PHILANTHROPY is compounded of two Greek words which signify the love of mankind. It is therefore of nearly the same import with benevolence (a); and differs from friendship, as this latter affection subsists only between a few individuals, whilst philanthropy comprehends the whole species.

Whether man has an instinctive propensity to love his species, which makes him incapable of happiness but in the midst of society, and impels him to do all the good that he can to others, feeling their felicity an addition to his own, is a question that has been warmly debated among philosophers ever since metaphysics was studied as a science. With the opinions of the ancients we shall not, in this detached article, trouble our readers; but it would be unpardonable to pass without notice the different theories which on so interesting a subject have divided the moderns.

Hobbes, who believed, or pretended to believe, that right results from power, and that in society there is no other standard of justice than the law of the land, or the will of the supreme magistrate, built his opinions upon a theory of human nature in which philanthropy has no place. According to him, mankind, in the original state of nature, were wholly selfish. Each endeavoured to seize, by fraud or force, whatever he thought would contribute to his comfort; and as all had nearly the same wants, the inevitable consequence of this selfishness was universal war. We are taught indeed by the same philosopher, that, in a series of ages, mankind discovered the miseries of this state of nature; and therefore, upon the same basis of universal selfishness, formed societies, over which they placed supreme governors for the purpose of protecting the weak against the violence of the strong. He does not, however, explain how men, whose angry and selfish passions were thus excited to the utmost against each other, could enter upon this friendly treaty; or, supposing it formed, how the ignorant multitude were induced to pay obedience to the more enlightened few. Clogged with this and other insurmountable difficulties, his philosophy of human nature soon fell into merited contempt; but about the origin of philanthropy those who united in opposition to him still thought very differently from one another.

The elegant Shaftesbury, who had imbibed much of the spirit of Plato, endeavoured, like his master, to deduce all the duties of man, and almost all his actions, from a number of internal feelings or instincts which he supposed to be interwoven with his constitution by the immediate hand of God. This system appeared so honourable to human nature, and at the same time so easily comprehended, that the noble lord had soon many followers, and may indeed be considered as the founder of a school which has produced philosophers whose works do honour to the age and country in which they flourished. Among these we must reckon Bishop Butler, Hutchison, Lord Kames, Dr Beattie, and perhaps Dr Reid.

According to the system of these writers, the whole duty of man results from an intuitive principle, to which they have given the name of the moral sense; and with this sense they conceive philanthropy to be inseparably

(a) We say nearly of the same import; because benevolence extends to every being that has life and sense, and is of course susceptible of pain and pleasure; whereas philanthropy cannot comprehend more than the human race. inseparably united, or rather perhaps to make an essential part of it. (See Moral Philosophy.) If this theory be carried to its utmost extent, as it has been by some of its patrons, it seems to follow, that peace and harmony should reign among savages; and that a man who had from his infancy grown up in solitude, would be delighted with the first sight of a fellow-creature, and run to him with eagerness as to a new source of enjoyment. This conclusion, however, is contrary to acknowledged facts. Savages are generally divided into small tribes or hordes; and though the attachment of individuals to their own tribe appears indeed to be abundantly strong, the tribes themselves are frequently at war, and entertain a constant jealousy of each other. Savages, too, are almost universally afraid of strangers; and the few solitary individuals, who have been caught in parts where they had run wild from their infancy, instead of being delighted with the appearance of fellow-men, have either fled from them with their utmost speed, or been fixed to the spot in terror and astonishment. These are no indications of that instinctive philanthropy for which some writers so strenuously plead. They have indeed induced others to deny, that in human nature there is any instinctive principles at all; and to endeavour to account for our several propensities by the influence of education producing early and deep-rooted habits.

At the head of this school stood Locke and Hartley. The former, employing himself almost wholly on the intellectual powers of man, and combating the absurd, though then generally received, belief, that there are in the human mind innate principles of speculative truth, has touched but incidentally on our principles of action. It seems, however, to be evident, that he did not consider any one of these principles as innate; and his opinion was adopted by Hartley, who studied the sensitive part of human nature with greater industry and success than perhaps any writer who had preceded him in that department of science. This philosopher refuses all kinds of instinct to man, even the "sagacity" of a mother to her new-born infant, and that which has been generally supposed innate—the propensity of the infant to suck the breast. It is therefore needless to say that in his theory of human nature innate philanthropy can have no place.

The reader, however, must not suppose that the theory of Hartley is the theory of Hobbes. Though he admits no innate principles of action in the human mind, he is far from dreaming that the original state of man was a state of war and selfishness, or that the acquisition of philanthropic sentiments is not natural. He considers such acquisitions as even necessary and unavoidable, and founds them on the great law of association, which we have elsewhere endeavoured to explain (See Metaphysics, Part I. chap. v.) Hartley was a Christian, and appears to have been a man of great piety. Conceiving with Locke that men are born without any ideas, or any principles either of knowledge or of action, but that they are subject to the law of association as much as to the impressions of sense, he seems to have thought, that the important purpose for which they are sent into this world is, that they may acquire habits of piety and virtue, which, operating like instincts, will fit them for the purer society of a future state. That this theory is un-

friendly to morals, no man who understands it will presume to affirm. It appears, indeed, to be more consistent with the necessity of a revelation from God than that of Shaftesbury, which has so many followers: but notwithstanding this, we cannot help thinking that the excellent author has carried his antipathy to instincts by much too far (see Instinct), and that the truth lies in the middle between him and his opponents.

Without some instincts to influence before the dawn of reason, it is not easy to be conceived how children could be induced to that exercise which is absolutely necessary to life and health; nor does it appear with sufficient evidence that the human race are deserted by every instinct as soon as their rational powers are evolved. It seems to be a matter of fact which cannot be controverted, that women have an instinctive attachment to their new-born infants; but that these, when they become capable of distinguishing objects, are instinctively attached to their parents, their brothers, and sisters, is a position which, though it may be true, seems incapable of proof. That they soon appear to be so attached, is a fact which we believe no man will deny: but the attachment may be accounted for by the associating principle operating upon that desire of happiness which is necessarily formed as soon as happiness is experienced. (See Passion.) An infant becomes earlier attached to its nurse than to any other person; because, feeling wants which she supplies, the idea of enjoyment becomes soon associated in its mind with the perception of the woman. If this woman be its mother, a hasty observer immediately attributes this attachment to instinct directing the infant to love its parent; but that instinct has here no place, is evident from the well-known facts, that a child is as fond of a tender nurse, though no relation, as of the most affectionate mother; and as regardless of a mother who seldom sees it, or sees it with indifference, as of any other person. Nay, we have seen children of the sweetest dispositions as fond of the maid with whom they slept, as of a very affectionate parent by whom they had been tenderly nursed: and sure no man will say that this could be instinct; it was evidently a new association of the idea of the maid with the greatest happiness which they enjoyed after the period of their suckling was at an end.

It is much in the same way that children acquire an attachment to their brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters being constantly together, contribute to each other's amusement; hence arises that pleasure which they have in each other's company, and the uneasiness which they feel when separated. This generates mutual love in their minds, which is strengthened by the perpetual injunctions of their parents; for if they have any virtue themselves, they cannot fail to inculcate the duty of loving each other on their tender offspring. Benevolence, thus generated, soon extends to their daily companions; and takes a wider and a wider range as these companions are multiplied, and as children advance towards the state of manhood. New objects then present themselves to the mind. A man soon discovers, that, as he is a member of a community, his happiness as an individual depends in a great measure on the prosperity of the whole. Hence arises patriotism, and that pleasure which we all take in the eminence of our countrymen. But the principle of benevolence stops not here. He whose mind is enlarged by a liberal education, considers all particular countries as provinces of one great country extended over the whole globe; and all mankind, of course, as not only sharing the same nature with himself, but as being in reality his fellow-citizens and brethren. The principles of religion, if he be actuated by them, must aid these reflections, and make him with the happiness of all who stand in the same relation with himself to the Great Governor of the world. This is philanthropy; and we see how it may spring, by the great law of association, from desires which, in their original state, cannot be considered as other than selfish. It is a calm sentiment, which we believe hardly ever rises to the warmth of affection, and certainly not to the heat of passion.

Should any of our readers be disposed to controvert this opinion, or to fancy it degrading to human nature, we will not enter into controversy with them; we only beg leave to ask, whether they have ever rejoiced in the good fortune of a stranger or a foreigner, or regretted his loss, with any portion of those feelings which they have frequently experienced on hearing of the prosperity or the death of a friend or a neighbour? We answer candidly for ourselves, that we feel no interest which can be called passion or affection in the fortunes of a native of China; and yet we should be sorry to think that our philanthropy is less than that of other men. A common clown, we are inclined to believe, seldom extends his affection beyond his friends and neighbours; and though, from having often heard his country praised, and knowing that he belongs to that country, he would probably be offended at the man who should prefer another to it; yet if no misfortune befell himself, or his friends and neighbours, we imagine that his grief for public calamities may be borne with patience. In his mind no such associations have been formed as comprise the good of a country, far less of all countries; and therefore his philanthropy must be confined to a very limited range. We doubt not, however, but that as opportunity offers, and as circumstances permit, such a man is ready to feed the hungry and clothe the naked of all countries; not indeed from sentiments of affection either innate or acquired, but from the obvious reflection that he is not exempted from those calamities which have befallen them, and from a still higher principle—a sense of duty to that God who has made of one blood all nations upon earth, and commanded them to be mutually aiding to each other.