DAVID HUME

The Uncertainty of Causation

Hume observes that while we may perceive two events that seem to occur in conjunction, there is no way for us to know the nature of their connection. Based on this observation, Hume argues against the very concept of causation, or cause and effect. We often assume that one thing causes another, but it is just as possible that one thing does not cause the other. Hume claims that causation is a habit of association, a belief that is unfounded and meaningless. Still, he notes that when we repeatedly observe one event following another, our assumption that we are witnessing cause and effect seems logical to us. Hume holds that we have an instinctive belief in causality, rooted in our own biological habits, and that we can neither prove nor discount this belief. However, if we accept our limitations, we can still function without abandoning our assumptions about cause and effect. Religion suggests that the world operates on cause and effect and that there must therefore be a First Cause, namely God. In Hume’s worldview, causation is assumed but ultimately unknowable. We do not know there is a First Cause, or a place for God.

The Problem of Induction

Induction is the practice of drawing general conclusions based on particular experiences. Although this method is essential to empiricism and the scientific method, there is always something inherently uncertain about it, because we may acquire new data that are different and that disprove our previous conclusions. Essentially, the principle of induction teaches us that we can predict the future based on what has happened in the past, which we cannot. Hume argues that in the absence of real knowledge of the nature of the connection between events, we cannot adequately justify inductive assumptions. Hume suggests two possible justifications and rejects them both. The first justification is functional: It is only logical that the future must resemble the past. Hume pointed out that we can just as easily imagine a world of chaos, so logic cannot guarantee our inductions. The second justification is that we can assume that something will continue to happen because it has always happened before. To Hume, this kind of reasoning is circular and lacks a foundation in reason. Despite the efforts of John Stuart Mill and others, some might argue that the problem of induction has never been adequately resolved. Hume left the discussion with the opinion that we have an instinctual belief in induction, rooted in our own biological habits, that we cannot shake and yet cannot prove. Hume allows that we can still use induction, like causation, to function on a daily basis as long as we recognize the limitations of our knowledge.

Religious Morality Versus Moral Utility

Hume proposes the idea that moral principles are rooted in their utility, or usefulness, rather than in God’s will. His version of this theory is unique. Unlike his Utilitarian successors, such as John Stuart Mill, Hume did not think that moral truths could be arrived at scientifically, as if we could add together units of utility and compare the relative utility of various actions. Instead, Hume was a moral sentimentalist

who believed that moral principles cannot be intellectually justified as scientific solutions to social problems. Hume argues that some principles simply appeal to us and others do not. Moral principles appeal to us because they promote our interests and those of our fellow human beings, with whom we naturally sympathize. In other words, humans are biologically inclined to approve and support whatever helps society, since we all live in a community and stand to benefit. Hume used this simple but controversial insight to explain how we evaluate a wide array of phenomena, from social institutions and government policies to character traits and individual behavior.

The Division of Reason and Morality

Hume denies that reason plays a determining role in motivating or discouraging behavior. Instead, he believes that the determining factor in human behavior is passion. As proof, he asks us to evaluate human actions according to the criterion of “instrumentalism”—that is, whether an action serves the agent’s purpose. Generally, we see that they do not and that human beings tend to act out of some other motivation than their best interest. Based on these arguments, Hume concludes that reason alone cannot motivate anyone to act. Rather, reason helps us arrive at judgments, but our own desires motivate us to act on or ignore those judgments. Therefore, reason does not form the basis of morality—it plays the role of an advisor rather than that of a decision-maker. Likewise, immorality is immoral not because it violates reason but because it is displeasing to us. This argument angered English clergy and other religious philosophers who believed that God gave humans reason to use as a tool to discover and understand moral principles. By removing reason from its throne, Hume denied God’s role as the source of morality.

Finding God in an Orderly Universe

Hume argues that an orderly universe does not necessarily prove the existence of God. Those who hold the opposing view claim that God is the creator of the universe and the source of the order and purpose we observe in it, which resemble the order and purpose we ourselves create. Therefore, God, as creator of the universe, must possess intelligence similar, though superior, to ours. Hume explains that for this argument to hold up, it must be true that order and purpose appear only as a direct result of design. He points out that we can observe order in many mindless processes, such as generation and vegetation. Hume further argues that even if we accept that the universe has a design, we cannot know anything about the designer. God could be morally ambiguous, unintelligent, or even mortal. The design argument does not prove the existence of God in the way we conceive him: all-knowing, all-powerful, and entirely beneficent. The existence of evil, Hume holds, proves that if God exists, God cannot fit these criteria. The presence of evil suggests God is either all-powerful but not completely good or he is well-meaning but unable to destroy evil, and so not all-powerful.

The Bundle Theory of the Self

Hume asks us to consider what impression gives us our concept of self. We tend to think of ourselves as selves—stable entities that exist over time. But no matter how closely we examine our own experiences, we never observe anything beyond a series of transient feelings, sensations, and impressions. We cannot observe ourselves, or what we are, in a unified way. There is no impression of the “self” that ties our particular impressions together. In other words, we can never be directly aware of ourselves, only of what we are experiencing at any given moment. Although the relations between our ideas, feelings, and so on, may be traced through time by memory, there is no real evidence of any core that connects them. This argument also applies to the concept of the soul. Hume suggests that the self is just a bundle of perceptions, like links in a chain. To look for a unifying self beyond those perceptions is like looking for a chain apart from the links that constitute it. Hume argues that our concept of the self is a result of our natural habit of attributing unified existence to any collection of associated parts. This belief is natural, but there is no logical support for it.

A Treatise of Human Nature

Summary, Book I: “Of the Understanding”

Hume begins by arguing for the validity of empiricism, the premise that all of our knowledge is based on our experiences, and using this method to examine several philosophical concepts. First, he demonstrates that all of our complex ideas are formed out of simpler ideas, which were themselves formed on the basis of impressions we received through our senses. Therefore, ideas are not fundamentally different from experiences. Second, Hume defines “matters of fact” as matters that must be experienced, not reasoned out or arrived at instinctually. Based on these two claims, Hume attacks metaphysical systems used to prove the existence of God, the soul, divine creation, and other such ideas. Since we have no experience of any of these things and cannot receive a direct impression of them, we have no real reason to believe that they are true.

Hume systematically applies the idea that ideas and facts come from experience in order to analyze the concepts of space, time, and mathematics. If we have no experience of a concept, such as the size of the universe, that concept cannot be meaningful. Hume insists that neither our ideas nor our impressions are infinitely divisible. If we continued to try to break them down ad infinitum, we would eventually arrive at a level too small for us to perceive or grasp conceptually. Since we have no experience of infinite divisibility, the idea that things or ideas are infinitely divisible is meaningless. Mathematics, however, is a system of pure relations of ideas, and so it retains its value even though we cannot directly experience its phenomena. Many of its principles do not hold in matters of fact, but it is the only realm of knowledge in which perfect certainty is possible anyway.

Hume introduces two of his three tools of philosophical inquiry, the “microscope” and the “razor.” The microscope is the principle that to understand an idea we must first break it down into the various simple ideas that make it up. If any of these simple ideas is still difficult to understand, we must isolate it

and reenact the impression that gave rise to it. The razor is the principle that if any term cannot be proven to arise from an idea that can be broken into simpler ideas ready for analysis, then that term has no meaning. Hume uses his razor principle to devalue abstract concepts pertaining to religion and metaphysics.

Despite his apparent hostility to abstract ideas of a metaphysical nature, Hume does not deem all abstract ideas worthless. Hume argues that the mind naturally forms associations between ideas from impressions that are similar in space and time. In the mind, a general term becomes associated with further specific instances of those similar impressions and comes to stand for all of them. This process explains why we can visualize particular events that we may not have actually experienced, based on their association with those events that we have experienced.

Hume’s third philosophical tool is the “fork,” the principle that truths can be divided into two kinds. The first kind of truth deals with relations of ideas, such as true statements in mathematics—for example, that the sum of the angles in a triangle equals 180 degrees. These kinds of truth are necessary—once they’ve been proven, they stay proven. The second kind of truth deals is in matters of fact, which concerns things that exist in the world.

Analysis

The theories Hume develops in the Treatise have their foundations in the writings of John Locke and George Berkeley, and Hume is associated with these two men as the third in the series of great British empiricists. Like Hume, Locke denied the existence of innate ideas, dividing the sources of our ideas into two categories: those derived from sensation through the use of our sense organs and those derived from reflection through our own mental processes. Hume makes use of Locke’s distinction in his own theory of ideas, though he alters the terminology. For Hume, sensations and reflections both fall under the term impressions, while he reserves the term ideas for the results of mental processes such as imagination and memory. Hume’s discussion of abstract ideas rests on his acceptance of Berkeley’s claim that the idea we have of a general term always springs from a specific experience, though used in a general way. Hume praised this explanation but further clarified how a general term could stand for several similar, but specific, experiences.

Before Hume, many philosophers made exceptions for metaphysics or held it to different standards than other areas of inquiry. Hume insisted that metaphysical issues, such as the existence of God, the possibility of miracles, and immortality of the soul, be held up to the same process of inquiry as investigations in the realm of ethics or physical science. For example, we can logically say that we can’t conceive of what life might be like on a planet with no oxygen because our experience involves only forms of life that utilize oxygen. Why, then, should we allow for the existence of a being such as God, which is supposed to be the only example of his kind? We have no experience of anything even remotely like what we suppose God to be. We cannot assume that the existence of the universe automatically proves the existence of a creator because we have no experience that tells us that this has been proven. By this reasoning, the concept of God has no real meaning, and we cannot rationally accept it as certain.

A Treatise of Human Nature, Book II: “Of the Passions”

Summary

Hume sets out to classify the passions in much the same way he classifies impressions and ideas in book I. First, he distinguishes between original impressions and secondary impressions. We receive original impressions through the senses. They are internal, in the form of physical pleasures or pain, and original because they come from outside of us, from physical sources, and are in that sense new to us. Secondary impressions are always preceded by either an original impression or ideas, which arise from original impressions. The passions, according to Hume, are properly found in the realm of secondary impressions. Hume describes both direct passions, such as desire, aversion, grief, joy, hope, and fear, and indirect passions, such as pride, humility, love, and hatred. Hume then distinguishes between the cause and the object of the passions.

Hume notes that since moral decisions affect actions, while decisions of reason do not, morality must not be based on reason. For Hume, beliefs about cause and effect are beliefs about connections between objects we experience. Our belief in such relations can affect our actions only if the objects being related are of some particular interest to us, and objects are of interest to us only if they cause us pleasure or pain. Hume concludes that reasoning regarding supposedly connected objects is not what makes us act. Instead, pleasure and pain, which give rise to passions, motivate us. Hume also says we cannot claim that actions are the result of passions that are reasonable or unreasonable, because passions themselves have nothing to do with reason. They are feelings that instigate actions. They may themselves be informed by reasoning, but reason is and should be the “slave” of passions.

Analysis

Hume’s discussion of passions and reason sets the stage for book III and his discussion of morality. Passions, since they don’t represent anything real and are not arguments in and of themselves, cannot be contrary to experience and cannot cause contradictions. Since these are two of Hume’s most important measures, we can conclude that, following his argument, passions are completely different from reason and cannot be categorized as reasonable or unreasonable. This conclusion presents a dilemma for rationalists who view morality as the result of God-given reason. In fact, reason influences our actions in only two ways: by directing passions to focus on proper objects and by discovering connections between events that will create passions. The judgments a person makes about relations of ideas or about ideas themselves may be reasonable or unreasonable, but the judgments do not result in anything except opinions. For the moral process to complete itself, the judgments must incite passions, or feelings, which then lead us to act.

A Treatise of Human Nature, Book III: “Of Morals”

Summary

Hume stresses that his theory of morals follows naturally from the philosophy he elaborates in the first two books. Hume attempts to distinguish between vice and virtue, arguing that such moral distinctions are in fact impressions rather than ideas. He then describes how to distinguish these impressions from other common impressions, such as sounds and colors. First, the impression of vice is pain, while that of virtue is pleasure. Second, moral impressions are caused only by human actions, not the actions of animals or inanimate objects. Third, moral impressions are worth considering only from a social point of view because our actions are considered moral or immoral only with regard to how they affect others, not how they affect ourselves. This concept leads Hume to classify sympathy, feeling for fellow human beings, as the foundation of moral obligation.

For Hume, morality is not a matter of fact derived from experience. To prove his point, he suggests we examine ourselves with regard to any supposed moral misdeed, such as murder. If we examine the act of murder, we can discover no idea of that quality of immorality, or “vice.” Rather, we will discover only the strong feeling of dislike we have for murder. This supports the idea that morality resides in passions, or “sentiment,” not in reason. Although reason does help us explain those feelings, it is not their origin.

Analysis

Hume makes the point that though we may not like it when one person kills another, there is nothing contradictory or illogical about the act of murder. This does not mean that Hume condones murder, merely that immoral actions are not immoral because they are irrational. Within Hume’s system, murder would be banned on the grounds that it is not an action that can be universally justified as good for everyone. Hume also proposes the example of the man who would rather see the whole world destroyed rather than injure his own fingers. Hume claims this man is not in contradiction to himself or following illogical inferences, but this man also falls afoul of Hume’s dictum that methods of justification and rationality must be universal. Other people in the same situation must be able to justify their actions in the same way. No one but the man will approve of his reasons for forsaking the world to save his own fingers. It is unlikely that this man would approve or desire that another person make the same decision.

Hume ascribes moral decisions to the passions for several reasons. First, passion appears to be the only viable alternative to reason, which he has already ruled out. Second, Hume’s examination of his own feelings about conventionally transgressive acts such as murder reveals that while he can isolate his own feelings about such behavior, he cannot isolate clear and distinct ideas about it. Therefore, moral decisions must arise from or in some way be congruent with passions. Hume’s connection of moral decisions to feelings, which leads him to the separation of morality from reason, put him at odds with religious leaders and philosophers of his time. Hume effectively dethroned reason, removed God from a place of necessity, and robbed religious theorists of an undisputed foundation for religious belief.

An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding

Summary

Hume begins by noting the difference between impressions and ideas. Impressions come through our senses, emotions, and other mental phenomena, whereas ideas are thoughts, beliefs, or memories that we connect to our impressions. We construct ideas from simple impressions in three ways: resemblance, contiguity, and cause and effect.

Next, Hume distinguishes between relations of ideas and matters of fact. Relations of ideas are usually mathematical truths, so we cannot negate them without creating a contradiction. Matters of fact are the more common truths we learn through our experiences. We understand matters of fact according to causation, or cause and effect, such that our experience of one event leads us to assume an unobserved cause. But Hume argues that assumptions of cause and effect between two events are not necessarily real or true. It is possible to deny causal connections without contradiction because causal connections are assumptions not subject to reason.

We cannot justify our assumptions about the future based on past experience unless there is a law that the future will always resemble the past. No such law exists. We can deny the relationship without contradiction and we cannot justify it with experience. Therefore, we have no rational support for believing in causation. Hume suggests that our assumptions are based on habit, not reason, and that, ultimately, our assumptions about matters of fact are based in probability. If experience teaches us that two events occur together repeatedly, we will assume a link between them. So, Hume explains, we must be able to reduce all meaningful concepts to the simple impressions on which they are built. Since no simple impression of causation or necessary connection exists, these concepts might appear meaningless. Rather than dismiss these assumed connections entirely, however, Hume acknowledges their usefulness and limits them to being nothing more than simple observations of repeated conjunction between two events. Further, he concludes that if there is no cause and effect, then our actions are not predetermined, and we enjoy true free will.

At the end of the Enquiry, Hume pursues a number of tangential discussions. He argues that humans and animals possess similar capacities and methods for reason. He denies that any rational justification exists for belief in either miracles or most forms of religious and metaphysical philosophy. Although we can rationally justify our skepticism regarding the existence of an external world, that doubt destroys our ability to act or judge. The instinctual beliefs formed by custom help us get along in the world. As long as we restrict our thinking to relations of ideas and matters of fact, we are acting within the limits of reason, but we should abandon all metaphysical speculations as useless, impossible to resolve, and nonsensical.

Analysis

Hume seeks to explain our understanding of the world rather than try to justify our beliefs or prove anything. Here, he does not address the existence of necessary connections between events but states merely that we cannot know what those connections are. Ultimately, Hume argues for a mitigated skepticism. We have no good reason to believe much of what we believe about the world, but human nature helps us function in all the ways that reason cannot. However, we must limit ourselves by

accepting that matters of fact are our sole source of true information. If past experience cannot teach us about the future, it becomes difficult to function on a practical level. The elimination of causation would make it impossible for us to function, if it meant that we began to act as if causation didn’t exist. Whether or not we can know of a necessary connection between two events is not worth arguing about. Similarly, Hume does not think we should spend time and energy on questions such as whether God exists, what the soul is, or whether the soul is immortal. He claims that because the mind is not meant to help us discover and define truths, we will never be able to come to any definite and rational conclusions about abstract matters.

Hume is skeptical about his own explanation of why we cannot rationally make necessary connections between two events. He stops short of saying that it is impossible to predict future events based on past experience and explains only that we lack any solid reason to believe this is the case. Hume admits that, if we observe that one event repeatedly follows another, it is natural that we assume the two events will always occur together in this pattern. He also admits that we must necessarily make such assumptions to live our lives. Such assumptions are practical and useful but not completely reliable or passable as proof. We are wrong to justify these beliefs by claiming that reason supports them or that we can absolutely know that one event causes the other.

An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals

Summary

The subject of the Enquiry is the contributions that moral sense and reason make in our moral judgments. Hume claims that moral sense makes the ultimate distinction between vice and virtue, though both moral sense and reason play a role in our formation of moral judgments. Reason is important when we have to make a judgment about what is useful, for reason alone can determine how and why something is useful to us or to others. Hume briefly addresses what moral judges usually include in their lists of virtues, what they leave out, and how they make these lists. He then returns to the classification of virtues he proposed first in the Treatise.

Hume first distinguishes between artificial and natural virtues. Artificial virtues depend on social structures and include justice and fidelity to promises; allegiance; chastity and modesty; and duties of sovereign states to keep treaties, to respect boundaries, to protect ambassadors, and to otherwise subject themselves to the law of nations. Hume defines each of these virtues and explains how each manifests itself in the world. He notes that artificial virtues vary from society to society.

Natural virtues, on the other hand, originate in nature and are more universal. They include compassion, generosity, gratitude, friendship, fidelity, charity, beneficence, clemency, equity, prudence, temperance, frugality, industry, courage, ambition, pride, modesty, self-assertiveness, good sense, wit and humor, perseverance, patience, parental devotion, good nature, cleanliness, articulateness, sensitivity to poetry,

decorum, and an elusive quality that makes a person lovely or valuable. Some of these virtues are voluntary, such as pride, while others are involuntary, such as good sense.

As in the Treatise, Hume explains that reason does not cause our actions. Instead, moral sentiments, or passions, motivate us to act. In the Enquiry, however, Hume goes further to state that our actions are caused by a combination of utility and sentiment. In other words, we must care about the outcome if we are to care about the means by which it is achieved. Several sections of the Enquiry are devoted to utility, the first and most important of the four kinds of virtue, which Hume calls “virtuous because useful.” He also addresses benevolence and its role in the moral process. Specifically, Hume says that benevolent acts are virtuous because they are useful to many others.

Analysis

Because he locates the basis of virtue in utility rather than in God-given reason, Hume’s list of virtues implicitly forms a rejection of Christian morality. Items such as ambition are vices under the old model, so Hume’s acceptance of them into his catalog is an insult to religious theorists. However, Hume is consistent in his theory that these traits are virtues because they fulfill his two requirements for moral sentiments: they must be useful to ourselves or others, or they must be pleasing to ourselves or others. Furthermore, Hume rejects the concept of morality as strictly voluntary. Instead, he divides his list into voluntary and involuntary virtues, claiming that separating them is necessary only when devising a system of reward and punishment. He is not interested in creating or endorsing such a system, so he makes no such distinctions in his moral philosophy.

Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion

Summary

The Dialogues are a series of discussions about the rationality of religious belief between the fictional characters Cleanthes, Philo, and Demea. Demea represents religious dogmatism and insists that we cannot come to know the nature of God through reason. Philo, the philosophical skeptic, agrees with Demea that God is incomprehensible but insists that he might be morally corrupt. Cleanthes argues that we can know about God by reasoning from the evidence we find in nature.

Demea argues that although God clearly exists, we cannot know his nature, because God’s nature is beyond the capacity of human understanding. Philo seems to agree with him. Demea goes on to explain that God is the First Cause, meaning that the world operates on a system of cause and effect, so there must be an original cause to have started the world in motion, and that First Cause is God. But this still tells us nothing about God’s nature, which Cleanthes insists we can learn by examining nature. Cleanthes states that the only rational argument for God’s existence is one based on experience. The design and order of nature reveal that there must be an intelligent designer, or creator, whose intelligence resembles our own. Cleanthes also states that things that are very familiar and present to us need no reason to establish their truth, such as the knowledge that food nourishes the body.

Philo disagrees with Cleanthes and argues that just because the world is ordered, there is no reason to believe that this order is a result of intelligent design. He explains that the example of the design of the universe supposes an acceptance of cause and effect, which in turn supposes that the future will resemble the past. However, since there is nothing with which to compare our situation, we cannot assume the necessary connection based on past experience or other examples. Philo goes further, claiming that even if God is an intelligent designer, this fact does not explain why nature has order. Finally, even if the argument from design were valid, nature does not provide us with any knowledge about God other than that he designed it.

Philo next turns his attention to God’s possible moral attributes and whether we can discover these by examining nature. Together, Demea and Philo explain that the world is filled with evil. Philo says that if there is so much evil, there cannot be a God who is completely beneficent, or else he would have eliminated evil. If he cannot eliminate evil, he cannot be all-powerful. If he is unaware of the evil, he cannot be all-knowing. If nature itself provides evidence of God’s nature, then we must conclude that he doesn’t care about us at all and is therefore morally ambiguous. Demea leaves the room, upset by these claims.

Although Philo has successfully torn down Cleanthes’ argument from design, Philo finishes the dialogue by declaring that the ordered world obviously has some intelligence behind it and that this intelligence does in fact resemble human intelligence. His real disagreement, he claims, concerns how strong this resemblance really is. He then attacks religious dogma as both morally and psychologically harmful. The most rational position, he says, is a philosophical belief in some unknowable higher power. Finally, Philo tells Cleanthes that philosophical skepticism is the only proper route to true Christianity because it forces us to rely on faith instead of the false connection between reason and theism.

Analysis

Hume clearly intends to point out that the question of God’s existence and the supposed religious origin of morals are in fact two different issues and that a positive stance on the first issue does not necessarily confirm the second. The true question is whether enough evidence exists in the world to prove that there is an infinitely good, wise, and powerful God from which morality naturally springs. Philo argues that there is not, and his explanation that the existence of evil poses a problem for this view of God is worth considering seriously. It seems impossible that an all-good, all-powerful, and all-knowing God could exist in a world as painful as ours. However, Cleanthes’ position also seems cogent. We don’t need to justify the existence of things that are universal truths. For example, we cannot prove that motion exists without referring to an example of motion itself. If both man and the universe exhibit form and order, we may logically consider that a similar intelligence lies behind both. However, from that claim we could argue that this intelligence, or God, possesses both good and evil, as man does.

OF THE ORIGIN OF THE GOVERNMENT

MAN, born in a family, is compelled to maintain society, from necessity, from natural inclination, and from habit. The same creature, in his farther progress, is engaged to establish political society, in order to administer justice; without which there can be no peace among them, nor safety, nor mutual intercourse. We are, therefore, to look upon all the vast apparatus of our government, as having ultimately no other object or purpose but the distribution of justice, or, in other words, the support of the twelve judges. Kings and parliaments, fleets and armies, officers of the court and revenue, ambassadors, ministers, and privy-counsellors, are all subordinate in their end to this part of administration. Even the clergy, as their duty leads them to inculcate morality, may justly be thought, so far as regards this world, to have no other useful object of their institution.

All men are sensible of the necessity of justice to maintain peace and order; and all men are sensible of the necessity of peace and order for the maintenance of society. Yet, notwithstanding this strong and obvious necessity, such is the frailty or perverseness of our nature! it is impossible to keep men, faithfully and unerringly, in the paths of justice. Some extraordinary circumstances may happen, in which a man finds his interests to be more promoted by fraud or rapine, than hurt by the breach which his injustice makes in the social union. But much more frequently, he is seduced from his great and important, but distant interests, by the allurement of present, though often very frivolous temptations. This great weakness is incurable in human nature.

Men must, therefore, endeavour to palliate what they cannot cure. They must institute some persons, under the appellation of magistrates, whose peculiar office it is, to point out the decrees of equity, to punish transgressors, to correct fraud and violence, and to oblige men, however reluctant, to consult their own real and permanent interests. In a word, OBEDIENCE is a new duty which must be invented to support that of JUSTICE; and the tyes of equity must be corroborated by those of allegiance.

But still, viewing matters in an abstract light, it may be thought, that nothing is gained by this alliance, and that the factitious duty of obedience, from its very nature, lays as feeble a hold of the human mind, as the primitive and natural duty of justice. Peculiar interests and present temptations may overcome the one as well as the other. They are equally exposed to the same inconvenience. And the man, who is inclined to be a bad neighbour, must be led by the same motives, well or ill understood, to be a bad citizen and subject. Not to mention, that the magistrate himself may often be negligent, or partial, or unjust in his administration.

Experience, however, proves, that there is a great difference between the cases. Order in society, we find, is much better maintained by means of government; and our duty to the magistrate is more strictly guarded by the principles of human nature, than our duty to our fellow-citizens. The love of dominion is so strong in the breast of man, that many, not only submit to, but court all the dangers, and fatigues, and cares of government; and men, once raised to that station, though often led astray by private passions, find, in ordinary cases, a visible interest in the impartial administration of justice. The persons, who first attain this distinction by the consent, tacit or express, of the people, must be endowed with superior personal qualities of valour, force, integrity, or prudence, which command respect and

confidence: and after government is established, a regard to birth, rank, and station has a mighty influence over men, and enforces the decrees of the magistrate. The prince or leader exclaims against every disorder, which disturbs his society. He summons all his partizans and all men of probity to aid him in correcting and redressing it: and he is readily followed by all indifferent persons in the execution of his office. He soon acquires the power of rewarding these services; and in the progress of society, he establishes subordinate ministers and often a military force, who find an immediate and a visible interest, in supporting his authority. Habit soon consolidates what other principles of human nature had imperfectly founded; and men, once accustomed to obedience, never think of departing from that path, in which they and their ancestors have constantly trod, and to which they are confined by so many urgent and visible motives.

But though this progress of human affairs may appear certain and inevitable, and though the support which allegiance brings to justice, be founded on obvious principles of human nature, it cannot be expected that men should beforehand be able to discover them, or foresee their operation. Government commences more casually and more imperfectly. It is probable, that the first ascendant of one man over multitudes begun during a state of war; where the superiority of courage and of genius discovers itself most visibly, where unanimity and concert are most requisite, and where the pernicious effects of disorder are most sensibly felt. The long continuance of that state, an incident common among savage tribes, enured the people to submission; and if the chieftain possessed as much equity as prudence and valour, he became, even during peace, the arbiter of all differences, and could gradually, by a mixture of force and consent, establish his authority. The benefit sensibly felt from his influence, made it be cherished by the people, at least by the peaceable and well disposed among them; and if his son enjoyed the same good qualities, government advanced the sooner to maturity and perfection; but was still in a feeble state, till the farther progress of improvement procured the magistrate a revenue, and enabled him to bestow rewards on the several instruments of his administration, and to inflict punishments on the refractory and disobedient. Before that period, each exertion of his influence must have been particular, and founded on the peculiar circumstances of the case. After it, submission was no longer a matter of choice in the bulk of the community, but was rigorously exacted by the authority of the supreme magistrate.

In all governments, there is a perpetual intestine struggle, open or secret, between AUTHORITY and LIBERTY; and neither of them can ever absolutely prevail in the contest. A great sacrifice of liberty must necessarily be made in every government; yet even the authority, which confines liberty, can never, and perhaps ought never, in any constitution, to become quite entire and uncontroulable. The sultan is master of the life and fortune of any individual; but will not be permitted to impose new taxes on his subjects: a French monarch can impose taxes at pleasure; but would find it dangerous to attempt the lives and fortunes of individuals. Religion also, in most countries, is commonly found to be a very intractable principle; and other principles or prejudices frequently resist all the authority of the civil magistrate; whose power, being founded on opinion, can never subvert other opinions, equally rooted with that of his title to dominion. The government, which, in common appellation, receives the appellation of free, is that which admits of a partition of power among several members, whose united

authority is no less, or is commonly greater than that of any monarch; but who, in the usual course of administration, must act by general and equal laws, that are previously known to all the members and to all their subjects. In this sense, it must be owned, that liberty is the perfection of civil society; but still authority must be acknowledged essential to its very existence: and in those contests, which so often take place between the one and the other, the latter may, on that account, challenge the preference. Unless perhaps one may say (and it may be said with some reason) that a circumstance, which is essential to the existence of civil society, must always support itself, and needs be guarded with less jealousy, than one that contributes only to its perfection, which the indolence of men is so apt to neglect, or their ignorance to overlook.

OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT

NOTHING appears more surprizing to those, who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness with which the many are governed by the few; and the implicit submission, with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers. When we enquire by what means this wonder is effected, we shall find, that, as FORCE is always on the side of the governed, the governors have nothing to support them but opinion. It is therefore, on opinion only that government is founded; and this maxim extends to the most despotic and most military governments, as well as to the most free and most popular. The soldan of EGYPT, or the emperor of ROME, might drive his harmless subjects, like brute beasts, against their sentiments and inclination: But he must, at least, have led his mamalukes, or prætorian bands, like men, by their opinion.

Opinion is of two kinds, to wit, opinion of INTEREST, and opinion of RIGHT. By opinion of interest, I chiefly understand the sense of the general advantage which is reaped from government; together with the persuasion, that the particular government, which is established, is equally advantageous with any other that could easily be settled. When this opinion prevails among the generality of a state, or among those who have the force in their hands, it gives great security to any government.

Right is of two kinds, right to POWER and right to PROPERTY. What prevalence opinion of the first kind has over mankind, may easily be understood, by observing the attachment which all nations have to their ancient government, and even to those names, which have had the sanction of antiquity. Antiquity always begets the opinion of right; and whatever disadvantageous sentiments we may entertain of mankind, they are always found to be prodigal both of blood and treasure in the maintenance of public justice. There is, indeed, no particular, in which, at first sight, there may appear a greater contradiction in the frame of the human mind than the present. When men act in a faction, they are apt, without shame or remorse, to neglect all the ties of honour and morality, in order to serve their party; and yet, when a faction is formed upon a point of right or principle, there is no occasion, where men discover a greater obstinacy, and a more determined sense of justice and equity. The same social disposition of mankind is the cause of these contradictory appearances.

It is sufficiently understood, that the opinion of right to property is of moment in all matters of government. A noted author has made property the foundation of all government;[1] and most of our

political writers seem inclined to follow him in that particular. This is carrying the matter too far; but still it must be owned, that the opinion of right to property has a great influence in this subject.

Upon these three opinions, therefore, of public interest, of right to power, and of right to property, are all governments founded, and all authority of the few over the many. There are indeed other principles, which add force to these, and determine, limit, or alter their operation; such as self-interest, fear, and affection: But still we may assert, that these other principles can have no influence alone, but suppose the antecedent influence of those opinions above-mentioned. They are, therefore, to be esteemed the secondary, not the original principles of government.

For, first, as to self-interest, by which I mean the expectation of particular rewards, distinct from the general protection which we receive from government, it is evident that the magistrate's authority must be antecedently established, at least be hoped for, in order to produce this expectation. The prospect of reward may augment his authority with regard to some particular persons; but can never give birth to it, with regard to the public. Men naturally look for the greatest favours from their friends and acquaintance; and therefore, the hopes of any considerable number of the state would never center in any particular set of men, if these men had no other title to magistracy, and had no separate influence over the opinions of mankind. The same observation may be extended to the other two principles of fear and affection. No man would have any reason to fear the fury of a tyrant, if he had no authority over any but from fear; since, as a single man, his bodily force can reach but a small way, and all the farther power he possesses must be founded either on our own opinion, or on the presumed opinion of others. And though affection to wisdom and virtue in a sovereign extends very far, and has great influence; yet he must antecedently be supposed invested with a public character, otherwise the public esteem will serve him in no stead, nor will his virtue have any influence beyond a narrow sphere.

A Government may endure for several ages, though the balance of power, and the balance of property do not coincide. This chiefly happens, where any rank or order of the state has acquired a large share in the property; but from the original constitution of the government, has no share in the power. Under what pretence would any individual of that order assume authority in public affairs? As men are commonly much attached to their ancient government, it is not to be expected, that the public would ever favour such usurpations. But where the original constitution allows any share of power, though small, to an order of men, who possess a large share of the property, it is easy for them gradually to stretch their authority, and bring the balance of power to coincide with that of property. This has been the case with the house of commons in ENGLAND.

Most writers, that have treated of the BRITISH government, have supposed, that, as the lower house represents all the commons of GREAT BRITAIN, its weight in the scale is proportioned to the property and power of all whom it represents. But this principle must not be received as absolutely true. For though the people are apt to attach themselves more to the house of commons, than to any other member of the constitution; that house being chosen by them as their representatives, and as the public guardians of their liberty; yet are there instances where the house, even when in opposition to the crown, has not been followed by the people; as we may particularly observe of the tory house of commons in the reign of king WILLIAM.[2] Were the members obliged to receive instructions from their

constituents, like the DUTCH deputies, this would entirely alter the case; and if such immense power and riches, as those of all the commons of GREAT BRITAIN, were brought into the scale, it is not easy to conceive, that the crown could either influence that multitude of people, or withstand that overbalance of property. It is true, the crown has great influence over the collective body in the elections of members; but were this influence, which at present is only exerted once in seven years, to be employed in bringing over the people to every vote, it would soon be wasted; and no skill, popularity, or revenue, could support it. I must, therefore, be of opinion, that an alteration in this particular would introduce a total alteration in our government, and would soon reduce it to a pure republic; and, perhaps, to a republic of no inconvenient form. For though the people, collected in a body like the ROMAN tribes, be quite unfit for government, yet when dispersed in small bodies, they are more susceptible both of reason and order; the force of popular currents and tides is, in a great measure, broken; and the public interest may be pursued with some method and constancy. But it is needless to reason any farther concerning a form of government, which is never likely to have place in GREAT BRITAIN, and which seems not to be the aim of any party amongst us. Let us cherish and improve our ancient government as much as possible, without encouraging a passion for such dangerous novelties.

OF THE INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT

POLITICAL writers have established it as a maxim that, in contriving any system of government, and fixing the several checks and controls of the constitution, every man ought to be supposed a knave, and to have no other end, in all his actions, than private interest. By this interest we must govern him, and, by means of it, make him, notwithstanding his insatiable avarice and ambition, co-operate to public good. Without this, say they, we shall in vain boast of the advantages of any constitution, and shall find, in the end, that we have no security for our liberties or possessions, except the good-will of our rulers; that is, we shall have no security at all.

It is, therefore, a just political maxim, that every man must be supposed a knave: Though at the same time, it appears somewhat strange, that a maxim should be true in politics, which is false in fact. But to satisfy us on this head, we may consider that men are generally more honest in their private than in their public capacity, and will go greater lengths to serve a party, than when their own private interest is alone concerned. Honour is a great check upon mankind: But where a considerable body of men act together, this check is, in a great measure, removed; since a man is sure to be approved of by his own party, for what promotes the common interest; and he soon learns to despise the clamours of adversaries. To which we may add, that every court or senate is determined by the greater number of voices; so that, if self-interest influences only the majority, (as it will always do) the whole senate follows the allurements of this separate interest, and acts as if it contained not one member, who had any regard to public interest and liberty.

When there offers, therefore, to our censure and examination, any plan of government, real or imaginary, where the power is distributed among several courts, and several orders of men, we should

always consider the separate interest of each court, and each order; and, if we find that, by the skilful division of power, this interest must necessarily, in its operation, concur with public, we may pronounce that government to be wise and happy. If, on the contrary, separate interest be not checked, and be not directed to the public, we ought to look for nothing but faction, disorder, and tyranny from such a government. In this opinion I am justified by experience, as well as by the authority of all philosophers and politicians, both antient and modern.

How much, therefore, would it have surprised such a genius as CICERO, or TACITUS, to have been told, that, in a future age, there should arise a very regular system of mixed government, where the authority was so distributed, that one rank, whenever it pleased, might swallow up all the rest, and engross the whole power of the constitution. Such a government, they would say, will not be a mixed government. For so great is the natural ambition of men, that they are never satisfied with power; and if one order of men, by pursuing its own interest, can usurp upon every other order, it will certainly do so, and render itself, as far as possible, absolute and uncontroulable.

But, in this opinion, experience shews they would have been mistaken. For this is actually the case with the BRITISH constitution. The share of power, allotted by our constitution to the house of commons, is so great, that it absolutely commands all the other parts of the government. The king's legislative power is plainly no proper check to it. For though the king has a negative in framing laws; yet this, in fact, is esteemed of so little moment, that whatever is voted by the two houses, is always sure to pass into a law, and the royal assent is little better than a form. The principal weight of the crown lies in the executive power. But besides that the executive power in every government is altogether subordinate to the legislative; besides this, I say, the exercise of this power requires an immense expence; and the commons have assumed to themselves the sole right of granting money. How easy, therefore, would it be for that house to wrest from the crown all these powers, one after another; by making every grant conditional, and choosing their time so well, that their refusal of supply should only distress the government, without giving foreign powers any advantage over us? Did the house of commons depend in the same manner on the king, and had none of the members any property but from his gift, would not he command all their resolutions, and be from that moment absolute? As to the house of lords, they are a very powerful support to the Crown, so long as they are, in their turn, supported by it; but both experience and reason shew, that they have no force or authority sufficient to maintain themselves alone, without such support.

How, therefore, shall we solve this paradox? And by what means is this member of our constitution confined within the proper limits; since, from our very constitution, it must necessarily have as much power as it demands, and can only be confined by itself? How is this consistent with our experience of human nature? I answer, that the interest of the body is here restrained by that of the individuals, and that the house of commons stretches not its power, because such an usurpation would be contrary to the interest of the majority of its members. The crown has so many offices at its disposal, that, when assisted by the honest and disinterested part of the house, it will always command the resolutions of the whole so far, at least, as to preserve the ancient constitution from danger. We may, therefore, give to this influence what name we please; we may call it by the invidious appellations of corruption and

dependence; but some degree and some kind of it are inseparable from the very nature of the constitution, and necessary to the preservation of our mixed government.

Instead then of asserting[1] absolutely, that the dependence of parliament, in every degree, is an infringement of BRITISH liberty, the country-party should have made some concessions to their adversaries, and have only examined what was the proper degree of this dependence, beyond which it became dangerous to liberty. But such moderation is not to be expected in party-men of any kind. After a concession of this nature, all declamation must be abandoned; and a calm enquiry into the proper degree of court-influence and parliamentary dependence would have been expected by the readers. And though the advantage, in such a controversy, might possibly remain to the country-party; yet the victory would not be so complete as they wish for, nor would a true patriot have given an entire loose to his zeal, for fear of running matters into a contrary extreme, by diminishing too[2] far the influence of the crown. It was, therefore, thought best to deny, that this extreme could ever be dangerous to the constitution, or that the crown could ever have too little influence over members of parliament.

All questions concerning the proper medium between extremes are difficult to be decided; both because it is not easy to find words proper to fix this medium, and because the good and ill, in such cases, run so gradually into each other, as even to render our sentiments doubtful and uncertain. But there is a peculiar difficulty in the present case, which would embarrass the most knowing and most impartial examiner. The power of the crown is always lodged in a single person, either king or minister; and as this person may have either a greater or less degree of ambition, capacity, courage, popularity, or fortune, the power, which is too great in one hand, may become too little in another. In pure republics, where the authority is distributed among several assemblies or senates, the checks and controls are more regular in their operation; because the members of such numerous assemblies may be presumed to be always nearly equal in capacity and virtue; and it is only their number, riches, or authority, which enter into consideration. But a limited monarchy admits not of any such stability; nor is it possible to assign to the crown such a determinate degree of power, as will, in every hand, form a proper counterbalance to the other parts of the constitution. This is an unavoidable disadvantage, among the many advantages, attending that species of government.

OF THE GIDNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE

THERE are certain sects, which secretly form themselves in the learned world, as well as factions in the political; and though sometimes they come not to an open rupture, they give a different turn to the ways of thinking of those who have taken part on either side. The most remarkable of this kind are the sects, founded on the different sentiments with regard to the dignity of human nature; which is a point that seems to have divided philosophers and poets, as well as divines, from the beginning of the world to this day. Some exalt our species to the skies, and represent man as a kind of human demigod, who derives his origin from heaven, and retains evident marks of his lineage and descent. Others insist upon the blind sides of human nature, and can discover nothing, except vanity, in which man surpasses the other animals, whom he affects so much to despise. If an author possess the talent of rhetoric and

declamation, he commonly takes part with the former: If his turn lie towards irony and ridicule, he naturally throws himself into the other extreme.

I am far from thinking, that all those, who have depreciated our species, have been enemies to virtue, and have exposed the frailties of their fellow creatures with any bad intention. On the contrary, I am sensible that a delicate sense of morals, especially when attended with a splenetic temper, is apt to give a man a disgust of the world, and to make him consider the common course of human affairs with too much indignation. I must, however, be of opinion, that the sentiments of those, who are inclined to think favourably of mankind, are more advantageous to virtue, than the contrary principles, which give us a mean opinion of our nature. When a man is prepossessed with a high notion of his rank and character in the creation, he will naturally endeavour to act up to it, and will scorn to do a base or vicious action, which might sink him below that figure which he makes in his own imagination. Accordingly we find, that all our polite and fashionable moralists insist upon this topic, and endeavour to represent vice as unworthy of man, as well as odious in itself.

We find few disputes, that are not founded on some ambiguity in the expression; and I am persuaded, that the present dispute, concerning the dignity or meanness of human nature, is not more exempt from it than any other. It may, therefore, be worth while to consider, what is real, and what is only verbal, in this controversy.

That there is a natural difference between merit and demerit, virtue and vice, wisdom and folly, no reasonable man will deny: Yet is it evident, that in affixing the term, which denotes either our approbation or blame, we are commonly more influenced by comparison than by any fixed unalterable standard in the nature of things. In like manner, quantity, and extension, and bulk, are by every one acknowledged to be real things: But when we call any animal great or little, we always form a secret comparison between that animal and others of the same species; and it is that comparison which regulates our judgment concerning its greatness. A dog and a horse may be of the very same size, while the one is admired for the greatness of its bulk, and the other for the smallness. When I am present, therefore, at any dispute, I always consider with myself, whether it be a question of comparison or not that is the subject of the controversy; and if it be, whether the disputants compare the same objects together, or talk of things that are widely different.

In forming our notions of human nature, we are apt to make a comparison between men and animals, the only creatures endowed with thought that fall under our senses. Certainly this comparison is favourable to mankind. On the one hand, we see a creature, whose thoughts are not limited by any narrow bounds, either of place or time; who carries his researches into the most distant regions of this globe, and beyond this globe, to the planets and heavenly bodies; looks backward to consider the first origin, at least, the history of human race; casts his eye forward to see the influence of his actions upon posterity, and the judgments which will be formed of his character a thousand years hence; a creature, who traces causes and effects to a great length and intricacy; extracts general principles from particular appearances; improves upon his discoveries; corrects his mistakes; and makes his very errors profitable. On the other hand, we are presented with a creature the very reverse of this; limited in its observations and reasonings to a few sensible objects which surround it; without curiosity, without foresight; blindly

conducted by instinct, and attaining, in a short time, its utmost perfection, beyond which it is never able to advance a single step. What a wide difference is there between these creatures! And how exalted a notion must we entertain of the former, in comparison of the latter!

There are two means commonly employed to destroy this conclusion: First, By making an unfair representation of the case, and insisting only upon the weaknesses of human nature. And secondly, By forming a new and secret comparison between man and beings of the most perfect wisdom. Among the other excellencies of man, this is one, that he can form an idea of perfections much beyond what he has experience of in himself; and is not limited in his conception of wisdom and virtue. He can easily exalt his notions and conceive a degree of knowledge, which, when compared to his own, will make the latter appear very contemptible, and will cause the difference between that and the sagacity of animals, in a manner, to disappear and vanish. Now this being a point, in which all the world is agreed, that human understanding falls infinitely short of perfect wisdom; it is proper we should know when this comparison takes place, that we may not dispute where there is no real difference in our sentiments. Man falls much more short of perfect wisdom, and even of his own ideas of perfect wisdom, than animals do of man; yet the latter difference is so considerable, that nothing but a comparison with the former can make it appear of little moment.

It is also usual to compare one man with another; and finding very few whom we can call wise or virtuous, we are apt to entertain a contemptible notion of our species in general. That we may be sensible of the fallacy of this way of reasoning, we may observe, that the honourable appellations of wise and virtuous, are not annexed to any particular degree of those qualities of wisdom and virtue; but arise altogether from the comparison we make between one man and another. When we find a man, who arrives at such a pitch of wisdom as is very uncommon, we pronounce him a wise man: So that to say, there are few wise men in the world, is really to say nothing; since it is only by their scarcity, that they merit that appellation. Were the lowest of our species as wise as TULLY, or lord BACON,[1] we should still have reason to say, that there are few wise men. For in that case we should exalt our notions of wisdom, and should not pay a singular honour to anyone, who was not singularly distinguished by his talents. In like manner, I have heard it observed by thoughtless people, that there are few women possessed of beauty, in comparison of those who want it; not considering, that we bestow the epithet of beautiful only on such as possess a degree of beauty, that is common to them with a few. The same degree of beauty in a woman is called deformity, which is treated as real beauty in one of our sex.

As it is usual, in forming a notion of our species, to compare it with the other species above or below it, or to compare the individuals of the species among themselves; so we often compare together the different motives or actuating principles of human nature, in order to regulate our judgment concerning it. And, indeed, this is the only kind of comparison, which is worth our attention, or decides anything in the present question. Were our selfish and vicious principles so much predominant above our social and virtuous, as is asserted by some philosophers, we ought undoubtedly to entertain a contemptible notion of human nature.

There is much of a dispute of words in all this controversy. When a man denies the sincerity of all public spirit or affection to a country and community, I am at a loss what to think of him. Perhaps he never felt this passion in so clear and distinct a manner as to remove all his doubts concerning its force and reality. But when he proceeds afterwards to reject all private friendship, if no interest or self-love intermix itself; I am then confident that he abuses terms, and confounds the ideas of things; since it is impossible for any one to be so selfish, or rather so stupid, as to make no difference between one man and another, and give no preference to qualities, which engage his approbation and esteem. Is he also, say I, as insensible to anger as he pretends to be to friendship? And does injury and wrong no more affect him than kindness or benefits? Impossible: He does not know himself: He has forgotten the movements of his heart; or rather he makes use of a different language from the rest of his countrymen, and calls not things by their proper names. What say you of natural affection? (I subjoin) Is that also a species of self-love? Yes: All is self-love. Your children are loved only because they are yours: Your friend for a like reason: And your country engages you only so far as it has a connexion with yourself: Were the idea of self removed, nothing would affect you: You would be altogether unactive and insensible: Or, if you ever gave yourself any movement, it would only be from vanity, and a desire of fame and reputation to this same self. I am willing, reply I, to receive your interpretation of human actions, provided you admit the facts. That species of self-love, which displays itself in kindness to others, you must allow to have great influence over human actions, and even greater, on many occasions, than that which remains in its original shape and form. For how few are there, who, having a family, children, and relations, do not spend more on the maintenance and education of these than on their own pleasures? This, indeed, you justly observe, may proceed from their self-love, since the prosperity of their family and friends is one, or the chief of their pleasures, as well as their chief honour. Be you also one of these selfish men, and you are sure of every one's good opinion and good will; or not to shock your ears with these expressions, the self-love of every one, and mine among the rest, will then incline us to serve you, and speak well of you.

In my opinion, there are two things which have led astray those philosophers that have insisted so much on the selfishness of man. In the first place, they found, that every act of virtue or friendship was attended with a secret pleasure; whence they concluded, that friendship and virtue could not be disinterested. But the fallacy of this is obvious. The virtuous sentiment or passion produces the pleasure, and does not arise from it. I feel a pleasure in doing good to my friend, because I love him; but do not love him for the sake of that pleasure.

In the second place, it has always been found, that the virtuous are far from being indifferent to praise; and therefore they have been represented as a set of vain-glorious men, who had nothing in view but the applauses of others. But this also is a fallacy. It is very unjust in the world, when they find any tincture of vanity in a laudable action, to depreciate it upon that account, or ascribe it entirely to that motive. The case is not the same with vanity, as with other passions. Where avarice or revenge enters into any seemingly virtuous action, it is difficult for us to determine how far it enters, and it is natural to suppose it the sole actuating principle. But vanity is so closely allied to virtue, and to love the fame of laudable actions approaches so near the love of laudable actions for their own sake, that these passions are more capable of mixture, than any other kinds of affection; and it is almost impossible to have the

latter without some degree of the former. Accordingly, we find that this passion for glory is always warped and varied according to the particular taste or disposition of the mind on which it falls. NERO had the same vanity in driving a chariot that TRAJAN had in governing the empire with justice and ability. To love the glory of virtuous deeds is a sure proof of the love of virtue.