CHAPTER XIV.

THE SOURCES OF PESSIMISM.

HAVING now completed our journey of investigation in the somewhat inclement regions of pessimism, let us review our wanderings so as to see what results have been reached.

First of all, then, scientific and speculative pessimism. has been found to be an unverified and in many respects distinctly incorrect doctrine. The attempt to prove that human life always is and must be an excess of misery shows itself, when looked at in a calm and critical light, to be a complete failure. On the contrary, an impartial view of the facts of life and the teachings of science properly so called has led us to believe that happiness, interpreted in a rational sense, is and has been attained by some indeterminable proportion of mankind. Even if, however, which is far from probable-it could be made out that this number has been an inconsiderable one in the past, it is certain that human progress tends, however slow the process may be, very largely to heighten the quality of individual happiness and to increase the proportion of those to whom it is a possibility. And even if the existing order of things and human life itself are limited in duration, the conclusion is, for all practical purposes, too remote to modify the value of progress. As far as we can see, the world will move through its ringing grooves of change' long enough for mankind to raise their condition indefinitely, and to secure

for themselves, and even in a lesser degree for the lower animals who are dependent on their protection, a mode of life which, though far from being a state of ecstatic bliss, will be held by sober-minded persons to have a real and even a high value.

Now this conclusion appears to me to provide an adequate basis for practice. It presents to us a distinctly visible and attainable goal towards which our efforts may reasonably direct themselves. Even if it could be shown that it is vain as yet for the individual to aim at his own happiness, there remains the alternative of erecting the future good of mankind into an object of life-endeavour. That it is possible, when the appropriate emotional disposition is cultivated, to make this the crowning motive of life, few, if any, will deny. It may be repeated, too, that where there is this benevolent and far-reaching type of mind, the end aimed at is of a character to secure to the individual himself a certain, even though a moderate, quantity of happiness.

Our line of reasoning provides us, then, with a practical conception which lies midway between the extremes of optimism and pessimism, and which, to use a term for which I am indebted to our first living woman-writer and thinker, George Eliot, may be appropriately styled Meliorism. By this I would understand the faith which affirms not merely our power of lessening evil-this nobody questions-but also our ability to increase the amount of positive good. It is, indeed, only this latter idea which can really stimulate and sustain human endeavour. It might be possible, if life were not to be got rid of, to bring ourselves to labour in order to reduce to a minimum an inevitable excess of misery. But, as I have already hinted, pessimism would

seem to dictate to wise men the most speedy conclusion of life, both their own and that of all for whom they care. Meliorism, on the other hand, escapes this final contradictory outcome of a life-theory. By recognising the possibility of happiness and the ability of each individual consciously to do something to increase the sum-total of human welfare present and future, meliorism gives us a practical creed sufficient to inspire ardent and prolonged endeavour. Lives nourished and invigorated by this ideal have been and still may be seen among us, and the appearance of but a single example proves the adequacy of the belief.

Meliorism, then, is fitted to stimulate human endeavour, and so has the qualifications of a practical conception. In this it seems to me to be vastly superior both to pessimism and to optimism. That pessimism must paralyse effort needs not be proved. Schopenhauer preaches quiescence as the only possible aim of a sane man, and Hartmann only succeeds in appearing to supply a stimulus to action by means of the wildest freaks of metaphysical fancy. The fact that neither Schopenhauer, Hartmann, nor any other pessimist consistently abstained from seeking all the illusory good of life simply shows that men are often wiser (as well as better) than their creeds.

Does it fare better with optimism? At first sight a rosy image of life might seem to be the very best allurer of endeavour. If the garden of the world is full of luscious fruits and fragrant flowers, there appears to be the strongest inducement for going forth and culling enjoyment and for inviting others to accompany us, and there is no doubt that optimism comports with, and even encourages, an easy and agreeable kind of activity. On the other hand, however, it seems to me to tend to enfeeble and to paralyse all the

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loftier and more arduous varieties of human effort. If everything is as it ought to be, if 'whatever is is right,' if men do, after all, reach happiness, and all evil is only the cold stepping-stone which our foot has to touch for a moment before we plunge into the warm floods of felicity, the question naturally arises, 'Why need I trouble myself about my own or others' concerns?' The individual Calvinist, who is thoroughly assured that his eternal welfare is safe in the hands of God, has a powerful motive for moral and spiritual laziness; and if many eminent Calvinists have not fallen into this sloth, it is because they did not fully realise the logical outcome of their creed, or because the healthy moral impulses were already too deeply fixed as habits to be modified by new beliefs. So, one imagines, the human race, if it once brought itself to believe in the necessary excellence and perfection of life, would speedily relax all the higher kind of moral endeavour.1

The foregoing applies only to the most unqualified form of optimism. If, on the other hand, we frame a practical optimism, and say that life is as good as it could be, provided we make the best of it (which seems to be the practical faith of the best Christians), we, no doubt, reach an idea most encouraging to effort. Logically speaking, indeed, it appears to provide the most sustaining among all conceivable practical principles. Yet, as a matter of fact, men do not easily keep in view the proper logical outcome of this principle. The influences which encourage to sloth with respect to all the higher kinds of exertion are so numerous and powerful that any authoritative doctrine which seems to favour

1 Let the reader refer to J. S. Mill's eloquent posthumous essay on Nature in order to see how a superstitious admiration of the spontaneous course of things has tended to retard human effort.

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it is seized with avidity as a justification. Now, nothing is more natural than the step from the proposition All is well, provided I do my part,' to the same proposition robbed of its qualification. The prominent idea is still the rightness and excellence of the world's arrangements as a whole; and when this is deeply fixed on the mind, activity is apt to lose its main-spring. And thus it happens that so many Christians, though theoretically under an obligation to exert themselves, are practically hindered from doing so.

We have thus reached a conclusion widely divergent from that of modern pessimism, even though it escapes the opposite extreme of a blind optimism. It is, undoubtedly, a very rough conclusion, and possibly the evidence here brought forward in its favour will hardly seem to be convincing to the more sceptical class of mind. Such persons are wont to regard all inquiry into the worth of the world as idle and unworthy of the wise man. To take life as it is, and to make the best of it, not to seek too curiously to determine its worth, may well seem to be the part of a sensible if not of a philosophic mind. This attitude of mind is well represented by Voltaire at the close of Candide. Travaillons sans raisonner,' says Martin, 'c'est le seul moyen de rendre la vie supportable;' and again, Candide, in answer to Pangloss's amusing optimistic sophistries, Cela est bien dit, mais il faut cultiver notre jardin.' On the other hand, all will admit that some idea of worth in existence, if reached by sober methods of reflection, will greatly add to the motor forces which sustain our action. Such a result I have striven to secure. Of its logical value I must now leave my readers to decide.

In closing our examination of pessimism, it may be