In the works of moralists, both Christian and Pagan, it is often
asserted (indeed there are few common-places of more frequent
recurrence) that the happiness even of this life consists solely, or
principally, in virtue; that virtue is the only happiness of this
life; that virtue is the truest _pleasure_, &c.
I doubt not that the meaning, which the writers intended to convey by
these and the like expressions, was true and wise. But I deem it safer
to say, that in all the outward relations of this life, in all our
outward conduct and actions, both in what we should do, and in what we
should abstain from, the dictates of virtue are the very same with
those of self-interest, tending _to_, though they do not proceed
_from_, the same point. For the outward object of virtue being the
greatest producible sum of happiness of all men, it must needs include
the object of an intelligent self-love, which is the greatest possible
happiness of one individual; for what is true of all, must be true of
each. Hence, you cannot become better (that is, more virtuous), but
you will become happier: and you cannot become worse (that is, more
vicious), without an increase of misery (or at the best a proportional
loss of enjoyment) as the consequence. If the thing were not
inconsistent with our well-being, and known to be so, it would not
have been classed as a _vice_. Thus what in an enfeebled and
disordered mind is called prudence, is the voice of nature in a
healthful state: as is proved by the known fact, that the prudential
duties, (that is, those actions which are commanded by virtue
_because_ they are prescribed by prudence), the animals fulfil by
natural instinct.
The pleasure that accompanies or depends on a healthy and vigorous
body will be the consequence and reward of a temperate life and habits
of active industry, whether this pleasure were or were not the chief
or only determining _motive_ thereto. Virtue may, possibly, add to the
pleasure a good of another kind, a higher good, perhaps, than the
worldly mind is capable of understanding, a spiritual complacency, of
which in your present sensualized state you can form no idea. It may
_add_, I say, but it cannot detract from it. Thus the reflected rays
of the sun that gave light, distinction, and endless multiformity to
the mind, afford at the same time the pleasurable sensation of
_warmth_ to the body.
If then the time has not yet come for any thing higher, act on the
maxim of seeking the most pleasure with the least pain: and, if only
you do not seek where you yourself _know_ it will not be found, this
very pleasure and this freedom from the disquietude of pain may
produce in you a state of being directly and indirectly favourable to
the germination and up-spring of a nobler seed. If it be true, that
men are miserable because they are wicked, it is likewise true, that
many men are wicked because they are miserable. Health, cheerfulness,
and easy circumstances, the ordinary consequence of Temperance and
Industry, will at least leave the field clear and open, will tend to
preserve the scales of the judgment even: while the consciousness of
possessing the esteem, respect, and sympathy of your neighbours, and
the sense of your own increasing power and influence, can scarcely
fail to give a tone of dignity to your mind, and incline you to hope
nobly of your own Being. And thus they may prepare and predispose you
to the sense and acknowledgment of a principle, differing not merely
in degree but in _kind_ from the faculties and instincts of the higher
and more intelligent species of animals, (the ant, the beaver, the
elephant), and which principle is therefore your proper humanity. And
on this account and with this view alone may certain modes of
pleasurable or _agreeable_ sensation, without confusion of terms, be
honoured with the title of refined, intellectual, ennobling pleasures.
For Pleasure (and happiness in its proper sense is but the continuity
and sum-total of the pleasure which is allotted or happens to a man,
and hence by the Greeks called ευτυχια, that is, good-hap, or more
religiously ευδαιμονια, that is, favourable providence)--pleasure, I
say, consists in the harmony between the specific excitability of a
living creature, and the exciting causes correspondent thereto.
Considered therefore exclusively in and for itself, the only question
is, _quantum_, not _quale_? _How much on the whole?_ the contrary,
that is, the painful and disagreeable having been subtracted. The
quality is a matter of _taste_: _et de gustibus non est disputandum_.
No man can judge for another.
This, I repeat, appears to me a safer language than the sentences
quoted above, (that virtue alone is happiness; that happiness consists
in virtue, &c.) sayings which I find it hard to reconcile with other
positions of still more frequent occurrence in the same divines, or
with the declaration of St. Paul: "If in this life only we have hope,
we are of all men most miserable."
At all events, I should rely far more confidently on the converse,
namely, that to be vicious is to be _miserable_. Few men are so
utterly reprobate, so imbruted by their vices, as not to have some
lucid, or at least quiet and sober, intervals; and in such a moment,
_dum desæviunt iræ_, few can stand up unshaken against the appeal to
their own experience--what have been the wages of sin? what has the
devil done for you? What sort of master have you _found_ him? Then let
us in befitting _detail_, and by a series of questions that ask no
loud, and are secure against any _false_, answer, urge home the proof
of the position, that to be vicious is to be wretched: adding the
fearful corollary, that if even in the body, which as long as life is
in it can never be _wholly_ bereaved of pleasurable sensations, vice
is found to be misery, what must it not be in the world to come?
There, where even the _crime_ is no longer possible, much less the
gratifications that once attended it--where nothing of vice remains
but its guilt and its misery--vice must be misery itself, all and
utter misery.--So best, if I err not, may the motives of prudence be
held forth, and the impulses of self-love be awakened, in alliance
with truth, and free from the danger of confounding things (the Laws
of Duty, I mean, and the Maxims of Interest) which it deeply concerns
us to keep distinct, inasmuch as this distinction and the faith
therein are essential to our moral nature, and this again the
ground-work and pre-condition of the spiritual state, in which the
Humanity strives after Godliness, and, in the name and power, and
through the prevenient and assisting grace, of the Mediator, will not
strive in vain.
The _advantages_ of a life passed in conformity with the precepts of
virtue and religion, and in how many and various respects they
recommend virtue and religion, even on grounds of prudence, form a
delightful subject of meditation, and a source of refreshing thought
to good and pious men. Nor is it strange if, transported with the
view, such persons should sometimes discourse on the charms of forms
and colours to men whose eyes are not yet _couched_; or that they
occasionally seem to invert the relations of cause and effect, and
forget that there are acts and determinations of the will and
affections, the _consequences_ of which may be plainly foreseen, and
yet cannot be made our proper and primary _motives_ for such acts and
determinations, without destroying or entirely altering the distinct
nature and character of the latter. Sophron is well informed that
wealth and extensive patronage will be the consequence of his
obtaining the love and esteem of Constantia. But if the foreknowledge
of this consequence were, and were _found out_ to be, Sophron's main
and determining motive for seeking this love and esteem; and if
Constantia were a woman that merited, or was capable of feeling,
either the one or the other; would not Sophron find (and deservedly
too) aversion and contempt in their stead? Wherein, if not in this,
differs the friendship of worldlings from true friendship? Without
kind offices and useful services, wherever the power and opportunity
occur, love would be a hollow pretence. Yet what noble mind would not
be offended, if he were thought to value the love for the sake of the
services, and not rather the services for the sake of the love?
[40] Proverbs iii. 17.--ED.