ence of objects that make us feel at once how limited
the former is that the other makes the experience of its force. The very
thing that lowers one to the earth is precisely that which raises the
other to the infinite.

Let us imagine a man endowed with all the virtues of which the union
constitutes a fine character. Let us suppose a man who finds his delight
in practising justice, beneficence, moderation, constancy, and good
faith. All the duties whose accomplishment is prescribed to him by
circumstances are only a play to him, and I admit that fortune favors him
in such wise that none of the actions which his good heart may demand of
him will be hard to him. Who would not be charmed with such a delightful
harmony between the instincts of nature and the prescriptions of reason?
and who could help admiring such a man? Nevertheless, though he may
inspire us with affection, are we quite sure that he is really virtuous?
Or in general that he has anything that corresponds to the idea of
virtue? If this man had only in view to obtain agreeable sensations,
unless he were mad he could not act in any other possible way; and he
would have to be his own enemy to wish to be vicious. Perhaps the
principle of his actions is pure, but this is a question to be discussed
between himself and his conscience. For our part, we see nothing of it;
we do not see him do anything more than a simply clever man would do who
had no other god than pleasure. Thus all his virtue is a phenomenon that
is explained by reasons derived from the sensuous order, and we are by no
means driven to seek for reasons beyond the world of sense.

Let us suppose that this same man falls suddenly under misfortune. He is
deprived of his possessions; his reputation is destroyed; he is chained
to his bed by sickness and suffering; he is robbed by death of all those
he loves; he is forsaken in his distress by all in whom he had trusted.
Let us under these circumstances again seek him, and demand the practice
of the same virtues under trial as he formerly had practised during the
period of his prosperity. If he is found to be absolutely the same as
before, if his poverty has not deteriorated his benevolence, or
ingratitude his kindly offices of good-will, or bodily suffering his
equanimity, or adversity his joy in the happiness of others; if his
change of fortune is perceptible in externals, but not in his habits, in
the matter, but not in the form of his conduct; then,