sacrés.' But even in this quarter we find an improved tone at the present moment, at once more vigorous and more hopeful. Maeterlinck, for example, in an article recently contributed to the 'Fortnightly Review,' speaks thus: 'Yes, human life, viewed as a whole, is perhaps rather a sorrowful thing; and it is easier, in a manner pleasanter even, to speak of its sorrows and let the mind dwell on them, than to go in search of, and bring into prominence, the consolations life has to offer. . . . But for all that, and whatever their ephemeral likeness may be, we have only to draw closer to them to find that they, too, have their mystery; and if this seem less visible and less comprehensible, it is only because it lies deeper, and is far more mysterious. The desire to live, the acceptance of life as it is, may perhaps be mere vulgar expressions; but, for all that, they are probably in unconscious accord with laws that are vaster, more conformable with the spirit of the universe, and therefore more sacred, than the desire to escape the sorrows of life, and the lofty but disenchanted wisdom that for ever dwells on sorrows.' What we have said shows that there is a manifest turn in the tide of pessimism, a revulsion from the flabby and flaccid larmoyant pessimism of the immediate past to one more vigorous, manly, and sane, and yet free from the misanthropic cynicism of Swift, Voltaire, Heine, and Schopenhauer, one more willing to adapt itself to the humane trend of recent thought, and more in conformity with common-sense. Hartmann himself distinctly tells. us, in the history of his own mental development, that it has been his aim throughout to free himself from the quietistic negation of the will recommended by Schopenhauer, and to bring his own pessimism into line with the optimistic theory of evolution; and in this attempt he and others have so far succeeded as to justify one of his philosophical friends in saying that, if you want to see for once contented and cheerful faces, you must go among the pessimists.' Thus, whatever may be said of pessimism as an intellectual system, and of the insecurity of its metaphysical basis in measuring happiness by a purely hedonistic standard, inconsistent with its underlying principles, or as a theory of life, faulty in its reasoning from insufficient data, and therefore arriving at a false conclusion, it can not be denied that it contains a certain substratum of truth which must not be overlooked in contesting its extravagant claims as a philosophical system or as a new religion. Its condemnation of egoism and the selfish pursuit of personal happiness; its insistence on the duty of subordinating the individual will to the higher demands of the law of self-sacrifice for the common good; its exposure of the danger of 'self-conscious finitude' warring against the constitution of things, instead of putting itself in right relation with the process of infinite progressionthese denote a considerable advance in the ethical growth of pessimism, concurrently with the progress of modern thought. Regarded in this light, pessimism may be said to supply a moral tonic much needed in the present day. It may be put down to the credit of pessimism that it has brought into prominence the tragic side of life, and thus combines with other salutary agencies at work to purify, elevate, and strengthen those emotions of sympathy and compassion which animate the sense of altruistic duty. 'It is only the spirit of rebellion that craves for happiness in this life,' says Manders in 'Ghosts.' 'What right have we human beings to happiness? No, we have to do our duty!' This sentiment is characteristic of pessimistic fiction and drama alike, and it is calculated to help in redressing the moral balance of the age, too much inclined to self-pity and self-indulgence, to self-exculpation in the neglect of social duties or the violation of social laws. As a reaction against the excesses of egoism, false eudæmonistic conceptions, and self-satisfied optimism, as well as a spur to altruistic endeavour; as a solemn warning against overestimating the value of external goods and the over-acquisitiveness peculiar to an age too prone to idolise worldly success, pessimism may prove a salutary corrective. If it goes too far in an opposite direction, holding up an impossible, if not irrational ideal of selfimmolation for the avowed purpose of helping forward the world-process,' culminating in self-destruction, this will bring its own cure. For the inadequacy of such a view of life and the 'cosmos,' such a conception of moral evolution as merely a prelude to a final catastrophe, will repel contemporary thought and bring it back to a saner conception of the meaning of life. Accepting the re siduum of truth contained in pessimistic criticism, it will be brought to recognise more fully what pessimistic speculation is apt to overlook, the medicinal virtue of pain and the disciplinary value of evil in the appointed order of things. On the other hand, pessimism, as a survival of Eastern philosophy, maintaining that life is nothing but a tissue of illusions, comes into direct conflict with Western ideas; for, in this aspect, its tendency is to kill the motor nerves of thought and action, and to introduce a weak and vacillating form of 'laissez faire, laisser passer' in all concerns of human interest. The contemptus mundi at times affected by pessimism in dwelling on the vanity of life, and its derisive view of human nature, reminding us of Hamlet's self-complacent and self-tormenting pessimism, are utterly at variance with the high ethical ideals it holds up, and irreconcilable with the great demands it makes on human nature. In its constant appeal to pity as the ruling principle of ethics, it is apt to mingle compassion with contempt. Ibsen, indeed, following Schopenhauer in his intense grimness, speaks of the majority as 'pitiably bad.' In weaker natures, where the profession of pessimism amounts to little more than maudlin sentiment, its enervating effects may produce serious evils. 'There is nothing like the bitterness of life for taking away the bitterness of death,' is an expression not unfrequently found in modern pessimistic novels. It indicates an attitude of mental drifting among the shoals of life's ocean, with the predominating thought that at best we only live to die, and that what supports us in the bitter struggle of life is the happy anticipation of eternal unconsciousness. Such a mental attitude can only culminate in what has been not unhappily characterised as 'the dulness of negative felicity.' There may be those, indeed, and among them men and women of brilliant powers and exalted aims, who have their doubts as to which may be best as a permanent force in human life-the pessimism which accepts defeat and death beforehand, or the optimism which presages a victory that may not be worth achieving. But is it necessary to choose between the two? Who shall hold the balance with unfaltering grasp and weigh in the scales the exact proportion of good and evil? Who shall venture to decide absolutely the question whether this is the best or the worst of all possible worlds, or declare with Von Hartmann that 'it is the best possible of worlds, but it is worse than none at all'? It is a problem which has occupied the mind of man at all times, and has increased in complexity with the rolling of the suns; and is this transition period in the course of human thought the most propitious moment for its final solution? We are not called upon to choose between the two alternatives. 'I do not perceive,' says Mr Hamerton in 'The Quest for Happiness,'' the universal victory of a benignant principle which is the foundation of optimism, nor the sure supremacy of a malignant principle which is the gloomy religion of pessimism.' He who sees life steadily and sees it whole' will be neither pessimist nor optimist, but rather make it his study to steer clear between the two opposite extremes. Could we stand outside and examine life and the 'cosmos' from an independent point of view, we might be able to come to some more definite conclusion, though even then the infinite range of possibilities and the immeasurable extent of interests would be apt to discourage or confuse the most daring and the most clear-sighted. But we are not standing by the shore calmly viewing the struggles of others on the sea of life; we are rather like infinitesimal atoms, gifted with limited intelligence, moving to and fro in the eddying currents of the ocean of existence, sometimes in light, more frequently in shadow, and all the time prevented by the rapidity of motion and the vastness of the survey from calmly judging of the process going on around us. It is not in man to measure the exact value of each individual life in its proper relation to the whole, and still less to calculate with mathematical nicety the preponderating value of good over evil. That the world contains much that is good for all of us we cannot deny; that there is much evil mixed with the good who can doubt? What remains for us to do is to hope and believe that after all "There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Art. XII.-THE MARQUIS OF SALISBURY. 1. The Life and Speeches of the Marquis of Salisbury, K.G. By F. S. Pulling. London: Sampson Low, 1885. 2. The Marquis of Salisbury. By H. D. Traill. London: Sampson Low, 1891. 3. The Life and Times of the Most Hon. the Marquis of Salisbury, K.G. By S. H. Jeyes. London: Virtue, 1896. 4. British and Foreign State Papers. Vols. LXXVII-XCI. London, 1876-1902. 5. Schulthess' Europäischer Geschichtskalender. Von Hans Delbruck und Gustav Roloff. Munich: Beck, 1876-1902. WITH the retirement of Lord Salisbury from the field of active politics, a career of prodigious activity and success, marked by singular dignity of conduct and loftiness of character, has come to an end. To essay a judicial appreciation of such a life is not easy, especially at the present moment. It is a commonplace of the biographic art that no absolutely trustworthy history is possible in the generation to which it belongs, partly because its judgments must inevitably be coloured by party feeling and personal prepossessions, and partly because the material with which it has to deal must necessarily be incomplete. In the case of modern statesmen there is a further difficulty to which public opinion a century ago was a stranger. While, on the one hand, many indispensable clues to motive must still remain hidden in secret state papers and personal confidences, the accessible materials relating to action are more abundant than ever they were; and this abundance is rendered more difficult of digestion by the increased complexity of political problems. In the case of Lord Salisbury the task of synthesis is made more perplexing by the fact that, in an age given over to reform, he became a living and successful force without sacrificing principles of a pre-reform origin. It is interesting to note how this paradox has been treated by the newspaper critics. On the Tory side it has been for the most part ignored, all attention being concentrated on his work as Foreign Secretary, which is undoubtedly his main title to fame. Among the Opposition and the great bulk of the unthinking public, however, the paradox Vol. 196.-No. 392. 2 x |