and nice and refined distinctions; and, when it is not regulated by an invariable attention to the grand principles of morality, it often leads to great intricacy and perplexity. Such discussions have indeed not unfrequently led, through the sophistry of vanity or self-justification, to opinions which confound all moral distinctions. The moral reasoner must have some fixed points of duty, and when he has seen that these have a solid foundation in the nature of the human mind, and the circumstances of man, he ought on no account to give them up. If any opinions are in clear opposition to them, the principles on which those opinions are founded should be regarded as absurd, if not practically dangerous.

"The term natural law denotes that system of duty which is derived from considerations independent, or supposed to be independent, of divine revelation, or the law of God.'

We hope the reader can make something out of all this elaborate correction of Paley's singular error, by critics of extraordinary precision of language and correctness of thought. If however he be disposed with us to prefer the error to the correction, perhaps he will consent to the following slight modification of Paley's statement:Moral philosophy, morality, ethics, casuistry, natural law, in so far as they mean any thing, mean much the same thing, and relate to the duty of men and the reasons of it. This is at least better than unmeaning petty refinements, destitute of even the semblance of logical and moral analysis. We must not however tarry longer at the threshold, but proceed to the object proposed, which is not to compile or construct a system of moral philosophy, but to give a view of the systems which have been attempted. Of course we can advert only to the more eminent treatises and theories of morals: and here the ancient moral philosophers claim some attention, but we will dispose of them as quickly as possible, that we may reserve more space for those of modern times.

Socrates is universally regarded as the father of moral philosophy; and, as some one remarks, he is decidedly the hero of all the Ciceros and declaimers upon morality; yet, after all that has been said and sung to his memory, we may, in allusion to his own modest confession of ignorance, truly profess to know only this-that we know almost nothing about him, and still less about his moral philosophy. We are told that, observing with regret how much the opinions of the Athenian youth were misled by philosophers who spent all their time in refined speculations concerning nature and the origin of things, and by sophists who taught in their schools the arts of false eloquence and deceitful reasoning, he formed the wise and generous design of instituting a new and more useful method of instruction, and assumed the character of a moral philosopher: that he estimated the value of knowledge by its utility, and recommended the study of geometry, astronomy, and other sciences, only so far as they admit of a practical application to the purposes of human life: that his great object, in all his conferences and discourses, was to lead men to an acquaintance with themselves, to convince them of their follies and vices, and to fur

nish them with useful moral instruction. All this was very good and laudable; and Cicero awards the praise to Socrates of being the first who called down philosophy from heaven to earth, and introduced her into the public walks and domestic retirements of men, that she might instruct them concerning life and manners.

The system of morality which Socrates made it the business of his life to teach is said to have been raised on the firm basis of religion. But what that firm basis of religion was, it is difficult, or rather impossible, to ascertain, amidst the obscure, doubtful, and conflicting statements respecting it which have come down to our times.

The first principles of virtuous conduct are, according to Socrates, common to all mankind, and therefore laws of God, which cannot be violated with impunity. It is frequently possible (Memorabilia of Socrates by Xenophon) for men to screen themselves from the penalty of human laws; but no man can be unjust or ungrateful without suffering for his crime: hence I conclude that these laws must have proceeded from a more excellent legislator than man.'

It is probable that the moral theory of Socrates was much the same as that of Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, and that the opinions which he uttered in his discourses were variously modified and worked up into those fine sentiments about virtue which were flourished in the speeches and writings of subsequent moralists, and particularly the stoics.

If we can glean little satisfactory information from the literary remains of antiquity respecting Socrates, we are equally unsuccessful as to the moral philosophy of his illustrious pupil Plato, who, if he received any sound principles from his moral master, took good care to conceal them from the perception of the profane vulgar. The most notable particulars of his moral doctrine are such as the following:-Our highest happiness consists in the knowledge and contemplation of the first good, which is mind or God. All those things which are called good by men are in reality such only so far as they are derived from the first and highest good. The only power in human nature which can acquire a resemblance to the supreme God is reason. The minds of philosophers are fraught with valuable treasures; and, after the death of the body, they shall be admitted to divine entertainments; so that whilst, with the gods, employed in surveying the fields of truth, they will look down with contempt upon the folly of those who are contented* with earthly shadows. Goodness and beauty consist in the knowledge of the first good and the first fair. That only which is becoming is good: therefore virtue is to be pursued for its own sake; and, because it is a divine attainment, it cannot be taught, but is the gift of God. He alone who has attained the knowledge of the first good is happy. The end of this knowledge is to render men as like to God as the condition of human nature will permit. This likeness consists in prudence, justice, sanctity, temperance. order to attain this state it is necessary to be convinced that the body is a prison, from which the soul must be released before it can arrive at the

In

knowledge of those things which are real and immutable. Virtue is the most perfect habit of mind which adorns the man, and renders him firm, resolute, and consistent, in action and speech, in solitude and society. The virtues are so nearly allied that they cannot be separated; they are perfect, and therefore neither capable of increase nor of diminution. The passions are motions of the soul excited by some apparent good or evil they originate in the irrational parts of the soul, and must be regulated and subdued by reason. This is perhaps sufficient as a specimen of the wisdom and philosophy of Plato. Those who wish for more may consult his writings, Brucker's Historia Critica Philosophiæ, or its abridgment by Enfield.

After Plato some notice is due to his disciple Aristotle, who was not so mystical, and more acute aud subtle, as well as more profound and comprehensive than his master. It is very difficult, however, to extract any thing definite, intelligible, or useful, from his writings. The following is a brief enumeration of his more remarkable notions about morals:-Felicity consists neither in the pleasures of the body, nor in riches, nor in civil honor, power, or rank, nor in the contemplation of truth, but in the virtuous exercise of the mind. A virtuous life is in itself a source of delight; external good, such as friends, riches, power, beauty, and the like, are instruments or means by which illustrious deeds may be performed. Virtue is either theoretical, or practical theoretical virtue consists in the due exercise of the understanding; practical, in the pursuit of what is right and good. Practical virtue is acquired by habit and exercise.

Virtue, as far as it respects ourselves, and the government of the passions, consists in preserving that mean in all things which reason and prudence prescribe; it is the middle path between two extremes, one of which is vicious through excess, the other through defect. Virtue is a spontaneous act, the effect of design and volition. It is completed by nature, habit, and reason. The first virtue is fortitude, which is the mean between timidity and rash confidence. Temperance is the mean between the excessive pursuit and the neglect of pleasure. Liberality is the mean between prodigality and avarice. Magnificence preserves a due decorum in great expenses, and is the mean between haughty grandeur and low parsimony. Magnanimity respects the love of applause, and the judgment a man forms of his own merit; and holds the middle place between meanness of spirit and pride. Moderation respects distinction in rank, and is the mean between ambition and the contempt of greatness. Gentleness is the due government of the irascible passions, and observes a proper medium between anger and insensibility. Affability respects the desire of pleasing in the ordinary occurrences of life, and pursues the middle path between moroseness and servility. Simplicity in the practice of virtue is the mean between arrogant pretensions to merit, and an artful concealment of defects. Urbanity respects sports and jests, and avoids rusticity and scurrility. Modesty is a certain apprehension of incurring disgrace, and lies in the middle between

impudence and bashfulness Justice includes the observance of the laws for the preservation of society, and the discharge of obligations and debts between equals. Equity corrects the rigor of laws, or supplies their defect. Friendship is nearly allied to virtue; it consists in perfect affection towards an equal. Friendships are formed for the sake of pleasure, convenience, or virtue. Friendship is cherished by mutual acts of generosity; it is begun in kindness, and preserved by concord; its end is the pleasant enjoyment of life. Pleasures are essentially different in kind. Disgraceful pleasures are unworthy of the name. The purest and noblest pleasure is that which a good man derives from virtuous actions. Happiness, which consists in a conduct conformable to virtue, is either contemplative or active. Contemplative happiness, which consists in the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom, is superior to active happiness, because the understanding is the higher part of human nature, and the objects on which it is employed are of the noblest kind. The happiness which arises from external possessions is inferior to that which arises from virtuous actions; but both are necessary to produce perfect felicity. This may serve as a specimen of the moral philosophy which is to be found in Aristotle's book of Ethics, in his Greater Morals, and his discourse on the Virtues. The remarks (for they cannot be called principles or reasonings), are miserably poor philosophically considered; yet they have sufficient semblance of truth and excellence to catch even aged boys; and the reader must be able to recognise them as familiar acquaintances; for they have been much hackneyed. Virtue, as consisting in the golden mean between two extremes, has had many admirers, and has been presented under very many forms and aspects. All the world has heard of the sapience of Socrates, and without all controversy he must have possessed much more moral wisdom than Plato or Aristotle, both of whom, like some modern moral philosophers, were much fonder of metaphysics than of ethics; and, like these too, they were very apt to get beyond their depth.

As a sort of middle link, between the moral philosophy of .Socrates and that of the Stoics, some notice may be taken of the doctrine of the Cynics, so designated, it would seem, from the snarling severity of their temper, in which they gloried as the point of honor, or distinguishing peculiarity of their sect. Yet there were some good points about them, and their moral maxims and wise saws will bear an advantageous coniparison with those of any of the ancient sages.

'Virtue,' say they, 'alone is a sufficient foundation for a happy life. Virtue consists not in a vain ostentation of learning, or an idle display of words, but in a steady course of right conduct. Wisdom and virtue are the same: a wise man will always be contented with his condition, and will live rather according to the precepts of virtue, than according to the laws or customs of his country. Wisdom is a secure and impregnable fortress; virtue, armour which cannot be taken away. Whatever is honorable is good; whatever is disgraceful is evil. Virtue is the only bond of friendship. It is better to associate with a few good men against the vicious multitude, than

to join the vicious, however numerous, against the good. The love of pleasure is a temporary madness. As rust consumes iron, so does envy consume the heart of man. That state is hastening to ruin in which no difference is made between good and bad men. The harmony of brethren is a stronger defence than a wall of brass. A wise man converses with the wicked as a physician with the sick, not to catch the disease, but to cure it. The most necessary part of learning is to unlearn our errors. A philosopher gains at least one thing from his manner of life, the power of conversing with himself. Virtue of mind, as well as strength of body, is chiefly to be acquired by exercise and habit. Nothing can be accomplished without labor, and every thing may be accomplished with it. Even the contempt of pleasure may, by the force of habit, become pleasant. All things belong to wise men to whom the gods are friends. The ranks of society originate from the follies and vices of mankind, and are therefore to be despised. Laws are necessary in a civilised state; but the happiest condition of human life is that which approaches the nearest to a state in which all are equal, and the only ground of distinction is virtue. The end of philosophy is to subdue the passions, and prepare for every condition of life.' There is something of a mental and moral elevation about these maxims, and they are manifestly the rudiments of all the doctrines of the Stoics. They are ascribed to Antisthenes and Diogenes; and there can be no reasonable doubt that many things reported of these Cynics unfavorable to their reputation were mere calumnies, invented and propagated by malignity. They might offend such a sickly sense of propriety as that of their Grecian contemporaries without rudeness and insolent brutality.

The Stoics (thus designated from the Greek word stoa, the portico or porch of their school, said to have been the most famous in Athens), at the head of whom stands Zeno, the founder of the sect, are to be considered as the Cynics under a new name and different modification of doctrine and discipline. But it is difficult to give a brief statement of their moral philosophy. Like the other ancient philosophers, they were much perplexed with the great question concerning the origin of evil. Some of them adopted the notion of the Platonists, and ascribed it to the evil or perversely refractory nature of matter, which it was not in the power of the Great Artificer to change; but most of them attempted to relieve the difficulty by having recourse to fate, saying that evil was the necessary consequence of that eternal necessity, to which the great Whole, comprehending both God and matter, is subject. Indeed the sturdy Stoic had another method of getting rid of the difficulty and of evading the notion; or, at least the admission of evil altogether; for that pain was not an evil he would utter with a groan extorted by the force of suffering.

It was their fundamental doctrine in ethics, that one ultimate end ought, for its own sake, to be pursued; and that this end was to live agreeably to nature, or to be conformed to the law of fate by which the world is governed. Strange

things were propounded and asserted by them on this head; such as that we should yield to the impressions of nature, contemplate truth, and imitate God, by making the eternal reason and immutable law of the universe the rule of our actions; that to live according to nature is virtue, and virtue is happiness; that every man, having within himself a capacity of discerning and following the law of nature, has his happiness in his own power, and is a divinity to himself; that external things contribute nothing towards happiness, and therefore are not in themselves good; that pain, which does not belong to the mind, is no evil; that the wise man will be happy in the midst of torture; that every virtue being a conformity to nature, and every vice a deviation from it, all virtues and vices are equal; that the real wise man (a sort of beau ideal man of the Stoical brain), feels neither pleasure nor pain; that he exercises no pity; that he is free from faults; that he is divine; that he can neither deceive nor be deceived; and much more of the same sort which it is not worth while to set down.

The Stoics distinguished duties into three classes (and the same distribution of them is almost universally adhered to in modern times), as they respect God, ourselves, and our fellowcreatures. The duties of religion are, to think justly concerning God, and to worship him piously. He thinks justly of God who believes him to be the supreme director of human affairs, and the author of all that is good or fitting in human life. He worships God piously who reveres him above all beings; who perceives and acknowledges him in all events; who is in every thing resigned and obedient to his will; who patiently receives whatever befals him, from a persuasion that whatever God appoints must be right; and who cheerfully follows wherever Divine Providence leads him, even though it be to suffering and death.

The sum of man's duty towards himself is, to subdue his passions of joy and sorrow, hope and fear, and even pity. He who is, in this respect, perfectly master of himself is a wise man; and in proportion as we approach a state of apathy we advance towards perfection. Virtuous selfcommand consists not in preventing the casual impressions of external objects upon the senses, in which the mind is rather passive than active; but in not giving a voluntary assent to those passions which external objects excite. A wise man may justly and reasonably withdraw from life whenever he finds it expedient; not only because life and death are among those things which are in their nature indifferent, but because life may be less consistent with virtue than death. Since all duty arises from a conformity to nature, it may happen that a man may be in such circumstances, that to remain in life may be more contrary to nature than to depart. A wise man will, at the close of every day, take a retrospective survey of his words and actions, that he may confess his errors and amend. The first and noblest exercise of wisdom is to examine ourselves, and regulate our dispositions and actions by the law of virtue. Hence will arise self-denial, and a contempt of pleasure. A wise man will never suffer himself to be diverted from his duty by any prospect of

indulgence, or any fear of loss, pain, or death. The duty we owe to others is to love all men, even our enemies. A good man will love his neighbour, will abstain from injuring him, and take pleasure in protecting, assisting, and benefiting him. He will not think that he is born for himself, but for the common good of mankind. He will consider himself sufficiently rewarded by the consciousness of well-doing, and will never cease to do good, though he may have no witness of his deeds or prospect of receiving any applause or recompense for his beneficence. The wise man never remits the punishment due to a criminal through pity, which is a weakness not to be indulged; but, in cases where reason suggests sufficient grounds for clemency, he will not treat a delinquent with rigor. He will relieve the sick, assist the shipwrecked, afford protection to the exile, or supply the hungry with food, but with an undisturbed mind and a serene countenance; disdaining all sorrow arising from sympathy, as well as from personal sufferings. No one is more ready than the wise man to exercise lenity and benignity, and to attend to the welfare of those around him, and the general interest of mankind.

There is in all this perhaps not a little extravagance and absurdity; and something of very mischievous moral tendency; but there is much also truly excellent and noble, good and profitable' to men. And when we consider the peculiar circumstances of the ages in which the stoical doctrines chiefly flourished, which presented every where around the few reflective and contemplative minds privileged with something of right thought and good feeling, a cold and gloomy despotism, that permitted them only to gaze on misery if they did not strive to rise wholly above it, and set evil at defiance; we cannot wonder that a philosophy which gave, or which promised, aid to this necessary elevation above the scene of human suffering and ignominy, should have been the favorite philosophy of every better spirit,-of all those whom at the distance of so many centuries we still venerate, as if they were more than mortal deliverers of mankind. Indeed, some have been disposed to consider the stoical philosophy as a special provision of nature, or as raised up in the course of providence in aid of oppressed humanity. Among the different schools,' says Apollonius in his Eulogy of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, he soon found one which taught man to rise above himself. It discovered to him a kind of new world, in which pleasure and pain were annihilated; where the senses had lost all their power over the soul; where poverty, riches, life, death, were nothing, and virtue alone existed. Romans! it was this philosophy which gave you Cato and Brutus, and which supported them amidst the ruins of liberty. It extended and increased under your tyrants. It seemed to have become necessary to your oppressed ancestors, whose precarious life was incessantly under the axe of the despot. In those times of degradation, it alone maintained the dignity of human nature. It taught to live-it taught to die; and, while tyranny was degrading the soul, it lifted it up again with more force and grandeur. This

heroic philosophy was made for heroic souls. Aurelius marked, as one of the most fortunate days of his whole life, that day of his boyhood when he first heard of Cato. He preserved with gratitude the names of those also who made him acquainted with Brutus and Thraseas; and he thanked the gods that he had enjoyed the privilege of reading the maxims of Epictetus.'

This emperor was himself one of the most illustrious specimens of the doctrine of Zeno, which found in him a favorable soil; and we willingly yield ourselves up for a time to the impassioned eloquence of his stoical panegyrist, which is almost equalled in intensity of admiration by philosophers of recent times. 'If,' says Montesquieu, De l'Esprit des Lois, liv, xxiv. chap. 10, I could for a moment cease to think that I am a Christian, I should not fail to rank the destruction of the sect of Zeno among the misfortunes of the human race. It was extravagant only in feelings which possess a moral grandeur,-in the contempt of pleasures and pains. It alone made great citizens and great men; it alone made emperors worthy of being called great. While the stoics regarded as nothing riches, grandeur, pleasures, and afflictions, they occupied themselves solely with laboring for the happiness of others in the discharge of the various social duties. They seemed to regard that holy spirit, the portion of the divinity which they believed to be in man, as a sort of bountiful providence that was watching over the human race. Born for society they considered that their office was to labor for its good; and they labored at little cost to the society which they benefited, because their reward was all within themselves: their philosophy sufficed for their happiness; or rather the happiness of others was the only accession which could increase their own.'

This we must remember is panegyric, which usually admits of much deduction and abatement. That there was much of what was very fine and brilliant about the moral philosophy of Zeno and his followers is readily admitted, but we are not qnite so confident about its moral efficacy, or that what was so fine in theory and beautiful on paper worked well in practice. The very best of the stoics were after all men of very equivocal character. And if, as we believe Dr. Campbell has somewhere remarked, those who overstrain piety or virtue so as to render it impracticable be its greatest enemies, we fear Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus, can hardly be ranked among its friends. It is well to have a high mark of moral excellence, because the higher we aim the higher we are likely to rise in actual attainment. The mark, however, must not be placed above the reach of possibility, or beyond our very thoughts and persuasions, and expectations. But, if some parts of the stoical morality had been as attainable in practice as we deem them absurd and impossible, they would still have been the reverse of real excellence or virtue. If it had been possible for human nature to feel an absolute indifference as to every thing external, unless from some relation which it bore, or was imagined to bear, to the Divinity, how much of all that tenderness which renders

the domestic and friendly relations so delightful, would have been destroyed by the mere cessation of the little pleasures and little exercises of kindness and compassion which foster the benevolent regard. In relation to these private affections, the stoical system must have been practically injurious to virtue.'

One peculiarity of the moral philosophy of Zeno is very attainable; but there are comparatively few moral reasoners who will applaud it, though some have been disposed to justify it. The reader will perceive we allude to suicide, which had the fullest permission, if not the merit, of an act of moral heroism awarded to it,-at least there was nothing of blame or disgrace associated with it in the mind of a stoic. This indeed is a strange anomaly in a moral system, especially in a system extravagantly boastful of an impracticable kind of resignation, patience, fortitude, and of conformity to nature and of submission to the will of God. On the whole, we must conclude that the ethics of Zeno and his followers, however splendid, and in some respects good, deviated as a system from all sound principles, and had a tendency to produce artificial characters, and to encourage moral affectation and hypocrisy. The piety taught by this system is nothing but a quiet submission to irresistible fate. The self-command enjoined would annihilate the best affections of the heart, and many of the most endearing virtues of life. The indulgence granted to suicide is inconsistent not only with the genuine principles of piety, but even with that constancy which was the most essential ingredient of stoical perfection: and was, therefore, itself a suicide of the scheme.

There is one remark more before leaving the system of the stoics. The reader must have perceived, in the best and truly excellent parts of it, a striking resemblance of the moral features of the gospel, or something like the spirit and sentiments of Christianity: such as self-denial, resignation to the divine will, universal benevolence and beneficence, doing good to all men, relieving the afflicted, and loving even enemies. This may be accounted for in various ways. The coincidence might perhaps be casual, or Christianity might borrow from stoicism, or the latter might borrow from the former. Now of all these three suppositions the last is the only one that we consider at all probable. It is in the latest editions of stoicism that we find most resemblance of Christian principle and sentiment. It is comparatively faint in the moral writings of Cicero, who borrowed the materials of his moral declamation chiefly from the stoics; but it is strongest in the writings of Seneca, and in the recorded sentiments of Epictetus and other stoics who lived subsequently to the general diffusion of the Gospel in the Roman empire.

Many have believed that Seneca was secretly a Christian. We know of no sufficient evidence to warrant this belief; but he was certainly a philosopher likely to make himself acquainted with the more remarkable doctrines of Christianity, particularly those of a moral nature; and he was a likely enquirer also to avail himself of sentiments that were favorable to what he considered pure and sublime moral doctrines. This

seems, indeed, to have been what his heart was set upon, without caring much whence he had the materials. It has been questioned, indeed, whether he ought to be ranked among the stoic or the eclectic philosophers; and the freedom of judgment which he expressly claims, together with the respect which he pays to philosophers of different sects, clearly prove that he did not implicitly attach himself to the system of Zeno. He speaks, indeed, of our Cleanthes and our Chrysippus; but he speaks in the same friendly and fraternal style of our Demetrius and our Epicurus. There can be no doubt, however, from the general strain and spirit of his writings, that he adhered in the main to the system of the stoics. Almost all, indeed, who were eminent for philosophic spirit of that time in the Roman empire were more or less attached to the same system. Most of the poets and historians were evidently well acquainted with it; and some of their loftiest moral sentiments derived their sublimity from its elevating influence.

The only other ancient system of moral philosophy entitled to notice is that of Epicurus; and it is the very antithesis of that of Zeno; for no two systems can well be imagined more dissimilar, or more opposed to one another. They may be regarded as the two opposite extremes in the ancient moral systems; and probably the mutual repulsion or antipathy of their respective founders and partisans was the principal reason of their receding so far from the golden mean, so that the one became impracticable, vain, and visionary, and the other degenerated into the licentiousness of the most debasing sensual gratification that ever had the impudence to plead the sanction of philosophy. But, though epicurism has long been the name of gross pleasure, it does not appear that Epicurus himself was either its slave or its patron. His priciples, however, had a sort of natural tendency to that with which his name has been so long identified.

Epicurus must certainly be considered as atheistical in doctrine; consequently his moral philosophy could have no higher end or relation than the present life and human advantage in this world. In this view it may be considered as identical with the moral philosophy of Hume, who makes utility the standard and measure of virtue. The only difference is in the name given to this standard and measure. Epicurus called it pleasure; Hume called it utility.

The doctrine of Epicurus concerning nature differs from that of the stoics chiefly in these particulars: the latter considered God to be the soul of the world, diffused through universal nature: the former admitted no primary intelligent nature into his system, but held atoms and space to be the first principles of all things, and ascribed every appearance in nature to a fortuitous collision and combination of atoms. When reduced to inextricable difficulties, by the absurdity of his system, he attempted to propound something like theism, or to employ a language not manifestly subversive of the very idea of an intelligent cause of all things; but he was compelled to seek refuge in the common asylum of philosophic ignorance and pretension,-words without meaning.