it, but simply from duty, then first has his action its genuine
moral worth. Further still; if nature has put little sympathy in the
heart of this or that man; if he, supposed to be an upright man, is by
temperament cold and indifferent to the sufferings of others,
perhaps because in respect of his own he is provided with the
special gift of patience and fortitude and supposes, or even requires,
that others should have the same- and such a man would certainly not
be the meanest product of nature- but if nature had not specially
framed him for a philanthropist, would he not still find in himself
a source from whence to give himself a far higher worth than that of a
good-natured temperament could be? Unquestionably. It is just in
this that the moral worth of the character is brought out which is
incomparably the highest of all, namely, that he is beneficent, not
from inclination, but from duty.

To secure one's own happiness is a duty, at least indirectly; for
discontent with one's condition, under a pressure of many anxieties
and amidst unsatisfied wants, might easily become a great temptation
to transgression of duty. But here again, without looking to duty, all
men have already the strongest and most intimate inclination to
happiness, because it is just in this idea that all inclinations are
combined in one total. But the precept of happiness is often of such a
sort that it greatly interferes with some inclinations, and yet a
man cannot form any definite and certain conception of the sum of
satisfaction of all of them which is called happiness. It is not
then to be wondered at that a single inclination, definite both as
to what it promises and as to the time within which it can be
gratified, is often able to overcome such a fluctuating idea, and that
a gouty patient, for instance, can choose to enjoy what he likes,
and to suffer what he may, since, according to his calculation, on