are upon these occafions commonly cited as the ultimate foundations of what is juft and unjust in human conduct; and this circumftance feems to have mifled feveral very eminent authors, to draw up their fyftems in fuch a manner, as if they had fuppofed that the original judgments of mankind with regard to right and wrong, were formed like the decifions of a court of judicatory, by confidering first the general rule, and then, fecondly, whether the particular action under confideration fell properly within its comprehenfion.

Thofe general rules of conduct, when they have been fixed in our mind by habitual reflection, are of great ufe in correcting the mifreprefentations of felf-love concerning what is fit and proper to be done in our particular fituation. The man of furious refentment, if he was to liften to the dictates of that paffion, would perhaps regard the death of his enemy, as but a fmall compenfation for the wrong, he imagines, he has received; which, however, may be no more than a very flight provocation. But his obfervations upon the conduct of others, have taught him how horrible all fuch fanguinary revenges appear. Unless his education has been very fingular, he has laid it down to himself as an inviolable rule, to abftain from them upon all occafions. This rule preferves its authority with him, and renders him incapable of being guilty of fuch a violence. Yet the fury of his own temper may be fuch, that had this

been

been the first time in which he confidered fuch an action, he would undoubtedly have determined it to be quite juft and proper, and what every impartial fpectator would approve of. But that reverence for the rule which past experience has impreffed upon him, checks the impetuofity of his paffion, and helps him to correct the too partial views which feltlove might otherwife fuggeft, of what was proper to be done in his fituation. If he hould allow himself to be fo far transported by paffion as to violate this rule, yet even in this cafe, he cannot throw off altogether the awe and refpect with which he has been accuf tomed to regard it. At the very time of acting, at the moment in which paffion mounts the higheft, he hesitates and trembles at the thought of what he is about to do: he is fecretly confcious to himself that he is breaking through those measures of conduct which, in all his cool hours, he had refolved never to infringe, which he had never feen infringed by others without the highest disapprobation, and of which the infringement, his own mind, forbodes, must foon render him the object of the fame disagreeable fentiments. Before he can take the laft fatal refolution, he is tormented with all the agonies of doubt and uncertainty; he is terrified at the thought of violating fo facred a rule, and at the fame time is urged and goaded on by the fury of his defires to violate it. He changes his purpose every moment; fometimes he refolves to adhere to his principle, and not indulge a paffion

Q2

fion which may corrupt the remaining part of his life with the horrors of shame and repentance; and a momentary calm takes poffeffion of his breast, from the prospect of that fecurity and tranquillity which he will enjoy when he thus determines not to expose himfelf to the hazard of a contrary conduct. But immediately the paffion roufes anew, and with fresh fury drives him on to commit what he had the inftant before refolved to abstain from. Wearied and diftracted with those continual irrefolutions, he at length, from a fort of despair, makes the laft fatal and irrecoverable step; but with that terror and amazement with which one flying from an enemy, throws himself over a precipice, where he is fure of meeting with more certain deftruction than from any thing that purfucs him from behind. Such are his fentiments even at the time of acting; though he is then, no doubt, lefs fenfible of the impropriety of his own conduct than afterwards, when his paffion being gratified and palled, he begins to view what he has done in the light in which others are apt to view it; and actually feels, what he had only foreseen very imperfectly before, the ftings of remorfe and repentance begin to agitate and torment him.

CHAP.

CHA P. III.

Of the influence and authority of the general rules of morality, and that they are justly regarded as the laws of the Deity.

T

HE regard to thofe general rules of conduct, is what is properly called a fense of duty, a principle of the greatest confequence in human life, and the only principle by which the bulk of mankind are capable of directing their actions. Many men behave. very decently, and through the whole of their, lives avoid any confiderable degree of blame, who yet, perhaps, never felt the fentiment upon the propriety of which we found our approbation of their conduct, but acted merely from a regard to what they faw were the established rules of behaviour. The man who has received great benefits from another perfon, may, by the natural coldness of his temper, feel but a very small degree of the fentiment of gratitude. If he has been virtuously educated, however, he will often have been made to obferve how odious thofe actions appear which denote a want of this fentiment, and how amiable the contrary. Tho' his heart therefore is not warmed with any grateful affection, he will ftrive to act as if it was, and will endeavour to pay all those regards and attentions to his patron which the livelieft gratitude could fuggeft. He will vi

fit him regularly; he will behave to him refpectfully; he will never talk of him but with expreffions of the higheft efteem, and of the many obligations which he owes to him. And what is more, he will carefully embrace every opportunity of making a proper return for paft fervices. He may do all this too without any hypocrify or blameable diffimulation, without any felfish intention of obtaining new favours, and without any defign of impofing either upon his benefactor or the public. The motive of his actions may be no other than a reverence for the established rule of duty, a ferious and earnest defire of acting, in every respect, according to the law of gratitude. A wife, in the fame manner, may fometimes not feel that tender regard for her husband which is fuitable to the relation that fubfifts between them. If he has been virtuously educated, however, fhe will endeavour to act as if the felt it, to be careful, officious, faithful, and fincere, and to be deficient in none of those attentions which the fentiment of conjugal affection could have prompted her to perform. Such a friend, and fuch a wife, are neither of them, undoubtedly, the very beft of their kinds; and though both of them may have the most serious and earnest defire to fulfil every part of their duty, yet they will fail in many nice and delicate regards, they will mifs many opportunities of obliging, which they could never have overlooked if they had poffeffed the fent ment that is proper to their fituation. Though not the very