Chapter III.

THE QUESTION, WHY AM I OBLIGED TO KEEP MY WORD? RESUMED.

LET it be remembered, that to be obliged, “is to be urged by a violent motive, resulting from the command of another."

And then let it be asked, Why am I obliged to keep my word? and the answer will be, "because I am urged to do fo by a violent motive" (namely, the expectation of being after this life rewarded, if I do, or punished for it, if I do not) "refulting from the command of another" (namely, of God.)

This folution goes to the bottom of the fubject, as no farther question can reasonably be asked.

Therefore, private happiness is our motive, and the will of God our rule.

When I first turned my thoughts to moral fpeculations, an air of mystery feemed to hang over the whole fubject; which arofe, I believe, from hence— that I fuppofed, with many authors whom I had read, that to be obliged to do a thing, was very different from being induced only to do it; and that the obligation to practise virtue, to do what is right, juft, &c. was quite another thing, and of another kind, than the obligation which a foldier is under to obey his officer, a fervant his mafter, or any of the civil and ordinary obligations of human life. Whereas, from what has been faid it appears, that moral obligation is like all other obligations; and that all obligation is nothing more than an inducement of fufficient ftrength, and refulting, in fome way, from the command of another.

There is always underftood to be a difference between an act of prudence and an act of duty. Thus, if

I diftrufted a man who owed me a fum of money, I fhould reckon it an act of prudence to get another perfon bound with him; but I fhould hardly call it an act of duty. On the other hand, it would be thought a very unusual and loofe kind of language, to fay, that as I had made fuch a promise it was prudent to perform it; or that as my friend, when he went abroad, placed a box of jewels in my hands, it would be prudent in me to preserve it for him till he

returned.

Now, in what, you will afk, does the difference confift? inafmuch as, according to our account of the matter, both in the one cafe and the other, in acts of duty as well as acts of prudence, we confider folely what we ourselves fhall gain or lofe by the act?

The difference, and the only difference, is this; that, in the one cafe we confider what we fhall gain or lofe in the present world; in the other cafe we confider what also we fhall gain or lofe in the world to

come.

Those who would eftablish a fyftem of morality, independent of a future ftate, muft look out for fome different idea of moral obligation; unlefs they can fhew that virtue conducts the poffeffor to certain happinefs is this life, or to a much greater fhare of it, than he could attain by a different behaviour.

To us there are two great questions:

I. Will there be after this life any diftribution of rewards and punishments at all?

II. If there be, what actions will be rewarded, and what will be punished?

The first queftion comprifes the credibility of the Chriftian religion, together with the prefumptive proofs of a future retribution from the light of nature. The fecond queftion comprises the province of morality. Both queftions are too much for one

work. The affirmative therefore of the firft, although we confess that it is the foundation upon which the whole fabric refts, muft in this treatise be taken for granted.

Chapter IV.

THE WILL OF GOD.

As the will of God is our rule, to inquire what is our duty, or what we are obliged to do, in any inftance, is, in effect, to inquire what is the will of God in that inftance? which confequently becomes the whole business of morality.

Now there are two methods of coming at the will of God on any point:

I. By his express declarations, when they are to be had; and which must be fought for in fcripture.

II. By what we can discover of his designs and dif pofitions from his works, or, as we ufually call it, the light of nature.

And here we may obferve the abfurdity of feparating natural and revealed religion from each other. The object of both is the fame-to discover the will of God-and, provided we do but difcover it, it matters nothing by what means.

An ambaffador, judging by what he knows of his fovereign's difpofition, and arguing from what he has obferved of his conduct, or is acquainted with his defigns, may take his measures in many cafes with fafety; and prefume, with great probability, how his mafter would have him act on moft occafions that arife: but if he have his commiffion and inftructions in his pocket, it would be ftrange not to look into

them. He will naturally conduct himself by both rules; when his inftructions are clear and positive, there is an end of all farther deliberation (unless indeed he suspect their authenticity): where his inftructions are filent or dubious, he will endeavour to fupply or explain them, by what he has been able to collect from other quarters of his master's general inclination or intentions.

Mr. HUME, in his fourth Appendix to his Principles of Morals, has been pleased to complain of the modern scheme of uniting Ethics with the Chriftian Theology. They who find themselves difpofed to join in this complaint will do well to obferve what Mr. HUME himself has been able to make of morality without this union. And for that purpose, let them read the second part of the ninth section of the above effay; which part contains the practical application of the whole treatise,—a treatife which Mr. Hume declares to be "incomparably the best he ever wrote.' When they have read it over, let them confider, whether any motives there propofed are likely to be found fufficient to withhold men from the gratification of luft, revenge, envy, ambition, avarice, or to prevent the existence of thefe paffions. Unless they rife up from this celebrated effay, with stronger impreffions upon their minds, than it ever left upon mine, they will acknowledge the neceffity of additional fanctions. But the neceffity of these sanctions is not now the question. If they be in fact established, if the rewards and punishments held forth in the gofpel will actually come to pass, they must be confidered. Such as reject the Chriftian religion are to make the beft fhift they can to build up a fyftem, and lay the foundations of morality without it. But it appears to me a great inconfiftency in those who receive Chriftianity, and expect fomething to come of it, to endeavour to keep all fuch expectations out of fight in their reasonings concerning human duty.

The method of coming at the will of God concerning any action, by the light of nature, is to inquire in to "the tendency of the action to promote or diminifh the general happiness." This rule proceeds upon the prefumption, that God Almighty wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures; and confequently, that those actions, which promote that will and wish, must be agreeable to him; and the contrary.

As this prefumption is the foundation of our whole fyftem, it becomes neceffary to explain the reafons upon which it refts.

Chapter v.

THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE.

WHEN God created the human fpecies, either he wished their happiness, or he wifhed their mifery, or he was indifferent and unconcerned about both.

If he had wished our mifery, he might have made fure of his purpose, by forming our fenfes to be as many fores and pains to us, as they are now inftruments of gratification and enjoyment; or by placing us amidst objects fo ill fuited to our perceptions, as to have continually offended us, inftead of miniftering to our refreshment and delight. He might have made, for example, every thing we tasted bitter; every thing we faw loathfome; every thing we touched a fting; every smell a ftench; and every found a difcord.

If he had been indifferent about our happiness or mifery, we muft impute to our good fortune (as all defign by this fuppofition is excluded) both the ca pacity of our fenfes to receive pleasure, and the fupply of external objects fitted to produce it.

I