The Philosophy of Despair | Page 7

of opium, of tobacco and of all kindred drugs are
mere tricks upon the nervous system. In greater or less degree they
destroy its power to tell the truth, and in proportion as they have
seemed to bring subjective happiness, so do they bring at last subjective
horror and disgust. And this utter soul-weariness of drugs has found its
way into literature as the expression of Pessimism.
"The City of the Dreadful Night," for example, does not find its
inspiration in the misery of selfish, rushing, crowded London. It is the
effect of brandy on the sensitive mind of an exquisitive poet. Not the
world, but the poet, lies in the "dreadful night" of self-inflicted
insomnia. Wherever these subjective nerve influences find expression
in literature it is either in an infinite sadness, or in hopeless gloom.
James Thompson says in the "City of the Dreadful Night":
"The city is of night but not of sleep; There sweet sleep is not for the
weary brain. The pitiless hours like years and ages creep - A night
seems termless hell. This dreadful strain Of thought and consciousness
which never ceases, Or which some moment's stupor but increases."
* * *
"This Time which crawleth like a monstrous snake, Wounded and slow
and very venomous."
* * *
'Lo, as thus prostrate in the dust I write My heart's deep languor and my
soul's sad tears - But why evoke the spectres of black night To blot the
sunshine of exultant years!
"Because a cold rage seizes one at times To show the bitter, old and
wrinkled truth, Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles False dreams,
false hopes, false masks and modes of youth."

All this, alas, is the inevitable physical outcome of the attempt to -
"Divorce old, barren Reason from my house To take the daughter of the
vine to spouse."
All subjective happiness due to nerve stimulation is of the nature of
mania. In proportion to its intensity is the certainty that it will be
followed by its subjective reaction, the "Nuit Blanche," the "dark
brown taste," by the experience of "the difference in the morning." The
only melancholy drugs can drive away is that which they themselves
produce. It is folly to use as a source of pleasure that which lessens
activity and vitiates life.
There are many other causes which induce depression of mind and
disorder of nerve. Where nerve decay is associated with genius and
culture, we shall find some phase of the philosophy of Pessimism. In
fact, cheerfulness is not primarily a result of right thinking, but rather
the expression of sound nerves and normal vegetative processes. Most
of the philosophy of despair, the longing to know the meaning of the
unattainable, vanishes with active out-of-door life and the consequent
flow of good health. Even a dose of quinine may convert to
hopefulness when both sermons and arguments fail.
For a degree of optimism is a necessary accompaniment of health. It is
as natural as animal heat, and is the mental reflex of it. Pessimism
arises from depression or irritation or failure of the nerves. It is a
symptom of lowered vitality expressed in terms of the mind.
There is a philosophical Pessimism, as I have already said, over and
above all merely physical conditions, and not dependent on them. But
the melancholy Jacques of our ordinary experience either uses some
narcotic or stimulant to excess, or else has trouble with his liver or
kidneys. "Liver complaint," says Zangwill, "is the Prometheus myth
done into modern English." Already historical criticism has shown that
the Bloody Assizes had its origin in disease of the bladder, and most
forms of vice and cruelty resolve themselves into decay of the nerves. It
is natural that degeneration should bring discouragement and disgust.
But whatever the causes of Pessimism, whether arising in speculative

philosophy in nervous disease or in personal failure, it can never be
wrought into sound and helpful life. To live effectively implies the
belief that life is worth living, and no one who leads a worthy life has
ever for a moment doubted this.
Such an expression as "worth living" has in fact no real meaning. To
act and to love are the twin functions of the human body and soul. To
refuse these functions is to make one's self incapable of them. It is in a
sense to die while the body is still alive. To refuse these functions is to
make misery out of existence, and a life of ennui is doubtless not
"worth living."
The philosophy of life is its working hypothesis of action. To hold that
all effort is futile, that all knowledge is illusion, and that no result of the
human will is worth the pain of calling it into action, is to cut