by Dr. Wayland? The truth is, that the order of sequence' between sin and its punishment is no part of the sin itself, nor of the law of which that sin is the transgression. The law stands before, and the punishment comes after, the sin. The most that can be said of the inevitable punishment, or the natural sequence, of sin, is, that it is one of the sanctions of the moral law, and not that it is the moral law itself. This is, indeed, the bright and eternal transcript of the Divine Mind, and not merely an order of sequence.' between the acts of men and their results. Is it not evident, then, that Dr. Wayland lost both himself and the moral law, in his wanderings amid the mists of his metaphysical speculations with respect to law in general?

Having, in the first section of his work, disposed of the first great question, 'What is a moral law?' our author proceeds, in the second section, to consider the inquiry, 'What is a moral action?' Now, surely, this is a very simple question; and it might have been very easily answered by Dr. Wayland, if he had not, at the outset, gone so far astray in regard to 'moral law.' He might have said, for example, that moral action has reference to moral law; that it is right when put forth in obedience to the moral law, and wrong when put forth in opposition to that law. As 'sin is the transgression of the law,' so righteousness, or virtue, is obedience to the law. But Dr. Wayland was precluded from this direct and obvious answer to his very simple question, by his unfortunate definition of moral law; for how could he say that sin is a departure from an 'invariable order of sequence,' and virtue a part and parcel of that immutable order? If, indeed, moral law is an invariable 'order of sequence,' then has moral action no reference whatever to moral law, and is neither an observance nor a violation of that law. But our philosophy, as well as our religion, leads us to agree with St. Paul, that 'sin is a transgression,' and virtue an observance, of moral law.

It may seem to be a hard saying, it is certainly a true one, that Dr. Wayland has utterly failed to tell us, What is a moral action? His work has, perhaps, passed through a hundred editions, and yet not one of the many thousands or tens of

thousands who have gone to his pages for instruction, has been able to learn from them, What is a moral action? This most simple, primary, and fundamental question is, by the author of the moral science, left in utter and profound obscurity. After much irrelevant talk, he finally comes to the following conclusion: If the question, then, be asked, What is a moral action? we may answer, it is the voluntary action of an intelligent agent, who is capable of distinguishing between right and wrong, or of distinguishing what he ought, from what he ought not, to do.' Now, according to Dr. Wayland himself, man is precisely such an intelligent agent.' Hence, if his definition be true, then is every voluntary action' of man ‘a moral action.' If we pick up a straw, or throw a stone, this is a moral action! All our voluntary actions are, indeed, however insignificant and trifling, moral actions! Could any result be more indefinite, or more inaccurate?

Dr. Wayland does not seem to have been at all aware, that by the very first principle of the logical doctrine of definitions, he was bound to give the differentia, as well as the genus, of morality in action. Every moral action is, it is true, a voluntary action; but every voluntary action is not a moral action. Yet, having said that moral actions are voluntary, he does not even pretend to give any criterion, or test, by which moral actions may be distinguished from non-moral ones. On the contrary, all sorts of voluntary actions, whether moral or nonmoral, are crowded together and confounded in his crude definition of moral actions. If he had not taken leave of books, as hopeless guides, he might (not to mention a hundred other authors) have learned better from Aristotle, who, after giving the genus of moral actions as voluntary,' proceeds to lay down the differentia, by means of which voluntary actions are divided and distinguished into moral and non-moral actions, thereby introducing something like the order of science into the elements of morality, instead of leaving them in the chaotic state of their primeval condition.

We shall now, at least for the present, take leave of Dr. Wayland. We have examined the first two sections of his book, not because they are more replete with blunders than

others, but because they relate to the first questions pertaining to the science of morals, and answer our purpose to illustrate his peculiar style of reasoning and reflection. The same style, indeed, runs through every chapter and every section of the same work; which is replete with egregious blunders, and loose, vague, inaccurate statements. We might easily demonstrate the truth of this assertion; but we are already sick of seeing the elements of moral science so miserably mangled.

If, as a preparatory step to the study of moral science, we were required to show what it is not, we might dwell still longer on the work of Dr. Wayland. But as our thesis requires us to show What is Moral Science, we shall take leave of Dr. Wayland, and return to our blessed communion with the great thinkers of the past, with the great teachers of mankind, from whose writings he found it so difficult to derive any definite results.

The science of morals, as the most judicious minds have ever thought, is, next to theology, the noblest study that can possibly engage the attention of mankind. Accordingly, some of the best intellects, in all ages, have zealously cultivated this department of knowledge; and some of these, among the ancients as well as among the moderns, have left speculations concerning its principles which will live forever. But yet, it is supposed by no one, that the science has attained that clearness and completeness of outline, or that fulness and perfection in the filling up, which leave nothing to be desired. On the contrary, a reconstruction of the whole science is a want that is very generally felt, and especially among its most accredited teachers. This must be our apology for an attempt, not to reconstruct the science indeed, but to contribute whatever may be in our power toward the completion of such a design.

But he who aims to form a system must, first of all, clearly understand what such a system should contain, as well as what it should exclude. According to the decision of two distinguished moralists, Dugald Stewart and Sir James Mackintosh, a theory of ethics embraces only two great questions: First, whence do we derive our notions of right and wrong, of virtue

and vice? and, secondly, what constitutes the essence or nature of virtue and vice? But this is a definition of ethical science as it is, rather than as it should be; embracing, like the works which it describes, only some of the elements of a complete system of morals.

It is certain, however, that every scheme of ethics should at least discuss these two fundamental questions; especially should it clearly determine the nature of virtue, and set before us a radiant image of the morally good. But where shall we find this great idea, this great central light of morality, exhibited in such a manner as to preclude doubt, and banish obscurity from the mind of the beholder? From the time of Plato down to the present day, the moral philosopher has labored to determine this idea, or define the common property which makes all holy things what they are;' and yet this is still a vexed question. Is it not melancholy, indeed, that such a question should have remained so long undetermined; that the clouds and smoke of controversy should still obscure this, the most. important and most beautiful of all ideal forms?

Of all those philosophers who have treated the science of morals, it seems to us that Aristotle among the ancients, and Butler among the moderns, are the two great thinkers who have shed the most light on the nature of virtue, or the idea of the morally good. Yet even in the writings of Butler, this idea has not been found at all, by some of his most candid and enlightened followers. Thus Mackintosh, for example, has said that the most palpable defect of Butler's scheme is, that it affords no answer to the question, "What is the distinguishing quality common to all right actions?"" Now if this were so, then the exalted praise which is so freely lavished upon Bishop Butler, by the author of the Progress of Ethical Philosophy, could scarcely have been deserved; for a solar system without a sun, would not be more defective, or dark, than a system of morals without an idea, or definition, of morality in action. But while we hold that Sir James has fallen into a very grave error on this subject, we do not suppose that the fault is wholly

in himself, and no part of it in the great teacher for whom he entertains so profound a veneration. For, no doubt, if the master had given that scientific precision and distinctness to his own idea of the nature of virtue, which its transcendent importance demands, he would not have been so sadly misunderstood by the disciple. If he had freed this great idea from every obscurity, and caused it to shine forth with a keen, clear radiance, no such stricture would have found a place in the Progress of Ethical Philosophy. One thing, then, which a theory of ethics should aim to accomplish is, to clear up Butler's idea of 'morality in action,' (for, on this subject we hold his idea to be the true one,) and set it forth in such a manner, that it can neither be overlooked nor misunderstood.

According to Butler, all actions put forth in obedience to conscience are right actions, while those done in violation of conscience are wrong. Such is his criterion of morality in action; and how this could have been overlooked by a student and disciple of Butler, may at first view appear very wonderful. But the reason of the oversight may be easily explained. For there is a question concerning virtue in the abstract, as well as in action; in regard to the external rule of right, as well as in regard to the heart of the moral agent. Now, in regard to the external rule of right, or to virtue in the abstract, the system of Bishop Butler is silent; and this silence truly constitutes its most palpable defect. Sir James having confounded these two ideas in his mind, the one relating to virtue in the abstract, and the other to virtue in the heart of a moral agent, and, seeing that Butler is silent in reference to the one, has unwittingly pronounced him silent in relation to the other. McCosh, in his work on the Divine Government, repeating the stricture of Mackintosh, has missed the mark in a still more glaring manFor he says, 'What quality, then, in the mind of the agent, may be regarded as constituting virtue? Butler does not answer this question.' In fact, this is precisely the question which Butler does answer; and shows that a conformity to conscience is that which constitutes virtue in the moral agent. He fails to answer the other question, however, as to what constitutes virtue, not as it is a quality of the mind, but as it is

ner.