stincts alive in every heart, were once well known.

Does not the whole wretchedness, the whole _Atheism_ as I call it, of
man's ways, in these generations, shadow itself for us in that
unspeakable Life-philosophy of his: The pretension to be what he calls
'happy'? Every pitifulest whipster that walks within a skin has his
head filled with the notion that he is, shall be, or by all human and
divine laws ought to be 'happy.' His wishes, the pitifulest
whipster's, are to be fulfilled for him; his days, the pitifulest
whipster's, are to flow on in ever-gentle current of enjoyment,
impossible even for the gods. The prophets preach to us, Thou shalt be
happy; thou shalt love pleasant things, and find them. The people
clamour, Why have we not found pleasant things?

We construct our theory of Human Duties, not on any
Greatest-Nobleness Principle, never so mistaken; no, but on a
Greatest-Happiness Principle. 'The word _Soul_ with us, as in some
Slavonic dialects, seems to be synonymous with _Stomach_.' We plead
and speak, in our Parliaments and elsewhere, not as from the Soul, but
from the Stomach;--wherefore indeed our pleadings are so slow to
profit. We plead not for God's Justice; we are not ashamed to stand
clamouring and pleading for our own 'interests,' our own rents and
trade-profits; we say, They are the 'interests' of so many; there is
such an intense desire in us for them! We demand Free-Trade, with much
just vociferation and benevolence, That the poorer classes, who are
terribly ill-off at present, may have cheaper New-Orleans bacon. Men
ask on Free-trade platforms, How can the indomitable spirit of
Englishmen be kept up without plenty of bacon? We shall become a
ruined Nation!--Surely, my friends, plenty of bacon is good and
indispensable: but, I doubt, you will never get even bacon by aiming
only at that. You are men, not animals of prey, well-used or ill-used!
Your Greatest-Happiness Principle seems to me fast becoming a rather
unhappy one.--What if we should cease babbling about 'happiness,' and
leave _it_ resting on its own basis, as it used to do!

A gifted Byron rises in his wrath; and feeling too surely that he for
his part is not 'happy,' declares the same in very violent language,
as a piece of news that may be interesting. It evidently has surprised
him much. One dislikes to see a man and poet reduced to proclaim on
the streets such tidings: but on the whole, as matters go, that is not
the most dislika