omitted some of the principal data, and therefore, it cannot be surprising if the result should prove a failure. In vain should we hope to obtain the greatest happiness by denying the first principles of our nature. God has given us propensities and corresponding gratifications of two very different kinds; and if by an over devotion to self we become dead to the social feelings, we abandon, of our own free will, some of the choicest blessings of His providence. When, therefore, the cares of life begin to engross our soul, when the more generous sentiments of youth wax cold by contact with the world, let us repair to the temple of Divine philosophy, and consult her hallowed voice. She will tell us, that in seeking for bliss, we must enlarge not contract our minds, and keep them open to reflected, as well as to direct felicity. Before quitting the threshold she will show us the altar of benevolence, rising beside her own, and will tell us to snatch from it a brand to nurse the sacred glow.

In that invaluable part of the "De Augmentis," where Bacon touches upon moral science, he lays particular stress upon what he calls the Bonum Communionis, or social good, considered as a source of happiness to the individual who pursues it; and he shows, by a reference to various systems of antiquity, that here lay their radical deficiency; for those systems placed happiness in the bonum suitatis only, or in that of which self is the direct object. This consideration alone is sufficient to determine the merits of many highly venerated schemes, which have been handed down to posterity under imposing names, to

some of which I have alluded in the opening of the present chapter. They agreed in this alone, that they were based upon a narrow view of human nature, some attending more to one class of phenomena, some to another, while the importance of the social feelings was properly estimated by none. The stoics, in some respects, approached most nearly to the truth; but their system was disfigured by the most shocking paradoxes, such as the denying of all outward advantages, and of pain as a real evil. Still to them belongs the merit of having estimated the social good much more justly than the rest. It was reserved for the Christian religion to raise the common good to its highest pitch, by enjoining us to love our neighbour as ourselves, a precept which philosophy shows to be equally favourable to both. Charity, like Mercy, is twice blessed, "it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.”

PART II.

ON DESIRE AND PASSION.

HAV

CHAPTER I.

On Desire in General.

AVING, by these general considerations, in some degree prepared the way for what is to follow, and, as it is hoped, already thrown a little light upon our path, we may proceed with greater security to inquire further into the essential elements of human happiness.

I. The first element to be mentioned is the existence of one or two strong and permanent desires for some object or objects. This is an element of the utmost importance. Two very different systems of life may be conceived and acted upon; in the one, a perpetual succession of little wishes is attempted to be kept up; in the other, one or two prominent and durable desires pervade our whole existence. Assuredly we ought to prefer this latter regulation of the mind. One or two strong desires give that zest to every thing in life, which nothing else can supply. They are not only eminently delightful in themselves, at least if well chosen, but they throw a charm round all other things by effectually expelling the tædium vita. They constitute a perpetual emotion generally

of an agreeable kind, and though, like every thing in life, sometimes accompanied with pains, they drive off the perpetually recurring pain of listlessness or ennui, which seldom fails to wait upon those who have no prominent desire. And true wisdom tells us, that it is better to endure some acute suffering of short duration, than a smaller uneasiness of much longer continuance. If then the system we are considering succeed in expelling ennui, it secures at least one immense advantage, for it puts to flight one of the most formidable foes to human happiness. In avoiding Scylla we may run, no doubt, into Charybdis, for such are anxiety and ennui in the voyage of life. But to be sure of steering clear of the latter is at least one certain good; and being at ease on this quarter, we can bend all our efforts to the other.

When the mind is under the empire of some strong desire, it can never be vacant of emotion, or of thought, and so left a prey to ennui, for if not engaged with the subordinate desires and the trains of thought to which they give rise, the main-spring itself enters to fill it up. But in the opposite case there will assuredly be frequent intervals between the satisfaction of one wish, and the finding out of some object for another, and in these intervals steps in our languid but wakeful foe. Nay, before one pursuit is fairly at an end the mind often feels a foretaste of its coming languor, and is trying to discover something else to occupy the vacant hour. Thus life is spent in a succession of petty desires and gratifications, alternating with positive suffering, a state as little enviable as can well be imagined. Among those who have no fixed

occupation, how many pass their days in solving two important questions! If they be in town, where the evening is chiefly looked to for amusement, the question is, what shall we do to-night? if in the country, where the morning affords most interest, the inquiry becomes, what shall we do to-morrow? In Paris, the qu'est ce que nous ferons ce soir is a problem perpetually solved, and yet for ever recurring ; in the country, the qu'est ce que nous ferons demain is again and again discussed.

Let any man examine his past life, and say whether he was happier when moved by some vast desire, or when, on the contrary, he was always on the watch for fresh interests and feelings to succeed in perpetual flow. I am confident that his answer will be in favour of the former period, particularly if the kind of desire were well chosen; for assuredly all are not equally conducive to happiness. Any, however, is better than none; or if there be an exception, it is in the case of the malevolent affections.

If a man have once been fairly in love, does he not look back upon that period as the most delightful in his existence? Can there be a stronger proof of the pleasure attending a strong desire?

The principle here insisted upon will serve to settle the oft debated question as to the comparative happiness of the married and the unmarried state. If a man be completely taken up with some grand desire of the self-regarding class, but more especially if he be engrossed by general benevolence, and have thus an object for his social affections, he may do without particular attachments: otherwise,