LECTURE II.
The connection of the second with the first lecture.
In my first lecture, I stated or suggested the purpose and the manner of my attempt to determine the province of jurisprudence: to distinguish positive law, the appropriate matter of jurisprudence, from the various objects to which it is related by resemblance, and to which it is related, nearly or remotely, by a strong or slender analogy.
In pursuance of that purpose, and agreeably to that manner, I stated the essentials of a law or rule (taken with the largest signification which can be given to the term properly).
In pursuance of that purpose, and agreeably to that manner, I proceed to distinguish laws set by men to men from those Divine laws which are the ultimate test of human.
The Divine laws or the laws of God.
The Divine laws, or the laws of God, are laws set by God to his human creatures. As I have intimated already, and shall show more fully hereafter, they are laws or rules, properly so called.
104 As distinguished from duties imposed by human laws, duties imposed by the Divine laws may be called religious duties.
As distinguished from violations of duties imposed by human laws, violations of religious duties are styled sins.
As distinguished from sanctions annexed to human laws, the sanctions annexed to the Divine laws may be called religious sanctions. They consist of the evils, or pains, which we may suffer here or hereafter, by the immediate appointment of God, and as consequences of breaking his commandments.
Of the Divine laws, some are revealed and others are unrevealed.
Of the Divine laws, or the laws of God, some are revealed or promulged, and others are unrevealed. Such of the laws of God as are unrevealed are not unfrequently denoted by the following names or phrases: ‘the law of nature;’ ‘natural law;’ ‘the law manifested to man by the light of nature or reason;’ ‘the laws, precepts, or dictates of natural religion.’
The revealed law of God, and the portion of the law of God which is unrevealed, are manifested to men in different ways, or by different sets of signs.
Such of the Divine laws as are revealed.
With regard to the laws which God is pleased to reveal, the way wherein they are manifested is easily conceived. They are express commands: portions of the word of God: commands signified to men through the medium of human language; and uttered by God directly, or by servants whom he sends to announce them.
Such of the Divine laws as are unrevealed.
Such of the Divine laws as are unrevealed are laws set by God to his human creatures, but not through the medium of human language, or not expressly.
These are the only laws which he has set to that portion of mankind who are excluded from the light of Revelation.
These laws are binding upon us (who have access to the truths of Revelation), in so far as the revealed law has left our duties undetermined. For, though his express declarations are the clearest evidence of his will, we must look for many of the duties, which God has imposed upon us, to the marks or signs of his pleasure which are styled the light of nature. Paley and other divines have proved beyond a doubt, that it was not the purpose of Revelation to disclose the whole of those duties. Some we could not know, without the help of Revelation; and these the revealed law has stated distinctly and precisely. The rest we may know, if we will, by the light of nature or reason; and these the revealed law supposes or assumes. It passes them over in silence, or with a brief and incidental notice.
What is the index to such of the Divine laws as are unrevealed?
105 But if God has given us laws which he has not revealed or promulged, how shall we know them? What are those signs of his pleasure, which we style the light of nature; and oppose, by that figurative phrase, to express declarations of his will?
The hypotheses or theories which regard the nature of that index.
The hypotheses or theories which attempt to resolve this question, may be reduced, I think, to two.
The hypothesis or theory of a moral sense: of innate practical principles; of a practical reason; of a common sense, &c. &c.
According to one of them, there are human actions which all mankind approve, human actions which all men disapprove; and these universal sentiments arise at the thought of those actions, spontaneously, instantly, and inevitably. Being common to all mankind, and inseparable from the thoughts of those actions, these sentiments are marks or signs of the Divine pleasure. They are proofs that the actions which excite them are enjoined or forbidden by the Deity.
The rectitude or pravity of human conduct, or its agreement or disagreement with the laws of God, is instantly inferred from these sentiments, without the possibility of mistake. He has resolved that our happiness shall depend on our keeping his commandments: and it manifestly consists with his manifest wisdom and goodness, that we should know them promptly and certainly. Accordingly, he has not committed us to the guidance of our slow and fallible reason. He has wisely endowed us with feelings, which warn us at every step; and pursue us, with their importunate reproaches, when we wander from the path of our duties.
These simple or inscrutable feelings have been compared to those which we derive from the outward senses, and have been referred to a peculiar faculty called the moral sense: though, admitting that the feelings exist, and are proofs of the Divine pleasure, I am unable to discover the analogy which suggested the comparison and the name. The objects or appearances which properly are perceived through the senses, are perceived immediately, or without an inference of the understanding. According to the hypothesis which I have briefly stated or suggested, there is always an inference of the understanding, though the inference is short and inevitable. From feelings which arise within us when we think of certain actions, we infer that those actions are enjoined or forbidden by the Deity.
The hypothesis, however, of a moral sense, is expressed in other ways.
106 The laws of God, to which these feelings are the index, are not unfrequently named innate practical principles, or postulates of practical reason: or they are said to be written on our hearts, by the finger of their great Author, in broad and indelible characters.
Common sense (the most yielding and accommodating of phrases) has been moulded and fitted to the purpose of expressing the hypothesis in question. In all their decisions on the rectitude or pravity of conduct (its agreement or disagreement with the unrevealed law), mankind are said to be determined by common sense: this same common sense meaning, in this instance, the simple or inscrutable sentiments which I have endeavoured to describe.
Considered as affecting the soul, when the man thinks especially of his own conduct, these sentiments, feelings, or emotions, are frequently styled his conscience.
The theory or hypothesis of utility.
According to the other of the adverse theories or hypotheses, the laws of God, which are not revealed or promulged, must be gathered by man from the goodness of God, and from the tendencies of human actions. In other words, the benevolence of God, with the principle of general utility, is our only index or guide to his unrevealed law.
A brief summary of the theory of utility.
God designs the happiness of all his sentient creatures. Some human actions forward that benevolent purpose, or their tendencies are beneficent or useful. Other human actions are adverse to that purpose, or their tendencies are mischievous or pernicious. The former, as promoting his purpose, God has enjoined. The latter, as opposed to his purpose, God has forbidden. He has given us the faculty of observing; of remembering; of reasoning: and, by duly applying those faculties, we may collect the tendencies of our actions. Knowing the tendencies of our actions, and knowing his benevolent purpose, we know his tacit commands.
The following explanations of that summary briefly introduced.
Such is a brief summary of this celebrated theory. I should wander to a measureless distance from the main purpose of my lectures, if I stated all the explanations with which that summary must be received. But, to obviate the principal misconceptions to which the theory is obnoxious, I will subjoin as many of those explanations as my purpose and limits will admit.
The theory is this.—Inasmuch as the goodness of God is boundless and impartial, he designs the greatest happiness of all his sentient creatures: he wills that the aggregate of their 107enjoyments shall find no nearer limit than that which is inevitably set to it by their finite and imperfect nature. From the probable effects of our actions on the greatest happiness of all, or from the tendencies of human actions to increase or diminish that aggregate, we may infer the laws which he has given, but has not expressed or revealed.
The true tendency of a human action, and the true test of that tendency.
Now the tendency of a human action (as its tendency is thus understood) is the whole of its tendency: the sum of its probable consequences, in so far as they are important or material: the sum of its remote and collateral, as well as of its direct consequences, in so far as any of its consequences may influence the general happiness.
Trying to collect its tendency (as its tendency is thus understood), we must not consider the action as if it were single and insulated, but must look at the class of actions to which it belongs. The probable specific consequences of doing that single act, of forbearing from that single act, or of omitting that single act, are not the objects of the inquiry. The question to be solved is this:—If acts of the class were generally done, or generally forborne or omitted, what would be the probable effect on the general happiness or good?
Considered by itself, a mischievous act may seem to be useful or harmless. Considered by itself, a useful act may seem to be pernicious.
For example, If a poor man steal a handful from the heap of his rich neighbour, the act, considered by itself, is harmless or positively good. One man’s property is assuaged with the superfluous wealth of another.
But suppose that thefts were general (or that the useful right of property were open to frequent invasions), and mark the result.
Without security for property, there were no inducement to save. Without habitual saving on the part of proprietors, there were no accumulation of capital. Without accumulation of capital, there were no fund for the payment of wages, no division of labour, no elaborate and costly machines: there were none of those helps to labour which augment its productive power, and, therefore, multiply the enjoyments of every individual in the community. Frequent invasions of property would bring the rich to poverty; and, what were a greater evil, would aggravate the poverty of the poor.
If a single and insulated theft seem to be harmless or good, the fallacious appearance merely arises from this: that the vast 108majority of those who are tempted to steal abstain from invasions of property; and the detriment to security, which is the end produced by a single theft, is overbalanced and concealed by the mass of wealth, the accumulation of which is produced by general security.
Again: If I evade the payment of a tax imposed by a good government, the specific effects of the mischievous forbearance are indisputably useful. For the money which I unduly withhold is convenient to myself; and, compared with the bulk of the public revenue, is a quantity too small to be missed. But the regular payment of taxes is necessary to the existence of the government. And I, and the rest of the community, enjoy the security which it gives, because, the payment of taxes is rarely evaded.
In the cases now supposed, the act or omission is good, considered as single or insulated; but, considered with the rest of its class, is evil. In other cases, an act or omission is evil, considered as single or insulated; but, considered with the rest of its class, is good.
For example, A punishment, as a solitary fact, is an evil: the pain inflicted on the criminal being added to the mischief of the crime. But, considered as part of a system, a punishment is useful or beneficent. By a dozen or score of punishments, thousands of crimes are prevented. With the sufferings of the guilty few, the security of the many is purchased. By the lopping of a peccant member, the body is saved from decay.
It, therefore, is true generally (for the proposition admits of exceptions), that, to determine the true tendency of an act, forbearance, or omission, we must resolve the following question.——What would be the probable effect on the general happiness or good, if similar acts, forbearances, or omissions were general or frequent?
Such is the test to which we must usually resort, if we would try the true tendency of an act, forbearance, or omission: Meaning, by the true tendency of an act, forbearance, or omission, the sum of its probable effects on the general happiness or good, or its agreement or disagreement with the principle of general utility.
According to the theory of utility, God’s commands are mostly rules.
But, if this be the ordinary test for trying the tendencies of actions, and if the tendencies of actions be the index to the will of God, it follows that most of his commands are general or universal. The useful acts which he enjoins, and the pernicious acts which he prohibits, he enjoins or prohibits, for the most 109part, not singly, but by classes: not by commands which are particular, or directed to insulated cases; but by laws or rules which are general, and commonly inflexible.
For example, Certain acts are pernicious, considered as a class: or (in other words) the frequent repetition of the act were adverse to the general happiness, though, in this or that instance, the act might be useful or harmless. Further: Such are the motives or inducements to the commission of acts of the class, that, unless we were determined to forbearance by the fear of punishment, they would be frequently committed. Now, if we combine these data with the wisdom and goodness of God, we must infer that he forbids such acts, and forbids them without exception. In the tenth, or the hundredth case, the act might be useful: in the nine, or the ninety and nine, the act would be pernicious. If the act were permitted or tolerated in the rare and anomalous case, the motives to forbear in the others would be weakened or destroyed. In the hurry and tumult of action, it is hard to distinguish justly. To grasp at present enjoyment, and to turn from present uneasiness, is the habitual inclination of us all. And thus, through the weakness of our judgments, and the more dangerous infirmity of our wills, we should frequently stretch the exception to cases embraced by the rule.
Consequently, where acts, considered as a class, are useful or pernicious, we must conclude that he enjoins or forbids them, and by a rule which probably is inflexible.
It does not follow from the theory of utility, that every useful action is the object of a Divine injunction; and every pernicious action, the object of a Divine prohibition.
Such, I say, is the conclusion at which we must arrive, supposing that the fear of punishment be necessary to incite or restrain.
For the tendency of an act is one thing: the utility of enjoining or forbidding it is another thing. There are classes of useful acts, which it were useless to enjoin; classes of mischievous acts, which it were useless to prohibit. Sanctions were superfluous. We are sufficiently prone to the useful, and sufficiently averse from the mischievous acts, without the motives which are presented to the will by a lawgiver. Motives natural or spontaneous (or motives other than those which are created by injunctions and prohibitions) impel us to action in the one case, and hold us to forbearance in the other. In the language of Mr. Locke, ‘The mischievous omission or action would bring down evils upon us, which are its natural products or consequences; and which, as natural inconveniences, operate without a law.’
A current and specious objection to the theory of utility, introduced and stated.
110Now, if the measure or test which I have endeavoured to explain be the ordinary measure or test for trying the tendencies of our actions, the most current and specious of the objections, which are made to the theory of utility, is founded in gross mistake, and is open to triumphant refutation.
The theory, be it always remembered, is this:
Our motives to obey the laws which God has given us, are paramount to all others. For the transient pleasures which we may snatch, or the transient pains which we may shun, by violating the duties which they impose, are nothing in comparison with the pains by which those duties are sanctioned.
The greatest possible happiness of all his sentient creatures, is the purpose and effect of those laws. For the benevolence by which they were prompted, and the wisdom with which they were planned, equal the might which enforces them.
But, seeing that such is their purpose, they embrace the whole of our conduct: so far, that is, as our conduct may promote or obstruct that purpose; and so far as injunctions and prohibitions are necessary to correct our desires.
In so far as the laws of God are clearly and indisputably revealed, we are bound to guide our conduct by the plain meaning of their terms. In so far as they are not revealed, we must resort to another guide: namely, the probable effect of our conduct on that general happiness or good which is the object of the Divine Lawgiver in all his laws and commandments.
In each of these cases the source of our duties is the same; though the proofs by which we know them are different. The principle of general utility is the index to many of these duties; but the principle of general utility is not their fountain or source. For duties or obligations arise from commands and sanctions. And commands, it is manifest, proceed not from abstractions, but from living and rational beings.
Admit these premises, and the following conclusion is inevitable.—The whole of our conduct should be guided by the principle of utility, in so far as the conduct to be pursued has not been determined by Revelation. For, to conform to the principle or maxim with which a law coincides, is equivalent to obeying that law.
Such is the theory: which I have repeated in various forms, and, I fear, at tedious length, in order that my younger hearers might conceive it with due distinctness.
The current and specious objection to which I have adverted, may be stated thus:
111 ‘Pleasure and pain (or good and evil) are inseparably connected. Every positive act, and every forbearance or omission, is followed by both: immediately or remotely, directly or collaterally, to ourselves or to our fellow‑creatures.
‘Consequently, if we shape our conduct justly to the principle of general utility, every election which we make between doing or forbearing from an act will be preceded by the following process. First: We shall conjecture the consequences of the act, and also the consequences of the forbearance. For these are the competing elements of that calculation, which, according to our guiding principle, we are bound to make. Secondly: We shall compare the consequences of the act with the consequences of the forbearance, and determine the set of consequences which gives the balance of advantage: which yields the larger residue of probable good or (adopting a different, though exactly equivalent expression) which leaves the smaller residue of probable evil.
‘Now let us suppose that we actually tried this process, before we arrived at our resolves. And then let us mark the absurd and mischievous effects which would inevitably follow our attempts.
‘Generally speaking, the period allowed for deliberation is brief: and to lengthen deliberation beyond that limited period, is equivalent to forbearance or omission. Consequently, if we performed this elaborate process completely and correctly, we should often defeat its purpose. We should abstain from action altogether, though utility required us to act; or the occasion for acting usefully would slip through our fingers, whilst we weighed, with anxious scrupulosity, the merits of the act and the forbearance.
‘But feeling the necessity of resolving promptly, we should not perform the process completely and correctly. We should guess or conjecture hastily the effects of the act and the forbearance, and compare their respective effects with equal precipitancy. Our premises would be false or imperfect; our conclusions, badly deduced. Labouring to adjust our conduct to the principle of general utility, we should work inevitable mischief.
‘And such were the consequences of following the principle of utility, though we sought the true and the useful with simplicity and in earnest. But, as we commonly prefer our own to the interests of our fellow‑creatures, and our own immediate to our own remote interests, it is clear that we should warp the principle to selfish and sinister ends.
112 ‘The final cause or purpose of the Divine laws is the general happiness or good. But to trace the effect of our conduct on the general happiness or good is not the way to know them. By consulting and obeying the laws of God we promote our own happiness and the happiness of our fellow‑creatures. But we should not consult his laws, we should not obey his laws, and, so far as in us lay, we should thwart their benevolent design, if we made the general happiness our object or end. In a breath, we should widely deviate in effect from the principle of general utility by taking it as the guide of our conduct.’
The two apt answers to the foregoing objection briefly introduced.
Such, I believe, is the meaning of those—if they have a meaning—who object to the principle of utility ‘that it were a dangerous principle of conduct.’
As the objectors are generally persons little accustomed to clear and determinate thinking, I am not quite certain that I have conceived the objection exactly. But I have endeavoured with perfectly good faith to understand their meaning, and as forcibly as I can to state it, or to state the most rational meaning which their words can be supposed to import.
It has been said, in answer to this objection, that it involves a contradiction in terms. Danger is another name for probable mischief: And, surely, we best avert the probable mischiefs of our conduct, by conjecturing and estimating its probable consequences. To say ‘that the principle of utility were a dangerous principle of conduct,’ is to say ‘that it were contrary to utility to consult utility.’
Now, though this is so brief and pithy that I heartily wish it were conclusive, I must needs admit that it scarcely touches the objection, and falls far short of a crushing reduction to absurdity. For the objection obviously assumes that we cannot foresee and estimate the probable effects of our conduct: that if we attempted to calculate its good and its evil consequences, our presumptuous attempt at calculation would lead us to error and sin. What is contended is, that by the attempt to act according to utility, an attempt which would not be successful, we should deviate from utility. A proposition involving when fairly stated nothing like a contradiction.
But, though this is not the refutation, there is a refutation.
The first answer to the foregoing objection stated.
And first, If utility be our only index to the tacit commands of the Deity, it is idle to object its imperfections. We must even make the most of it.
If we were endowed with a moral sense, or with a common sense, or with a practical reason, we scarcely should construe his 113commands by the principle of general utility. If our souls were furnished out with innate practical principles, we scarcely should read his commands in the tendencies of human actions. For, by the supposition, man would be gifted with a peculiar organ for acquiring a knowledge of his duties. The duties imposed by the Deity would be subjects of immediate consciousness, and completely exempted from the jurisdiction of observation and induction. An attempt to displace that invincible consciousness, and to thrust the principle of utility into the vacant seat, would be simply impossible and manifestly absurd. An attempt to taste or smell by force of syllogism, were not less hopeful or judicious.
But, if we are not gifted with that peculiar organ, we must take to the principle of utility, let it be never so defective. We must gather our duties, as we can, from the tendencies of human actions; or remain, at our own peril, in ignorance of our duties. We must pick our scabrous way with the help of a glimmering light, or wander in profound darkness.
The second answer to the foregoing objection briefly introduced.
Whether there be any ground for the hypothesis of a moral sense, is a question which I shall duly examine in a future lecture, but which I shall not pursue in the present place. For the present is a convenient place for the introduction of another topic: namely, that they who advance the objection in question misunderstand the theory which they presume to impugn.
Their objection is founded on the following assumption.—That, if we adjusted our conduct to the principle of general utility, every election which we made between doing and forbearing from an act would be preceded by a calculation: by an attempt to conjecture and compare the respective probable consequences of action and forbearance.
Or (changing the expression) their assumption is this.—That, if we adjusted our conduct to the principle of general utility, our conduct would always be determined by an immediate or direct resort to it.
And, granting their assumption, I grant their inference. I grant that the principle of utility were a halting and purblind guide.
But their assumption is groundless. They are battering (and most effectually) a misconception of their own, whilst they fancy they are hard at work demolishing the theory which they hate.
For, according to that theory, our conduct would conform to rules inferred from the tendencies of actions, but would not 114be determined by a direct resort to the principle of general utility. Utility would be the test of our conduct, ultimately, but not immediately: the immediate test of the rules to which our conduct would conform, but not the immediate test of specific or individual actions. Our rules would be fashioned on utility; our conduct, on our rules.
Recall the true test for trying the tendency of an action, and, by a short and easy deduction, you will see that their assumption is groundless.
If our conduct were truly adjusted to the principle of general utility, our conduct would conform, for the most part, to rules: rules which emanate from the Deity, and to which the tendencies of human actions are the guide or index.
If we would try the tendency of a specific or individual act, we must not contemplate the act as if it were single and insulated, but must look at the class of acts to which it belongs. We must suppose that acts of the class were generally done or omitted, and consider the probable effect upon the general happiness or good.
We must guess the consequences which would follow, if acts of the class were general; and also the consequences which would follow, if they were generally omitted. We must then compare the consequences on the positive and negative sides, and determine on which of the two the balance of advantage lies.
If it lie on the positive side, the tendency of the act is good: or (adopting a wider, yet exactly equivalent expression) the general happiness requires that acts of the class shall be done. If it lie on the negative side, the tendency of the act is bad: or (again adopting a wider, yet exactly equivalent expression) the general happiness requires that acts of the class shall be forborne.
In a breath, if we truly try the tendency of a specific or individual act, we try the tendency of the class to which that act belongs. The particular conclusion which we draw, with regard to the single act, implies a general conclusion embracing all similar acts.
But, concluding that acts of the class are useful or pernicious, we are forced upon a further inference. Adverting to the known wisdom and the known benevolence of the Deity, we infer that he enjoins or forbids them by a general and inflexible rule.
Such is the inference at which we inevitably arrive, supposing that the acts be such as to call for the intervention of a lawgiver.
To rules thus inferred, and lodged in the memory, our conduct would conform immediately if it were truly adjusted to utility. To consider the specific consequences of single or individual acts, would seldom consist with that ultimate principle. 115And our conduct would, therefore, be guided by general conclusions, or (to speak more accurately) by rules inferred from those conclusions.
But, this being admitted, the necessity of pausing and calculating, which the objection in question supposes, is an imaginary necessity. To preface each act or forbearance by a conjecture and comparison of consequences, were clearly superfluous and mischievous. It were clearly superfluous, inasmuch as the result of that process would be embodied in a known rule. It were clearly mischievous, inasmuch as the true result would be expressed by that rule, whilst the process would probably be faulty, if it were done on the spur of the occasion.
Theory and practice are inseparable.
Speaking generally, human conduct, including the human conduct which is subject to the Divine commands, is inevitably guided by rules, or by principles or maxims.
If our experience and observation of particulars were not generalized, our experience and observation of particulars would seldom avail us in practice. To review on the spur of the occasion a host of particulars, and to obtain from those particulars a conclusion applicable to the case, were a process too slow and uncertain to meet the exigencies of our lives. The inferences suggested to our minds by repeated experience and observation are, therefore, drawn into principles, or compressed into maxims. These we carry about us ready for use, and apply to individual cases promptly or without hesitation: without reverting to the process by which they were obtained; or without recalling and arraying before our minds, the numerous and intricate considerations of which they are handy abridgments.
This is the main, though not the only use of theory: which ignorant and weak people are in a habit of opposing to practice, but which is essential to practice guided by experience and observation.
‘’Tis true in theory; but, then, ’tis false in practice.’ Such is a common talk. This says Noodle; propounding it with a look of the most ludicrous profundity.
But, with due and discreet deference to this worshipful and weighty personage, that which is true in theory is also true in practice.
Seeing that a true theory is a compendium of particular truths, it is necessarily true as applied to particular cases. The terms of the theory are general and abstract, or the particular truths which the theory implies would not be abbreviated or condensed. But, unless it be true of particulars, and, therefore, 116true in practice, it has no truth at all. Truth is always particular, though language is commonly general. Unless the terms of a theory can be resolved into particular truths, the theory is mere jargon: a coil of those senseless abstractions which often ensnare the instructed; and in which the wits of the ignorant are certainly caught and entangled, when they stir from the track of authority, and venture to think for themselves.
They who talk of theory as if it were the antagonist of practice, or of a thing being true in theory but not true in practice, mean (if they have a meaning) that the theory in question is false: that the particular truths which it concerns are treated imperfectly or incorrectly; and that, if it were applied in practice, it might, therefore, mislead. They say that truth in theory is not truth in practice. They mean that a false theory is not a true one, and might lead us to practical errors.
If our conduct were truly adjusted to the principle of general utility, our conduct would be guided, for the most part, by sentiments associated with rules: rules which emanate from the Deity, and to which the tendencies of human actions are the guide or index.
Speaking, then, generally, human conduct is inevitably guided by rules, or by principles or maxims.
The human conduct which is subject to the Divine commands, is not only guided by rules, but also by moral sentiments associated with those rules.
If I believe (no matter why) that acts of a class or description are enjoined or forbidden by the Deity, a moral sentiment or feeling (or a sentiment or feeling of approbation or disapprobation) is inseparably connected in my mind with the thought or conception of such acts. And by this I am urged to do, or restrained from doing such acts, although I advert not to the reason in which my belief originated, nor recall the Divine rule which I have inferred from that reason.
Now, if the reason in which my belief originated be the useful or pernicious tendency of acts of the class, my conduct is truly adjusted to the principle of general utility, but my conduct is not determined by a direct resort to it. It is directly determined by a sentiment associated with acts of the class, and with the rule which I have inferred from their tendency.
If my conduct be truly adjusted to the principle of general utility, my conduct is guided remotely by calculation. But, immediately, or at the moment of action, my conduct is determined by sentiment. I am swayed by sentiment as imperiously as I should be swayed by it, supposing I were utterly unable to produce a reason for my conduct, and were ruled by the capricious feelings which are styled the moral sense.
For example, Reasons which are quite satisfactory, but somewhat numerous and intricate, convince me that the institution of 117property is necessary to the general good. Convinced of this, I am convinced that thefts are pernicious. Convinced that thefts are pernicious, I infer that the Deity forbids them by a general and inflexible rule.
Now the train of induction and reasoning by which I arrive at this rule, is somewhat long and elaborate. But I am not compelled to repeat the process, before I can know with certainty that I should forbear from taking your purse. Through my previous habits of thought and by my education, a sentiment of aversion has become associated in my mind with the thought or conception of a theft: And, without adverting to the reasons which have convinced me that thefts are pernicious, or without adverting to the rule which I have inferred from their pernicious tendency, I am determined by that ready emotion to keep my fingers from your purse.
To think that the theory of utility would substitute calculation for sentiment, is a gross and flagrant error: the error of a shallow, precipitate understanding. He who opposes calculation and sentiment, opposes the rudder to the sail, or to the breeze which swells the sail. Calculation is the guide, and not the antagonist of sentiment. Sentiment without calculation were blind and capricious; but calculation without sentiment were inert.
To crush the moral sentiments, is not the scope or purpose of the true theory of utility. It seeks to impress those sentiments with a just or beneficent direction: to free us of groundless likings, and from the tyranny of senseless antipathies; to fix our love upon the useful, our hate upon the pernicious.
If our conduct were truly adjusted to the principle of general utility, our conduct would conform, for the most part, to Divine rules, and would also be guided, for the most part, by sentiments associated with those rules. But, in anomalous and excepted cases (of comparatively rare occurrence) our conduct would be fashioned directly on the principle of general utility, or guided by a conjecture and comparison of specific or particular consequences.
If, then, the principle of utility were the presiding principle of our conduct, our conduct would be determined immediately by Divine rules, or rather by moral sentiments associated with those rules. And, consequently, the application of the principle of utility to particular or individual cases, would neither be attended by the errors, nor followed by the mischiefs, which the current objection in question supposes.
But these conclusions (like most conclusions) must be taken with limitations.
There certainly are cases (of comparatively rare occurrence) wherein the specific considerations balance or outweigh the general: cases which (in the language of Bacon) are ‘immersed in matter:’ cases perplexed with peculiarities from which it were dangerous to abstract them; and to which our attention would be directed, if we were true to our presiding principle. It were 118mischievous to depart from a rule which regarded any of these cases; since every departure from a rule tends to weaken its authority. But so important were the specific consequences which would follow our resolves, that the evil of observing the rule might surpass the evil of breaking it. Looking at the reasons from which we had inferred the rule, it were absurd to think it inflexible. We should, therefore, dismiss the rule; resort directly to the principle upon which our rules were fashioned; and calculate specific consequences to the best of our knowledge and ability.
For example, If we take the principle of utility as our index to the Divine commands, we must infer that obedience to established government is enjoined generally by the Deity. For, without obedience to ‘the powers which be,’ there were little security and little enjoyment. The ground, however, of the inference, is the utility of government: And if the protection which it yields be too costly, or if it vex us with needless restraints and load us with needless exactions, the principle which points at submission as our general duty may counsel and justify resistance. Disobedience to an established government, let it be never so bad, is an evil: For the mischiefs inflicted by a bad government are less than the mischiefs of anarchy. So momentous, however, is the difference between a bad and a good government, that, if it would lead to a good one, resistance to a bad one would be useful. The anarchy attending the transition were an extensive, but a passing evil: The good which would follow the transition were extensive and lasting. The peculiar good would outweigh the generic evil: The good which would crown the change in the insulated and eccentric case, would more than compensate the evil which is inseparable from rebellion.
Whether resistance to government be useful or pernicious, be consistent or inconsistent with the Divine pleasure, is, therefore, an anomalous question. We must try it by a direct resort to the ultimate or presiding principle, and not by the Divine rule which the principle clearly indicates. To consult the rule, were absurd. For, the rule being general and applicable to ordinary cases, it ordains obedience to government, and excludes the question.
The members of a political society who revolve this momentous question must, therefore, dismiss the rule, and calculate specific consequences. They must measure the mischief wrought by the actual government; the chance of getting a better, by resorting to resistance; the evil which must attend resistance, 119whether it prosper or fail; and the good which may follow resistance, in case it be crowned with success. And, then, by comparing these, the elements of their moral calculation, they must solve the question before them to the best of their knowledge and ability.
And in this eccentric or anomalous case, the application of the principle of utility would probably be beset with the difficulties which the current objection in question imputes to it generally. To measure and compare the evils of submission and disobedience, and to determine which of the two would give the balance of advantage, would probably be a difficult and uncertain process. The numerous and competing considerations by which the question must be solved, might well perplex and divide the wise, and the good, and the brave. A Milton or a Hampden might animate their countrymen to resistance, but a Hobbes or a Falkland would counsel obedience and peace.
But, though the principle of utility would afford no certain solution, the community would be fortunate, if their opinions and sentiments were formed upon it. The pretensions of the opposite parties being tried by an intelligible test, a peaceable compromise of their difference would, at least, be possible. The adherents of the established government, might think it the most expedient: but, as their liking would depend upon reasons, and not upon names and phrases, they might possibly prefer innovations, of which they would otherwise disapprove, to the mischiefs of a violent contest They might chance to see the absurdity of upholding the existing order, with a stiffness which must end in anarchy. The party affecting reform, being also intent upon utility, would probably accept concessions short of their notions and wishes, rather than persist in the chase of a greater possible good through the evils and the hazards of a war. In short, if the object of each party were measured by the standard of utility, each might compare the worth of its object with the cost of a violent pursuit.
But, if the parties were led by their ears, and not by the principle of utility; if they appealed to unmeaning abstractions, or to senseless fictions; if they mouthed of ‘the rights of man,’ or ‘the sacred rights of sovereigns,’ of ‘unalienable liberties,’ or ‘eternal and immutable justice;’ of an ‘original contract or covenant,’ or ‘the principles of an inviolable constitution;’ neither could compare its object with the cost of a violent pursuit, nor would the difference between them admit of a peaceable compromise. A sacred or unalienable right is truly 120and indeed invaluable: For, seeing that it means nothing, there is nothing with which it can be measured. Parties who rest their pretensions on the jargon to which I have adverted, must inevitably push to their objects through thick and thin, though their objects be straws or feathers as weighed in the balance of utility. Having bandied their fustian phrases, and ‘bawled till their lungs be spent,’ they must even take to their weapons, and fight their difference out.
It really is important (though I feel the audacity of the paradox), that men should think distinctly, and speak with a meaning.
In most of the domestic broils which have agitated civilized communities, the result has been determined or seriously affected, by the nature of the prevalent talk: by the nature of the topics or phrases which have figured in the war of words. These topics or phrases have been more than pretexts: more than varnish: more than distinguishing cockades mounted by the opposite parties.
For example, If the bulk of the people of England had thought and reasoned with Mr. Burke, had been imbued with the spirit and had seized the scope of his arguments, her needless and disastrous war with her American colonies would have been stifled at the birth. The stupid and infuriate majority who rushed into that odious war, could perceive and discourse of nothing but the sovereignty of the mother country, and her so called right to tax her colonial subjects.
But, granting that the mother country was properly the sovereign of the colonies, granting that the fact of her sovereignty was proved by invariable practice, and granting her so called right to tax her colonial subjects, this was hardly a topic to move an enlightened people.
Is it the interest of England to insist upon her sovereignty? Is it her interest to exercise her right without the approbation of the colonists? For the chance of a slight revenue to be wrung from her American subjects, and of a trifling relief from the taxation which now oppresses herself, shall she drive those reluctant subjects to assert their alleged independence, visit her own children with the evil of war, squander her treasures and soldiers in trying to keep them down, and desolate the very region from which the revenue must be drawn?—These and the like considerations would have determined the people of England, if their dominant opinions and sentiments had been fashioned on the principle of utility.
121 And, if these and the like considerations had determined the public mind, the public would have damned the project of taxing and coercing the colonies, and the government would have abandoned the project. For, it is only in the ignorance of the people, and in their consequent mental imbecility, that governments or demagogues can find the means of mischief.
If these and the like considerations had determined the public mind, the expenses and miseries of the war would have been avoided; the connection of England with America would not have been torn asunder; and, in case their common interests had led them to dissolve it quietly, the relation of sovereign and subject, or of parent and child, would have been followed by an equal, but intimate and lasting alliance. For the interests of the two nations perfectly coincide; and the open, and the covert hostilities, with which they plague one another, are the offspring of a bestial antipathy begotten by their original quarrel.
But arguments drawn from utility were not to the dull taste of the stupid and infuriate majority. The rabble, great and small, would hear of nothing but their right. ‘They’d a right to tax the colonists, and tax ’em they would: Ay, that they would.’ Just as if a right were worth a rush of itself, or a something to be cherished and asserted independently of the good that it may bring.
Mr. Burke would have taught them better: would have purged their muddled brains, and ‘laid the fever in their souls,’ with the healing principle of utility. He asked them what they would get, if the project of coercion should succeed; and implored them to compare the advantage with the hazard and the cost. But the sound practical men still insisted on the right; and sagaciously shook their heads at him, as a refiner and a theorist.
If a serious difference shall arise between ourselves and Canada, or if a serious difference shall arise between ourselves and Ireland, an attempt will probably be made to cram us with the same stuff. But, such are the mighty strides which reason has taken in the interval, that I hope we shall not swallow it with the relish of our good ancestors. It will probably occur to us to ask, whether she be worth keeping, and whether she be worth keeping at the cost of a war?—I think there is nothing romantic in the hope which I now express; since an admirable speech of Mr. Baring, advising the relinquishment of Canada, 122was seemingly received, a few years ago, with general assent and approbation.9
9 The rationale of the so‑called rights of sovereign governments is treated in more detail in Lecture VI. post.
The second answer to the foregoing objection briefly resumed.
There are, then, cases, which are anomalous or eccentric; and to which the man, whose conduct was fashioned on utility, would apply that ultimate principle immediately or directly. And, in these anomalous or eccentric cases, the application of the principle would probably be beset with the difficulties which the current objection in question imputes to it generally.
But, even in these cases, the principle would afford an intelligible test, and a likelihood of a just solution: a probability of discovering the conduct required by the general good, and, therefore, required by the commands of a wise and benevolent Deity.
And the anomalies, after all, are comparatively few. In the great majority of cases, the general happiness requires that rules shall be observed, and that sentiments associated with rules shall be promptly obeyed. If our conduct were truly adjusted to the principle of general utility, our conduct would seldom be determined by an immediate or direct resort to it.