In time all are deceived
by the cheat to which all contribute. The fiction of happiness is
propagated by every tongue, and confirmed by every look, till at last
all profess the joy which they do not feel, consent to yield to the
general delusion; and when the voluntary dream is at an end, lament that
bliss is of so short a duration.
If Drugget pretended to pleasures of which he had no perception, or
boasted of one amusement where he was indulging another, what did he
which is not done by all those who read his story? of whom some pretend
delight in conversation, only because they dare not be alone; some
praise the quiet of solitude, because they are envious of sense, and
impatient of folly; and some gratify their pride, by writing characters
which expose the vanity of life.
I am, Sir,
Your humble servant.
No. 19. SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 1758.
Some of those ancient sages that have exercised their abilities in the
inquiry after the supreme good, have been of opinion, that the highest
degree of earthly happiness is quiet; a calm repose both of mind and
body, undisturbed by the sight of folly or the noise of business, the
tumults of publick commotion, or the agitations of private interest: a
state in which the mind has no other employment, but to observe and
regulate her own motions, to trace thought from thought, combine one
image with another, raise systems of science, and form theories of
virtue.
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