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sitions, faculties, and operations, of feeling and thinking beings; Chemistry investigates the minute qualities of bodies as they appear in their repulsions and combinations; and Astronomy inquires into the magnitude and movements of the celestial bodies. Thus every other science is employed in finding out facts, and representing things as they are; but it is the business of Morality, or moral science, to exhibit to our view, not what men have done, but what they ought to do; not what they are, but what they ought to be.

In forming a plan of conduct, a rational being must always consider two things; first, the object or end which he proposes to attain by his actions; and, secondly, the means by which that end isto be successfully pursued. From this distinction arises a division of morality into the two following questions: First, What ought we to regard as the most important object of human pursuit, or as the business of man in this world? And, secondly By what means is this object to be attained? or how is our great business in life to be best fulfilled?

It is evident that the first of these questions is the most important. A mistake, with regard to what ought to be the chief and ultimate object of human pursuit, must necessarily diminish the value of all our exertions: For, in the great business of life, if we set out in pursuit of a

wrong object, the labour of our days, and our best schemes and reasonings, will be fruitlessly thrown away. Even the vigour, the skill, and the perseverance we exert in pursuit of what is ultimately of no importance, will only render our conduct an exhibition of more strenuous and more consummate folly: Whereas, when engaged in attempting to obtain what is truly worthy of pursuit, we shall at least be well em ployed. Every step we advance will be so much successfully performed of the great business of life, and no part of our labour will be lost. In addition to this, it may be remarked, that when it shall once be decided in a satisfactory manner what that is which we ought to regard as the object of all our efforts, and as the great purpose of our existence, it will be easy to point out the means of pursuing and of attaining to it, as these means will be suggested by the very nature and character of our ultimate object of pursuit, and by the situation in which we are placed with regard to it.

The general opinion upon the subject is this, that the great object which nature and reason teach men to pursue in this world, is Felicity of Happiness; meaning by happiness a continual succession of pleasing thoughts, emotions, and sensations. This opinion was entertained by all the ancient philosophers, although they differed widely about the best means of pursuing happi

ness.

This opinion has also been entertained by the ablest, or at least by the most popular modern writers; but they have endeavoured to engraft upon it a system of universal benevolence, and have asserted, that the great object of every man's pursuit ought to be to promote the individual and general happiness of the human race. According to this system, therefore, that action is the best which produces, or has a tendency to produce, the greatest portion of felicity in the world; and that action is the worst which produces, or has a tendency to produce, the greatest portion of misery:

This opinion, that happiness is our wisest and best object of pursuit, has been so generally diffused, that the multitude of speculative men who, of late years, have employed themselves in the discussion of moral and political subjects, appear to have adopted it as an undoubted truth. Accordingly, the argument uniformly employed in favour of ancient institutions is this, that they are necessary to the happiness of mankind; which will infallibly be lost for ever, if they be overturned. The argument, on the contrary, that is used to prevail with men to destroy the institutions of their forefathers, is of a similar nature. It is contended, that these old establishments are hostile to human felicity, and prevent mankind from enjoying all the happiness of which they are capable. Every government

promises felicity to the nation which it rules, as the reward of obedience to authority; and every government, whatever its form or character may be, pretends that the object of all its efforts and cares is to produce the general happiness of the people.

But although mankind have thus agreed in speculation to consider happiness, or a succession of agreeable thoughts and sentiments, as the only valuable object of human pursuit, it is nevertheless true, that neither men nor women, philosophers nor the vulgar, do, in practice, regard with much approbation either their own conduct, or the conduct of other persons, when they act upon this principle. We are so far from valuing men in proportion to the pleasures and the degrees of delight that have been enjoyed by them, that we never esteem their characters so highly, as when we know that they have passed a life of toil and anxiety, have encountered pain and danger without rùluctance, and have treated existence itself, and all its enjoyments, with contempt. It is the business of the poets to record human sentiments and opinions with correctness; and to them, as they have no philosophical theory to support, it is fair to appeal upon this subject. Shakespeare represents Othello the Moor as giving this account of the kind of courtship by which he, though a black man, con

trived to interest the affections of a beautiful

Venetian woman:

Othello. Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes
That I have pass'd:

I ran it through, ev'n from my boyish days,
To th' very moment that he bad me tell it.
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair-breadth 'scapes in th' imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance, in my travel's history:

Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heav'n,

It was my hent to speak. Such was the process;
And of the cannibals that each other eat,

The Anthropophagi; and men whose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders.

hear

Would Desdemona seriously incline,

All these to

But still the house-affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour; and found good means
To draw from her a pray'r of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate;
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively: I did consent;

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