nated happy, in which the amount or aggregate of pleasure exceeds that of pain; and the deof happiness depends upon the quantity of this excefs.

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And the greatest quantity of it ordinarily attainable in human life, is what we mean by happiness, when we inquire or pronounce what human happiness confifts in.*

In

* If any pofitive fignification, distinct from what we mean by pleasure, can be affixed to the term "happiness," I should take it to denote a certain ftate of the nervous system in that part of the human frame in which we feel joy and grief, pasfions and affections. Whether this part be the heart, which the turn of moft languages would lead us to believe, or the diaphragm, as Buffon, or the upper orifice of the ftomach, as Van Helmont thought; or rather be a kind of fine network, lining the whole region of the præcordia, as others have imagined; it is poffible, not only that each painful senfation may violently shake and disturb the fibres at the time, but that a series of fuch may at length fo derange the very texture of the system, as to produce a perpetual irritation, which will shew itself by fretfulness, impatience, and restleffnefs. It is poffible alfo, on the other hand, that a fucceffion of pleasurable sensations may have fuch an effect upon this fubtile organization, as to cause the fibres to relax, and return into their place and order, and thereby to recover, or, if not loft, to preferve that harmonious conformation which gives to the mind its fenfe of complacency and fatisfaction. This ftate may be denominated happiness, and is fo far diftinguishable from pleasure, that it does not refer to any particu

In which inquiry I will omit much usual declamation upon the dignity and capacity of our nature; the fuperiority of the foul to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our conftitution; upon the worthinefs, refinement, and delicacy of fome fatisfactions, or the meannefs, groffnefs, and fenfuality of others: because I hold that pleasures differ in nothing, but in continuance and intensity; from a just computation of which, confirmed by what we obferve of the apparent cheerfulness, tranquillity, and contentment, of men of different taftes, tempers, ftations, and pursuits, every question concerning human happiness muft receive its decifion.

It will be our business to show, if we can, I. What Human Happinefs does not confift in:

II. What it does confift in.

FIRST then, Happiness does not confist in

lar object of enjoyment, or confift, like pleasure, in the gratification of one or more of the fenfes, but is rather the fecondary effect which fuch objects and gratifications produce upon the nervous system, or the state in which they leave it. Thefe conjectures belong not, however, to our province. The comparative sense, in which we have explained the term happiness, is more popular, and is fufficient for the purpose of the prefent chapter.

the

the pleasures of sense, in whatever profusion or variety they be enjoyed By the pleasures of sense I mean, as well the animal gratifications of eating, drinking, and that by which the fpecies is continued, as the more refined pleasures of music, painting, architecture, gardening, splendid fhews, theatric exhibitions, and the pleafures, laftly, of active sports, as of hunting, fhooting, fishing, &c. For,

Ift, Thefe pleasures continue but a little while at a time. This is true of them all, especially of the groffer fort of them. Laying aside the preparation, and the expectation, and computing ftrictly the actual fenfation, we shall be furprised to find, how inconfiderable a portion of our time they occupy, how few hours in the four and twenty they are able to fill up.

2dly, These pleasures, by repetition, lose their relish. It is a property of the machine, for which we know no remedy, that the organs, by which we perceive pleasure, are blunted and benumbed, by being frequently exercised in the fame way. There is hardly any one who has not found the difference between a gratification, when new, and when familiar; or any pleasure which does not become indifferent as it

grows

habitual.

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3dly,

3dly, The eagerness for high and intenfe delights takes away the relish from all others; and as fuch delights fall rarely in our way, the greater of our time becomes from this cause empty and uneafy.

part

There is hardly any delufion by which men are greater fufferers in their happiness, than by their expecting too much from what is called pleasure; that is, from thofe intense delights, which vulgarly engrofs the name of pleasure. The very expectation spoils them. When they do come, we are often engaged in taking painst to perfuade ourselves how much we are pleased, rather than enjoying any pleafure, which fprings naturally out of the object. And whenever we depend upon being vaftly delighted, we always go home fecretly grieved at miffing our aim. Likewife, as hath been observed just now, when this humour of being prodigiously delighted has once taken hold of the imagination, it hinders us from providing for, or acquiefcing in, those gently foothing engagements, the due variety and fucceffion of which, are the only things that fupply a continued ftream of happiness.

What I have been able to obferve of that part of mankind, whofe profeffed pursuit is pleasure, and who are withheld in the pursuit

by

by no restraints of fortune, or fcruples of conscience, corresponds fufficiently with this account. I have commonly remarked in fuch men, a restless and inextinguishable paffion for variety; a great part of their time to be vacant, and fo much of it irksome; and that, with whatever eagerness and expectation they set out, they become, by degrees, faftidious in their choice of pleasure, languid in the enjoyment, yet miferable under the want of it.

The truth feems to be that there is a limit, at which these pleasures foon arrive, and from which they ever afterwards decline. They are by neceffity of fhort duration, as the organs cannot hold on their emotions beyond a certain length of time; and if you endeavour to compenfate for this imperfection in their nature by the frequency with which you repeat them, you lose more than you gain, by the fatigue of the faculties, and the diminution of fenfibility.

We have faid nothing in this account of the lofs of opportunities, or the decay of faculties, which, whenever they happen, leave the voluptuary, deftitute and defperate; teafed by defires that can never be gratified, and the memory of pleasures which must return no more.

It will also be allowed by those who have experienced