The Philosophy of the Moral Feelings

Chapter 4

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Let us, then, suppose an individual deliberating in regard to the line of conduct he shall pursue in a particular case;--the circ.u.mstances or impressions which are calculated to act upon him as moral causes in determining his volition,--that is, in deciding his conduct, are chiefly the following: (1.) Self-love, which prompts him to seek his own ease, interest, or gratification. (2.) Certain affections which lead him to take into view duties which he owes to other men; such as, justice, benevolence, &c. (3.) The impression of moral rect.i.tude or moral responsibility. This is derived from the great principle of conscience, aided by the truths of religious belief. (4.) We ought to add reason of judgment, which leads him to perceive certain tendencies of actions, apart from their moral aspect. Now, in deciding on his conduct in any particular instance, one man makes every thing bend to his own interest or pleasure,--with little regard to the interests of others;--unless in so far as the absolute requirements of justice are concerned, the infringement of which might expose him to loss of reputation, or even to punishment.--Another surrenders a certain portion of his personal gratification to the advantage or comfort of others, purely as an exercise of feeling from which he experiences satisfaction;--influenced, also, probably, in some measure, by a regard to character, or the love of approbation. In such a man, it becomes, in individual instances, a matter of calculation, what degree of the sacrifice of personal ease, interest, of feeling, is to be made to this principle of action. A third contemplates the case purely as one of duty of moral responsibility, and acts upon this principle, though it may involve a degree of personal exertion, or a sacrifice of personal feeling, in itself disagreeable or even injurious to him; that is, though the strongest personal motives would lead to a different conduct. Let the case, again, refer to one of the desires, bearing no immediate relation to the interests of other men. One man goes directly into the gratification of it, without any consideration. Another, who feels the same desire, considers the influence which the indulgence would be likely to have on his health, interest, or reputation.--This may be considered as simply an exercise of judgment, combined with a certain operation of self-love. A third views the aspect of the deed purely as a question of moral responsibility,--and, if he sees cause, decides against it on this ground alone;--though he should perceive that it might be gratified without any danger to his health, interest, or reputation, or even that it might contribute to his advantage.

We have thus presented to us three characters;--one who acts upon the high and pure ground of moral principle;--one who acts from motives of a more contracted and personal nature, though, in certain instances, his conduct may be the same;--and one who goes straight forward to the gratification of a ruling desire or governing propensity, without attending to motives of either cla.s.s. The first is a uniform character, on whose conduct we depend in any given circ.u.mstances, with a confidence similar to that with which we rely on the operation of physical agents.

For we know the uniform tendencies of the motives or moral causes by which he is habitually influenced, and we know his moral temperament. We have nearly the same kind of knowledge respecting him, which we have of the tendencies of chemical agents towards each other, and which enables us with perfect confidence to foretel their actions. The third has also a uniformity of conduct, though of a very different kind. We know, likewise, his moral condition, and, to predict his conduct, we require only to learn the particular inducements or temptations to which he is exposed in a given instance. The second we cannot rely or calculate upon; for we have not the means of tracing the conflicting views by which he may be influenced in a particular case, or the principle on which he may ultimately decide between them. They involve the strength of the inclination,--and the degree of power exerted over it by the cla.s.s of personal or selfish motives by which he is influenced.--In regard to various instances of ill-regulated desire, we must add his hope of evading detection,--as on this depends, in a great measure, the kind of evils dreaded by him in reference to the indulgence. These taken together imply a complicated moral calculation, of which it is impossible for another man to trace the result.

There cannot be an inquiry of more intense interest than to investigate the causes in which originate the differences among these three characters; or, in other words, the principles on which we can explain the fact, that the will of individuals may be influenced so differently with the same motives before them. These appear to be referable to three heads,--Knowledge,--Attention,--and Moral Habits.

I. A primary and essential element, in the due regulation of the will, is a correct knowledge of the truths and motives which tend to influence its determinations. The highest cla.s.s of these comprehends the truths of religious belief,--a series of moral causes, the tendencies of which are of the most important kind, and calculated to exert a uniform power over every man who surrenders himself to their guidance. For this purpose, a correct knowledge of them is required, and, to all who have this knowledge within their reach, the careful acquisition involves a point of the deepest moral responsibility. The sacred writers speak in the strongest terms of the guilt attached to voluntary ignorance: and this must be obvious to every one who considers the clearness with which the highest truths are disclosed, and the incontrovertible evidence by which they are supported. This applies equally to the principles both of natural and of revealed religion. The important truths of natural religion are partly matters of the most simple induction from the phenomena of nature which are continually before us; and partly impressed upon our own moral const.i.tution in the clearest and most forcible manner. From the planet revolving in its appointed orbit, to the economy of the insect on which we tread, all nature demonstrates, with a power which we cannot put away from us, the great incomprehensible One, a being of boundless perfections and infinite wisdom. In regard to his moral attributes, also, he has not left himself without a witness; for a sense of these he has impressed upon us in the clearest manner in that wondrous part of our const.i.tution,--the moral principle or conscience. From these two sources may be derived a knowledge of the character of the Deity, and of our relation to him as moral beings;--and the man is left entirely without excuse who fails to direct to them his most earnest attention, and to make the impressions derived from them the habitual rule of his volitions, and the guide of his whole character. "He hath the rule of right within," says Butler, "all that is wanting is,--that he honestly attend to it."

Similar observations apply with equal or greater force to the truths of revealed religion. These are supported by a weight of miraculous evidence, and are transmitted to us by a chain of testimony, carrying absolute conviction to the mind of every candid inquirer. They are farther confirmed by a probability, and a force of internal evidence, which fix themselves upon the moral feelings of every sound understanding with a power which is irresistible. The whole is addressed to us as rational beings; it is pressed upon our attention as creatures destined for another state of existence; and the duty is imposed upon every individual seriously to examine and to consider. Every man is in the highest degree responsible for the care with which he has informed himself of these evidences, and for the attention with which he has given to every part of them its due weight in the solemn inquiry. He is farther responsible for the influence of previously formed prejudice, or that vitiated state of his moral feelings, which prevents him from approaching the subject with the simplicity of a mind which is seriously desirous of the truth. From the want of these essential elements of character, it may very often happen, that a man may fancy he has formed his opinions after much examination, while the result of his prejudiced or frivolous inquiry has been only to fix him in delusion and falsehood.

Among the singular sophistries, indeed, by which some men shut their minds against inquiries of the highest import, is a kind of impression, not perhaps distinctly avowed in words, but clearly recognised in practice, that these subjects of belief are in great measure matters of opinion,--instead of being felt to rest upon the basis of immutable and eternal truth. Can any thing be more striking than the manner in which a late distinguished poet expresses himself on the subject of a future life,--as if this truth were a mere opinion which could be taken up or laid down at pleasure, to suit the taste of the individual inquirer;--"Of the two, I should think the long sleep better than the agonized vigil. But men, miserable as they are, cling so to any thing like life, that they probably would prefer d.a.m.nation to quiet. Besides, they think themselves so important in the creation, that nothing less can satisfy then pride,--the insects!"[1] Such is the frivolous sophistry by which one, who holds a high rank in the literature of his country, could put away from him the most momentous inquiry that can engage the attention of a rational being.

[Footnote 1: Byron"s Letters, Moore"s Life, Vol. II, p. 581.]

II. Next to the acquisition of knowledge, and the formation of opinions, calculated to act upon us as moral beings, is the important rule of habitually attending to them, so as to bring their influence to bear upon our volitions. He, who honestly attends to what is pa.s.sing within, will perceive that this is a voluntary exercise of his thinking and reasoning faculties. When a particular desire is present to his mind, he has the power to act upon the first impulse, or upon a very partial and limited, perhaps a distorted, view of the considerations and motives by which he ought to be influenced;--and he has the power to suspend acting, and direct his attention deliberately and fully to the facts and principles which are calculated to guide his determination. This is the first great step in that remarkable chain of sequences which belong to the regulation of the will. It is what every one is conscious of; and, putting aside all those metaphysical subtleties in which the subject has been involved, this const.i.tutes man a free and responsible agent. In this important process, the first mental state is a certain movement of one of the desires or one of the affections;--we may use the term Inclination as including both. The second is a reference of the inclination to the moral causes or motives which more peculiarly apply to it,--especially the indications of conscience, and the principles of moral rect.i.tude.--If these be found to harmonize with the inclination, volition and action follow, with the full concurrence of every moral feeling. If the inclination be condemned by these, it is, in a well-regulated mind, instantly dismissed, and the healthy condition of the moral being is preserved. But this voluntary and most important mental process may be neglected;--the inclination may be suffered to engross the mind and occupy fully the attention:--the power may not be exercised of directing it to moral causes and motives, and of comparing with them the inclination which is present. The consequence may be, that the man runs heedlessly into volition and action, from which the due exercise of this process of the mind might have preserved him.

But a third condition may take place which presents a subject of the highest interest. The moral causes may be so far attended to, as to prevent the inclination from being followed by action; while the inclination is still cherished, and the mind is allowed to dwell, with a certain feeling of regret, on the object which it had been obliged to deny itself. Though the actual deed be thus prevented, the harmony of the moral feelings is destroyed;--and that mental condition is lost which is strictly to be called purity of heart. For this consists in the desires and affections, as well as the conduct, being in strict subjection to the indications of conscience and the principles of moral rect.i.tude. The inclination, thus cherished, gradually acquires greater ascendency over the moral feelings;--at each succeeding contest, it more and more occupies the mind; the attention is less and less directed to the moral truths and motives which are opposed to it; the inclination at length acquires the predominance, and is followed by volition. This is what we mean by a man being carried away by pa.s.sion, in opposition to his moral conviction; for pa.s.sion consists in a desire or an affection which has been allowed to engross the mind, until it gradually overpowers the moral causes which are calculated to counteract its influence. Now in the whole of this course each single movement of the mind is felt to be entirely voluntary. From that step, which const.i.tutes the first departure from moral purity, the process consists in a desire being cherished which the moral feelings condemn; while, at each succeeding step, the influence of these feelings is gradually weakened, and finally destroyed. Such is the economy of the human heart, and such the chain of sequences to be traced in the moral history of every man, who, with a conviction upon his mind of what is right, has followed the downward course which gradually led him astray from virtue. When we trace such a process backwards in a philosophical point of view, the question still recurs,--what was the first step, or that by which the mind was led into the course which thus terminated in favour of vice. In the wonderful chain of sequences, which has been established in the mental const.i.tution, it would appear that a very slight movement only is required for deranging the delicate harmony which ought to exist among the moral feelings; but this each individual feels to be entirely voluntary. It may consist in a desire being cherished which the moral feelings disapprove;--and, though the effect at first may be small, a morbid influence has arisen, which gains strength by continuance, and at last acquires the power of a moral habit. The more the desire is cherished, the less is the attention directed to the considerations or moral causes by which it might be counteracted. In this manner, according to the mental economy, these causes gradually lose their power over the volitions or determinations of the mind, and, at a certain period of this progress, the judgment itself comes to be changed respecting the moral aspect of the deed.

There is still another mental condition to be mentioned in connexion with this subject; in which the harmony of the moral feelings may be destroyed, without the action following. This takes places when the inclination is cherished, as in the former case, in opposition to the indications of conscience; while the action is opposed by some inferior motives,--as a regard to reputation or interest. The deed may thus be prevented, and the interests of society may benefit by the difference; but, so far as regards the individual himself, the disruption of moral harmony is the same; and his moral aspect must be similar in the eye of the Almighty One, who regards not the outward appearance alone, but who looketh into the heart. In this manner it may very often happen, that strong inducements to vice are resisted from motives referring merely to health, or to character. But this is not to overcome temptation,--it is only to balance one selfish feeling against another.

III. From the state of mind which has now been referred to, there gradually results a _Moral Habit_. This is a mental condition, in which a desire or an affection, repeatedly acted upon, is, after each repet.i.tion, acted upon with less and less effort,--and, on the other hand, a truth or moral principle, which has been repeatedly pa.s.sed over without adequate attention, after every such act makes less and less impression, until at length it ceases to exert any influence over the moral feelings or the conduct. I had occasion to ill.u.s.trate this remarkable principle in another point of view, when treating of the connexion between the emotions of sympathy and benevolence, and the conduct which naturally arises out of them. This conduct at first may require a certain effort, and is accompanied by a strong feeling of the emotion which leads to it. But, after each repet.i.tion, the acts go on with less feeling of the emotion, and less reference to the principle from which they spring, while there is progressively forming the habit of active benevolence. It is precisely the same with habits of vice. At first a deed requires an effort,--and a powerful contest with moral principles, and it is speedily followed by that feeling of regret, to which superficial observers give the name of repentance. This is the voice of conscience, but its power is more and more diminished after each repet.i.tion of the deed;--even the judgment becomes perverted respecting the first great principles of moral rect.i.tude; and acts, which at first occasioned a violent conflict, are gone into without remorse, or almost without perception of their moral aspect. A man in this situation may still retain the knowledge of truths and principles which at one time exerted an influence over his conduct; but they are now matters of memory alone. Their power as moral causes is gone, and even the judgment is altered respecting their moral tendencies. He views them now perhaps as the superst.i.tions of the vulgar, or the prejudices of a contracted education; and rejoices, it may be, in his emanc.i.p.ation from their authority. He knows not,--for he has not the moral perception now to know, that he has been pursuing a downward course, and that the issue, on which he congratulates himself, consists in his last degradation as a moral being. Even in this state of moral dest.i.tution, indeed, the same warning principle may still raise its voice,--unheeded but not subdued,--repelled as an enemy, not admitted as a friendly monitor and guide. "I have not the smallest influence over Lord Byron, in this particular," writes one of the chosen friends of that distinguished individual,--"if I had, I certainly should employ it to eradicate from his great mind the delusions of Christianity, which, in spite of his reason, seem perpetually to recur, and to lay in ambush for the hours of sickness and distress." It would be interesting to know what the particular impressions were, from which this sympathizing friend was anxious to rescue the poet. They were probably the suggestions of a power within, which, in certain seasons of reflection, compelled his attention in spite of his attempts to reason against it,--pleading with authority for a present Deity, and a life to come.

The principle of Habit, therefore, holds a most important place in the moral condition of every man; and it applies equally to any species of conduct, or any train of mental operations, which, by frequent repet.i.tion, have become so familiar, as not to be accompanied by a recognition of the principles in which they originated. In this manner good habits are continued without any immediate sense of the right principles by which they were formed; but they arose from a frequent and uniform acting upon these principles, and on this is founded the moral approbation which we attach to habits of this description. In the same manner, habits of vice, and habits of inattention to any cla.s.s of duties, are perpetuated without a sense of the principles and affections which they violate; but this arose from a frequent violation of these principles, and a frequent repulsion of these affections, until they gradually lost their power over the conduct; and in this consists the guilt of habits. Thus, one person acquires habits of benevolence, veracity, and kindness,--of minute attention to his various duties,--of correct mental discipline,--and active direction of his thoughts to all those objects of attention which ought to engage a well regulated mind:--Another sinks into habits of listless vacuity or frivolity of mind,--of vicious indulgence and contracted selfishness,--of neglect of important duties, disregard to the feelings of others, and total indifference to all those considerations and pursuits which claim the highest regard of every responsible being; and the striking fact is, that, after a certain period, all this may go on without a feeling that aught is wrong either in the moral condition, or the state of mental discipline; such is the power of a moral habit.

The important truth, therefore, is deserving of the deepest and most habitual attention, that character consists in a great measure in habits, and that habits arise out of individual actions and individual operations of the mind. Hence the importance of carefully weighing every action of our lives, and every train of thought that we encourage in our minds; for we never can determine the effect of a single act, or a single mental process, in giving that influence to the character, or to the moral condition, the result of which shall be decisive and permanent. In the whole history of habits, indeed, we see a wondrous display of that remarkable order of sequences which has been established in our mental const.i.tution, and by which every man becomes, in an important sense, the master of his own moral destiny. For each act of virtue tends to make him more virtuous; and each act of vice gives new strength to an influence within, which will certainly render him more more vicious.

These considerations have a practical tendency of the utmost interest.

In subduing habits of an injurious character, the laws of mental sequences, which have now been referred to, must be carefully acted upon. When the judgment, influenced by the indications of conscience, is convinced of the injurious nature of the habit, the attention must be steadily and habitually directed to the truths which produced this impression. There will thus arise desire to be delivered from the habit,--or, in other words, to cultivate the course of action that is opposed to it. This desire, being cherished in the mind, is then made to bear upon every individual case in which a propensity is felt towards particular actions, or particular mental processes, referable to the habit. The new inclination is at first acted upon with an effort, but, after every instance of success, less effort is required, until at length the new course of action is confirmed, and overpowers the habit to which it was opposed. But that this result may take place, it is necessary that the mental process be followed, in the manner distinctly indicated by the philosophy of the moral feelings; for if this is not attended to, the expected effect may not follow, even under circ.u.mstances which appear, at first sight, most likely to produce it.

On this principle we are to explain the fact, that bad habits may be long suspended by some powerful extrinsic influence, while they are in no degree broken. Thus, a person addicted to intemperance will bind himself by an oath to abstain, for a certain time, from intoxicating liquors. In an instance which has been related to me, an individual under this process observed the most rigid sobriety for five years, but was found in a state of intoxication the very day after the period of abstinence expired. In such a case, the habit is suspended by the mere influence of the oath; but the desire continues unsubdued, and resumes all its former power whenever this artificial restraint is withdrawn.

The effect is the same as if the man had been in confinement during the period, or had been kept from his favourite indulgence by some other restraint entirely of an external kind; the gratification was prevented, but his moral nature continued unchanged.

These principles may be confidently stated as facts in the moral const.i.tution of man, challenging the a.s.sent of every candid observer of human nature. Several conclusions seem to arise out of them, of the utmost practical importance. We perceive, in the first place, a state which the mind may attain, in which there is such a disruption of its moral harmony, that no power appeals in the mind itself capable of restoring it to a healthy condition. This important fact in the philosophy of human nature has been clearly recognised, from the earliest ages, on the mere principles of human science. It is distinctly stated by Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics, where he draws a striking comparison between a man who, being first misled by sophistical reasonings, has gone into a life of voluptuousness, under an impression that he was doing no wrong,--and one who has followed the same course in opposition to his own moral convictions. The former he contends might be reclaimed by argument; but the latter he considers as incurable. In such a state of mind, therefore, it follows, by an induction which cannot be controverted, either that the evil is irremediable and hopeless, or that we must look for a power from without the mind which may afford an adequate remedy. We are thus led to perceive the adaptation and the probability of the provisions of Christianity, where an influence is indeed disclosed to us, capable of restoring the harmony which has been lost, and raising man anew to his place as a moral being. We cannot hesitate to believe that the Power, who framed the wondrous fabric, may thus hold intercourse with it, and redeem it from disorder and ruin. On the contrary, it accords with the highest conceptions we can form of the benevolence of the Deity, that he should thus look upon his creatures in their hour of need; and the system disclosing such communication appears, upon every principle of sound philosophy, to be one of harmony, consistency, and truth. The subject, therefore, leads our attention to that inward change, so often the scoff of the profane, but to which so prominent a place is a.s.signed in the sacred writings, in which a man is said to be created anew by a power from Heaven, and elevated in his whole views and feelings as a moral being. Sound philosophy teaches us, that there is a state in which nothing less than such a complete transformation can restore the man to a healthy moral condition, and that, for producing it, nothing will avail but an influence from without the mind,--a might and a power from the same Almighty One who originally framed it. Philosophy teaches, in the clearest manner, that a portion of mankind require such a transformation; Christianity informs us that it is required by all. When the inductions of science and the dictates of revelation harmonize to this extent, who shall dare to a.s.sert that the latter are not truth. Who, that places himself in the presence of a being of infinite purity, will say, he requires not such a change; or that, for the production of it, he needs no agency, beyond the resources of his own mind. If none be found who is ent.i.tled to believe he forms the exception, we are forced into the acknowledgement of the truth, so powerfully impressed upon us in the sacred writings, that, in the eye of the Almighty One, no man in himself is righteous; and that his own power avails not for restoring him to a state of moral purity.

From the whole of this inquiry, we see the deep influence of habits, and the fearful power which they may acquire over the whole moral system; considerations of the highest practical interest to those who would prevent the formation of habits of an injurious nature, or who, feeling their influence, strive to be delivered from them. There is indeed a point in this downward course, where the habit has acquired undisputed power, and the whole moral feelings yield to it unresisting submission.

Peace may then be within, but that peace is the stillness of death; and, unless a voice from heaven shall wake the dead, the moral being is lost.

But, in the progress towards this fearful issue, there maybe a tumult, and a contest, and a strife, and the voice of conscience may still command a certain attention to its warnings. While there are these indications of life, there is yet hope of the man; but on each moment is now suspended his moral existence. Let him retire from the influence of external things; and listen to that voice within, which, though often unheeded, still pleads for G.o.d. Let him call to aid those high truths which relate to the presence and inspection of this being of infinite purity, and the solemnities of a life which is to come. Above all, let him look up in humble supplication to that pure and holy One, who is the witness of this warfare,--who will regard it with compa.s.sion, and impart his powerful aid. But let him not presumptuously rely on this aid, as if the victory were already secured. The contest is but begun; and there must be a continued effort, and unceasing watchfulness,--a habitual direction of the attention to those truths which, as moral causes, are calculated to act upon the mind,--and a constant reliance upon the power from on high which is felt to be real and indispensable. With all this provision, his progress may be slow; for the opposing principle, and the influence of established moral habits, may be felt contending for their former dominion; but by each advantage that is achieved over them, their power will be broken, and finally destroyed. Now in all this contest towards the purity of the moral being, each step is no less a process of the mind itself than the downward course by which it was preceded. It consists in a surrender of the will to the suggestions of conscience, and a habitual direction of the attention to those truths which are calculated to act upon the moral volitions. In this course, the man feels that he is authorized to look for a might and an influence not his own. This is no imaginary or mysterious impression, which one may fancy that he feels, and then pa.s.s on contented with the vision; but a power which acts through the healthy operations of his own mind; it is in his own earnest exertions, as a rational being, to regulate these operations, that he is encouraged to expect its communication; and it is in feeling these a.s.suming the characters of moral health, that he has the proof of its actual presence.

And where is the improbability that the pure and holy One, who framed the wondrous moral being, may thus hold intercourse with it, and impart an influence in its hour of deepest need. According to the utmost of our conceptions, it is the highest of his works,--for he has endowed it with the power of rising to the contemplation of himself, and with the capacity of aspiring to the imitation of his own moral perfections. We cannot, for a moment, doubt, that his eye must reach its inmost movements, and that all its emotions, and desires, and volitions, are exposed to his view. We must believe that he looks with displeasure when he perceives them wandering from himself; and contemplates with approbation the contest, when the spirit strives to throw off its moral bondage, and to fight its way upwards to a conformity to his will. Upon every principle of sound philosophy, all this must be open to his inspection; and we can perceive nothing opposed to the soundest inductions of reason in the belief, that he should impart an influence to the feeble being in this high design, and conduct him to its accomplishment. In all this, in fact, there is so little improbability, that we find it impossible to suppose it could be otherwise. We find it impossible to believe, that such a mental process could go on without the knowledge of him whose presence is in every place,--or that, looking upon it, he should want either the power or the willingness to impart his effectual aid.

But, independently of our conviction of an actual communication from the Deity, there is a power in the mind itself, which is calculated to draw down upon it an influence of the most efficient kind. This is produced by the mental process which we call Faith: and it may be ill.u.s.trated by an impression which many must have experienced. Let us suppose that we have a friend of exalted intelligence and virtue, who has often exercised over us a commanding influence,--restraining us from pursuits to which we felt an inclination,--exciting us to virtuous conduct,--and elevating, by his intercourse with us, our impressions of a character on which we wished to form our own. Let us suppose that we are removed to a distance from this friend, and that circ.u.mstances of difficulty or danger occur, in which we feel the want of a guide and counsellor. In the reflections which the situation naturally gives rise to, the image of our friend is brought before us; an influence is conveyed a.n.a.logous to that which was often produced by his presence and his counsel;--and we feel as if he were actually present, to tender his advice and watch our conduct. How much would this impression be increased, could we farther entertain the thought, that this absent friend was able, in some way, to communicate with us, so far as to be aware of our present circ.u.mstances, and to perceive our efforts to recall the influence of his character upon our own.--Such is the intercourse of the soul with G.o.d.--Every movement of the mind is known to him; his eye is present with it, when, in any situation of duty, distress, or mental discipline, the man, under this exercise of faith, realizes the presence and character of the Deity, and solemnly inquires how, in the particular instance, his moral feelings and his conduct will appear in the eye of him who seeth in secret. This is no vision of the imagination, but a fact supported by every principle of sound reason,--the influence which a man brings down upon himself, when, by an effort of his own mind, he thus places himself in the immediate presence of the Almighty. The man who does so in every decision of life is he who lives by faith;--and, whether we regard the inductions of reason, or the dictates of sacred truth, such a man is taught to expect an influence greater and more effectual still. This is a power immediately from G.o.d, which shall be to him direction in every doubt,--light in every darkness,--strength in his utmost weakness,--and comfort in all distress;--a power which shall bear upon all the principles of his moral nature, when he carries on the mighty conflict of bringing every desire and every volition under a conformity to the divine will. We again hazard with confidence the a.s.sertion, that in all this there is no improbability;--but that, on the contrary, the improbability is entirely on the other side,--in supposing that any such mental process could take place, without the knowledge and the interposition of that incomprehensible One, whose eye is upon all his works.

PART III.

OF THE MORAL PRINCIPLE, OR CONSCIENCE.

There has been much dispute respecting the nature and even the existence of the Moral Principle, as a distinct element of our mental const.i.tution; but this controversy may probably be considered as allied to other speculations of a metaphysical nature, in regard to which a kind of evidence was sought of which the subjects are not susceptible.

Without arguing respecting the propriety of speaking of a separate power or principle, we simply contend for the fact, that there is a mental exercise, by which we _feel_ certain actions to be right and certain others wrong. It is an element or a movement of our moral nature which admits of no a.n.a.lysis, and no explanation; and is referable to no other principle than a simple recognition of the fact, which forces itself upon the conviction of every man who looks into the processes of his own mind. Of the existence and the nature of this most important principle, therefore, the evidence is entirely within. We appeal to the consciousness of every man, that he perceives a power which, in particular cases, warns him of the conduct which he ought to pursue, and administers a solemn admonition when he has departed from it. For, while his judgment conveys to him an impression, both of the tendencies and certain of the qualities of actions, he has, besides this, a feeling by which he views the actions with approbation or disapprobation, in reference purely to their moral aspect, and without any regard to their consequences. When we refer to the sacred writings, we find the principle of conscience represented as a power of such importance,--that, without any acquired knowledge, or any actual precepts, it is sufficient to establish, in every man, such an impression of his duty as leaves him without excuse in the neglect of it:--"For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves; which shew the work of the law written in their hearts, then conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another." We even find a power a.s.signed to the decisions of conscience, differing in extent only, but not in kind, from the judgment of the Almighty;--"If our heart condemn us, G.o.d is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things."

The province of conscience then appears to be, to convey to man a certain conviction of what is morally right and wrong, in regard to conduct in individual cases,--and to the general exercise of the desires or affections. This it does independently of any acquired knowledge, and without reference to any other standard of duty. It does, so, by a rule of right which it carries within itself,--and by applying this to the primary moral feelings, that is, the desires and affections, so as to indicate among them a just and healthy balance towards each other. The desires direct us to certain gratifications which we feel to be worthy of acquirement, and the affections lead us to a certain course of conduct which we feel to be agreeable to ourselves, or useful to others.

But, to act under the influence of conscience is to perform actions, simply because we feel them to be right, and to abstain from others, simply because we feel them to be wrong,--without regard to any other impression, or to the consequences of the actions either to ourselves or others. He, who on this principle performs an action, though it may be highly disagreeable to him, or abstains from another though it may be highly desirable, is a conscientious man. Such a man, under the influence of habit, comes to act more and more easily under the suggestions of conscience, and to be more and more set free from every feeling and propensity that is opposed to it. Conscience seems therefore to hold a place among the moral powers, a.n.a.logous to that which reason holds among the intellectual;--and, when we view it in this relation, there appears a beautiful harmony pervading the whole economy of the mind.

By certain intellectual operations, man acquires the knowledge of a series of facts,--he remembers them,--he separates and cla.s.sifies them,--and forms them into new combinations. But, with the most active exercise of all these operations, his mind might present an acc.u.mulation of facts, without order, harmony, or utility;--without any principle of combination, or combined only in those fantastic and extravagant forms which appear in the conceptions of the maniac. It is Reason that reduces the whole into order and harmony,--by comparing, distinguishing, and tracing their true a.n.a.logies and relations,--and then by deducing truths as conclusions from the whole. It is in this manner particularly, that a man acquires a knowledge of the uniform actions of bodies on each other,--and, confiding in the uniformity of these actions, learns to direct his means to the ends which he has in view. He knows also his own relations to other sentient beings,--and adapts his conduct to them, according to the circ.u.mstances in which he is placed,--the persons with whom he is connected,--and the objects which he wishes to accomplish. He learns to accommodate his measures to new circ.u.mstances as they arise,--and thus is guided and directed through his physical relations.

When reason is suspended, all this harmony is destroyed. The visions of the mind are acted upon as facts; things are combined into fantastic forms, entirely apart from their true relations;--conduct is widely at variance with what circ.u.mstances require;--ends are attempted by means which have no relation to them;--and the ends themselves are equally at variance with those which are suitable to the circ.u.mstances of the individual. Such is the maniac, whom accordingly we shut up, to prevent him from being dangerous to the public;--for he has been known to mistake so remarkably the relation of things, and the conduct adapted to his circ.u.mstances, as to murder his most valuable friend, or his own helpless infant.

In all this process there is a striking a.n.a.logy to certain conditions of the moral feelings, and to the control which is exercised over them by the principle of Conscience. By self-love, a man is led to seek his own gratification or advantage;--and the desires direct him to certain objects by which these propensities may be gratified. But the affections carry forth his views to other men with whom he is connected by various relations, and to the offices of justice, veracity, and benevolence, which arise out of them. Conscience is the regulating power, which, acting upon the desires and affections, as reason does upon a series of facts, preserves among them harmony and order. It does so by repressing the propensity of selfishness, and reminding the man of the true relation between regard to his own interest and the duties he owes to other men. It regulates his senses and pursuits, by carrying his views beyond present feelings and present gratifications, to future times and future consequences,--and by raising his attention to his relation to the great moral Governor of the universe. He thus learns to adapt his conduct and pursuits, not to present and transient feelings, but to an extended view of his great and true interests as a moral being. Such is conscience,--still, like reason, pointing out the moral ends a man ought to pursue, and guiding him in the means by which he ought to pursue them;--and the man does not act in conformity with the const.i.tution of his nature, who does not yield to conscience the supremacy and direction over all his other feelings and principles of action. But the a.n.a.logy does not stop here;--for we can also trace a condition in which this controlling influence of conscience is suspended or lost. I formerly endeavoured to trace the manner in which this derangement arises, and have now only to allude to its influence on the harmony of the moral feelings. Self-love degenerates into low selfish gratification: the desires are indulged without any other restraint than that which arises from a mere selfish principle,--as a regard to health, perhaps in some degree to reputation; the affections are exercised only in so far as similar principles impose a certain degree of attention to them: present and momentary impulses are acted upon, without any regard to future results: conduct is adapted to present gratification, without the perception either of its moral aspect, or its consequences to the man himself as a responsible being; and without regard to the means by which these feelings are gratified. In all this violation of moral harmony, there is no derangement of the ordinary exercise of judgment. In the most remarkable example that can be furnished by the history of human depravity, the man may be as acute as ever in the details of business or the pursuits of science. There is no diminution of his sound estimate of physical relations,--for this is the province of reason. But there is a total derangement of his sense and approbation of moral relations,--for this is conscience. Such a condition of mind, then, appears to be, in reference to the moral feelings, what insanity is in regard to the intellectual. The intellectual maniac fancies himself a king, surrounded by every form of earthly splendour,--and this hallucination is not corrected even by the sight of his bed of straw and all the horrors of his cell. The moral maniac pursues his way, and thinks himself a wise and a happy man:--- but feels not that he is treading a downward course, and is lost as a moral being.

In the preceding observations respecting the moral principle or conscience, I have alluded chiefly to its influence in preserving a certain harmony among the other feelings,--in regulating the desires by the indications of moral purity,--and presenting self-love from interfering with the duties and affections which we owe to other men.

But there is another and a most important purpose which is answered by this faculty, and that is to make us acquainted with the moral attributes of the Deity. In strict philosophical language we ought perhaps to say, that this high purpose is accomplished by a combined operation of conscience and reason; but, however this may be, the process appeals clear and intelligible in its nature, and fully adapted to the end now a.s.signed to it. From a simple exercise of mind, directed to the great phenomena of nature, we acquire the knowledge of a First Cause,--a being of infinite power and infinite wisdom; and this conclusion is impressed upon us in a peculiar manner, when, from our own bodily and mental endowments, we infer the attributes of him who framed us:--"he that planted the ear," says a sacred writer, "shall he not hear;--he that formed the eye, shall he not see;--he that teacheth man knowledge, shall not he know?" When we trace backwards a series of finite yet intelligent beings, we must arrive at one of two conclusions:--We must either trace the series through an infinite and eternal succession of finite beings, each the cause of the one which succeeded it;--or we must refer the commencement of the series to one great intelligent being, himself uncaused, infinite, and eternal. To trace the series to one being, finite, yet uncaused, is totally inadmissible; and not less so is the conception of finite beings in an infinite and eternal series. The belief of one infinite being, self-existent and eternal, is, therefore, the only conclusion at which we can arrive, as presenting any characters of credibility or truth. The superintending care, the goodness, and benevolence of the Deity, we learn, with a feeling of equal certainty, from the ample provision he has made for supplying the wants and ministering to the comfort of all the creatures whom he has made. This part of the argument, also, is in the clearest manner insisted upon in the sacred writings; when the apostle Paul, in calling upon the people of Lystra to worship the true G.o.d, who made heaven and earth, adds, as a source of knowledge from which they ought to learn his character;--"he left not himself without a witness, in that he did good, and gave us rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness."

A being, thus endowed with infinite power, wisdom, and goodness, we cannot conceive to exist without moral feelings; and, by a process equally obvious, we arrive at a distinct knowledge of these, when, from the moral perceptions of our own minds, we infer the moral attributes of him who thus formed us. We have certain impressions of justice, veracity, compa.s.sion, and moral purity, in regard to our own conduct,--we have a distinct approbation of these qualities in others,--and we attach a feeling of disapprobation to the infringement of them. By a simple step of reasoning, which conveys an impression of absolute conviction, we conclude, that he, who formed us with these feelings, possesses, in his own character, corresponding moral attributes, which, while they resemble in kind, must infinitely exceed in degree, those qualities in the wisest and the best of men. In our actual observation of mankind, we perceive these attributes impaired in their exercise by human weakness, distorted by human pa.s.sion,--and impeded in their operation by personal wants, personal feelings, and selfish interests. But, apart from such deteriorating causes, we have a certain abstract idea of the full and perfect exercise of those qualities; and it is in this pure and perfect form that we ascribe them to the Almighty. In him, they can be impeded by no weakness,--distorted by no pa.s.sion, and impaired in their operation by no personal interest.

We therefore conclude him to be perfect in the exercise of all these moral attributes, and to take the most rigid estimate of any infringement of them by man:--this is what we call the holiness of G.o.d.

Even the man, who has himself departed from moral rect.i.tude, still feels a power within, which points with irresistible force to what is purity, and fixes upon him a conviction that G.o.d is pure.

When we view such a Being, apart from any inferior creature, all seems harmony and consistency;--we have only to contemplate him as high and holy, and enjoying perfect happiness in his own spotless attributes.

But, when we view him in relation to man in a state of moral discipline, and, in that state, tainted deeply with moral evil, a difficulty arises of an appalling magnitude. There is ample scope now, we perceive, for the exercise of his holiness, veracity, and justice; and he appeals in sublime and terrible majesty, in his exalted character as a moral governor. But, amid such a display, there is an obvious interruption to the exercise of compa.s.sion,--especially in that essential department of it,--mercy or forgiveness. This attribute may be exercised without restraint by an individual, where his own interests alone are concerned, because in him it involves only a sacrifice of self-love. But forgiveness in a moral governor either implies an actual change of purpose, or supposes a former decision to have been made without sufficient knowledge of, or due attention to, all the facts by which he ought to have been influenced;--it denotes either undue rigour in the law, or ignorance or inattention in him who administers it, and it may very often interfere with the essential requisites of justice. But, in a moral governor of infinite perfection, there can be neither ignorance of facts nor change of purpose;--the requirements of his justice must stand unshaken; and his law, written on the hearts of all his rational creatures, must be upheld, in the face of the universe, as holy, and just, and good. Is, then, the exercise of mercy to be excluded from our conception of the divine character,--and is there no forgiveness with G.o.d.--The soundest inductions of philosophy, applied to the actual state of man, bring us to this momentous question; but the highest efforts of human science fail to answer it. It is in this our utmost need, that we are met by the dictates of revelation, and are called to humble the pride of our reason before that display of the harmony and integrity of the divine character. We there learn the truths, far beyond the inductions of human science, and the utmost conceptions of human thought,--that an atonement is made, a sacrifice offered;--and that the exercise of forgiveness is consistent with the perfections of the Deity.

Thus, by a process of the mind itself, which seems to present every element of fair and logical reasoning, we arrive at a full conviction of the necessity, and the moral probability, of that truth which forms the great peculiarity of the Christian revelation. More than any other in the whole circle of religious belief it rises above the inductions of science, while reason, in its soundest conclusions, recognises its probability, and receives its truth; and it stands forth alone, simply proposed to our belief, and offered to our acceptance, on that high but peculiar evidence by which is supported the testimony of G.o.d.

The truth of these considerations is impressed upon us in the strangest manner, when we turn our attention to the actual moral condition of mankind. When we contemplate man, as he is displayed to us by the soundest inductions of philosophy,--his capacity for distinguishing truth from falsehood, and evil from good; the feelings and affections which bind him to his fellow men, and the powers which enable him to rise to intercourse with G.o.d:--when we consider the power, which sits among his other principles and feelings, as a faithful monitor and guide, carrying in itself a rule of rect.i.tude without any other knowledge, and a right to govern without reference to any other authority; we behold a fabric complete and harmonious in all its parts, and eminently worthy of its Almighty Maker;--we behold an ample provision for peace, and order, and harmony, in the whole moral world.

But, when we compare with these inductions the actual state of man, as displayed to us in the page of history, and in our own daily observation, the conviction is forced upon us, that some mighty change has taken place in this beauteous system, some marvellous disruption of its moral harmony. The manner in which this condition arose,--or the origin of moral evil under the government of G.o.d, is a question entirely beyond the reach of the human faculties.--It is one of those, however, on which it is simply our duty to keep in mind, that our business is, not with the explanation, but with the facts;--for, even by the conclusions of philosophy, we are compelled to believe, that man has fallen from his high estate,--and that a pestilence has gone abroad over the face of the moral creation.

In arriving at this conclusion, it is not with the inductions of moral science alone, that we compare or contrast the actual state of man. For one bright example has appeared in our world, in whom was exhibited human nature in its highest state of order and harmony. In regard to the mighty purposes which he came to accomplish, indeed, philosophy fails us, and we are called to submit the inductions of our reason to the testimony of G.o.d. But, when we contemplate his whole character purely as a matter of historical truth,--the conviction is forced upon us, that this was the highest state of man;--and the inductions of true science harmonize with the impression of the Roman Centurion, when, on witnessing the conclusion of the earthly sufferings of the Messiah, he exclaimed--"truly this was the Son of G.o.d."

When we endeavour to trace the manner, in which mankind have departed so widely from this high pattern, we arrive at moral phenomena of which we can offer no explanation. But an inquiry of much greater importance is to mark the process by which, in individual instances, conscience ceases to be the regulating principle of the character; and this is a simple and legitimate object of philosophical observation. There cannot, indeed, be an inquiry of more intense and solemn interest, than to trace the chain of sequences which has been established in the mind of man as a moral being. We can view it only as a matter of fact, without being able to refer it to any other principle than the will of Him who framed us;--but the facts which are before us claim the serious attention of every man, who would cultivate that most important of all pursuits,--the knowledge of his own moral condition. The fact to which I chiefly allude is a certain relation, formerly referred to, between the truths which are calculated to act upon us as moral causes, and the mental emotions which ought to result from them;--and between these emotions and a certain conduct which they tend to produce. If the due harmony between these be carefully cultivated, the result is a sound moral condition; but by every instance in which this harmony is violated, a morbid influence is introduced, which gains strength in each succeeding volition, and carries disorder through the moral economy. We have formerly ill.u.s.trated this important moral process, by the relation between the emotion of compa.s.sion, and the conduct which ought to arise from it. If this tendency of the emotion be diligently cultivated, the result is the habit of active benevolence;--but, if the emotion be violated, its influence is progressively diminished, and a character is produced of cold and barren selfishness.

A similar chain of sequences is to be observed respecting the operation of those great truths, which, under the regulating power of conscience, are calculated to act as moral causes in our mental economy;--we may take, for example, the truths relating to the character and perfections of the Deity, and the influence which these ought to produce upon every rational being. We have seen the knowledge which we derive from the light of nature respecting the attributes of G.o.d, when, from his works around us, we discover him as a being of infinite power, wisdom, and goodness; and when, from the moral impressions of our own minds, we infer his perfections as a moral Governor of infinite holiness, justice, and truth. By a proper direction of the mind to the truths which are thus conveyed to us respecting the Deity, there would naturally arise a corresponding chain of emotions of which he is the object. These are a sense of veneration towards him, as infinitely great, wise, and powerful,--of love and thankfulness, as infinitely good,--and of habitual regard to his authority and will, as a moral governor of purity and justice, and as requiring a corresponding character in all his creatures. A close and constant relation ought to be preserved between these truths and these emotions, and on this depends the moral harmony of the mind. The preservation of this harmony, again, is intimately connected with a mental process which every man feels to be voluntary,--or in his power to perform, if he wills. It consists in a careful direction of the mind to such truths, so as to enable them to act as moral causes in the mental economy:--by the established order of moral sequences, the emotions naturally follow:--these are then to be cherished with satisfaction and reverence; and a corresponding influence upon the character and conduct is the farther consequence. But the first step in this important process may be neglected;--the mind may not be directed with due care to the truths which thus claim its highest regard,--and the natural result is a corresponding deficiency in the emotions and conduct which ought to flow from them. This will be the case in a still higher degree, if there has been formed any actual derangement of the moral condition,--if deeds have been committed, or even desires cherished, and mental habits acquired, by which the indications of conscience have been violated. The moral harmony of the mind is then lost, and, however slight may be the first impression, a morbid influence has begun to operate in the mental economy, which tends gradually to gain strength, until it becomes a ruling principle in the whole character. The truths connected with the divine perfections are now neither invited nor cherished, but are felt to be intruders which disturb the mental tranquillity. The attention ceases to be directed to them, and the corresponding emotions vanish from the mind. Such appears to be the moral history of those, who, in the striking language of the sacred writings, "do not like to retain G.o.d in their knowledge."

When the harmony of the mind has been impaired to this extent, another mental condition arises, according to the wondrous system of moral sequences. This consists in a distortion of the understanding itself, regarding the first great principles of moral truth. For, a fearless contemplation of the truth, respecting the divine perfections, having become inconsistent with the moral condition of the mind, there next arises a desire to discover a view of them more in accordance with its own feelings. This is followed, in due course, by a corresponding train of its own speculations; and these, by a mind so prepared, are received as truth. The inventions of the mind itself thus become the regulating principles of its emotions, and this mental process, advancing from step to step, terminates in moral degradation and anarchy.

Nothing can be more striking than the manner in which these great principles of ethical science are laid down in the sacred writings;--"the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and G.o.dhead, so that they are without excuse: Because that, when they knew G.o.d, they glorified him not as G.o.d, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools; and changed the glory of the uncorruptible G.o.d into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things."--"And even as they did not like to retain G.o.d in their knowledge, G.o.d gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient." The various steps, in this course of moral degradation, are here represented as a judicial infliction by the Deity.

But this solemn view of the subject is in no degree inconsistent with the principle, that it takes place according to a chain of sequences existing in the mind itself. For the Almighty One, who is said to inflict as a judgment this state of moral ruin, is the same who established it as the uniform result of a process in the mental economy, to be traced in the history of every man who has followed the downward course which led him astray from virtue.

To the principles which have now been stated, we are also to refer a point in the philosophy of human nature which presents a subject of most interesting reflection. I allude to the fact, that the great truths of religious belief are so often rejected, by men who have acquired a reputation for exalted powers of understanding in other departments of intellectual inquiry. The fact is one of intense interest; and we can scarcely wonder that superficial observers should have deduced from it an impression, that it implies something defective in the evidence by which these truths are proposed to our reception. But the conclusion is entirely unwarranted, and the important principle cannot be too often repeated, that the attainment of truth in moral inquiries is essentially connected with the moral condition of the inquirer. On this depends the anxious care with which he has directed his mind to the high pursuit, under a deep and solemn feeling of its supreme importance. On this depends the sincere and humble and candid love of truth with which he has conducted it, apart alike from prejudice and frivolity. For without these essential elements of character, the most exalted intellect may fail of reaching the truth,--the most acute understanding may only wander into delusion and falsehood.

Before concluding this subject, there is another point which deserves to be alluded to;--namely, the influence produced upon all our moral judgments and decisions by Attention. This important process of the mind we have had occasion to mention in various parts of our inquiry. It consists, as we have seen, in directing the thoughts, calmly and deliberately, to all the facts and considerations by which we ought to be influenced in the particular case which is under our view; and it should be accompanied by an anxious and sincere desire to be guided, both in our opinions and conduct, by the true and relative tendency of each of them. It is a voluntary process of the mind which every man has the power to perform; and on the degree in which it is habitually exercised, depend some of the great differences between one man and another in their moral condition. We have repeatedly had occasion to mention that morbid state of the mind, in which moral causes seem to have lost their proper influence, both on the volitions of the will, and even on the conclusions of the judgment:--But it is a truth which cannot be too often referred to, how much this condition is influenced by the mental process which we are now considering. It originates, indeed, in some degree of that distortion of moral feeling, in consequence of which the inclinations wander from the strict path of rect.i.tude;--but the primary effect of this loss of mental harmony, and that by which it is perpetuated, appears to be chiefly a habitual misdirection of the attention,--or a total want of consideration of the truths and motives, by which the moral judgments and decisions ought to be influenced.

Apart from this condition of the mind, indeed, there is r

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