ed two celebrated sects, one of which wished to
establish man's life on the basis of duty without reference to
happiness; and the other on the basis of happiness without reference to
duty.

The Stoics attached themselves to duty; but the need of happiness
asserted itself in spite of them, and sought satisfaction in the gloomy
pleasure of isolation, and in the savage joy of pride. The sage of these
philosophers sets himself free, not only from all the cares of earth,
but from all the bonds of the heart, from all natural affection.
Finally, by a consequence, at once sad and odd, of the same doctrine,
the highest point of self-possession is to prove that man is master of
himself, by the emancipation of suicide and in the liberty of death. The
Stoic philosopher declares himself insensible to the ills of life; he
denies that pain is an evil; and, on the other hand, he claims the right
to kill himself in order to escape from the ills of existence! So ended
this famous school. At the same period, the herd of Epicurus' followers,
giving themselves over to weak and shameful indulgences, were thus in
fact laboring with all their might (this is Montesquieu's opinion) to
prepare that enormous corruption under which were to sink together the
glory of Rome and the civilization of the ancient world.

This struggle which rent the ancient conscience, and which still rends
the modern conscience wherever the goodness of God continues
veiled--this great conflict is appeased when we have come to understand
that goodness is the first principle of things, that happiness is our
end, and that the stern voice of conscience is a friendly voice which
warns us to shun those paths of error in which we should encounter
wretchedness. The conscience is the voice of the Master; and the same
authority which, speaking in the name of duty, bids us--"Be good,"
adds, in the gentle accents of hope--"and thou shalt be happy."
Happiness, duty,--these are the two aspects of the Divine Will. Love is
the solution of the universal enigma. Therefore, surprising as the
thought may be, it is our duty to be happy. Our profession of faith,
when we look above, must be: "I believe in goodness;" and when we enter
again into ourselves, our profession of faith should be: "I believe in
happiness." And we do not believe in it. Not to believe in happiness is
the root of our ills; it is the original misery which includes all our
miseries. Triflers that we are, we give ourselves