第118章

I see in them beings of certain capacities， equal to certain pursuits and enjoyments. It is of no consequence in the question， that they do not see this， that they do not know their own interests and happiness. They do not repine？ Neither does a stone repine. That which you mention as an alleviation， finishes in my conception the portrait of their calamity. Abridged as they are of independence and enjoyment， they have neither the apprehension nor spirit of men. I cannot bear to see human nature thus degraded. It is my duty， if I can， to make them a thousand times happier， than they are， or have any conception of being."

It is not difficult to form a scale of happiness. Suppose it to be something like the following.

The first class shall be such as we may perhaps sometimes find， among the labouring inhabitants of the civilized states of Europe. We will conceive a man， working with his hands every day to obtain his subsistence. He rises early to his labour， and leaves off every night weary and exhausted. He takes a tranquil or a boisterous refreshment， and spends the hours of darkness in uninterrupted slumber. He does not quarrel with his wife oftener than persons of his class regularly do； and his cares are few， as he has scarcely known the pressure of absolute want. He never repines but when he witnesses luxuries he cannot partake， and that sensation is transient； and he knows no diseases but those which rise from perpetual labour. The range of his ideas is scanty； and the general train of his sensations， comes as near， as the nature of human existence will admit， to the region of indifference.

This man is in a certain sense happy. He is happier than a stone.

Our next instance shall be taken from among the men of rank， fortune and dissipation. We will suppose the individual in question to have an advantageous person and a sound constitution. He enjoys all the luxuries of the palate， the choicest viands， and the best-flavoured wines. He takes his pleasures discreetly， so as not， in the pursuit of pleasure， to lose the power of feeling it. He shoots， he hunts. He frequents all public places.

He sits up late in scenes of gay resort. He rises late. He has just time to ride and dress before he goes into company again. With a happy flow of spirits and a perpetual variety of amusements， he is almost a stranger to ennui. But he is a model of ignorance. He never reads， and knows nothing beyond the topic of the day. He can scarcely conceive the meaning of the sublime or pathetic； and he rarely thinks of any thing beyond himself.

This man is happier than the peasant. He is happier， by all the pleasures of the palate， and all the gratifications， of neatness， elegance and splendour， in himself， and the objects around him. Every day he is alive， inventing some new amusement， or enjoying it. He tastes the pleasures of liberty；第一章e is familiar with the gratifications of pride： while the peasant slides through life， with something of the contemptible insensibility of an oyster.

The man of taste and liberal accomplishments， is more advantageously circumstanced than he whom we have last described. We will suppose him to possess as many of the gratifications of expence as he desires. But， in addition to these， like the mere man of fortune in comparison with the peasant， he acquires new senses， and a new range of enjoyment. The beauties of nature are all his own. He admires the overhanging cliff， the wide-extended prospect， the vast expanse of the ocean， the foliage of the woods， the sloping lawn and the waving grass. He knows the pleasures of solitude， when man holds commerce alone with the tranquil solemnity of nature. He has traced the structure of the universe； the substances which compose the globe we inhabit， and are the materials of human industry； and the laws which hold the planets in their course amidst the trackless fields of space. He studies； and has experienced the pleasures which result from conscious perspicacity and discovered truth. He enters， with a true relish， into the sublime and pathetic. He partakes in all the grandeur and enthusiasm of poetry. He is perhaps himself a poet. He is conscious that he has not lived in vain， and that he shall be recollected with pleasure， and extolled with ardour， by generations yet unborn. In this person， compared with the two preceding classes， we acknowledge something of the features of man.

They were only a better sort of brutes； but he has sensations and transports of which they have no conception.

But there is a rank of man more fitted to excite our emulation than this， the man of benevolence. Study is cold， if it be not enlivened with the idea of the happiness to arise to mankind from the cultivation and improvement of sciences. The sublime and pathetic are barren， unless it be the sublime of true virtue， and the pathos of true sympathy. The pleasures of the mere man of taste and refinement， "play round the head， but come not to the heart." There is no true joy but in the spectacle and contemplation of happiness. There is no delightful melancholy but in pitying distress. The man who has once performed an act of exalted generosity， knows that there is no sensation of corporeal or intellectual taste to be compared with this. The man who has sought to benefit nations， rises above the mechanical ideas of barter and exchange. He asks no gratitude.

To see that they are benefited， or to believe that they will be so， is its own reward. He ascends to the highest of human pleasures， the pleasures of disinterestedness. He enjoys all the good that mankind possess， and all the good that he perceives to be in reserve for them. No man so truly promotes his own interest as he that forgets it. No man reaps so copious a harvest of pleasure as he who thinks only of the pleasures of other men.

The inference from this survey of human life， is， that he who is fully persuaded that pleasure is the only good， ought by no means to leave every man to enjoy his peculiar pleasure according to his own peculiar humour.