By another modification of this system, our impressions of virtue and vice are said to be derived entirely from mutual compact. Men, finding that there was a certain course of action which would contribute to their mutual advantage, and vice versa, entered into an agreement to observe certain conduct, and abstain from certain other. The violation of this compact constituted vice, the observance of it virtue.
By a theory, supported by some eminent men, as Clark and Wollaston, virtue was considered to depend on a conformity of the conduct to a certain sense of the fitness of things,—or the truth of things. The meaning of this, it must be confessed, is rather obscure. It however evidently refers the essence of virtue to a relation perceived by a process of reason; and therefore may be held as at variance with the belief of the impression being universal.
According to the Theory of Utility, as warmly supported by Mr. Hume, we estimate the virtue of an action and an agent entirely by their usefulness. He seems to refer all our mental impressions to two principles, reason and taste. Reason gives us simply the knowledge of truth or falsehood, and is no motive of action. Taste gives an impression of pleasure or pain,—so constitutes happiness or misery, and becomes a motive of action. To this he refers our impressions of beauty and deformity, vice and virtue. He has, accordingly, distinctly asserted that the words right and wrong signify nothing more than sweet or sour, pleasant or painful, being only effects upon the mind of the spectator produced by the contemplation of certain conduct,—and this, as we have already seen, resolves itself into the impression of its usefulness. An obvious objection to the system of utility was, that it might be applied to the effects of inanimate matter as correctly as to the deeds of a voluntary agent. A printing-press or a steam-engine might be as meritorious as a man of extensive virtue. To obviate this, Mr. Hume was driven to a distinction, which in fact amounted to giving up the doctrine, namely, that the sense of utility must be combined with a feeling of approbation. This leads us back to the previous question, on what this feeling of approbation is founded, and at once recognises a principle, distinct from the mere perception of utility. Virtuous conduct may indeed always contribute to general utility, or general happiness, but this is an effect only, not the cause or the principle which constitutes it virtuous. This important distinction has been well stated by Professor Mills of Oxford. He defines morality to be,—"an obedience to the law and constitution of man's nature, assigned him by the Deity in conformity to his own essential and unchangeable attributes, the effect of which is the general happiness of his creatures."[2]—We may safely assert, that whatever is right is also expedient for man; but the converse by no means follows,—that what is expedient, that is what mankind think would be expedient, comes to be right.
We now come to the Selfish System of morals, according to which the fundamental principle of the conduct of mankind is a desire to promote their own gratification or interest. This theory has appeared in various forms, from a very early period in the history of Ethical science; but the most remarkable promoter of it in more modern times was Mr. Hobbes. According to him, man is influenced entirely by what seems calculated, more immediately, or more remotely, to promote his own interest; whatever does so, he considers as right,—the opposite as wrong. He is driven to society by necessity, and then, whatever promotes the general good, he considers as ultimately calculated to promote his own. This system is founded upon a fallacy, similar to that referred to under the former head. Virtuous conduct does impart gratification, and that of the highest kind; and, in the strictest sense of the word, it promotes the true interest of the agent, but this tendency is the effect, not the cause; and never can be considered as the principle which imparts to conduct its character of virtue; nor do we perform it merely because it affords us gratification, or promotes our interest. The hypothesis, indeed, may be considered as distinctly contradicted by facts,—for, even in our own experience, it is clear, that the pleasure attending an act of generosity or virtue in ourselves, as well as our approbation of it in others, is diminished or destroyed by the impression that there was a selfish purpose to answer by it.
There is a modification of the selfish system which attempts to get rid of its more offensive aspect by a singular and circuitous chain of moral emotions. We have experienced, it is said, that a certain attention to the comfort or advantage of others contributes to our own. A kind of habit is thus formed, by which we come at last to seek the happiness of others for their own sake;—so that, by this process, actions, which at first were considered only as inexpedient, from being opposed to self-love, at length and insensibly come to be considered as immoral. This can be considered as nothing more than an ingenious play upon words, and deserves only to be mentioned as a historical fact, in a view of those speculations by which this important subject has been obscured and bewildered.
Another modification of the theories of morals remains to be mentioned;—namely, that of the distinguished Paley. This eminent writer is decidedly opposed to the doctrine of a moral sense or moral principle; but the system which he proposes to substitute in its place must be acknowledged to be liable to considerable objections. He commences with the proposition that virtue is doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness. The good of mankind, therefore, is the subject,—the will of God, the rule,—and everlasting happiness, the motive of human virtue. The will of God, he subsequently goes on to shew, is made known to us, partly by revelation, and partly by what we discover of his designs and dispositions from his works, or, as we usually call it, the light of nature. From this last source he thinks it is clearly to be inferred, that God wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures; consequently, actions which promote that will and wish must be agreeable to him, and the contrary. The method of ascertaining the will of God concerning any action, by the light of nature, therefore, is to inquire into the tendency of the action to promote or diminish general happiness. Proceeding on those grounds, he then arrives at the conclusion, that whatever is expedient is right; and that it is the utility of any moral rule alone, which constitutes the obligation of it. In his further elucidation of this theory, Dr. Paley admits, that an action may be useful, in an individual case, which is not right. To constitute it right, it is necessary that it shall be "expedient upon the whole,—at the long run, in all its effects, collateral and remote, as well as those which are immediate and direct."
In presuming to offer a criticism upon Paley, I readily concede to the defenders of his system, that it is not to be classed with the utilitarianism of Hume and Godwin; and that it is not, correctly speaking, chargeable with selfishness, in holding out the happiness of a future state as a motive to virtue. The latter part of his system is clearly countenanced by the sacred writings; and it does appear to be a stretch of language, to apply the term selfishness to the longing which the sincere Christian feels for the full enjoyment of God. In regard to the former part of his doctrine, again, it appears that Paley meant to propose the will of God as the rule or obligation of morals, and utility only as a criterion or guide; though it must be confessed that his language is liable to much misconstruction, and is somewhat at variance with itself. The real objection to the doctrine of Paley, I apprehend, lies in his unqualified rejection of the supreme authority of conscience, and in the mental operation which he substitutes in its place, namely, a circuitous process of reasoning, in each individual, respecting the entire and ultimate expediency of actions. There are two considerations which appear to present serious objections to this part of the system as a doctrine to be applied to practical purposes. (1.) If we suppose a man deliberating respecting an action, which he perceives would be eminently expedient and useful in an individual case, and which he feels to be highly desirable in its immediate reference to that case,—we may naturally ask, whether he is in a likely condition to find his way to a sound conclusion respecting the consequences of the action "upon the whole, at the long run, in all its consequences, remote and collateral."—It may certainly be doubted whether, in any case, there is not great danger of differences of opinion arising, respecting this extended and ultimate expediency:—and it must be admitted that, in the man now referred to, the very circumstances of his perception of great and immediate utility, and the state of desire connected with it, would constitute a moral condition which might interfere, in a very material degree, with his calculation as to its ultimate expediency. Upon whatever system we proceed, I fear it must be conceded as a fact, that there is a singular propensity in the mass of mankind to consider their own pains and pleasures before those of other men; and that this propensity must interfere with the cool course of moral calculation which the system of utility must consider as indispensable. (2.) Independently of this consideration, we may be allowed to doubt, whether any human being can arrive at such an extensive knowledge, as this theory seems to render necessary, of all the consequences of an action, remote and collateral. This would appear to constitute a kind and degree of knowledge to be found only in the Omniscience of the Deity. It is, in fact, by giving its full weight to this difficulty, that the doctrine of utility has been employed by some foreign writers, in their attempts to undermine the whole foundation of morals. "The goodness of actions," says Beausobre, in his Pyrrhonisme Raisonable, "depends upon their consequences, which man cannot foresee, nor accurately ascertain." What harmony, indeed, or what consistency of moral sentiment can we expect from a system, by which man himself is made the judge of the code of morals to which he is to be subject, and by which his decisions, on a question so momentous, are made to lest on those remote consequences of actions which he must feel to be beyond the reach of his limited faculties.
If these observations be well-founded, I think we cannot hesitate to maintain, that, on such a nice calculation of consequences, it is impossible to found a rule of morals in any degree adapted to the necessities of man. The same objection applies to every doctrine, which does not recognise the supreme authority of conscience as an original part of our moral constitution, warning us of certain conduct as immutably right, and certain other conduct as immutably wrong, without any regard either to our own advantage, or to our judgment of the tendency of the deeds. Whenever we depart from this great principle, we reduce every moral decision to what must primarily be a process of reasoning, and in which, from the intricate calculation of consequences which necessarily arises, there can scarcely fail to be differences of opinion respecting the tendency of actions, instead of that absolute conviction which the deep importance of the subject renders indispensable. It may, farther, be confidently stated, as a matter of fact, that a conscientious man, in considering an action which involves a point of moral duty, does not enter upon any such calculation of its consequences. He simply asks himself,—is it right?—and so decides, according to an impulse within, which he feels to be a part of his moral constitution, susceptible of no explanation, and not admitting of being referred to any other principle. I confess, indeed, that I cannot perceive, how the doctrine of utility, in any of its forms, can be reconciled with the principle of moral responsibility. For what we commonly call vice and virtue, must resolve themselves merely into differences of opinion respecting what is most expedient in all its consequences, remote and collateral. We have already alluded to the considerations which must make this decision one of extreme difficulty;—and how can we ascribe moral guilt to that, which, though in vulgar language we may call it vice, must very often be nothing more than an error in judgment respecting this ultimate good.
In regard to the whole of this important subject, I cannot see the necessity for the circuitous mental operations which have been made to apply to it; nor can I enter into the repugnance, shewn by various classes of moralists, against the belief of a process or a principle in our constitution, given us for a guide in our moral relations. It is unnecessary to dispute about its name, or even about its origin;—for the former is of no importance, and of the latter we know nothing. The question relates simply to its existence as a mental exercise distinct from any process of reasoning, and the only criterion, to which the question can be referred, is an appeal to the moral feelings of every individual. Is there not a mental movement or feeling, call it what we may, by which we have a perception of actions as just or unjust, right or wrong; and by which we experience shame or remorse respecting our own conduct in particular instances, and indignation against the conduct of others. Every one is conscious of such a mental exercise, and there are two considerations which, I think, may be referred to as moral facts, shewing a clear and decided difference between it and any simple process of reasoning. (1.) I would ask whether, in deciding on his conduct, every man is not conscious of two classes of actions, in regard to which the processes of his mind differ widely from each other. In deciding respecting actions of the one class, he carefully and anxiously deliberates on their tendencies,—that is, their utility towards himself, or to others whose welfare he has in view; and he reflects on what was the result of his conduct in similar cases, on former occasions. In deciding respecting actions of the other class, he enters into no such calculations;—he feels an immediate impression, that a certain course is right, and a certain other wrong, without looking a single step into their tendencies. Every one is conscious of this difference, between acting from a perception of utility and from a feeling of obligation or a sense of duty; and it would be difficult to prove that any perception of utility alone ever amounts to a sense of obligation. (2.) In that class of actions to which is properly applied a calculation of utility, we see the most remarkable differences in judgment manifested by men, whom we regard as holding a high place in respect both of integrity and talent. Let us take for example the measures of political economy. A conscientious statesman feels that he is bound to pursue measures calculated to promote the good of his country; but the individual measures are often questions of expediency or utility. And what an endless diversity of judgment do we observe respecting them; and how often do we find measures proposed by able men, as calculated to produce important public benefit, which others, of no inferior name, with equal confidence, condemn as frivolous, or even dangerous. If there can be such a difference of opinion respecting one class of actions, we cannot avoid the impression that there may be similar differences respecting others, whenever the decision is left to a simple process of reason; and we cannot but feel some misgivings, as to what the state of human society would be, if men, in their moral decisions were kept together by no other ties than the speculations of each individual respecting general utility. In any such process, we can see no provision for that uniformity of feeling required for the class of actions in which are concerned our moral decisions;—and I can see nothing unphilosophical in the belief, that the Creator has provided, in reference to these, a part or a process in our moral constitution, which is incapable of analysis,—but which proves, as Butler has termed it, "a rule of right within, to every man who honestly attends to it."