And generally whatsoever
is the level state of the hourly feeling is never put down by the
unthinking (_i.e._ by 99 out of 100) to the account of happiness: it is
never put down with the positive sign, as equal to + x; but simply
as = 0. And men first become aware that it _was_ a positive quantity,
when they have lost it (_i.e._ fallen into--x). Meantime the genial
pleasure from the vital processes, though not represented to the
consciousness, is _immanent_ in every act--impulse--motion--word--and
thought: and a philosopher sees that the idiots are in a state of
pleasure, though they cannot see it themselves. Now I say that, where this
principle of pleasure is not attached, madness is often little more than
an enthusiasm highly exalted; the animal spirits are exuberant and in
excess; and the madman becomes, if he be otherwise a man of ability and
information, all the better as a companion. I have met with several such
madmen; and I appeal to my brilliant friend, Professor W----, who is not a
man to tolerate dulness in any quarter, and is himself the ideal of a
delightful companion, whether he ever met a more amusing person than that
madman who took a post-chaise with us from ---- to Carlisle, long years
ago, when he and I were hastening with the speed of fugitive felons to
catch the Edinburgh mail. His fancy and his extravagance, and his furious
attacks on Sir Isaac Newton, like Plato's suppers, refreshed us not only
for that day but whenever they recurred to us; and we were both grieved
when we heard some time afterwards from a Cambridge man that he had met
our clever friend in a stage coach under the care of a brutal keeper.
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