himself, he is compelled to censure; of which the idea generates shame
when his reflection permits him to contemplate them under the same point
of view that they are regarded by his associates. The virtuous man and
the wicked man act from motives equally necessary: they differ simply in
their organization--in the ideas they form to themselves of happiness:
we love the one necessarily--we detest the other from the same
necessity. The law of his nature, which wills that a sensible being
shall constantly labour to preserve himself, has not left to man the
power to choose, or the free-agency to prefer pain to pleasure--vice to
utility--crime to virtue. It is, then, the essence of man himself that
obliges him to discriminate those actions which are advantageous to him,
form those which are prejudicial to his interest, from those which are
baneful to his felicity.

This distinction subsists even in the most corrupt societies, in which
the ideas of virtue, although completely effaced from their conduct,
remain the same in their mind. Let us suppose a matt, who had decidedly
determined for villainy, who should say to himself--"It is folly to be
virtuous in a society that is depraved, in a community that is
debauched." Let us suppose also, that he has sufficient address, the
unlooked-for good fortune to escape censure or punishment, during a long
series of years; I say, that in despite of all these circumstances,
apparently so advantageous for himself, such a man has neither been
happy nor contented with his own conduct, He has been in continual
agonies--ever at war with his own actions--in a state of constant
agitation. How much pain, how much anxiety, has he not endured in this
perpetual conflict with himself? How many precautions, what excessive
labour, what endless solicitude, has he not been compelled to employ in
this continued struggle; how many embarrassments, how many cares, has he
not experienced in this eternal wrestling with his associates, whose