Pleasure. genius, and virtue, are then the great sources of happiness: those advantages are so considerable, that we see men contented with any one of them; but their union forms supreme felicity.

"There is so vast a difference, says Voltaire, between a man who has made his fortune and one who has to make it, that they are scarcely to be considered as creatures of the same kind. The same thing may be said of birth, the greatest of all advantages in a large society; of rank, of honours, and of great abilities. How great a difference is made between a person of high birth and a tradesman; between a Newton or Descartes and a simple mathematician? Ten thousand soldiers are killed on the field of battle, and it is scarcely mentioned; but if the general fall, and especially if he be a man of courage and abilities, the court and city are filled with the news of his death, and the mourning is universal.

"Frederick the Great, king of Prussia, felt in a more lively manner than perhaps any other man the value of great talents. I would willingly renounce, said he to Voltaire, every thing which is an object of desire and ambition to man; but I am certain if I were not a prince I should be nothing. Your merit alone would gain you the esteem, and envy, and admiration of the world; but to secure respect for me, titles, and armies, and revenues, are absolutely necessary."

For what purpose this account of human happiness was published, it becomes not us to say. Its obvious tendency is to make the lower orders of society discontented with their state, and envious of their superiors; and it is not unreasonable to suppose, that it contributed in some degree to excite the ignorant part of the author's countrymen to the commission of those atrocities of which they have since been guilty. That such was his intention, the following extract will not permit us to believe; for though in it the author attempts to support the same false theory of human happiness, he mentions virtuous kings with the respect becoming a loyal subject of the unfortunate Louis, whose character he seems to have intentionally drawn, and whose death by the authority of a savage faction he has in effect foretold.

"Happiness, in a state of society, takes the most variable forms: it is a Proteus susceptible of every kind of metamorphosis: it is different in different men, in different ages, and in different conditions, &c. The pleasures of youth are very different from those of old age: what affords enjoyment to a mechanic would be supreme misery to a nobleman: and the amusements of the country would appear insipid in the capital. Is there then nothing fixed with regard to happiness? Is it of all things the most variable and the most arbitrary? Or, in judging of it, is it impossible to find a standard by which we can determine the limits of the greatest good to which man can arrive in the present state? It is evident that men form the same ideas of the beautiful and sublime in nature, and of right and wrong in morality, provided they have arrived at that degree of improvement and civilization of which human nature is susceptible; and that different opinions on these subjects depend on different degrees of culture, of education, and of improvement, The same thing may be advanced with regard to happiness: all men, if equal with respect to their organs, would form the very same ideas on this subject if they reached the degree of improvement of which we are preVOL. XVI. Part II.

sently speaking; and in fact, do we not see in the great Pleasure. circles at Rome, at Vienna, at London, and at Paris, that those who are called people of fashion, who have received the same education, have nearly the same taste, the same desires, and the same spirit for enjoyment? there is doubtless a certain degree of happiness to be enjoyed in every condition of life; but as there are some conditions preferable to others, so are there degrees of happiness greater and less; and if we were to form an idea of the greatest possible in the present state, it perbaps would be that of a sovereign, master of a great empire, enjoying good health and a moderate spirit; endowed with piety and virtue; whose whole life was employed in acts of justice and mercy, and who governed by fixed and immoveable laws. Such a king is the image of the divinity on earth, and he must be the idol of a wise people. His whole life should present a picture of the most august felicity. Although such sovereigns are rare, yet we are not without examples of them. Ancient history affords us Titus and Marcus Aurelius, and the present age can boast of piety and munificence in the character of some of its kings. This state of the greatest happiness to which man can reach not being ideal, it will serve as a standard of comparison by which happiness and misery can be estimated in all civilized countries. He is as happy as a king, is a proverbial expression, because we believe with justice that royalty is the extreme limit of the greatest enjoyments; and in fact, happiness being the work of man, that condition which comprehends all the degrees of power and of glory, which is the source of honour and of dignity, and which supposes in the person invested with it all means of enjoyment either for himself or others, leaves nothing on this earth to which any reasonable man would give the preference.

"We can find also in this high rank the extreme of the greatest evils to which the condition of nature is exposed. A king condemned to death and perishing on a scaffold, by the authority of a faction, while at the same time he had endeavoured by every means in his power to promote the general happiness of his subjects, is the most terrible and striking example of human misery; for if it be true that a crown is the greatest of all blessings, then the loss of it, and at the same time the loss of life by an ignominious and unjust sentence, are of all calamities the most dreadful.

"It is also in the courts of kings that we find the most amiable and perfect characters; and it is there where true grandeur, true politeness, the best tone of manners, the most amiable graces, and the most eminent virtues, are completely established. It is in courts that men seem to have acquired their greatest improvement: Whosoever has seen a court, says La Bruyere, has seen the world in the most beautiful, the most enchanting, and attractive colours. The prejudices of mankind in behalf of the great are so excessive, that if they inclined to be good they would be almost the objects of adoration.”

In this passage there are doubtless many just observations; but there is at least an equal number of others both false and dangerous. That a crown is the greatest of earthly blessings, and that it is in the courts of kings that we meet with the most amiable and perfect charac ters, are positions which a true philosopher will not admit but with great limitations. The falsehood of the 4 N

author's

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pleasure. But all pains do not proceed from an excess Measure of action. Many of them arise from reducing the body or the mind to a state below indifference. Thus, if person have just sufficient warmth in his body to keep him barely at ease or in a state of indifference, by with drawing this heat, a state of uneasiness or pain is produced; and if in a calm state of mind one be made acquainted with a melancholy event, his quiet is interrupted, and he sinks below indifference into a painful state of mind. If now, without communicating any new source of positive pleasure, we remove in the former case the cold, and in the latter the grief, the persons from whom they are removed will experience real pleaThus, then, whether pain arises from excess or deficiency of action, the gradual or the sudden removal of it must be in all cases attended with pleasure." It Digi is equally true that the gradual or sudden removal oftions Me pleasure is attended with pain. taphysical and Liter ary.

sure.

Pleasure. author's general theory respecting the unequal distribution of happiness in society, we need not waste time in exposing. It is sufficiently exposed in other articles of this work, and in one of them by a writer of a very superior order (see HAPPINESS; and MORAL Philosophy, Part II. chap. ii.). He enters upon other speculations respecting the pleasures and pains of savages, which are ingenious and worthy of attention; but before we proceed to notice them, it will be proper to consider the connection which subsists between pleasure and pain. "That the cessation of pain is accompanied by plea+ Dr Say- sure, is a fact (says a philosopher of the first rank †) which has been repeatedly observed, but perhaps not sufficiently accounted for. Let us suppose a person in a state of indifference as to heat. Upon coming near a fire, he will experience at first an agreeable warmth, i. e. pleasure. If the heat be increased, this state of pleasure will, after a time, be converted into one of pain, from the increased action upon the nerves and brain, the undoubted organs of all bodily sensations. Let the heat now be gradually withdrawn, the nervous system must acquire again, during this removal, the state of agreeable warmth or pleasure; and after passing through that state it will arrive at indifference. From this fact then we may conclude that a state of pleasure may be pushed on till it is converted into one of pain; and, on the other hand, that an action which produces pain will, if it go off gradually, induce at a certain period of its decrease a state of pleasure. The same reasoning which has thus been applied to the body may be extended also to the mind. Total languor of mind is not so pleasant as a certain degree of action or emotion; and emotions pleasant at one period may be increased till they become painful at another; whilst painful emotions, as they gradually expire, will, at a certain period of their deerease, induce a state of pleasure. Hence then we are able to explain why pleasure should arise in all cases from the gradual cessation of any action or emotion which produces pain."

The same author maintains, that from the mere removal of pain, whether by degrees or instantaneously, we always experience pleasure; and if the pain removed was exquisite, what he maintains is certainly true. To account for this phenomenon he lays down the following law of nature, which experience abundantly confirms, viz. " that the temporary withdrawing of any action from the body or mind invariably renders them more susceptible of that action when again produced." Thus, after long fasting, the body is more susceptible of the effects of food than if the stomach had been lately satisfied; the action of strong liquors is found to be greater on those who use them seldom than on such as are in the habit of drinking them. Thus, too, with respect to the mind; if a person be deprived for a time of his friend's society, or of a favourite amusement, the next visit of his friend, or the next renewal of his amusement, is attended with much more pleasure than if they had never been withheld from him.

"To apply this law to the case of a person suddenly relieved from acute pain. While he labours with such pain, his mind is so totally occupied by it, that he is. unable to attend to his customary pursuits or amusements. He becomes therefore so much more susceptible of their action, that when they are again presented to him, he is raised above his usual indifference to positive

We are now prepared to examine our French author's account of the pleasures and pains of savages." Every age (says he) has its different pleasures; but if we were to imagine that those of childhood are equal to those of confirmed age, we should be much mistaken in our estimation of happiness. The pleasures of philosophy, either natural or moral, are not unfolded to the infant; the most perfect music is a vain noise; the most exquisite perfumes and dishes highly seasoned offend his young organs instead of affording delight; his touch is imperfect; forty days elapse before the child gives any sign of laughter or of weeping; his cries and groans before that period are not accompanied with tears; his countenance expresses no passion; the parts of his face bear no relation to the sentiments of the soul, and are moreover without consistency. Children are but little affected with cold; whether it be that they feel less, or that the interior heat is greater than in adults. In them all the impressions of pleasure and pain are transitory ; their memory has scarcely begun to unfold its powers; they enjoy nothing but the present moment; they weep, laugh, and give tones of satisfaction without consciousness, or at least without reflection; their joy is confined to the indulgence of their little whims, and constraint is the greatest of their misfortunes; few things amuse, and nothing satisfies them. In this happy condition of early infancy nature is at the whole expence of happiness; and the only point is not to contradict her. What desires have children? Give them liberty in all their movements, and they have a plenitude of existence, an abundance of that kind of happiness which is confined in some sort to all the objects which surround them: but if all beings were happy on the same conditions, society would be at no expence in procuring the happiness of the different individuals who compose it. Sensation is the foundation of reflection; it is the principal attribute of the soul; it is by this that man is elevated to sublime speculations, and secures his dominion over nature and himself. This quality is not stationary, but susceptible, like all other relative qualities, of increase and decay, of different degrees of strength and intenseness: it is different in different men; and in the same man it increases from infancy to youth, from youth to confirmed manhood: at this period it stops, and gradually declines as we proceed to old age and to second childishness. Considered physically, it varies according to age, constitution, climate, and food; considered in a moral point

of

savages.

"Pleasure and pain being relative qualities, they may be almost annihilated in the moment of vehement passion. In the heat of battle, for example, ardent and animated spirits have not felt the pain of their wounds; and minds strongly penetrated with sentiments of religion, enthusiasm, and humanity, have supported the most cruel torments with courage and fortitude. The sensibility of some persons is so exquisitely alive, that one can scarcely approach them without throwing them into convulsions. Many diseases show the effect of sensibility pushed to an extreme; such as hysteric affections, certain kinds of madness, and some of those which proceed from poison, and from the bite or sting of certain animals, as the viper and the tarantula. Excessive joy or grief, fear and terror, have been known to destroy all sensation, and occasion death (A)."

Having made these preliminary observations on pleasure and pain in infancy, and as they are increased or diminished by education, and the different conditions of body and mind, our author proceeds to consider the capability of savages to feel pleasure and pain," By savages he understands all the tribes of men who live by bunting and fishing, and on those things which the earth yields without cultivation. Those tribes who possess herds of cattle, and who derive their subsistence from such possessions, are not to be considered as savages, as they have some idea of property. Some savages are naturally compassionate and humane, others are cruel and sanguinary. Although the physical constitution of man be everywhere the same, yet the varieties of climate, the abundance or scarcity of natural productions, have a powerful influence to determine the inclinations; even the herceness of the tiger is softened under a mild sky. Now nature forms the manners of savages just as society and civil institutions form the manners of civilized life. In the one case climate and food produce almost the whole effect; in the other they have scarcely any influence. The habits of society every moment contend with nature, and they are almost always victorious. The savage devotes himself to the dominion of his passions; the civilized man is employed in restraining, in directing, and in modifying them: so much influence have government, laws, society, and the fear of censure and punishment, over his soul.

"Their enjoyments are so limited, that if we confine ourselves to truth, a few lines will be sufficient to describe them: our attention must therefore be confined to pain, because the manner in which they support misfortune, and even torture, presents us with a view of character unequalled in the history of civilized nations. It is not uncommon in civilized countries to see men braving death, meeting it with cheerfulness, and even not uttering complaints under the torture; but they do not insult the executioners of public vengeance, and defy pain in order to augment their torments; and those who are condemned by the laws suffer the punishment with different degrees of fortitude. On those mournful occasions, the common ranks of mankind in general die with less firmness: those, on the other hand, who have received education, and who, by a train of unfortunate events are brought to the scaffold, whether it be the fear of being reproached with cowardice, or the consideration that the stroke is inevitable, such men discover the expiring sighs of self-love even in their last mo ments; and those especially of high rank, from their manners and sentiments, are expected to meet death with magnanimity: but an American savage in the moment of punishment appears to be more than human; he is a hero of the first order, who braves his tormentors, who provokes them to employ all their art, and who considers as his chief glory to bear the greatest degree of pain without shrinking (see AMERICA, N° 14, 27, 28, 29.). The recital of their tortures would appear exaggerated, if it were not attested by the best authority, and if the savage nations among whom those customs are established were not sufficiently known; but the excess of the cruelty is not so astonishing as the courage of the victim. The European exposed to sufferings of the same dreadful nature would rend heaven and earth with his piercing cries and horrible groans; the reward of martyrdom, the prospect of eternal life, could alone give him fortitude to endure such torments; but the savage is not animated with this exalted hope. What supports him then in scenes of so exquisite suffering? The feeling of shame, the fear of bringing reproach on his tribe, and giving a stain to his fellows never to be wiped away, are the only sentiments which influence the mind of a savage, and which always present to his imagination, animate him, support him, and lend him spirit and resolution. At the same time, however powerful those motives may be, they would not be alone sufficient, if the

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mast necessarily be, less in the savage condition; for Please this faculty disclosing itself by the exercise of all the physical and moral qualities, must be less as they are less exercised. Every thing shows the imperfection of this precious quality, this source of all our affections, in the American savages.

"All the improvements in Europe have had a tendency to unfold sensibility: the air is purified that we may breathe more freely; the morasses are drained, the rivers are regulated in their courses, the food is nourishing, and the houses commodious. With the savages, on the contrary, every thing tends to curb it; they take pleasure even in hardening the organs of the body, in accustoming themselves to bear by degrees the most acute pain without complaining. Boys and girls among the savages amuse themselves with tying their naked arms together, and laying a kindled coal between them, to try which of them can longest suffer the heat; and the warriors who aspire to the honour of being chief, undergo a course of suffering which exceeds the idea of torture inflicted on the greatest criminals in Europe."

Pleasure. the savage felt pain in the same degree with the European. Sensibility, as we have already observed, is increased by education; it is influenced by society, manners, laws, and government; climate and food work it into a hundred different shapes; and all the physical and 'moral causes contribute to increase and diminish it. The habitual existence of a savage would be a state of suffering to an inhabitant of Europe. You must cut the flesh of the one and tear it away with your nails, before you can make him feel in an equal degree to a scratch or prick of a needle in the other. The savage, doubtless, suffers under torture, but he suffers much less than an European in the same circumstances: the reason is obvious; the air which the savages breathe is loaded with fog and moist vapours; their rivers not being confined by high banks, are by the winds as well as in floods spread over the level fields, and deposit on them a putrid and pernicious slime; the trees squeezed one upon another, in that rude and uncultivated country, serve rather as a covering to the earth than an ornament. Instead of those fresh and delicious shades, those openings in the woods, and walks crossing each other in all directions, which delight the traveller in the fine forests of France and Germany; those in America serve only to intercept the rays of the sun, and to prevent the benign influence of his beams. The savage participates of this cold humidity; his blood has little heat, his humours are gross, and his constitution phlegmatic. To the powerful influence of climate, it is necessary to join the habits of his life. Obliged to traverse vast deserts for subsistence, his body is accustomed to fatigue; food not nourishing, and at the same time in no great plenty, blunts his feelings; and all the hardships of the savage state give a rigidity to his members which makes him almost incapable of suffering. The savage in this state of nature may be compared to our water-women and street-porters, who, though they possess neither great vigour nor strength, are capable of performing daily, and without complaint, that kind of labour which to a man in a different condition of life would be a painful and grievous burden. Feeling, in less perfection with the savage, by the effects of climate and food, and the habits of his life, is still farther restrained by moral considerations. The European is less a man of nature than of society moral restraints are powerful with him; while over the American they have scarcely any in fluence. This latter then is in a double condition of imperfection with regard to us; his senses are blunted, and his moral powers are not disclosed. Now, pleasure, and pain depending on the perfection of the senses and the unfolding of the intellectual faculties, it cannot be doubted, that in enjoyments of any kind savages experience less pleasure, and in their suffering less pain, than Europeans in the same circumstances. And in fact, the savages of America possess a very feeble constitution. They are agile without being strong; and this agility depends more on their habits than on the perfection of their members: they owe it to the necessity of hunting; and they are moreover so weak, that they were unable to bear the toil which their first oppressors imposed on them. Hence a race of men in all respects so imperfect could not endure torment under which the most robust European would sink, if the pain which they feel were really as great as it appears to be. Feeling is then, and

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Morale

These observations on the pleasures and pains of savages appear to be well-founded, and, as the attentive reader will perceive, are perfectly agreeable to the theory of Dr Sayers. If indeed that theory be just, as we believe it to be, it will follow, that the few pleasures of sense which the American enjoys, he ought to enjoy more completely than any European, because to him they recur but seldom. This may very possibly be the case; and certainly would be so, were not his fibres, by climate and the habits of his life, rendered more rigid than those of the civilized part of the inhabitants of Europe. But if we agree with our author in what he Ency says of the pains and pleasures of savages, we cannot ad-pr. mit, without many exceptions, his theory of the enjoy. Logi ments of children. It is so far from being true, that s few things amuse, and that nothing satisfies them, that the direct contrary must have been observed by every man attentive to the operations of the infant mind, tom. it. which is amused with every thing new, and often completely satisfied with the merest trifle. The pleasures of philosophy are not indeed unfolded to the infant; but it by no means follows that he does not enjoy his rattle and his drum as much as the philosopher enjoys his telescope and air-pump; and if there be any truth in the science of physiognomy, the happiness of the former is much more pure and exquisite than that of the latter. That the most perfect music is vain noise to an infant, is far from being self-evident, unless the author confines the state of infancy to a very few months; and we are not disposed to believe, without better proof than we have yet received, that the relish of exquisite perfumes and highly seasoned dishes adds much to the sum of human felicity.

But however much we disapprove of many of these reflections, the following we cordially adopt as our own. "If we compare (says our author) the pleasures of sense with those which are purely intellectual, we shall find that the latter are infinitely superior to the former, as they may be enjoyed at all times and in every situation of life. What are the pleasures of the table, says Cicero, of gaming, and of women, compared with the delight of study? This taste increases with age, and no

happiness

pain during their whole existence. Such then is the Pleasure. imperfection of the one and the power of the other.

Pleasure. happiness is equal to it. Without knowledge and study, says Cato, life is almost the image of death (B). The pleasures of the soul are such, that it is frequent enough to see men preserve their gaiety during their whole life, notwithstanding a weak, diseased, and debilitated body. Scaron, who lived in the last century, was an example of this. Balzac, speaking of him, says, that Prometheus, Hercules, and Philoctetes, in profane, and Job in sacred, history, said many great things while they were afflicted with violent pain: but Scaron alone said pleasant things. I have seen, continues he, in many places of ancient history, constancy, and modesty, and wisdom, and eloquence, accompanying affliction; but he is the only instance wherein I have seen plea

santry.

"There are men whose understandings are constantly on the stretch, and by this very means they are improved; but if the body were as constantly employed in the pursuit of sensual gratification, the constitution would soon be destroyed. The more we employ the mind we are capable of the greater exertion; but the more we employ the body we require the greater repose. There are besides but some parts of the body capable of enjoying pleasure; every part of it can experience pain. A toothach occasions more suffering than the most considerable of our pleasures can procure of enjoyment. Great pain may continue for any length of time; excessive pleasures are almost momentary. Pleasure carried to an extreme becomes painful; but pain, either by augmenting or diminishing it, never becomes agreeable. For the moment, the pleasures of the senses are perhaps more satisfactory; but in point of duration those of the heart and mind are infinitely preferable. All the sentiments of tenderness, of friendship, of gratitude, and of generosity, are sources of enjoyment for man in a state of civilization. The damned are exceedingly unhappy, said St Catherine de Sienna, if they are incapable of loving or being beloved.

"Pleasure, continued for a great length of time, produces languor and fatigue, and excites sleep; the continuation of pain is productive of none of these effects. Many suffer pain for eight days and even a month without interruption; an equal duration of excessive pleasure would occasion death.

"Time is a mere relative idea with regard to pleasure and pain; it appears long when we suffer, and short when we enjoy. If there existed no regular and uniform movement in nature, we would not be able from our sensations alone to measure time with any degree of exactness, for pain lengthens and pleasure abridges it. From the languor of unoccupied time has arisen the proverb expressive of our desire to kill it. It is a melancholy reflection, and at the same time true, that there is no enjoyment which can effectually secure us from pain for the remainder of our lives; while there are examples of evils which hold men in constant sorrow and

Pleasure and pain are the sources of morality; an action is just or unjust, good or otherwise, only as its natural tendency is to produce suffering or enjoyment to mankind. No crime could be committed against a being altogether insensible, nor could any good be bestowed on it. Unless he were endowed with the desire of pleasure and the apprehension of pain, man, like an automaton, would act from necessity, without choice and without determination.

"All our passions are the developement of sensibility. If we were not possessed of feeling, we should be destitute of passions; and as sensibility is augmented by civilization, the passions are multiplied; more active and vigorous in an extensive and civilized empire than in a small state; more in the latter than among barbarous nations; and more in these last than among savages (see PASSION). There are more passions in France and England than in all the nations of Europe; because every thing which serves to excite and foster them is always in those countries in the greatest state of fermentation. The mind is active; the ideas great, extensive, and multiplied. And is it not the soul, the mind, and heart, which are the focus of all the passions ?"

But wherever the passions are multiplied, the sources of pleasure and pain are multiplied with them. This being the case, it is impossible to prescribe a fixed and general rule of happiness suited to every individual. There are objects of pleasure with regard to which all men of a certain education are agreed; but there are perhaps many more, owing to the variety of tempers and education, about which they differ. Every man forms ideas of enjoyment relative to his character; and what pleases one may be utterly detested by another. In proportion as a nation is civilized and extensive, those differences are remarkable. Savages, who are not acquainted with all the variety of European pleasures, amuse themselves with very few objects. Owing to the want of civilization, they have scarcely any choice in the objects of taste. They have few passions; we have many. But even in the nations of Europe, pleasure is infinitely varied in its modification and forms. Those differences arise from manners, from governments, from political and religious customs, and chiefly from educa tion. Meanwhile, however different and variable the ideas of pleasure may ideas of pleasure may be among nations and individuals, it still remains a fact, that a certain number of persons in all civilized states, whether distinguished by birth, or rank, or fortune, or talents, as they have nearly the same education so they form nearly the same ideas of happiness: but to possess it a man must give his chief application to the state of his mind; and notwithstanding all his efforts it is of uncertain duration. Happiness is the sunshine of life: we enjoy it frequently at great intervals; and it is therefore necessary to know how to

use