Mr. Millar fully adopted this opinion of Dr. Smith; but still he thought the system would prove defective, unless more weight were given to an observation which had been stated, rather in a cursory manner, both by that author and Mr. Hume. The degree of applause excited by virtue is not dependent solely on the propriety and utility of the action, but also on the difficulty which we know the agent must have overcome, and the mental energy which he has displayed, in reducing his feelings to the level of those of the unconcerned spectator. The passions, in many cases, being slightly affected, a small exertion is sufficient; in other situations, the utmost effort of self-command is indispensible: The one we simply approve; the other we applaud and admire. In this view, our moral sentiments bear a striking analogy to the principles of taste; and, though Mr. Millar did not admit that intimate and necessary connection between them which has<xxxii> been asserted by an eminent author,* he traced, with much ingenuity, and much felicity of illustration, the likeness which exists, both between the sentiments themselves, and the means by which they are excited. That virtue which is new or extraordinary in its nature, which breaks forth when we expect and dread the opposite vice, which exhibits high powers of self-control, and produces some great and striking benefit to man, raises our admiration to sublimity and rapture; while a life spent in acts of beneficence and kindness, like a rich and beautiful landscape, excites the more gentle emotions of complacence and delight.
Such are the outlines of the analysis of our moral sentiments, according to which Mr. Millar accounted for the various rights acknowledged and protected by society. In doing this, he was careful to separate and distinguish Justice from the other virtues. The rules of Justice,14 he observed, are satisfied, when a man abstains from injuring others, although he should make no addition whatever to general or particular happiness. He who fails in prudence, in temperance, in courage, or beneficence, may become an object of dislike; he may destroy his own happiness, and disregard many<xxxiii> opportunities of promoting that of others; but, having done no direct injury, he can scarcely become the object of general indignation. The infringement of the rules of Justice, on the other hand, never fails to excite resentment in the breast of the person injured, and indignation in that of the spectators;—an indignation, sometimes satisfied with the redress of the wrong, sometimes demanding the infliction of farther pain or mortification on the delinquent. At the same time, he who has thus subjected himself to merited punishment, can never complain of a sentence, which his own conscience must approve, or pretend that he was not aware of the natural consequence of his crimes. The rules of conduct prescribed by Justice, unlike the dictates of the other virtues, are always clear and precise. Frequently it may be a matter of some difficulty to determine what measure, in the particular circumstances of the case, may be most prudent or most beneficent; but never can any person be at a loss to know, when he deliberately diminishes the comforts or enjoyments of others, or be unconscious, that by so doing, he renders himself the object of merited punishment. For these reasons, it is on the virtue of Justice, and on that virtue alone, that Laws, the object of which is to maintain<xxxiv> rights and repress injuries, must be altogether founded.
General systems of Law have rarely, if ever, been formed by the prospective wisdom of legislators, but have arisen gradually, and almost insensibly, from the slow progress of human experience. When a dispute has taken place between two individuals, the spectators will naturally assist him, with whose motives they sympathize; who seeks no undue advantage, but merely wishes to retain what, without loss to others, is already in his possession. They will disapprove of the conduct and motives of that person, who, disregarding the good of his fellow-men, seeks his own advantage by the direct injury of another, and they will perceive that, by preventing his intentions, they take nothing from those comforts, which, with innocence, he can command. Between two such competitors for the possession of any object, there being no room for hesitation, the spectators are led immediately to interfere, and prevent injustice. Being also sensible that they themselves are liable to similar wrongs, against which a general combination is the only effectual protection, they are farther prompted to such an interference, by a species of self-interest. Such simple and obvious considerations must occur to<xxxv> men even in the rudest state of society; and, in Mr. Millar’s opinion, they sufficiently account for that general resemblance, which may be discovered in the laws of all countries, however different in their circumstances, or remote in their situations. It was therefore to such simple ideas, not to great and extended views of policy, that he traced the origin of the different recognised rights of individuals, and on such universal feelings, that he established their justice.
But, when we examine more particularly the laws and customs of different countries, we are struck with a diversity, and even opposition, among their regulations, which might almost lead us to suspect, that different nations, had been influenced, by opposite, and inconsistent, principles of Morals.
A nearer inspection, however, will convince us, that these diversities, important as they certainly are, may frequently arise from diversities no less striking in the conditions of different nations. Some tribes, drawing a precarious subsistence from hunting and fishing, and improvident for futurity, seem scarcely raised above the rank of irrational beings: Others, having learned to domesticate particular animals, are exempted from the danger of immediate want, yet forced to wander from place to place, in search of the spontaneous productions<xxxvi> of the earth: Those who inhabit a country of greater fertility, or who have discovered the means of improving fertility by labour, relinquishing their wandering habits, trust for their subsistence to the more certain resources of agriculture: From particular situation, or gradual discovery, some nations are led to meliorate, by human art, the rude produce of the soil, or to exchange their superfluous commodities for other, and to them more desirable, means of enjoyment: Distinctions of professions, and of ranks, are introduced; new sources of gratification are discovered; new wants excite to new exertions; the human mind is cultivated and expanded; and man rises to the highest pitch of civilization and refinement.
It were surely unreasonable to expect that, during all these successive changes, the laws should remain the same. Rules are gradually multiplied, as inconveniencies are felt, as new modes of injustice are detected; and such rules, simple and inartificial at first, are gradually modified and rendered more complex, by the subterfuges and evasions of fraud, as well as by the more general views of utility suggested by extensive experience and improved habits of reasoning.
These observations, however, Mr. Millar considered as but one step in his proposed inquiry; for among<xxxvii> nations advanced very nearly to the same degree of civilization, very opposite laws often prevail. This may frequently be accounted for by accurate observation of the real line of progress, which these different nations have described. All have not passed through exactly the same stages of improvement; all have not advanced with equal rapidity; some have remained long stationary at an early period of their course; while others, hurrying on with rapid strides at first, have appeared to repose for a while at a more advanced station, from which they have again proceeded with increased celerity and vigour. From whatever circumstances of soil, climate, or situation, such differences may have arisen, they must be attended with corresponding differences in the rules of law. The powerful effect of custom is discernible in all the institutions of man. Those views to which he has long been habituated he does not easily relinquish; those laws from which he has long derived protection he does not easily perceive to be defective. The rude institutions of a nation, which has remained stationary at any particular stage of improvement, become so rooted in the habits of the people, and in the opinions even of legislators, that