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them much more then, he concludes, must there be a necessity for the exercise of reason on moral questions. For, allow that we do possess a moral sense, that sense can give us nothing more than a bare feeling; while the intellect alone can derive knowledge or draw conclusions from it, and thus raise us to the dignity of moral creatures. After Cudworth, Clarke, Wollaston, and Price, supported the intellectual theory. They all, though differing in a few minor points, affirm that actions possess, intrinsically, qualities of right and wrong, and that these qualities are perceived by the reason when applied to moral subjects, in the same manner as truth and falsehood are perceived by it when it is directed to purely intellectual questions. In this class we must also place the Utilitarians, amongst whom Paley, Bentham, and Mill, hold the most prominent stations. Drs. Reid and Stewart, moreover, and lastly, Dr. Wardlaw, all advocate modifications of the intellectual theory, inasmuch as they all hold that our moral sentiments begin with an exercise of the judgment, and that the moral emotions follow in the track which the judgment has marked out for it.

In the volume before us many valuable remarks will be found upon this discussion. Our author decidedly upholds the emotional theory, only in a somewhat modified form. He admits, for example, that all our emotions, of whatever nature, must be preceded by some intellectual conception; that hope, fear, or any other feeling, must have some object towards which they are exercised, but that we do not regard them as objects of hope or fear until after the emotion has been experienced. In the same way, he contends, we must always have the perception of some action or other before our minds, previously to our experiencing moral emotions; but those emotions give us the first idea of actions as good or as evil. We quote his own words, that the reader may judge of them for himself:—

"The error into which, in our humble opinion, these writers (intellectual theorists) have fallen, may probably be referred to an important law of the human mind, which, to prevent subsequent misconception, we shall here briefly state. An intellectual perception, or conception, is necessary to the rise of every emotion. For example, the emotion of surprise, when excited by anything material, requires the perception of a new object, or of an old object in new and unexpected circumstances. Without this, the emotion could not exist. It is the surprise, however, that invests the cause thus intellectually perceived with all that is interesting and important to us. In like manner, the intellectual conception of injury is necessary to excite the emotion of fear. But it is the emotion which makes us conceive of objects as fearful, and which makes us regard them with so deep an interest. It is precisely the same with our moral emotions. The cause, whatever it is, must be intellectually perceived; but it is the emotion which gives it its relative importance. It is from these respective emotions that we learn all that is truly distinctive of virtue and vice, as compared with the cause of our other emotions. It is from the emotions alone that we learn that virtue is the highest good, that it is superior, both in kind and degree, to every other source of enjoyment, and that it has a right to entire supremacy over all the faculties of the mind."

It must be admitted that this is a very delicate point to settle, and we still doubt whether Dr. Wardlaw would not be able to contend with great force, that this primary conception, which Mr. Spalding admits to go before the emotion, must not itself contain a moral judgment out of which the feeling springs, and from which it takes its peculiar moral complexion. Practically speaking, however, we are not much concerned whether we shall term the first step a feeling or a judgment, so long as it is admitted that the whole process has the force of a Divine law inscribed upon the heart, and that the rule of our conduct, which we term conscience, is not, as Bentham would have it, a mere calculation, which has pleasures and pains for its ciphers, on the one hand, nor a mere pathological feeling or instinct on the other; but an authoritative command, a "categorical imperative," that pronounces without a moment's hesitation, "Thou shalt choose this path as right, and avoid the other as wrong."

The greatest portion, however, of Mr. Spalding's remarks and illustrations in the very pleasing and valuable volume he has given us, are directed to the objective question-" What is virtue?"-from which he seeks to determine the real ground of moral distinctions in themselves. The eager discussion of this point in our own country began with the writings of Hobbes, who introduced some of the worst features of the Epicurean ethics into his own system, and made every thing that is an object of our desire, good; and every thing that is an object of our aversion, evil. Two great men arose who undertook to oppose the selfish principles of Hobbism, and who stand at the head of two ethical schools which have since numbered many acute minds among their respective adherents. Cudworth, the learned author of the Intellectual System, maintained, as we have before remarked, in opposition to Hobbes, the eternity and immutability of moral distinctions, making them a part of necessary and absolute truth. From him Clarke borrowed many of the materials out of which his moral theory was composed, a theory which made virtue to consist in "acting according to the fitnesses of things;" while Wollaston put the same idea in another light, when he made it to consist in "acting according to truth." These form a highly intellectual school of ethical writers, whose works exerted a great influence, at their time, in raising the tone of moral feeling. The other opponent of Hobbes to whom we refer was Cumberland, the learned and amiable bishop of Peterborough. Cumberland stands at the head of those authors who have maintained the principle of benevolence, in different forms, as the ground of all virtue. His theory was, that the greatest possible benevolence of every rational agent towards all the rest, is the highest possible state of human happiness and perfection. Jonathan Edwards' definition of virtue, which makes it consist in "benevolence to being in general," substantially coincides with this; and Hutcheson's doctrine

on the subject was likewise very nearly the same. After these two schools come the advocates of Utilitarianism, a doctrine that has been variously held, and, on different principles, supported by those we have before mentioned, and by some others of a more recent date. Into the argument of Utilitarianism, of course it is not our purpose to enter any more than into that of the systems which preceded it; but we would recommend the reader who wishes to see the opinions of these different classes of moralists clearly expounded and ably discussed, to obtain the work we are now considering. Mr. Spalding clearly points out the deficiency there is in the school of Cudworth, estimates with great precision the value of that of Cumberland, and gives a very fair statement of the usual arguments in opposition to the scheme of utility. We give the following pleasing passage, as a fair specimen of his mode of treating this latter subject:

"In the first place, there is the voice of an approving conscience, arising from the review of our own virtue; and in the second place, there is the voice of moral approbation, when we are reviewing the conduct of others. When, for example, we have visited those humble cottages of poverty, from which the rich too often turn away in disgust; when we have left our own happy fire-side, and the smiles of affection which have encircled us there, to enter those filthy habitations, where sickness, misery, and want reign with almost undivided sway; when we have approached the dying bed of one, whose hopes and expectations in life were once as bright and vivid as our own, but who is now sinking into the grave, disappointed, distracted, and forlorn; when we have relieved the distresses of his family, and the more awful distresses of a conscience awakened to a sense of its guilt, just at the moment it is to enter the unseen world, by directing the mind of the desponding sinner to the great Fountain opened for sin and uncleanness; whence do we derive that enlargement of the soul, that sacred joy, which is heaven begun below, and which the most splendid palaces of the earth can never afford? If we attend to our consciousness at these moments, we shall find that the cause of this self-moral approbation, is not the utility of the benevolent act that we have performed, but simply the fact that we have been benevolent. If our attempt had been rendered entirely useless, although our want of success would certainly have disappointed our own benevolent wishes, the feeling of self-moral approbation resulting from our endeavours would have been precisely the same. They would even be increased, if we were conscious that the uselessness of our repeated endeavours had not at all weakened or relaxed the principle from which they spring; if, in a word, we felt ourselves more than ever determined, notwithstanding our disappointments, to consecrate ourselves to God and the great interests of humanity. It is not, therefore, the usefulness of the act, or acts, which we have performed, nor is it the tendency of such acts in general, that is the cause of the emotions which we experience. In those instances in which our compassion is most deep and lively, we have never thought of the connexion of our particular conduct, or of similar instances of kindness, with the general good of society. Our thoughts have been entirely concentrated on the individual case of misery which we desired to relieve. This has been the only object which could command our attention, and which has often commanded it to so great a degree, as to make every other object appear comparatively unimportant. It has occupied all our thoughts and feelings, and it is not till some time has elapsed, and long after the corresponding emotion has been experienced, that we begin to muse upon its connexion with the happiness of the world."

The doctrine which our author himself adopts is, that the ground of morals is to be found in benevolence; and that this accordingly is the great object of moral approbation. He differs, however, in some particulars from those systems which point out universal benevolence or love to being in general, as the great principle of all virtuous action, inasmuch as he considers that the benevolent emotions vary according to the position in which a moral agent is placed, and the expansiveness of mind to which he has attained. The following striking passage will give our readers an idea of the method in which this question is treated :

"It is not universal benevolence only that is approved, but benevolence, or love, chosen by the mind as its great governing principle, possessing entire authority over all our faculties, and determining us to act in accordance with the various relations in which we are placed. The mother who attends to the concerns of her family, actuated by the great principle of love to God, and who uses her natural affection, just as the sailor employs a greater or less degree of canvas, that he may make that exact use of the winds of heaven which is best calculated to secure his safe arrival at the desired haven, is evidently worthy of our moral regard. Even the child, who has hardly formed any conception of the universe, but who nevertheless endeavours to fulfil the various duties which his parent and his God require, animated by the love of both, we cannot but regard with the most decided approbation. He does not indeed possess the universal benevolence which animated a Howard, or a Paul, or the enlarged philanthropy which has influenced the conduct of some few of the great statesmen and kings who have swayed the destinies of nations in ancient and modern times. But he is not capable of sustaining such extensive relations. He does not at present possess that intellectual capacity which is necessary in such stations to make him an effective agent in the grand schemes of Divine benevolence and love. Nevertheless, he is now sustaining his part. He is filling the smaller circle, which has been assigned him by a gracious Providence, and in the exercise of Christian principle in a narrower sphere, is gradually preparing for that nobler exercise of his moral and mental powers, which in future years more extended relationships will call him to display. Genuine benevolence never occupies a wider space at its commencement. The domestic circle is the school in which the most extended philosophy is first trained. It loves, in the first instance, with a greater affection the few, that it may love all with a stronger and deeper affection in subsequent years. It bears, therefore, the most essential characteristics of the government of that Divine Being from whom it emanates. It is marked by progress. It gathers strength in the very extension and developement of its powers, and acquires new vigour from those very circumstances and difficulties which more than all others seemed most calculated to prevent its increase. Unlike the waters of the flood, which expends its energies on the nearest objects, and loses its power on those which are more remote,-in proportion as it occupies a more extended sphere, it resembles the majestic river, which, while it seems to derive its origin from a comparatively feeble source, by keeping within the channels which God has appointed for it, gradually augments its energies, fertilises every field and valley through which it flows, increases its powers by making every little stream and rivulet tributary to its progress, and flows into a deeper and broader channel, making the very storm and tempest contribute to its current, until it is again received into the boundless ocean, from which it was originally derived."

But, perhaps, the most distinctive feature of the work before us is the constant desire which is manifested throughout, of illustrating and enforcing religious truth by means of conclusions drawn from philosophical thinking. In the view which is taken of the effects of the fall upon man's moral nature, we were rejoiced to see those opinions controverted which represent all the elements of that nature as being so utterly perverted, that they leave us no traces of our original constitution, and no means of judging of what a pure morality ought to be. That our affections and desires have been perverted by sin, no one who looks round upon the state of the world can very well doubt; but we think it of the very first importance to maintain, that our perceptions of right and wrong-that the authority of conscience,-in a word, that the broad features of our moral nature, still remain unobliterated and unaltered. Revealed religion, it is granted, must rest upon the pedestal of natural religion, (since the former offers no proof for the being of a God,) and natural religion rests upon the constitution and the authority of our reason and our conscience; take away this authority, and all religion, both natural and revealed, falls to the ground. We think the following remark upon this important subject both clear and just :

"The influence of the fall may be stated briefly thus. It has given a bias to the understanding, by which it may be perverted; it has lessened the emotion in every instance, in proportion as the habit of sin has been confirmed. Its tendency has been to sear the conscience so as to prevent the rise of the emotion, and as our conceptions of sin depend upon our moral emotions, it has prevented our attaining adequate notions of its malignity; but it has no power to pervert our nature to such a degree as to make remorse succeed our consciousness of virtue. Its whole effect has been to pervert man's moral nature, so far as it depends on his own volition; but it has never perverted, although in some few instances it may have effaced, that nature which the Divine Being has mercifully placed beyond the limits of man's control."

The various illustrations, however, of the principle of benevolence as the ground of all moral excellence, which our author draws from the truths of Christianity, we consider to be amongst the most beautiful and the most useful portions of the work. His own heart itself evidently glowed with a fervent love to God, and desired to embrace with the same pure affection all those who bear the stamp of his image on earth or in heaven. The style always rises in warmth and energy when he describes the Saviour as the perfect pattern of pure morality on earth; and when he shows how lore, which formed the basis of his most holy character, shone forth in all his actions and in all his sufferings. We doubt whether any ethical work we possess, has succeeded better in illustrating the elevated morality of the Bible, or in showing the inseparable connexion which exists between man's duty as an accountable and immortal being, and the doctrine of "Christ and him crucified." This portion of the work, moreover, acquires additional