The passions are divided by moralists into irascible and concupiscible; the passions of resentment, and the passions of desire.3 The danger of the irascible passions, the mischiefs of anger, envy, and revenge, every man knows, by evil which he has felt, or evil which he has perpetrated. In their lower degrees, they produce brutality, outrage, contumely, and calumny; and, when they are inflamed to the utmost, have too often risen to violence and bloodshed.

Of these passions, the mischief is sometimes great, but not very frequent; for we are taught to watch and oppose them, from our earliest years. Their malignity is universally known, and as universally dreaded. The occasions that can raise them high, do not often occur; and when they are raised, if there be no immediate opportunity of gratifying them, they yield to reason, and persuasion, or subside by the soothing influence of time.

Of the irascible passions, the direct aim, and present purpose, is the hurt, or misery of another; of the concupiscible passions, the proper motive is our own good. It is therefore no reproach to human nature, that the concupiscible passions are more prevalent; for, as it is more natural, it is more just, to desire our own good, than another’s evil.

The desire of happiness is inseparable from a rational being, acquainted, by experience, with the various gradations of pain and pleasure. The knowledge of different degrees of happiness seems necessary to the excitement of desire, and the stimulation of activity. He that had never felt pain, would not fear it, nor use any precaution to prevent it. He who had been always equally at ease, would not know, that his condition admitted any improvement, and therefore could have no end to pursue, or purpose to prosecute. But man, in his present state, knowing of how much good he is capable, and to how many evils he is exposed, has his mind perpetually employed, in defence, or in acquisition, in securing that which he has, or attaining that which, he believes, he either does, or shall, want.

He that desires happiness must necessarily desire the means of happiness, must wish to appropriate, and accumulate, whatever may satisfy his desires. It is not sufficient to be without want. He will try to place himself beyond the fear of want; and endeavour to provide future gratifications for future wishes, and lay up in store future provisions for future necessities.

It is by the effect of this care to provide against the evils, and to attain the blessings, of life, that human society has its present form. For this purpose professions are studied, and trades learned; dangers are encountered, and labour endured. For this reason every man educates his son in some useful art, which, by making him necessary to others, may oblige others to repay him what is necessary to himself. The general employment of mankind is to increase pleasure, or remove the pressure of pain. These are the vital principles of action, that fill ports with ships, shops with manufacturers, and fields with husbandmen, that keep the statesman diligent in attendance, and the trader active in his business.

It is apparently the opinion of the civilized world, that he who would be happy must be rich.4 In riches the goods of life are compendiously contained. They do not enlarge our own personal powers; but they enable us to employ the powers of others for our advantage. He who cannot make what he wants, will however easily procure it, if he can pay an artist. He who suffers any remediable inconvenience, needs not to suffer it long, if he can reward the labour of those who are able to remove it. Riches will make an ignorant man prudent by another’s wisdom, and a weak man vigorous by another’s strength. It can, therefore, be no wonder, that riches are generally desired; and that almost every man is busy, through his whole life, in gaining, or in keeping them, for himself, or his posterity.

As there is no desire so extensive, or so continual in its exertions, that possesses so many minds, or operates with such restless activity; there is none that deviates into greater irregularity, or more frequently corrupts the heart of man, than the wish to enlarge possession and accumulate wealth.

In a discourse, intended for popular instruction, it would be of little utility to mention the ambition of kings, and display the cruelty of conquerors. To slaughter thousands in a day, to spread desolation over wide and fertile regions, and to carry rapine and destruction indiscriminately from one country to another, can be the crime only of those few who have sceptres in their hands; and, even among them, the wantonness of war is not very common in our days. But it is a sufficient evidence of the power of interest, that such acts should ever have been perpetrated; that there could ever be any man, willing to augment his wealth, or extend his power, by slaughter and devastation; or able to persuade himself, that he might purchase advantages, which he could enjoy only in imagination, at the expence of the lives of thousands of his subjects, as well as his adversaries; of adversaries that never had injured, or offended him, and of subjects whom it was his duty and his engagement to preserve and to protect.

Nor is it necessary to mention crimes, which are commonly found amongst the lowest of mankind, the crimes of robbery and theft. For, though they are too common, their enormity is sufficiently understood by the laws which are enacted against them, and sufficiently menaced by the terrours which those laws hold out. They are so apparently destructive of social security, their consequences are so easily perceived, and their perniciousness so generally acknowledged, that to be suspected of them is to be infamous; and to be detected in the commission of them is to be exposed to punishment, and often to death.

But there is another mode of injuring the property of others, and of gaining unjust advantages, which, though not equally liable, at all times, to punishment, with theft and robbery, is, in its own nature, equally criminal, and perhaps more pernicious; therefore, equally open to the censures of reason and religion. This species of guilt is distinguished by the appellation of fraud; a word which, when uttered, really excites a due degree of detestation, and which those, who practise it, perhaps disguise to their consciences by still softer terms.

But that such disguises may deceive the soul no longer; and that what is universally mischievous, may be totally abhorred; I shall endeavour to shew,

First, the nature of fraud, and the temptations to practise it.

Secondly, how much it is contrary to the rules of religion, and how much it obstructs the happiness of the world.

The nature of fraud, as distinct from other violations of right or property, seems to consist in this, that the man injured is induced to concur in the act by which the injury is done. Thus, to take away any thing valuable, without the owner’s knowledge, is a theft; to take it away, against his consent, by threats or force, is a robbery; to borrow it, without intention of returning it, is a fraud, because the owner consents to the act, by which it passed out of his own hands.

All fraud, therefore, supposes deceit, either in the affirmation of what is false, or the suppression of what is true; for no man willingly wrongs himself. He must be deceived, either by false appearances of the present, or by false promises of the future, by a display of fictitious advantages, or an artful concealment of certain inconveniences.

As it often happens, that in committing a fraud, or persuading a man to injure himself, a considerable degree of skill and dexterity is required; the fraudulent are often considered, by themselves and others, as possessing uncommon powers of understanding, so that, though the act itself is blamed, the artifice is admired. Conscience is overpowered by vanity, and the shame of guilt is lost in the pride of subtlety and acuteness.

It is to be feared, that the science of over-reaching5 is too closely connected with lucrative commerce. There are classes of men, who do little less than profess it, and who are scarcely ashamed, when they are detected in imposture. Such men indeed live without reputation. They are considered as exercising dishonourable employments, but they are still tolerated; and, however they may be despised, are very rarely punished. The whole practice of buying and selling is indeed replete with temptation, which even a virtuous mind finds it difficult to resist. * “A merchant shall hardly keep himself from doing wrong, and an huckster shall not be freed from sin.”6 *

“Many have sinned for a small matter; and he that seeketh for abundance, will turn his eyes away. As a nail sticketh fast between the joinings of the stones, so doth sin stick close between buying and selling.”

Such is the censure of the Son of Sirach,7 which surely cannot be heard without alarm and terrour.

It is, however, by no means to be admitted, that all trade is necessarily fraudulent, or that all traders are dishonest. Every kind of life has its peculiar dangers, which the negligent incur, and the wise escape. The danger of a trader, like that of others, may be avoided by resolution, vigilance, and prayer, by a constant reference of his actions to his eternal interest, and by the help of God, diligently implored.

That the necessity of this vigilance may be more strongly recommended, it is fit that we consider,

Secondly, how much the practice of fraud is contrary to religion, and how much it obstructs the happiness of the world.

The great rule, by which religion regulates all transactions between one man and another, is, that every man “should do to others what he would expect that others,” in the same case, “should do to him.”8 This rule is violated in every act of fraud. For, however the “children of the world”9 may forgive, or applaud themselves, when they practise fraud, they complain very loudly, when they suffer it. They then can clearly discern its baseness, and its mischief; and discover, that nothing deserves praise but purity and goodness.

The crime of fraud has this aggravation, that it is generally an abuse of confidence. Robberies of violence are committed commonly upon those, to whom the robber is unknown. The lurking thief takes indiscriminately what comes by chance within his reach. But deceit cannot be practised, unless by some previous treaty, and gradual advance, by which distrust is dissipated, and an opinion of candour and integrity excited. Fraud, therefore, necessarily disguises life with solicitude and suspicion. He that has been deceived, knows not afterwards whom he can trust, but grows timorous, reserved, afraid alike of enemies and friends; and loses, at least, part of that benevolence which is necessary to an amiable and virtuous character.

Fraud is the more to be suppressed by universal detestation, as its effects can scarcely be limited. A thief seldom takes away what can much impoverish the loser; but by fraud, the opulent may at once be reduced to indigence, and the prosperous distressed; the effects of a long course of industry may be suddenly annihilated, the provision made for age may be withdrawn, and the inheritance of posterity intercepted.

For1 the particular application of this doctrine, I am sorry, that my native place2 should afford an opportunity. But since this society3 has called me to stand here before them, I hope no man will be offended, that I do my duty with fidelity and freedom. Truth requires, that I warn you against a species of fraud, sometimes found amongst you, and that of a very shameful and oppressive kind. When any man, whose contributions have had their due part in raising the fund for occasional relief, is reduced by disease, or hurt, to want the support which he has, perhaps, for many years, supposed himself gradually accumulating against the day of distress; and for which he has denied himself many gratifications; at the time, when he expects the beneficial effects of his prudence and parsimony; at that very time, every artifice is used to defeat his claim, and elude his right. He declares himself perhaps unable to work, by which nothing more can reasonably be meant, than that he is no longer capable of labour equal to his livelihood. This man is found employing the remains of his strength in some little office. For this surely he deserves to be commended. But what has been the consequence? He has been considered as an impostor, who claims the benefit of the fund by counterfeited incapacity; and that feeble diligence, which, among reasonable and equitable men, gives him a title to esteem and pity, is misapplied, and misrepresented into a pretence for depriving him of his right, and this done by judges, who vainly imagine they shall be benefited themselves by their own wicked determination.

It is always to be remembered, that a demand of support from your common fund is not a petition for charity, but a claim to justice. The relief, thus demanded, is not a gift, but a debt. He that receives it, has first purchased it. The denial of it, therefore, is a fraud and a robbery;4 and fraud so much the more atrocious and detestable, as, by its nature, it must always be practised on the poor. When this succour is required, there is no place for favour, or for resentment. What is due must be paid, because it is due. Other considerations have here no weight. The amiable and the perverse, the good and the bad, have an equal right to the performance of their contract. He that has trusted the society with his money, cannot, without breach of faith, be denied that payment, which, when he payed his contribution, was solemnly stipulated.

It has been always observed by the wise, that it is every man’s real interest to be honest; and he who practises fraud, to the injury of others, shews, at the same time, how fraud may be practised against himself. Those who have been forward in watching the steps of others, and have objected to payment when it was required, may live to be themselves watched, and excluded by a precedent, which their own fraudulence, or malice, has incited them to establish. They will then feel the folly of wickedness, and know the necessity of providing against the day of calamity by innocence and integrity; they will wish that they could claim the kindness of others, as a recompence for kindness formerly exhibited by themselves.

Fraud is the more hurtful, because the wrong is often without redress. As he that is wronged by fraudulent practices must always concur in the act that injured him; it is not always easy to ascertain the exact limits of his agency, so as to know precisely how far he was deceived. This, at least, is seldom to be done without an enquiry and discussion, liable to many legal delays, and eludible by many artifices. The redress, therefore, is often more pernicious than the injury; and while the robber lurks in secret, or flies for his life, the man of fraud holds up his head with confidence, enjoys the fruits of his iniquity with security, and bids defiance to detection and to punishment.

But his triumph, however he may escape human judicatures, must end with his life. The time will come, and will come quickly, when he that has defrauded his neighbour must stand before the Judge of all the earth, a Judge whom he cannot deceive; and before whom, whatever he has taken wrongfully, without restitution, and without repentance, will lie heavy on his soul.

“Let him, therefore, that has stolen, steal no more!”5 let him who has gained by fraud, repent and restore, and live and die in the exercise of honesty!