Perhaps the most curious and interesting
phrase ever put into a public document is “the
pursuit of happiness.” It is declared to
be an inalienable right. It cannot be sold.
It cannot be given away. It is doubtful if it
could be left by will.
The right of every man to be six feet
high, and of every woman to be five feet four, was
regarded as self-evident until women asserted their
undoubted right to be six feet high also, when some
confusion was introduced into the interpretation of
this rhetorical fragment of the eighteenth century.
But the inalienable right to the pursuit
of happiness has never been questioned since it was
proclaimed as a new gospel for the New World.
The American people accepted it with enthusiasm, as
if it had been the discovery of a gold-prospector,
and started out in the pursuit as if the devil were
after them.
If the proclamation had been that
happiness is a common right of the race, alienable
or otherwise, that all men are or may be happy, history
and tradition might have interfered to raise a doubt
whether even the new form of government could so change
the ethical condition. But the right to make
a pursuit of happiness, given in a fundamental bill
of rights, had quite a different aspect. Men
had been engaged in many pursuits, most of them disastrous,
some of them highly commendable. A sect in Galilee
had set up the pursuit of righteousness as the only
or the highest object of man’s immortal powers.
The rewards of it, however, were not always immediate.
Here was a political sanction of a pursuit that everybody
acknowledged to be of a good thing.
Given a heart-aching longing in every
human being for happiness, here was high warrant for
going in pursuit of it. And the curious effect
of this ‘mot d’ordre’ was that the
pursuit arrested the attention as the most essential,
and the happiness was postponed, almost invariably,
to some future season, when leisure or plethora, that
is, relaxation or gorged desire, should induce that
physical and moral glow which is commonly accepted
as happiness. This glow of well-being is sometimes
called contentment, but contentment was not in the
programme. If it came at all, it was only to
come after strenuous pursuit, that being the inalienable
right.
People, to be sure, have different
conceptions of happiness, but whatever they are, it
is the custom, almost universal, to postpone the thing
itself. This, of course, is specially true in
our American system, where we have a chartered right
to the thing itself. Other nations who have no
such right may take it out in occasional driblets,
odd moments that come, no doubt, to men and races
who have no privilege of voting, or to such favored
places as New York city, whose government is always
the same, however they vote.
We are all authorized to pursue happiness,
and we do as a general thing make a pursuit of it.
Instead of simply being happy in the condition where
we are, getting the sweets of life in human intercourse,
hour by hour, as the bees take honey from every flower
that opens in the summer air, finding happiness in
the well-filled and orderly mind, in the sane and
enlightened spirit, in the self that has become what
the self should be, we say that tomorrow, next year,
in ten or twenty or thirty years, when we have arrived
at certain coveted possessions or situation, we will
be happy. Some philosophers dignify this postponement
with the name of hope.
Sometimes wandering in a primeval
forest, in all the witchery of the woods, besought
by the kindliest solicitations of nature, wild flowers
in the trail, the call of the squirrel, the flutter
of birds, the great world-music of the wind in the
pine-tops, the flecks of sunlight on the brown carpet
and on the rough bark of immemorial trees, I find myself
unconsciously postponing my enjoyment until I shall
reach a hoped-for open place of full sun and boundless
prospect.
The analogy cannot be pushed, for
it is the common experience that these open spots
in life, where leisure and space and contentment await
us, are usually grown up with thickets, fuller of
obstacles, to say nothing of labors and duties and
difficulties, than any part of the weary path we have
trod.
Why add the pursuit of happiness to
our other inalienable worries? Perhaps there
is something wrong in ourselves when we hear the complaint
so often that men are pursued by disaster instead of
being pursued by happiness.
We all believe in happiness as something
desirable and attainable, and I take it that this
is the underlying desire when we speak of the pursuit
of wealth, the pursuit of learning, the pursuit of
power in office or in influence, that is, that we
shall come into happiness when the objects last named
are attained. No amount of failure seems to lessen
this belief. It is matter of experience that
wealth and learning and power are as likely to bring
unhappiness as happiness, and yet this constant lesson
of experience makes not the least impression upon human
conduct. I suppose that the reason of this unheeding
of experience is that every person born into the world
is the only one exactly of that kind that ever was
or ever will be created, so that he thinks he may be
exempt from the general rules. At any rate, he
goes at the pursuit of happiness in exactly the old
way, as if it were an original undertaking. Perhaps
the most melancholy spectacle offered to us in our
short sojourn in this pilgrimage, where the roads
are so dusty and the caravansaries so ill provided,
is the credulity of this pursuit. Mind, I am not
objecting to the pursuit of wealth, or of learning,
or of power, they are all explainable, if not justifiable, but
to the blindness that does not perceive their futility
as a means of attaining the end sought, which is happiness,
an end that can only be compassed by the right adjustment
of each soul to this and to any coming state of existence.
For whether the great scholar who is stuffed with
knowledge is happier than the great money-getter who
is gorged with riches, or the wily politician who is
a Warwick in his realm, depends entirely upon what
sort of a man this pursuit has made him. There
is a kind of fallacy current nowadays that a very
rich man, no matter by what unscrupulous means he has
gathered an undue proportion of the world into his
possession, can be happy if he can turn round and
make a generous and lavish distribution of it for worthy
purposes. If he has preserved a remnant of conscience,
this distribution may give him much satisfaction,
and justly increase his good opinion of his own deserts;
but the fallacy is in leaving out of account the sort
of man he has become in this sort of pursuit.
Has he escaped that hardening of the nature, that
drying up of the sweet springs of sympathy, which
usually attend a long-continued selfish undertaking?
Has either he or the great politician or the great
scholar cultivated the real sources of enjoyment?
The pursuit of happiness! It
is not strange that men call it an illusion.
But I am well satisfied that it is not the thing itself,
but the pursuit, that is an illusion. Instead
of thinking of the pursuit, why not fix our thoughts
upon the moments, the hours, perhaps the days, of this
divine peace, this merriment of body and mind, that
can be repeated and perhaps indefinitely extended
by the simplest of all means, namely, a disposition
to make the best of whatever comes to us? Perhaps
the Latin poet was right in saying that no man can
count himself happy while in this life, that is, in
a continuous state of happiness; but as there is for
the soul no time save the conscious moment called
“now,” it is quite possible to make that
“now” a happy state of existence.
The point I make is that we should not habitually
postpone that season of happiness to the future.
No one, I trust, wishes to cloud the
dreams of youth, or to dispel by excess of light what
are called the illusions of hope. But why should
the boy be nurtured in the current notion that he
is to be really happy only when he has finished school,
when he has got a business or profession by which
money can be made, when he has come to manhood?
The girl also dreams that for her happiness lies ahead,
in that springtime when she is crossing the line of
womanhood, all the poets make much of this, when
she is married and learns the supreme lesson how to
rule by obeying. It is only when the girl and
the boy look back upon the years of adolescence that
they realize how happy they might have been then if
they had only known they were happy, and did not need
to go in pursuit of happiness.
The pitiful part of this inalienable
right to the pursuit of happiness is, however, that
most men interpret it to mean the pursuit of wealth,
and strive for that always, postponing being happy
until they get a fortune, and if they are lucky in
that, find at the end that the happiness has somehow
eluded them, that; in short, they have not cultivated
that in themselves that alone can bring happiness.
More than that, they have lost the power of the enjoyment
of the essential pleasures of life. I think that
the woman in the Scriptures who out of her poverty
put her mite into the contribution-box got more happiness
out of that driblet of generosity and self-sacrifice
than some men in our day have experienced in founding
a university.
And how fares it with the intellectual
man? To be a selfish miner of learning, for self-gratification
only, is no nobler in reality than to be a miser of
money. And even when the scholar is lavish of
his knowledge in helping an ignorant world, he may
find that if he has made his studies as a pursuit
of happiness he has missed his object. Much knowledge
increases the possibility of enjoyment, but also the
possibility of sorrow. If intellectual pursuits
contribute to an enlightened and altogether admirable
character, then indeed has the student found the inner
springs of happiness. Otherwise one cannot say
that the wise man is happier than the ignorant man.
In fine, and in spite of the political
injunction, we need to consider that happiness is
an inner condition, not to be raced after. And
what an advance in our situation it would be if we
could get it into our heads here in this land of inalienable
rights that the world would turn round just the same
if we stood still and waited for the daily coming of
our Lord!