William Hurrell Mallock - Is Life Worth Living?
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William Hurrell Mallock >> Is Life Worth Living?
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20 IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?
BY
WILLIAM HURRELL MALLOCK
AUTHOR OF 'THE NEW REPUBLIC' ETC.
* * * * *
'Man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain.'
'How dieth the wise man? As the fool.... That which befalleth the
sons of men befalleth the beasts, even one thing befalleth them; as
the one dieth so dieth the other, yea they have all one breath; so
that man hath no preeminence above a beast; for all is vanity.'
'[Greek: talaiporos ego anthropos, tis me rudetai ek tou somatos
tou thanatou toutou];'
* * * * *
NEW YORK
G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS
182 Fifth Avenue
1879
I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK
TO
JOHN RUSKIN
_TO JOHN RUSKIN._
My dear Mr. Ruskin,--You have given me very great pleasure
by allowing me to inscribe this book to you, and for two reasons;
for I have two kinds of acknowledgment that I wish to make to
you--first, that of an intellectual debtor to a public teacher;
secondly, that of a private friend to the kindest of private
friends. The tribute I have to offer you is, it is true, a small
one; and it is possibly more blessed for me to give than it is for
you to receive it. In so far, at least, as I represent any
influence of yours, you may very possibly not think me a
satisfactory representative. But there is one fact--and I will lay
all the stress I can on it--which makes me less diffident than I
might be, in offering this book either to you or to the world
generally.
The import of the book is independent of the book itself, and of
the author of it; nor do the arguments it contains stand or fall
with my success in stating them; and these last at least I may
associate with your name. They are not mine. I have not discovered
or invented them. They are so obvious that any one who chooses may
see them; and I have been only moved to meddle with them, because,
from being so obvious, it seems that no one will so much as deign
to look at them, or at any rate to put them together with any care
or completeness. They might be before everybody's eyes; but instead
they are under everybody's feet. My occupation has been merely to
kneel in the mud, and to pick up the truths that are being trampled
into it, by a headstrong and uneducated generation.
With what success I have done this, it is not for me to judge. But
though I cannot be confident of the value of what I have done, I am
confident enough of the value of what I have tried to do. From a
literary point of view many faults may be found with me. There may
be faults yet deeper, to which possibly I shall have to plead
guilty. I may--I cannot tell--have unduly emphasized some points,
and not put enough emphasis on others. I may be convicted--nothing
is more likely--of many verbal inconsistencies. But let the
arguments I have done my best to embody be taken as a whole, and
they have a vitality that does not depend upon me; nor can they be
proved false, because my ignorance or weakness may here or there
have associated them with, or illustrated them by, a falsehood. I
am not myself conscious of any such falsehoods in my book; but if
such are pointed out to me, I shall do my best to correct them. If
what I have done prove not worth correction, others coming after me
will be preferred before me, and are sure before long to address
themselves successfully to the same task in which I perhaps have
failed. What indeed can we each of us look for but a large measure
of failure, especially when we are moving not with the tide but
against it--when the things we wrestle with are principalities and
powers, and spiritual stupidity in high places--and when we are
ourselves partly weakened by the very influences against which we
are struggling?
But this is not all. There is in the way another difficulty.
Writing as the well-wishers of truth and goodness, we find, as the
world now stands, that our chief foes are they of our own
household. The insolence, the ignorance, and the stupidity of the
age has embodied itself, and found its mouthpiece, in men who are
personally the negations of all that they represent theoretically.
We have men who in private are full of the most gracious modesty,
representing in their philosophies the most ludicrous arrogance; we
have men who practise every virtue themselves, proclaiming the
principles of every vice to others; we have men who have mastered
many kinds of knowledge, acting on the world only as embodiments of
the completest and most pernicious ignorance. I have had occasion
to deal continually with certain of these by name. With the
exception of one--who has died prematurely, whilst this book was in
the press--those I have named oftenest are still living. Many of
them probably are known to you personally, though none of them are
so known to me; and you will appreciate the sort of difficulty I
have felt, better than I can express it. I can only hope that as
the falsehood of their arguments cannot blind any of us to their
personal merits, so no intellectual demerits in my case will be
prejudicial to the truth of my arguments.
To me the strange thing is that such arguments should have to be
used all; and perhaps a thing stranger still that it should fall to
me to use them--to me, an outsider in philosophy, in literature,
and in theology. But the justification of my speaking is that there
is any opening for me to speak; and others must be blamed, not I,
if
the lyre so long divine
Degenerates into hands like mine.
At any rate, however all this may be, what I here inscribe to you,
my friend and teacher, I am confident is not unworthy of you. It is
not what I have done; it is what I have tried to do. As such I beg
you to accept it, and to believe me still, though now so seldom
near you,
Your admiring and affectionate friend,
W.H. MALLOCK.
P.S.--Much of the substance of the following book you have seen
already, in two Essays of mine that were published in the
'Contemporary Review,' and in five Essays that were published in
the 'Nineteenth Century.' It had at one time been my intention, by
the kindness of the respective Editors, to have reprinted these
Essays in their original form. But there was so much to add, to
omit, to rearrange, and to join together, that I have found it
necessary to rewrite nearly the whole; and thus you will find the
present volume virtually new.
Torquay, _May, 1879_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
THE NEW IMPORT OF THE QUESTION.
PAGE
The question may seem vague and useless; but if we consider its
real meaning we shall see that it is not so 1
In the present day it has acquired a new importance 2
Its exact meaning. It does not question the fact of human happiness 3
But the nature of happiness, and the permanence of its basis 4
For what we call the higher happiness is essentially a complex
thing 5
We cannot be sure that all its elements are permanent 7
Without certain of its elements it has been declared by the wisest
men to be valueless 8
And it is precisely the elements in question that modern thought
is eliminating 11
It is contended that they have often been eliminated before; and
that yet the worth of life has not suffered 13
But this contention is entirely false. They were never before
eliminated as modern thought is eliminating them now 17
The present age can find no genuine parallels in the past 19
Its position is made peculiar by three facts 19
Firstly, by the existence of Christianity 19
Secondly, the insignificance to which science has reduced the
earth 23
Thirdly, the intense self-consciousness that has been developed
in the modern world 25
It is often said that a parallel to our present case is to be found
in Buddhism 27
But this is absolutely false. Buddhist positivism is the exact
reverse of Western positivism 29
In short, the life-problem of our day is distinctly a new and an as
yet unanswered one 31
CHAPTER II.
MORALITY AND THE PRIZE OF LIFE.
The worth the positive school claim for life, is essentially a moral
worth 33
As its most celebrated exponents explicitly tell us 34
This means that life contains some special prize, to which morality
is the only road 34
And the value of life depends on the value of this prize 35
J.S. Mill, G. Eliot, and Professor Huxley admit that this is a
correct way of stating the case 36
But all this language as it stands at present is too vague to be of
any use to us 38
The prize in question is to be won in this life, if anywhere; and
must therefore be more or less describable 39
What then is it? 40
Unless it is describable it cannot be a moral end at all 41
As a consideration of the _raison d'etre_ of all moral systems will
show us 42
The value of the prize must be verifiable by positive methods 43
And be verifiably greater, beyond all comparison, than that of
all other prizes 44
Has such a prize any real existence? This is our question 44
It has never yet been answered properly 45
And though two sets of answers have been given it, neither of
them are satisfactory 45
I shall deal with these two questions in order 47
CHAPTER III.
SOCIOLOGY AS THE FOUNDATION OF MORALITY.
The positive theory is that the health of the social organism is
the real foundation of morals 49
But social health is nothing but the personal health of all the
members of the society 51
It is not happiness itself, but the negative conditions that make
happiness for all 51
Still less is social health any _high_ kind of happiness 54
It can only be maintained to be so, by supposing 55
Either, that all kinds of happiness are equally _high_ that do not
interfere with others 55
Or, that it is only a _high_ kind of happiness that can be shared
by all 56
Both of which suppositions are false 57
The conditions of social health are a moral end only when we
each feel a personal delight in maintaining them 58
In this case they will supply us with a _small portion_ of the
moral aid needed 59
But this case is not a possible one 60
There is indeed the natural impulse of sympathy that might tend
to make it so 61
But this is counterbalanced by the corresponding impulse of
selfishness 63
And this impulse of sympathy itself is of very limited power 63
Except under very rare conditions 63
The conditions of general happiness are far too vague to do more
than very slightly excite it 64
Or give it power enough to neutralise any personal temptation 66
At all events they would excite no enthusiasm 67
For this purpose there must be some prize before us, of recognised
positive value, more or less definite 67
And before all things, to be enjoyed by us individually 67
Unless this prize be of great value to begin with, its value will
not become great because great numbers obtain it 71
Nor until we know what it is, do we gain anything by the hope
that men may more completely make it their own in the future 72
The modern positive school requires a great general enthusiasm
for the general good 73
They therefore presuppose an extreme value for the individual
good 74
Our first enquiry must be therefore what the higher individual
good is 76
CHAPTER IV.
GOODNESS AS ITS OWN REWARD.
What has been said in the last chapter is really admitted by the
positive school themselves 77
As we can learn explicitly from George Eliot 78
In _Daniel Deronda_ 78
That the fundamental moral question is, '_In what way shall the
individual make life pleasant?_' 79
And the right way, for the positivists, as for the Christians, is
an inward way 80
The moral end is a certain inward state of the heart, and the
positivists say it is a sufficient attraction in itself, without
any aid from religion 81
And they support this view by numerous examples 82
But all such examples are useless 83
Because though we may get rid of religion in its pure form 83
There is much that we have not got rid of, embodied still in the
moral end 84
To test the intrinsic value of the end, we must sublimate this
religion out of it 86
For this purpose we will consider, first, the three general
characteristics of the moral end, viz. 88
Its inwardness 88
Its importance 89
And its absolute character 91
Now all these three characteristics can be explained by religion 93
And cannot be explained without it 96
The positive moral end must therefore be completely divested of
them 100
The next question is, will it be equally attractive then? 100
CHAPTER V.
LOVE AS A TEST OF GOODNESS.
The positivists represent love as a thing whose value is
self-dependent 101
And which gives to life a positive and incalculable worth 103
But this is supposed to be true of one form of love only 104
And the very opposite is supposed to hold good of all other forms 105
The right form depends on the conformity of each of the lovers
to a certain inward standard 105
As we can see exemplified in the case of Othello and Desdemona,
etc. 107
The kind and not the degree of the love is what gives love its
special value 108
And the selection of this kind can be neither made nor justified
on positive principles 109
As the following quotations from Theophile Gautier will show us 110
Which are supposed by many to embody the true view of love 110
According to this view, purity is simply a disease both in man
and woman, or at any rate no merit 116
If love is to be a moral end, this view must be absolutely
condemned 117
But positivism cannot condemn it, or support the opposite view 117
As we shall see by recurring to Professor Huxley's argument 118
Which will show us that all moral language as applied to love is
either distinctly religious or else altogether ludicrous 122
For it is clearly only on moral grounds that we can give that
blame to vice, which is the measure of the praise we give to
virtue 123
The misery of the former depends on religious anticipations 124
And so does also the blessedness of the latter 125
As we can see in numerous literary expressions of it 126
Positivism, by destroying these anticipations, changes the whole
character of the love in question 128
And prevents love from supplying us with any moral standard 131
The loss sustained by love will indicate the general loss
sustained by life 131
CHAPTER VI.
LIFE AS ITS OWN REWARD.
We must now examine what will be the practical result on life
in general of the loss just indicated 132
To do this, we will take life as reflected in the mirror of the
great dramatic art of the world 134
And this will show us how the moral judgment is the chief faculty
to which all that is great or intense in this art appeals 136
We shall see this, for instance, in _Macbeth_ 137
In _Hamlet_ 137
In _Antigone_ 137
In _Measure for Measure_, and in _Faust_ 138
And also in degraded art just as well as in sublime art 139
In profligate and cynical art, such as Congreve's 140
And in concupiscent art 141
Such as _Mademoiselle de Maupin_ 141
Or such works as that of Meursius, or the worst scenes in
Petronius 142
The supernatural moral judgment is the chief thing everywhere 143
Take away this judgment, and art loses all its strange interest 144
And so will it be with life 145
The moral landscape will be ruined 145
Even the mere sensuous joy of living in health will grow duller 146
Nor will culture be of the least avail without the supernatural
moral element 148
Nor will the devotion to truth for its own sake, which is the last
refuge of the positivists when in despair 149
For this last has no meaning whatever, except as a form of
concrete theism 152
The reverence for Nature is but another form of the devotion to
truth, and its only possible meaning is equally theistic 157
Thus all the higher resources of positivism fail together 161
And the highest positive value of life would be something less
than its present value 161
CHAPTER VII.
THE SUPERSTITION OF POSITIVISM.
From what we have just seen, the visionary character of the
positivist conception of progress becomes evident 163
Its object is far more plainly an illusion than the Christian
heaven 164
_All_ the objections urged against the latter apply with far more
force to the former 165
As a matter of fact, there is no possible object sufficient to
start the enthusiasm required by the positivists 167
To make the required enthusiasm possible human nature would
have to be completely changed 168
Two existing qualities, for instance, would have to be magnified
to an impossible extent--imagination 169
And unselfishness 170
If we state the positive system in terms of common life, its
visionary character becomes evident 172
The examples which have suggested its possibility are quite
misleading 173
The positive system is really far more based on superstition than
any religion 175
Its appearance can only be accounted for by the characters and
circumstances of its originators 175
And a consideration of these will help us more than anything to
estimate it rightly 178
And will let us see that its only practical tendency is to deaden
all our present interests, not to create any new ones 179
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PRACTICAL PROSPECT.
It is not contended that the prospect just described will, as a
fact, ever be realised 183
But only that it will be realised _if_ certain other prospects are
realised 185
Which prospects may or may not be visionary 186
But the progress towards which is already begun 187
And also the other results, that have been described already 187
Positive principles have already produced a moral deterioration,
even in places where we should least imagine it 187
As we shall see if we pierce beneath the surface 189
In the curious condition of men who have lost faith, but have
retained the love of virtue 189
The struggle was hard, when they had all the helps of religion 190
It is harder now 190
Conscience still survives, but it has lost its restraining power 191
Temptation almost inevitably dethrones it 192
And its full prestige can never be recovered 193
It can do nothing but deplore; it cannot remedy 194
In such cases the mind's decadence has begun; and its symptoms
are 194
Self-reproach 195
Life-weariness 195
And indifference 195
The class of men to whom this applies is increasing, and they are
the true representatives of the work of positive thought 196
It is hard to realise this ominous fact 197
But by looking steadily and dispassionately at the characteristics
of the present epoch we may learn to do so 198
We shall see that the opinions now forming will have a weight
and power that no opinions ever had before 199
And their tendency, as yet latent, towards pessimism is therefore
most momentous 200
If it is to be cured, it must be faced 200
It takes the form of a suppressed longing for the religious faith
that is lost 200
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