regard to what is paft, his underftanding, with regard to abftrad: relations of things, and his tafte, with regard to what is elegant and beau- tiful. And he has the fame reafon, and, indeed, is under the fame necelFity of believing the clear and unbiafled didates of his confcience, with regard to what is honourable and what is bafe.
The fum of what has been faid in this chapter is, That, by an original power of the mind, which we call confcience, or the mo- ral faculty, we have the conceptions of right and wrong in hu- man condud, of merit and demerit, of duty and moral oblit^a- tion, and our other moral conceptions; and that, by the fame faculty, we perceive fome things in human conduCl to be right, and others to be wrong; that the firft principles of morals are the didates of this faculty; and that we have the fame reafon to rely upon thofe didtates, as upon the determinations of our fenfes, or of our other natural faculties.
H h 2 CHAP.
Of moral Approbation and Diftp probation.
OUR moral judgments are not like thofe we form in fpecu- lative matters, dry and unaffeding, but, from their na- ture, are neceflarily accompanied with affedions and feelings j which we are now to conlider.
It was before obferved, that every human adlion, confidered in a moral view, appears to us good, or bad, or indifferent. When we judge the adion to be indifferent, neither good nor bad, though this be a moral judgment, it produces no affedion nor feeling, any more than our judgments in fpeculative matters.
But we approve of good adions, and difapprove of bad; and this approbation and difapprobation, when we analyfe it, appears to include, not only a moral judgment of the adion, but fome affedion, favourable or unfavourable, towards^ the agent, and fome feeling in ourfelves.
Nothing Is more evident than this. That moral worth, even itt a ftranger, with whom we have not the leall connedion, never fails to produce fome degree of efteem mixed with good will.
The efteem which we have for a man on account of his mo- ral worth, is different from that which is grounded upon his in- telledual accomplifhments, his birth, fortune, and connedion with us.
Moral worth, when it is not fet off by eminent abilities, and external advantages, is like a diamond in the mine, which is rough OF MORAL APPROBATION, =^c. 245 rough and unpoliflied, and perhaps cruftcd over with fome bafer chap. \ ir. material that takes away its luflrc. ^' But, -when it is attended with thefe advantages, it is hke a diamond cut, polilhcd, and fet. Then its luftrc attrads every eye. Yet thefe tilings which add Co much to its appearance, add but little to its real value.
We muft farther obferve, that efleem and benevolent regard, not only accompany real worth by the conftitution of our na- ture, but are perceived to be really and properly due to it j and that, on the contrary, unworthy condud really merits diflike and indignation.
There is no judgment of the heart of man more clear, or more irrefiftible, than this, That efteem and regard are really due to good condudl, and the contrary to bafc and unworthy contlud. Nor can we conceive a greater depravity in the heart of man, than it would be to fee and acknowledge worth without feeling any refpedt to it 3 or to fee and acknowledge the higheft. ■worthlefliiefs without any degree of diflike and indignation.
The efteem that is due to worthy condud, is not leflened ■when a man is confcious of it in himfelf. Nor can he help ha- ving fome efleem for himfelf, when he is confcious of thofe qualities for which he moft highly efteems others.
Self-efleem, grounded upon external advantages, or the gifts of fortune, is pride. When it is grounded upon a vain conceit of inward worth which we do not poflcfs, it is arrogance and felf-dcceit. But when a man, without thinking of himfelf more highly than he ought to think, is confcious of that integrity of heart, and uprightnefs of conduct, which he moft highly efteems in others, and values himfelf duly upon this account; this perhaps may be called the pride of virtue, but it is not a vicious CHAP. VII. vicious pride. It is a noble and magnanimous dlfpofition, with- out which there can be no fleady virtue.
A man who has a charadler with iiimfelf, which he vaUies, will difdain to a6l in a manner unworthy of it. The language of his heart will be like that of Job, " My righteoufnefs I hold " faft, and will not let it go; my heart fhall not reproach ine " while I live."
^ A good man owes much to his character with the w^orld, and will be concerned to vindicate it from unjuft imputations. But he owes much more to his character with himfelf. For if his heart condemns him not, he has confidence towards God j and he can more eafily bear the lafli of tongues than the reproach of his own mind.
The fenfe of honour, fo much fpoken of, and fo often mifap- plied, is nothing elfe, when rightly underflood, but the difdain which a man of worth feels to do a diflionourable adlion, though it fhould never be known nor fufpe<5led.
A good man will have a much greater abhorrence againfl do- ing a bad adlion, than even againfl: having it unjuftly imputed to him. The laft may give a wound to his reputation, but the firft gives a wound to his confcience, which is more difficult to heal, and more painful to endure.
Let us, on the other hand, confider how we are affeded by difapprobation, either of the condudt of others, or of our own.
Every thing we difapprove in the condudt of a man leflens him in our eflieem. There are indeed brilliant faults, which, having a mixture of good and ill in them, may have a very dif- ferent afpedt, according to the fide on which we view them.
In OF MORAL APPROBATION, Wf. 247 In fuch faults of our friends, and much more of ourfclves, CHAP. vii. we are difpofed to view them on the bcft fide, and on the con- trary fide in thofe to whom wc are ill aflccted.
This partiality, in taking things by the befl or by the worfl handle, is the chief caufe of wrong judgment with regard to the cliaradler of others, and of felf-deceit with regard to our own.
But when we take complex a<flions to pieces, and view every part by itfclf, ill conduct of every kind leffens our efteem of a man, as much as good conduct increafes it. It is apt to turn lovc-into indifference, indifference into contempt, and contempt into averfion and abhorrence.
When a man is confcious of immoral condudV in himfclf, it lellens his felf-efteem. It depreffes and humbles his fpirit, and makes his countenance to fall. He could even punilh himfelf for his mifhehaviour, if that could wipe out the flain. There is a fenfe of diflionour and worthleffnefs arifing from guilt, as well as a fenfe of honour and worth arifing from woithy con- dud. And this is the cafe, even if a man could conceal his guilt from all the world.
We are next to confider the agreeable or uneafy feelings, in the breaft of the fpedlator or judge, which naturally accompany moral approbation and difapprobation.
There is no affection that is not accompanied with fome agreeable or uneafy emotion. It has often been obferved, that all the benevolent affections give pleafure, and the contrary ones pain, in one degree or another.
When we contemplate a noble charader, though but in an- cient hiftory, or even in tktiou j like a beautiful objcd, it gives u CHAP. vu. ^ lively and pleafant emotion to the fpirits. It warms the heart, and invigorates the whole frame. Like the beams of the fun, it enlivens the face of nature, and diffufes heat and light all around.
We feel a fympathy with every noble and worthy charadler that is reprefented to us. We rejoice in his profperity, we are afflided in his diftrefs. We even catch fome fparks of that ce- leftial fire that animated his conduct, and feel the glow of his virtue and magnanimity.
This fympathy is the neceflary effedl of our judgment of his conduct, and of the approbation and efteem due to it; for real fympathy is always the effedl of fome benevolent affediion, fuch as efteem, love, pity or humanity.
When the perfon whom we approve is conneded with us by acquaintance, friendfhip or blood, the pleafure we derive from his condud is greatly increafed. We claim fome property in his worth, and are apt to value ourfelves on account of it. This fhews a ftronger degree of fympathy, which gathers ftrength from every fecial tie.
But the higheft pleafure of all is, when we are confcious of good condud in ourfelves. This, in facred fcripture, is called the tejl'imony of a good confcience ', and it is reprefented, not only in the facred writings, but in the writings of all moralifts, of eve- ry age and fed:, as the pureft, the moft noble and valuable of all human enjoyments.
Surely, were we to place the chief happinefs of this life (a thing that has been fo much fought after) in any one kind of enjoyment, that which arifes from the confcioufnefs of integri- ty, and a uniform endeavour to adt the beft part in our ftation, would moft juftly claim the preference to all other enjoyments the human OF MORAL APPROBATION, t^V.
luiinin mind is capable of, on account of its dignity, the in- CUAV. viL tenfcnefs of the happinefs it aiTords, its liability and duration, its being in our power, and its being proof againft all accidents of time and fortune.
On the other hand, the view of a vicious character, like that of an ugly and deformed jobjed, is difagreeable. It gives dif- gurt and abhorrence.
If the unworthy perfon be nearly connedcd with us, we have a very painful fympathy indeed. We blufli even for the fmal- ler faults of thofe we are conncded with, and feel ourfelves, as it were, diflionoured by their ill condudl.
But, when there is a high degree of depravity in any perfon connedled with us, we are deeply humbled and deprefled by it. The fympathetic feeling has fome refemblance to that of guilt, though it be free from all guilt. We are afhamed to fee our ac- quaintance; we would, if pofllble, difclaim all connection with the guilty perfon. We wifh to tear him from our hearts, and to blot him out of our remembrance.
Time, however, alleviates thofe fympathetic forrows which arife from bad behaviour in our friends and connedions, if we are confcious that we had no fhare in their guilt.
The wifdom of God, in the conftitution of our nature, hath intended, that this fympathetic dillrefs fliould intereit us the more deeply in the good behaviour, as well as in the good for- tune of our friends j and that thereby friendlhip, relation and every focial tie, fliould be aiding to virtue and unfavourable to vice.
How common is it, even in vicious parents, to be deeply af- flided when their children go into thefe courfes in which per- I i haps CHAP. VII. ]j3pg tiiey have gone before them, and, by their example, fliewa them the way.
If bad conduct in thofe in whom we are interefted, be uneafy and painful, it is fo much more when we are confcious of it in ourfelves. This uneafy feeling has a name in all languages. We call it remorje.
It has been defcribed in fuch frightful colours by writers (a- cred and profane, by writers of every age and of every perfua- fion, even by Epicureans, that 1 will not attempt the defcription of it.
It is on account of the uneafmefs of this feeling, that bad men take fo much pains to get rid of it, and to hide, even from their own eyes, as much as poffible, the pravity of their con- duit. Hence arife all the arts of felf-deceit, by which men varnlfh their crimes, or endeavour to wafh out the flain of guilt. Hence the various methods of expiation which fuperfti- tion has invented, to folace the confcience of the criminal, and give fome cooling to his parched breaft. Hence alfo arife, very often, the efforts of men of bad hearts to excel in fome amiable quality, which may be a kind of counterpoife to their vices, both in the opinion of others and in their own.
For no man can bear the thought of being abfolutely deftltute of all worth. The confcloufnefs of this would make him deteft himfelf, hate the light of the fun, and fly. If poffible, out of ck- iflence.
I have now endeavoured to delineate the natural operations of that principle of a dl ion In man, which we call the moral fenfe, the moral faculty, confcience. We know nothing of our natural faculties, but by their operations within us. Of their operations in our own minds, we are confcious, and we fee the figns of their OF MORAL APPRO HAT I ON, ^r. 251 their operations in the minds of others. Of this faculty the CMAr.vii. operations appear to be, the judy;ing ukiinately of what is right, what is wrong, and what is indilVcrent in the conduct of inoral agents; the approbation of good condiidl anil difai^probation of bad in confcquencc of that judgtnent, and the agreeable emo- tions which attend obedience, and difagreeable which attend difobcdience to its didates.
The Supreme Being, who lias given us eyes to difcern what may be ufeful and what hurtful to our natural life, hath alfo given us this light within to direct our moral condutt.
Moral condud is the bufinefs of every man; and therefore the knowledge of it ought to be within the reach of all.
Epicurus reafoned acutely and juftly to fliew, that a regard to our prefent happinefs fliould induce us to the practice of tem- perance, juftice and humanity. But the bulk of mankind can- not follow long trains of reafoning. The loud voice of the pafllons drowns the calm and ftill voice of reafoning.
Confcience commands and forbids with more authority, and in the moft common and moft important points of condud, without the labour of reafoning. Its voice is heard by every man, and cannot be difregarded with impunity.
The fenfe of guilt makes a man at variance with himfclf. He fees that he is what he ought not to be. He has fallen from the dignity of his nature, and has fold his real worth for a thing of no value. He is confcious of demerit, and cannot avoid the dread of meeting with its reward.
On the other hand, he who pays a facred regard to the dic- tates of his confcience, cannot fail of a prefent reward, and a reward proportioned to the exertion required in doing his duty.