itself the plan of happiness, and of the means of attaining it. Nature
would not only have taken on herself the choice of the ends, but
also of the means, and with wise foresight would have entrusted both
to instinct.

And, in fact, we find that the more a cultivated reason applies
itself with deliberate purpose to the enjoyment of life and happiness,
so much the more does the man fail of true satisfaction. And from this
circumstance there arises in many, if they are candid enough to
confess it, a certain degree of misology, that is, hatred of reason,
especially in the case of those who are most experienced in the use of
it, because after calculating all the advantages they derive, I do not
say from the invention of all the arts of common luxury, but even from
the sciences (which seem to them to be after all only a luxury of
the understanding), they find that they have, in fact, only brought
more trouble on their shoulders, rather than gained in happiness;
and they end by envying, rather than despising, the more common
stamp of men who keep closer to the guidance of mere instinct and do
not allow their reason much influence on their conduct. And this we
must admit, that the judgement of those who would very much lower
the lofty eulogies of the advantages which reason gives us in regard
to the happiness and satisfaction of life, or who would even reduce
them below zero, is by no means morose or ungrateful to the goodness
with which the world is governed, but that there lies at the root of
these judgements the idea that our existence has a different and far
nobler end, for which, and not for happiness, reason is properly
intended, and which must, therefore, be regarded as the supreme
condition to which the private ends of man must, for the most part, be
postponed.