benignity, firmness, or constancy, the same good composure of the affections or uniformity of mind.

And thus the perfection and height of virtue must be owing to the belief of a God.1

BOOK II

PART I

SECTION I

WE have considered what virtue is and to whom the character belongs. It remains to inquire, what obligation there is to virtue, or what reason to embrace it.

We have found that, to deserve the name of good or virtuous, a creature must have all his inclinations and affections, his dispositions of mind and temper, suitable, and agreeing with the good of his kind, or of that system in which he is included, and of which he constitutes a part. To stand thus well affected, and to have one's affections right and entire, not only in respect of oneself but of society and the public, this is rectitude, integrity, or virtue. And to be wanting in any of these, or to have their contraries, is depravity, corruption, and vice.

It has been already shown, that in the passions and affections of particular creatures there is a constant relation to the interest of a species or common nature. This has been demonstrated in the case of natural affection, parental kindness, zeal for posterity, concern for the propagation and nurture of the young, love of fellowship and company, compassion, mutual succour, and the rest of this kind. Nor will any one deny that this affection of a creature towards the good of the species or common nature is as proper and natural to him as it is to any 1 [Cp. Spinoza, Ethics, part iv. Prop. xxviii.]

organ, part, or member of an animal body, or mere vegetable, to work in its known course and regular way of growth. Tis not more natural for the stomach to digest, the lungs to breathe, the glands to separate juices, or other entrails to perform their several offices, however they may by particular impediments be sometimes disordered or obstructed in their operations.

There being allowed therefore in a creature such affections as these towards the common nature or system of the kind, together with those other which regard the private nature or self-system, it will appear that in following the first of these affections, the creature must on many occasions contradict and go against the latter. How else should the species be preserved? Or what would signify that implanted natural affection, by which a creature through so many difficulties and hazards preserves its offspring and supports its kind?

It may therefore be imagined, perhaps, that there is a plain and absolute opposition between these two habits or affections. It may be presumed that the pursuing the common interest or public good through the affections of one kind, must be a hindrance to the attainment of private good through the affections of another. For it being taken for granted that hazards and hardships of whatever sort are naturally the ill of the private state, and it being certainly the nature of those public affections to lead often to the greatest hardships and hazards of every kind, 'tis presently inferred "that 'tis the creature's interest to be without any public affection whatsoever."

This we know for certain, that all social love, friendship, gratitude, or whatever else is of this generous kind, does by its nature take place of the self-interesting passions, draws us out of ourselves, and makes us disregardful of our own convenience and safety. So that according to a known way of reasoning on self-interest,1 that which is of a social kind in us should of 1 [i.e. that of Hobbes. See the Essay on Wit and Humour, part ii. § 1, and part iii. § 3.]

right be abolished. Thus kindness of every sort, indulgence, tenderness, compassion, and, in short, all natural affection, should be industriously suppressed, and as mere folly and weakness of nature be resisted and overcome; that by this means there might be nothing remaining in us which was contrary to a direct self-end; nothing which might stand in opposition to a steady and deliberate pursuit of the most narrowly confined self-interest.

According to this extraordinary hypothesis, it must be taken for granted "that in the system of a kind or species, the interest of the private nature is directly opposite to that of the common one, the interest of particulars directly opposite to that of the public in general." A strange constitution! in which it must be confessed there is much disorder and untowardness, unlike to what we observe elsewhere in Nature. As if in any vegetable or animal body the part or member could be supposed in a good and prosperous state as to itself, when under a contrary disposition and in an unnatural growth or habit as to its whole.

Now that this is in reality quite otherwise, we shall endeavour to demonstrate, so as to make appear "that what men represent as an ill order and constitution in the universe, by making moral rectitude appear the ill, and depravity the good or advantage of a creature, is in Nature just the contrary. That to be well affected towards the public interest and one's own is not only consistent but inseparable; and that moral rectitude or virtue must accordingly be the advantage, and vice the injury and disadvantage of every creature."

SECTION II

THERE are few perhaps who, when they consider a creature void of natural affection and wholly destitute of a communicative or social principle, will suppose him at the same time either tolerably happy in himself, or as he stands abroad, with

respect to his fellow-creatures or kind. "Tis generally thought that such a creature as this feels slender joy in life, and finds little satisfaction in the mere sensual pleasures which remain with him, after the loss of social enjoyment and whatever can be called humanity or good nature. We know that to such a creature as this 'tis not only incident to be morose, rancorous, and malignant; but that of necessity a mind or temper thus destitute of mildness and benignity must turn to that which is contrary, and be wrought by passions of a different kind. Such a heart as this must be a continual seat of perverse inclinations and bitter aversions, raised from a constant illhumour, sourness, and disquiet. The consciousness of such a nature, so obnoxious to mankind, and to all beings which approach it, must overcloud the mind with dark suspicion and jealousy, alarm it with fears and horror, and raise in it a continual disturbance, even in the most seeming fair and secure state of fortune, and in the highest degree of outward prosperity.

This, as to the complete immoral state, is what, of their own accord, men readily remark. Where there is this absolute degeneracy, this total apostasy from all candour, equity, trust, sociableness, or friendship, there are few who do not see and acknowledge the misery which is consequent. Seldom is the case misconstrued when at worst. The misfortune is, we look not on this depravity, nor consider how it stands, in less degrees. The calamity, we think, does not of necessity hold proportion with the injustice or iniquity. As if to be absolutely immoral and inhuman were indeed the greatest misfortune and misery; but that to be so in a little degree should be no misery nor harm at all. Which to allow, is just as reasonable as to own that 'tis the greatest ill of a body to be in the utmost manner distorted and maimed; but that to lose the use only of one limb, or to be impaired in some one single organ or member, is no inconvenience or ill worthy the least notice.

The parts and proportions of the mind, their mutual

relation and dependency, the connection and frame of those passions which constitute the soul or temper, may easily be understood by any one who thinks it worth his while to study this inward anatomy. Tis certain that the order or symmetry of this inward part is in itself no less real and exact than that of the body. However, 'tis apparent that few of us endeavour to become anatomists of this sort. Nor is any one ashamed of the deepest ignorance in such a subject. For though the greatest misery and ill is generally owned to be from disposition and temper; though 'tis allowed that temper may often change, and that it actually varies on many occasions, much to our disadvantage; yet how this matter is brought about we inquire not. We never trouble ourselves to consider thoroughly by what means or methods our inward constitution comes at any time to be impaired or injured. The solutio continui, which bodily surgeons talk of, is never applied in this case by surgeons of another sort. The notion of a whole and parts is not apprehended in this science. We know not what the effect is of straining any affection, indulging any wrong passion, or relaxing any proper and natural habit or good inclination. Nor can we conceive how a particular action should have such a sudden influence on the whole mind as to

make the person an immediate sufferer. We suppose rather that a man may violate his faith, commit any wickedness unfamiliar to him before, engage in any vice or villainy, without the least prejudice to himself, or any misery naturally following from the ill action.

"Tis thus we hear it often said, "Such a person has done ill indeed; but what is he the worse for it?" Yet, speaking of any nature thoroughly savage, curst, and inveterate, we say truly, "Such a one is a plague and torment to himself." And we allow "that through certain humours or passions, and from temper merely, a man may be completely miserable, let his outward circumstances be ever so fortunate." These different judgments sufficiently demonstrate that we are not