carry these illustrations into the Sentimentive part of our nature. As an example, every man is capable of putting forth, or, what is, perhaps, a more proper expression of the fact, of experiencing the emotions of pleasure and pain; and although it is admitted we cannot give an available definition of these emotions, still every one knows what they are. And if there is

any elementary proposition whatever, which is so simple as to be beyond doubt and to possess a truly intuitive character, it is, that our experience of pleasure is not the experience of pain, and, on the contrary, our experience of pain is not the experience of pleasure. And, furthermore, the abstract notions which we are obviously able to form of the emotions of pleasure and pain, and which, in point of fact, we always do form whenever we make them the subjects of abstract inquiry and philosophical analysis, are entirely distinct from each other, as well as the emotions themselves. But, in respect to the emotions in particular, the pleasure and pain actually experienced, the difference which by nature exists between them is perhaps more fully and promptly recognised. Without the least hesitation, we may appeal to the testimony of any man's consciousness whether it is not utterly impossible for him even to conceive (we do not say of the mere substitution of pleasure and pain for each other, which is a wholly different thing) of pleasure, in itself considered and in its own nature, as actually being pain, or of pain, while it exists as pain, as actually being pleasure. In themselves considered and in their own nature, they are utterly, fundamentally, and entirely distinct; so much so that the human mind itself cannot mingle and confound them, without confounding and subverting its own nature as a percipient. Even the Supreme Being, although he may cause, and prolong, and diminish them in particular cases, cannot make them identical. While they exist, there is necessarily something which constitutes and authenticates their existence; and this constitution or nature of the thing can never be any otherwise than what it is.

§ 286. Application of the foregoing views to the doctrine of the immutability of moral distinctions.

The views which have been given, and which are obviously fundamental, apply to the abstract conceptions of RIGHT and WRONG, as well as to any other thoughts, emotions, or objects of thought which have been referred to. As to the fact that men universally form the notions of RIGHT and WRONG, there can be no question. These ideas take their place as clearly and distinctly in the series of our intellectual conceptions as the notions of existence, personality, duration, space, and the like. A person who should be known to be incapable of forming them would be considered an anomaly; a creature altogether out of the line of the ordinary precedents of human nature. And if we are able to frame these notions, as we obviously are, then each of them has its distinctive nature; and if there is any foundation for the remarks and illustrations already given, as we cannot doubt there is, we cannot possibly conceive of them as identical, or interchangeable with each other. They are as truly unlike as our conceptions of unity and time, or of space and power. We can no more conceive of their being identical, than we can conceive of the identity of black and white, of bitter and sweet, of pleasure and pain, of love and hatred, of a square and a circle, of a triangle and a hexagon, or of any other things in nature which are entirely diverse from each other. They are placed for ever apart; they respectively occupy their own sphere, and stand upon their own basis; they do indeed sustain a sort of relation to each other, and perhaps it may be said that we cannot have a conception of them without at the same time having some conception of this relation; but this relation itself not only involves their entire diversity, but places them at the greatest possible remove, and stamps them as the direct opposites and antipodes of each other.

Hobbes maintained, and in this he seems to have followed in the track of some ancient philosophers, that our ideas of right and wrong are not representa

tive of something permanently existing in the nature of things, but are relative to the enactments and operations of human laws and systems of government. In other words, he maintained that nothing is either right or wrong in its own nature, but is made either the one or the other by the laws of the land: what they pronounce to be right is right, and what they pronounce to be wrong is wrong, without regard to anything else. This is a great fallacy. It is true that the laws of the land can make our conduct, considered in relation to those laws, very different from what it was before. their enactment; but this is not because they can, by a direct operation, change virtue into vice or vice into virtue, but simply because they change the circumstances and relations under which that conduct exists. It is just as inconceivable that a mere human law can make an action either virtuous or vicious, while the circumstances under which it is performed remain the same, as that such a law can make black white, pleasure pain, truth falsehood, space time, a square a circle, or make anything else identical which is at the same moment and in its very nature diverse.

On this great question, therefore, we stand upon strong ground, because we go to the bottom; it is not easy to see that there can be any mistake; but we willingly leave others to judge.

§ 287. The immutability of moral distinctions shown, secondly, from the terms and the structure of languages.

(II.) The unchangeableness of rectitude and the immutability of moral distinctions is shown, in the second place, from the terms and the structure of all languages. So far as we have been able to notice, those writers who object to the doctrine under consideration do for the most part resolve rectitude into some form of good and happiness on the one hand, or into some form of enactment and law on the other. This is the predominant direction and train of thought among them. But do the terms and the structure of the different languages which are spoken by men sus

tain this course? Certainly not. We are not ignorant that Horne Tooke, in his Diversions of Purley, has endeavoured to show, by etymological considerations, that the English word right is, in its original import, synonymous with the words commanded or ordered. But the question is, not what is the derivation of the English word right, nor what was the specific import of its root, but what is its precise meaning at the present time? There certainly can be no great obscurity or misapprehension in regard to it; it is a word used by writers of no doubtful powers of discernment; it is often enough found in those great masters of pure English, Fox and Burke, Junius and Chatham.

But while we assert that it is not obscure, we do not hesitate to admit that it is undefinable, which is necessarily the case when we consider that it is the name of a simple, inseparable element of thought. It nevertheless lies clear and distinct in every one's conceptions; and if, in consequence of its being the name. of a simple idea, we cannot define what it is, we can unhesitatingly assert what it is not. And, accordingly, we do not hesitate to insist, that the term right is used at the present time as expressive of something distinct from mere personal good, interest, or happiness. On a multitude of occasions, men use the terms interest, personal good, and happiness as expressive of what, in their own opinion at least, is so far from being identical with right or justice, that it is at the very greatest remove from it. There are some men who have unceasingly pursued their interest all their days, and who, if interest and rectitude are identical, ought to be accounted exceedingly upright men, instead of being stigmatized by the unanimous voice of the public, as they very justly are, with the character of base, dishonest, and unrighteous. There is hardly any practical distinction so frequently made, and made with so good reason, too, as that of acting from views of interest in the shape of some personal good, and acting from views of right and duty. If men have occasion

to intrust their property and the management of their affairs to others, they invariably make distinctions; they inquire as to traits of character; it is not enough to tell them that their proposed agents are men more or less influenced by views of interest; they wish to know, and are not often satisfied short of knowing, whether they are men of honesty, men of uprightness. If they have occasion to address motives to their fellow-men, in order to induce them to pursue a certain course, we again find them making distinctions, and addressing some motives to their views of interest, and, as a distinct consideration, addressing others to their convictions of rectitude. But it can hardly be considered necessary to give instances of what is so palpable in the transactions of the whole mass of society. What is true of the English language, what is true of the Latin-where we find the terms utile and honestum conveying what we express in English by the interested or beneficial and the upright-will undoubtedly be found to be true of all other languages, which are so far developed as to be anything like an adequate mirror of the perceptions and feelings of those who speak them.

Men also universally make a distinction between what is right and what is merely ordered or commanded; between the legality of an action or course of action, and its moral rectitude, as we shall have occasion to remark more particularly hereafter.-Now it is to be kept in mind, that language, in its terms and in its structure, is an index, an expositor (and, perhaps, more completely so than almost anything else) of the opinions and belief of mankind. If it be indisputably true that men in all parts of the world use words with this distinction of meaning, we may look upon it as absolutely certain that they suppose and fully believe that such a distinction actually exists. And this universality of belief, like everything else, must have its adequate cause; but we are unable to lay our hands on such a cause, except it be that the very structure and action of the human mind does of itself develope clear