this philosopher with the admission, that, in order to obtain this happiness, one must live virtuously; an admission that at once introduces a new element into his theory, an element fatal to his theory as a theory, but the very element we contend for,that is to say, an independent perception of virtue. The fitness of things of Cudworth, Clarke, and Price taught, that "the right and wrong of actions are to be regarded as ranking amongst necessary or first truths, which are discerned by the mind independently of all reasoning and evidence." The speculations of those acute theologians, which threw a world of learned dust and scholastic mist over this first truth, still laid this truth in the heart of their system; namely, that right and wrong are things self-evident, necessary, and immutable as the axioms of the Mathematics. The celebrated "theory of moral sentiments" by Adam Smith, the theory of moral sympathies, that is to say, involved the same original and independent principle. "I do wrong. I consider others as looking upon that wrong action and condemning it. I sympathize with their disapprobation; and thus I condemn myself. I do right; and through a similar process I learn to approve myself. It is sympathy," says the theory, in both cases. But why do we feel so differently in the different cases? Why does the right excite one kind of emotion, and the wrong another? Why did they, in the bosoms of the first men that experienced these emotions? The theory does not tell us. And the only answer is, that it is the constitution of our nature that makes the difference. In the same manner do we think that there is involved in the Utilitarian theory a secret reason and ground of morals, which the Utilitarian himself does not recognise. Why is an action right? Because it tends to promote the general happiness. But why is it right to promote the general happiness? Is it because happiness is a good? Yes, it is a good; but if bare tendency to promote this good, is the only thing to be considered, then a shower of rain must be a very virtuous thing. "No," it will be replied, "a being only can be virtuous. There must be an intent to do good; a moral intent, not an intellectual contriving of the matter only; a love,—and not a love of happiness merely, our own for instance, but a love of others' happiness." Here then, we think, is a secret truth embraced, but not recognised, in the Utilitarian's category. A world of beings may easily be conceived of, promoting each other's happi

ness in the highest degree, and yet having no such moral intent, not virtuous. The world of animals is such a world.

We are not sure that the theory of utility is yet set forth and defended in a manner, that is very satisfactory to its most intelligent private defenders, of whom there are many. We have supposed that the theory, as laid down in the books, contented itself with saying, that an action is right because it tends to promote happiness, and there left the subject without going back to the ulterior and ultimate ground of rectitude in the case. There it seems to us to be left by Paley and Bentham. They do not seem to have considered the question, why the feeling of benevolence is right. If, however, the Utilitarian should say, that he assumes the feeling to be right, and only differs from us in analyzing and resolving all virtue into that feeling, we should have no quarrel with the principle of his philosophy, though we should doubt about his conclusion. Whether all rectitude can be analyzed into benevolence, is, we must take the shame to say, a moot point in our mind; and we have not space here to discuss it. But if the Utilitarian says, that a benevolent feeling is right because it tends to promote happiness, if he says that happiness is so excellent a thing that it confers upon its promoter virtue, all the charm which invests it, we must dissent altogether. Benevolence makes me happy, makes others happy. Is that the reason why it is beautiful? It would be, to sell virtue in the market place! Happiness is an excellent thing. But it is not half so excellent a thing as virtue. Yet this theory would make happiness the nobler thing, since it is offered as the very ground and reason, why the virtue that promotes it, is excellent. We can admire the merciful man, when he is merciful to his beast, when he takes care only for the happiness of animals; but can an animal happiness confer upon the quality of mercy all its beauty and worth?

But we must not push these discussions further. We hope it is sufficiently evident, from consciousness, from the analogy of all the sciences, and from the concessions of all moral theories, that the perception of rectitude is one of the great, ultimate facts of human nature; that the truths of morals are just as original and certain within us, as the truths of reason or science.

And here we pray it may be considered, what it is about which we have been reasoning. It is the one, single, simple,

undivided perception of excellence. It is the one moral nature. Rectitude is one thing; and most comprehensively considered, we have said, and all, of every creed, admit indeed, that it is benevolence. Benevolence, then, is one thing. It is not one thing in God, and another thing in man. These are only different degrees of the same principle. Of benevolence, that is, of the desire to promote happiness, whether that desire exist in God or man, you have a distinct idea, you have one idea, and you can have but one. You have not two moral natures, one of which regards God, and another of which regards man; your moral nature is one thing. The moral object for that nature is one thing. If benevolence were one thing in man, and another and entirely different thing in God, there would be an end of all knowledge, of all certainty, of all religion. All would be confusion. But instead of this all is unity, congruity, harmony in the moral system. Hence it is, that he who offends in one point, is guilty of all. Hence it is argued by the Apostle, that he who loves not his brother whom he hath seen, does not love God whom he hath not seen. The being seen or not seen, makes no difference in the excellence; it is still one and the same thing. Dr. Wardlaw has a chapter on the "Identity of Morality and Religion," and we had hoped that he would, indeed, have philosophically shown their identity. But, instead of showing their identity properly speaking, instead of showing that they are the one love of the one excellence, he has severed them rather, insisting that the love of human excellence, by itself considered, is nothing worth; that a benevolent deed is devoid of all excellence, unless its express and immediate motive be the love of God. As if a man, who, at the risk of his own life, plunged into the stream, to save the life of his bitterest enemy, had not done a worthy deed, unless in that moment, the thought and the love of God had been with him, to inspire the action. It is far from our intention, of course, to disparage this higher affection; it is, indeed, essential to the stability of virtue; and nothing in the world is so lamentable as the neglect of it. The world, indeed, is disordered and deranged by the want of this central light. But one reason, we believe, why the love of God has been less cultivated, is, that it has been severed from the rest of the human affections, that it has been made a thing so essentially different from all other love, so peculiar in VOL. XIX. 3D S. VOL. I. NO. I.

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the definitions, and descriptions, and very terms, that have been applied to it.

The lawful supremacy, however, of this affection we surely do not question. That should be best loved, which is best; that most loved, which is greatest. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, is the first commandment." This commandment mankind have violated; they are fallen from this highest obligation. That which should be first, has become last in their thoughts. It is a terrible perversion. It is a gloomy aberration. It is, indeed, a sadder thing for the world, than all that is generally meant by the scholastic dogma of total depravity. The want of the true love of God leaves a dark void in the souls of millions, who go on through life wanting, and for ever wanting, something, they know not what. Moreover, this grand defection has, doubtless, brought much error into the maxims and conversations, thoughts and theories of men, concerning duty, morals, religion. Moral philosophy has not held up the light as she ought, has not been, even in Christian countries, peculiarly enough Christian. But at the same time we must say that, in our apprehension, Calvinism has still more erred, from its manner of holding up the true light. It has made it inaccessible by cutting it off from the natural steps of human affection; made it inaccessible by any natural and rational modes of approach. And particularly, by representing virtue as consisting in a supreme regard to the glory of God, Calvinism has placed the true affection, if not, when rightly understood, in a false, yet in an obscure, mystical, and repulsive light. It tells men, that no action or affection of their lives, which had not immediate and supreme regard to the glory of God, has any worth in his sight. Now, that love to God should be the supreme affection, the commanding power, within us, is most true; but, if this be all that is meant by the definition just stated, we must regret, that language so vague and so repulsive is chosen to express it. To act, to live, for the glory of God, what is it? The Apostle teaches us, that it is to act with forbearance and kindness towards our fellow beings,*. -a part of the very definition of moral excellence which we have defended. We glorify God, when, with admiration and love of his goodness, we labor for the promotion of his beneficent designs, when we labor for the happiness of our brethren.

* 1 Cor. x. 24 — 31.

This is very intelligible. But this definition would very ill suit the preacher's purpose when he is setting up a discrimination, designed to cut off all men from hope,-to conclude them all under the charge of total depravity. Then, it is some high, metaphysical refinement of devotion, some inexplicable dogma, or impracticable rule. Is it not remarkable, that, whenever the preacher would make out the proof of total depravity, he finds it necessary to depart from the simple practical precepts of the Gospel, and to set up strange and unintelligible distinctions? He dare not ask, Do men love one another, do they obey their parents, do they give alms to the poor? but he says, Do they act for the glory of God? Virtue is made to be a peculiar and technical thing; and then to be sure, it is easily proved that men are devoid of it, and, of course, are totally depraved. Give us a similar liberty, and we can prove any thing. Let us make, for instance, our definition of reason, and we will prove that all men are totally insane.

But there is a farther general and leading observation necessary to complete the argument we have undertaken. If we have succeeded in establishing the position, that the ideas of moral excellence are constitutional and belong essentially to human nature, we are prepared to advance another step in our survey of the ethics of Calvinism. For we maintain, that the idea of rectitude implies, in however small a degree, the feeling of rectitude. The Calvinist, indeed, admits that there is a conscience in all men, and we maintain that this admission is inconsistent with the alleged universal and total depravity of men. We expect, that, in answer to this, it will be said, at once, that although all men have a conscience and approve of what is good, that is a very different thing from loving it.

Undoubtedly it is a very different thing from loving it habitually, or with predominant affection. But the question is, whether the approbation of goodness does not imply the previous existence, not of a habit, but of a feeling of goodness. You behold a man doing a good action. Now, it is not the bare outward action that you admire, the stretching out of the hand, and that hand filled with gold, but it is the generous feeling, the feeling of kindness or pity in the heart of the giver. And how could you know any thing of this feeling in his heart, unless you had experienced something of it in your own heart? We do not see how otherwise you