exert themselves.

The malevolent, on the contrary, can scarce be too tardy, too flow or deliberate.

It is even of use that the evil which is done without defign fhould be regarded as a misfortune to the doer as well as to the fufferer. Man is thereby taught to reverence the happinefs of his brethren, to tremble left he should, even unknowingly, do any thing that can hurt them, and to dread that animal refentment which he feels is ready to burst out against him, if he should without defign be the unhappy inftrument of their calamity:

Notwithstanding, however, all these seeming irregularities of fentiment, if man fhould unfortunately either give occafion to thofe evils which he did not intend, or fail in producing that good which he intended, nature has not left his innocence altogether without confolation, nor his virtue altogether without reward. He then calls to his affiftance that just and equitable maxim, that those events which did not depend upon our conduct ought not to diminish the esteem that is due to us. He fummons up his whole magnanimity and firmness of foul, and ftrives to regard himself, not in the light in which he at prefent appears, but in that in which he ought to appear, in which he would have appeared had his generous defigns been crowned with fuccefs, and in which he would ftill appear, notwithstanding their mifcarriage, if the fentiments of mankind were either altogether candid and equitable, or even perfectly confiftent

with themselves. The more candid and humane part of mankind intirely go along with the efforts which he thus makes to fupport himself in his own opinion. They exert their whole generofity and greatness of mind, to correct in themselves this irregularity of human nature, and endeavour to regard his unfortunate magnanimity in the fame light in which, had it been fuccessful, they would, without any fuch generous exertion, have na turally been disposed to confider it.

PART

Of the foundation of our judgments concerning our own fentiments and conduct, and of the sense of duty.

Confifting of one SECTIO N.

СНАР. I.

Of the confcioufnefs of merited praife or blame.

N the two foregoing parts of this difcourfe, I

have chiefly confidered the origin and foundation of our judgments concerning the fentiments and conduct of others. I come now to confider the origin of those concerning

our own.

The defire of the approbation and esteem of those we live with, which is of fuch importance to our happiness, cannot be fully and intirely contented but by rendering ourselves the juft and proper objects of those fentiments, and by adjusting our own character and conduct according to those measures and rules by which efteem and approbation are naturally bestowed. It is not fufficient, that from ignorance or mistake, esteem and approbation should fome way or other be beftowed upon us. If we are conscious that we

do

Part III. do not deferve to be fo favourably thought of, and that, if the truth was known, we fhould be regarded with very opposite sentiments, our fatisfaction is far from being complete. The man who applauds us either for actions which we did not perform, or for motives which had no fort of influence upon our conduct, applauds not us, but another perfon. We can derive no fort of fatisfaction from his praises. To us they fhould be more mortifying than any cenfure, and should perpetually call to our minds, the most humbling of all reflexions, the reflexion upon what we ought to be, but what we are not. A woman who paints to conceal her uglinefs, could derive, one should imagine, but little vanity from the compliments that are paid to her beauty. Thefe, we fhould expect, ought rather to put her in mind of the fentiments which her real complexion would excite, and mortify her the more by the contraft. To be pleased with fuch groundless applause is a proof of the most fuperficial levity and weaknefs. It is what is properly called vanity, and is the foundation of the most ridiculous and contemptible vices, the vices of affectation and common lying; follies which, if experience did not teach us how common they are, one fhould imagine the least spark of common fenfe would fave us from. The foolish lyar, who endeavours to excite the admiration of the company by the relation of adventures which never had any existence, the important coxcomb who gives himself airs of rank and diftinction which he

well

well knows he has no juft pretenfions to, are both of them, no doubt, pleased with the applause which they fancy they meet with. But their vanity arises from fo grofs an illufion of the imagination, that it is difficult to conceive how any rational creature fhould be impofed upon by it. When they place themselves in the fituation of those whom they fancy they have deceived, they are struck with the highest admiration for their own perfons. They look upon themselves, not in that light in which, they know, they ought to appear to their companions, but in that in which they believe their companions actually look upon them. Their fuperficial weaknefs and trivial folly hinder them from ever turning their eyes inwards, or from seeing themfelves in that defpicable point of view in which their own confciences should tell them that they would appear to every body, if the real truth fhould ever come to be known.

As ignorant and groundlefs praife can give no folid joy, no fatisfaction that will bear any ferious examination, fo, on the contrary, it often gives real comfort to reflect, that though no praise fhould actually be bestowed upon us, our conduct, however, has been fuch as to deserve it, and has been in every refpect fuitable to those measures and rules by which praise and approbation are naturally and commonly bestowed. We are pleafed not only with praise, but with having done what is praife-worthy. We are pleafed to think that we have rendered ourselves the natural objects Ꮎ

of