The Nature of Man: Studies in Optimistic Philosophy

humanity, while the greater part will consist of melancholy old age." * Against this idea that the happiness of the race will be the eventual result of progress, Hartmann employs the follow- ing arguments : " The happiest people are those who are the rudest and most primitive, and, among civilised races, the uneducated classes. It is well known that the pro- gress of education increases discontent. The progress of science contributes little or nothing to the absolute happi- ness of the world. Practically speaking, this progress is of advantage to politics, social life, morality, and the arts; but factories, steam-boats, railways, and telegraphs, have so far done no positive good to humanity." f Hartmann frequently recurs to the conclusion that the primitive are happier than the civilised, and that " the lower classes, inferior and rude, are happier than the rich who are well educated and great ; that idiots are happier than the intel- ligent, and that, as a general rule, the less sensitive a man's nervous system may be, the happier he is, as his capacity for feeling pain is not so much in excess of his capacity for enjoyment, and his i lusion is therefore greater. With the progressive development of human 'ty, however, not only is there an increase in the extent of human needs, but in the sensitiveness of the nervous system, and in the cultivation of the mind. In consequence, the balance of pain over pleasure increases, and the illusion is destroyed, that is to say, knowledge comes of the misery of life, of the vanity of most of the pleasures. Misery itself increases as much as knowledge of misery, as experience has shown ; and the apparent increase of happiness in the world, due to the progress of universe, is merely superficial.

Having reached this extremely pessimistic conclusion, that * Loc. cit. p. 615. t Loc. cit. p. 621, it is impossible for humanity to attain happiness, Hartmann proceeds to inquire into the real destiny of man. He would be no true philosopher if he did not hold that the world was created according to a general plan, and that it follows a regular course tending towards a definite end. " We have seen," he says, " how that in the present world all has been arranged in the wisest, and for the most part the best way, and that it should therefore be regarded as the best possible of worlds. Notwithstanding this, however, it is supremely miserable, and worse than if it did not exist at all."

Being convinced of the illusory nature of its hopes, humanity " must definitely renounce all pretensions to positive happiness, and aspire only to a freedom from pain, to annihilation or Nirvana. This, however, must not be merely the attitude of solitary individuals, but humanity at large must cry out for annihilation. This is the only possible outcome of the third and last phase of illusion." By what means is this end to be attained ? Hartmann is no advocate of suicide as the best remedy of the evils of human existence. Upon this point he agrees with Scho- penhauer, and thinks that such a course would have no effect upon the general progress of the cosmic process. A renunciation of pleasure — asceticism — would present no better solution of the problem. Even abstinence from repro- duction would not serve the purpose. " What good would it do," says Hartmann, " if humanity were to cease to be by means of sexual abstinence ? This unfortunate uni- verse would continue to exist, and the Unconscious would immediately take advantage of the opportunity to create a new man or some other similar type." * Thus it is not the disappearance of mankind that should constitute our aim, but " the complete abandonment of the individual to * Locf cit. p. 636,

the cosmic process, in order that the latter may accomplish its end and bring about the universal deliverance of the world." * This being so, the instinctive love of life reasserts itself, and it becomes necessary to admit, at least as pro- visional truth, " the validity of the will to live ; for it is only by complete resignation to life and its troubles, and not by cowardly renunciation and abandonment, that one may contribute one's share in the development of the cosmic process." f

Hartmann's proposed solution of the problem of human existence belongs undoubtedly to the category of systems advocating resignation. He is unable to tell us what is the cosmic process to which he bids man lend all his forces. He advises humanity to continue to live and to multiply in the full certainty that happiness cannot be attained. Hartmann obviously demands a true renunciation and an absolute submission. His solution has the appearance of being more exact, and of furnishing a guide to human con- duct more clear than that vague aspiration to Nirvana pro- posed by Schopenhauer. But on closer investigation it becomes at once plain that the greater precision is illusory.

It is easy to see, under such circumstances, that a school of criticism or negation of the pessimistic doctrines should have gained many adherents. Very few, on the other hand, have embraced pessimistic doctrines because of any power being inherent in them to resolve the difficulties of life A German pessimistic philosopher, Mailaender, J shared fully Schopenhauer's opinions as to the misery of human life, but opposed the latter's doctrine of resignation and Nirvana as the solution of the general problem of life.

J " Die Philosophic der Erlosung," 2 vols. Third Edition, Frankfort, 1894. Mailaender accepted the three stages of human illusion as expounded by Hartmann, but attacked vigorously the view of facilitating the cosmic process by acquiescence in the will to live. " Indeed," he cried, " your advice is that we should sacrifice ourselves to the cosmos , we are to choose a career, to learn a trade, acquire money, property, fame, power, and so forth ; we are to marry and to beget offspring ; by such advice you are merely undoing with your own hands the sole merit of your work, the analysis of illusion. You suddenly advise the very man who has got behind all these illusions to succumb to them again, as if an illusion, although it has been recognised, could still deceive and exer- cise its power." *

Mailaender takes an entirely different view of the problem. Like his predecessors, he is convinced of the futility of hap- piness, but he has achieved an original view of the cosmic process. He holds that an unaccountable and divine Being existed before the creation of the world. Before disappear- ing "this divinity gave birth to the universe." By this means, complete annihilation was made possible. " The world," says Mailaender, " is but the means for bringing about a condition of non-existence, and is the only possible means by which that end could be attained. God knew that only by creating a real world could we pass from existence into non-existence." Maileander regards as cer- tain " that the universe tends towards universal non-exist- ence." f This tendency is characterised by the weakening of the total amount of energy, so that " every individual at the close of the weakening process to which his energy is submitted, is led in the course of his development to the point at which his desire for annihilation may be fulfilled." j

Life on our planet, he says, ought to be regarded as a halting- place on the road to death. In order to appreciate fully the happiness brought by death, it is necessary first to taste of life, and that is why the instinct of self-preservation is so well developed in animals. Man passes first through a phase of development in which he is like any other animal. " As with them, the will to live is stronger than the will to die. Life is clung to with extreme pertinacity, and death is proportionately execrated." "At first, not only the fear of death increases, but equally the love of life. Terror of death becomes acuter Animals, knowing nothing of death, only fear it instinctively through their perception of approach ing danger. Man, on the contrary, knows of the existence of death and what it means. He looks back on his past life and wonders what the future may hold in store, and realises, infinitely more than animals realise it, the dangers that threaten him. During this phase, man does all in his power to keep death at bay, and to make his life as happy as possible. This, however, is not the last stage of his develop- ment. The thinking man soon comes to the conclusion that a craving for life is not the true aim of the universe ; it is only the means for attaining to a knowledge of the definite aim of existence, which is the cessation of life. Philosophy soon shows that perfect happiness is not possible, and that only death is really desirable.

In summing up the cosmic process, the conclusion arrived at is " that throughout the universe the desire of death exists in a form more or less masked, but that in the organic world this assumes the form of a will to live." * In the end, however, the desire of death becomes more and more plain, until the philosopher can see " in the whole universe nothing but a longing for absolute extinction, and fancies that he can hear the cry * Loc. cit. p. 3.34.

rolling from star to star, ' Deliverance, deliverance, death to our life ! ' and the echoing cry of consolation, ' Extinction and deliverance await you all ! ' " * In order to explain in a clearer way the progress of this evolution, Mailaender describes the state of mind of a man who develops the will to die, and commits suicide. " At first he glances anxiously and from afar at death, and shrinks from it with horror. Later, he draws nearer and walks round it in wide circles. Day by day, however, these circles become smaller, until finally he embraces Death with weary arms and looks it straight in the face. Then Peace comes ; gentle Peace ! " t

It is absurd to expect anything to follow death but abso- lute annihilation, and the ordinary man faces this prospect with terror. " But it is essential," says Mailaender, " that man should dominate the universe by knowledge, and wise men look forward to total annihilation with joy." J "In relinquishing Schopenhauer's will to live," concluded Mail- aender, " I have finally arrived at the will to die. I have raised myself upon the shoulders of Schopenhauer, until I have attained a point of view such as others have never accomplished. At present I am alone, but behind me all humanity is pressing on to freedom ; and before me is the clear translucent vista of the future." §

I have quoted these views, not because of the solidity of Mailaender's arguments, but merely because this pessimistic philosopher proved himself to be more con- sistent than his predecessors. While Schopenhauer and Hartmann, both so firmly convinced of the non-existence of happiness and the vast preponderance of suffering in all imaginable conditions of life, lived out their lives, Mailaender, true to his principles, committed suicide when barely thirty-five years of age.

This is probably not a solitary instance. Under the influence of pessimism, a certain number of young persons, especially those whose mental equilibrium is not very firmly established, follow in the tragic footsteps of Mailaender. Some commit suicide, while others abstain from taking part in the perpetuation of the race. Others, but these are not many, curtail their existence by dissipation, thinking life not worth the care of it. A modern writer of great talent, Maeterlinck, echoes the pessimism of the present generation. "It is plain," he says,* " that from one point of view humanity will always seem wretched, and as though being dragged towards a fatal precipice, since it will ever be doomed to disease, to the inconstancy of matter, to old age and to death." " Yes, human life as a whole is sad, and it is easier, I may almost say pleasanter, to discuss and expose its dark side, than to enumerate its consolations and make the best of them. The miseries of life are many, obvious, and never failing ; whereas the consolations, or rather the reasons which cause us to fulfil with alacrity the duty of living, are rare, hard to seek, and precarious."

Although pessimism has been greatly developed and widely spread during the nineteenth century, dissentient voices in opposition to this negative attitude towards the things of this world have not been wanting. Take the views of the German poet, Robert Hammerling,f who reproaches the pessimistic philosophers with ignoring the attitude of mind of the majority of mankind who ask but one thing, — life — life at any price and under any conditions. Against this sentiment all dogmatic arguments are useless, for, according to Hammerling, the question of pleasure and pain is a matter of feeling and not of reason. Now, with regard to the general feeling of humanity, there can be no doubt — it is frankly optimistic.

Max Nordau, the well-known writer, supports a similar theory. According to him, all living nature betrays its optimistic foundation. " The truth is," he says, " that opti- mism, limitless and irradicable optimism, constitutes the fundamental attitude of man, and is the instinctive feeling which governs him under all circumstances. All other forms of life confirm this truth. . . ." " All nature," according to Max Nordau, " by the bells of flowers and the throats of her birds, rings and proclaims the truth of optimism." " No animals feel the pain of the world ; and our own ancestor, the contemporary of the cave bear, was certainly free from all anxiety relating to the destiny of the human race."

These arguments do not take into account that, to be true, pessimism need not necessarily be felt and agreed with by all living creatures. Birds and other animals, happy in their lives, that is to say optimists, know nothing of the inevitability of death. Our cave ancestors knew nothing of it either. If the greater portion of modern humanity is optimistic, that might be accounted for by its being still under the influence of one of the three phases of illusion alluded to by Hartmann. It is only when the highest stage of development is reached that man, being convinced of the futility of his hopes, arrives at a pessimistic conception of the universe.

Max Nordau disclaims discipleship of Doctor Pangloss, who held that the world is the best of all possible worlds. But his arguments reveal a pronounced optimism. He regards pain as an indispensable factor of the maintenance of life. " Without pain," he says, " our lives would not endure an hour, for we should be unable to recognise dan- gerous symptoms and guard against them." Insensibility to pain is often so grave a symptom that sick people rejoice when they are again able to feel the prick of a needle.

This is true enough, but none the less the feeling of pain is very erratic in both animals and human beings. Quite insignificant causes and unimportant illnesses, such as certain forms of neuralgia, give rise to unbearable agony. A physio- logical phenomenon such as childbirth is often attended by extremely violent pain which is absolutely useless as a danger-signal. On the other hand, some of the most dangerous diseases, such as cancer or kidney disease, may exist for a long time without causing any sensation of pain, with the result that the sufferer knows nothing of the pre- sence of the disease until it is too late. Were pain to play the part assigned to it by Nordau, it would appear in all cases of danger, and yet would never become almost unbearably acute.

But when men have passed through the three stages of illusion it is not physical pain which presses most heavily on them. Max Nordau himself admits that it is " appalling to think of the cessation of our consciousness, and the anni- hilation of our ego." None the less, he believes " that we are so happily constituted as to be able to accept the really inevitable with a light heart, and that there is no ill feeling about the matter." This admission is not in accordance with the well-established facts discussed in chap. vi. With very rare exceptions man does not willingly accept the prospect of death, especially if he be still under the influence of illusion in any of its three stage?. As a rule those who desire to live feel not only a repugnance to the

contemplation of death, but death seems to them something abnormal and irrational. It is no answer to assert that all who feel this are psychopaths, or that it is absurd to think that the happiness of mankind counts for something in the cosmic process. On the contrary, it is quite natural that man should seek after happiness, and that he should try to analyse the phenomena taking place within him and around him from the point of view of that ideal. For this reason it is quite unjust to say that pessimism cannot be treated seriously. It is pessimism which has been the first to draw up a true indictment of human nature, and if pain is to be regarded as useful in its quality of danger-signal we should equally recognise that the pessimistic view of the universe is a step onwards in the evolution of humanity. Without pessimism we might easily sink into a kind of contented fatalism, and end in quietism, in the manner of many religions. It is only natural, however, that the thinking world should not accept pessimism as the last word of human wisdom, and that more or less noted philosophers should devote themselves to finding a possible solution of the problem of life and death. These systems of philosophy, one and all, have abandoned readily all belief in future life and personal immortality. But they have adopted pantheistic concep- tions, and have accepted the existence of some general prin_ ciple into which the individual consciousness will eventually be absorbed. There is division of opinion as to the pro- perties of this principle. For some it is the Idea, for others Will, for others Force, or Eternal Energy.* The nomen- clature is the less important as the views as to the nature of the general principle are absolutely vague. Accordingly this part of the philosophic doctrines appears in a lyrical form and has passed over into the domain of poetry. * Herbert Spencer.

German poets have helped to spread pantheistic con- ceptions very widely. I need hardly mention Goethe, whose ideas were purely those of Spinoza, but Schiller's well-known lines are precise :t — leben ? Leb im gazen ! Wenn du lange dahin bist, es bleibt ! " " Do you shrink from approaching Death ? and crave immortality ? Live on in the All ! Long after you vanish the All will remain ! " Riickert, in lines almost equally well known, expresses the same idea : —

" Vernichtung weht dich an, so lang Du Einzler bist. O, fuhl' im ganzen Dich, das unvernichtbar ist." " Annihilation fills you with terror, because you are self-centred. You must feel your unity with the All, which is indestructible." A volume might be filled with the attempts of thinkers of different countries to present these poetical ideas in a form less vague and more philosophical. I shall select only a few of the more modern instances. Kenan's * ideas may be taken as typical of the compro- mise between poetry and philosophy. Speaking of immor- tality, he said " that we shall each live again by the traces we leave on the bosom of the Infinite." t

The views elaborated by Guyau J are equally poetic. Like so many others he is unable to accept without protest the prospect of the inevitability of death. Brought face to face with this end, he declares that he feels " not sorrow but indignation, as against an injustice of nature." " It is with justice," he cries, " that we look on nature as a murderess if she kills what is morally best in ourselves and in others." * It is chiefly in the name of love that Guyau protests against death : " The death of others, the annihilation cf those we love, is insupportable to men, who are essentially thinking and loving creatures." f

This problem, so vast and so difficult to solve, is presented by him as follows : "As regards the question of individual immortality, human thought is dragged in opposite direc- tions by two great forces — science, in the name of evolution, prepared to sacrifice the individual completely ; love, in the name of an evolution, morally and socially higher, which would preserve the individual at all hazards. There is no more disturbing dilemma proposed to the philosopher." J

Guyau hopes that in the course of evolution there will come about a merging of individual consciousness in the consciousness of the whole. " One may ask," he says, " if it may not be that these conscious entities mingling and interpenetrating, may come to live on from one to the other, and so to acquire a new duration ? " On such a hypothesis he can foresee " an epoch not, indeed, certain to come, but far from inconceivable, in which individual consciousnesses will have achieved a corporate integrity and a complex intercommunion, without themselves being lost by the union." §

On this hypothesis, " the problem is to be at the same time loving enough and loved enough to live and endure in another. || . . . Those who vanish and those who remain must love one another so greatly that the shadows cast by them on the universal consciousness are identical." " We should then feel ourselves passing and ascending from this life to an immortality of love," and " the point of contact between life and immortality would be discovered." *

A solution recently offered by Finot f is much less poetical. According to him, it is only " when death is conceived of as annihilation that it is repugnant. On the other hand, if we regard it merely as a change of life, we shall cease to fear it, and even come to love it." J But what is this " change of life " that is to prove so consoling ? It is the " immortality of the body," that is to say, the life of the creatures developed at the expense of the human body. " Flies begin the work of the labourers on the dead," giving birth to worm-like larvae that writhe in the decomposing flesh. The same vermin that horrified Tolstoi when he thought of his own death (see chap. vi. p. 123) became Finot's symbol of consolation. He describes the whole succession of the fauna of corpses, and concludes by saying, " and so goes on the routine of life, from birth to the tomb, of noisy, clamorous life, ceaselessly renewed. Ever loving, giving birth, living and dying. The peace of the tomb is as filled with life as the dust into which we think our bodies will fall." §

I have given the above quotation as an instance showing to what lengths men have gone in their search for a solution of the problem of death and in their desire for a gleam of hope that the end may not be final. I need not say that this idea of the fauna of the corpse has no place in [the philosophy of death. Thinkers, no doubt, would prefer the most vague ambiguities to certainties of such a nature. Most contemporary philosophers regard the problem in a very different fashion.

In my opinion, Meyer-Benfey, a scholar at Gottingen, has summed up the present condition of the problem very clearly and exactly, in essays on Modern Religion.* He realises that it is impossible to accept the immortality of the soul. Personality must utterly and inevitably perish. But, just as no single atom of our bodies can be annihilated, so "no parts of our souls can be lost." Our actions during life leave traces so much the deeper as the life has been fuller. It is this reuniting " of the actions of individuals with the life of the whole of humanity, that constitutes the true immor- tality or Nirvana." He says, too, " In accustoming our minds to this thought, and in educating ourselves with a view to the accomplishment of this end, lies the only possible means of overcoming the fear of death and the terror of annihilation."