{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_31622/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_31622","id":"gutenberg_31622","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31622","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Biographies","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Optimism"],"text":"Produced by Mark C. Orton, Irma Spehar and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                               Optimism\n\n\n                            [Illustration]\n\n\n                               Optimism\n                               An Essay\n                            By Helen Keller\n                               Author of\n                        \"The Story of My Life\"\n\n\n                            [Illustration]\n\n\n                               New York\n                       T. Y. Crowell and Company\n                               Mdcccciii\n\n                   Copyright, 1903, by Helen Keller\n\n                       Published November, 1903\n\n              D. B. Updike, The Merrymount Press, Boston\n\n\n\n\nTo My Teacher\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n  Part i\n  Optimism Within               11\n\n\n  Part ii\n  Optimism Without              25\n\n\n  Part iii\n  The Practice of Optimism      53\n\n\n\n\nPart i. Optimism Within\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPart i\n\nOptimism Within\n\n\nCould we choose our environment, and were desire in human undertakings\nsynonymous with endowment, all men would, I suppose, be optimists.\nCertainly most of us regard happiness as the proper end of all earthly\nenterprise. The will to be happy animates alike the philosopher, the\nprince and the chimney-sweep. No matter how dull, or how mean, or how\nwise a man is, he feels that happiness is his indisputable right.\n\nIt is curious to observe what different ideals of happiness people\ncherish, and in what singular places they look for this well-spring of\ntheir life. Many look for it in the hoarding of riches, some in the\npride of power, and others in the achievements of art and literature;\na few seek it in the exploration of their own minds, or in the search\nfor knowledge.\n\nMost people measure their happiness in terms of physical pleasure and\nmaterial possession. Could they win some visible goal which they have\nset on the horizon, how happy they would be! Lacking this gift or that\ncircumstance, they would be miserable. If happiness is to be so\nmeasured, I who cannot hear or see have every reason to sit in a\ncorner with folded hands and weep. If I am happy in spite of my\ndeprivations, if my happiness is so deep that it is a faith, so\nthoughtful that it becomes a philosophy of life,--if, in short, I am\nan optimist, my testimony to the creed of optimism is worth hearing.\nAs sinners stand up in meeting and testify to the goodness of God, so\none who is called afflicted may rise up in gladness of conviction and\ntestify to the goodness of life.\n\nOnce I knew the depth where no hope was, and darkness lay on the face\nof all things. Then love came and set my soul free. Once I knew only\ndarkness and stillness. Now I know hope and joy. Once I fretted and\nbeat myself against the wall that shut me in. Now I rejoice in the\nconsciousness that I can think, act and attain heaven. My life was\nwithout past or future; death, the pessimist would say, \"a\nconsummation devoutly to be wished.\" But a little word from the\nfingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness, and\nmy heart leaped to the rapture of living. Night fled before the day\nof thought, and love and joy and hope came up in a passion of\nobedience to knowledge. Can anyone who has escaped such captivity, who\nhas felt the thrill and glory of freedom, be a pessimist?\n\nMy early experience was thus a leap from bad to good. If I tried, I\ncould not check the momentum of my first leap out of the dark; to move\nbreast forward is a habit learned suddenly at that first moment of\nrelease and rush into the light. With the first word I used\nintelligently, I learned to live, to think, to hope. Darkness cannot\nshut me in again. I have had a glimpse of the shore, and can now live\nby the hope of reaching it.\n\nSo my optimism is no mild and unreasoning satisfaction. A poet once\nsaid I must be happy because I did not see the bare, cold present, but\nlived in a beautiful dream. I do live in a beautiful dream; but that\ndream is the actual, the present,--not cold, but warm; not bare, but\nfurnished with a thousand blessings. The very evil which the poet\nsupposed would be a cruel disillusionment is necessary to the fullest\nknowledge of joy. Only by contact with evil could I have learned to\nfeel by contrast the beauty of truth and love and goodness.\n\nIt is a mistake always to contemplate the good and ignore the evil,\nbecause by making people neglectful it lets in disaster. There is a\ndangerous optimism of ignorance and indifference. It is not enough to\nsay that the twentieth century is the best age in the history of\nmankind, and to take refuge from the evils of the world in skyey\ndreams of good. How many good men, prosperous and contented, looked\naround and saw naught but good, while millions of their fellowmen were\nbartered and sold like cattle! No doubt, there were comfortable\noptimists who thought Wilberforce a meddlesome fanatic when he was\nworking with might and main to free the slaves. I distrust the rash\noptimism in this country that cries, \"Hurrah, we're all right! This is\nthe greatest nation on earth,\" when there are grievances that call\nloudly for redress. That is false optimism. Optimism that does not\ncount the cost is like a house builded on sand. A man must understand\nevil and be acquainted with sorrow before he can write himself an\noptimist and expect others to believe that he has reason for the faith\nthat is in him.\n\nI know what evil is. Once or twice I have wrestled with it, and for a\ntime felt its chilling touch on my life; so I speak with knowledge\nwhen I say that evil is of no consequence, except as a sort of mental\ngymnastic. For the very reason that I have come in contact with it, I\nam more truly an optimist. I can say with conviction that the struggle\nwhich evil necessitates is one of the greatest blessings. It makes us\nstrong, patient, helpful men and women. It lets us into the soul of\nthings and teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it\nis full also of the overcoming of it. My optimism, then, does not rest\non the absence of evil, but on a glad belief in the preponderance of\ngood and a willing effort always to co\u00f6perate with the good, that it\nmay prevail. I try to increase the power God has given me to see the\nbest in everything and every one, and make that Best a part of my\nlife. The world is sown with good; but unless I turn my glad thoughts\ninto practical living and till my own field, I cannot reap a kernel of\nthe good.\n\nThus my optimism is grounded in two worlds, myself and what is about\nme. I demand that the world be good, and lo, it obeys. I proclaim the\nworld good, and facts range themselves to prove my proclamation\noverwhelmingly true. To what is good I open the doors of my being, and\njealously shut them against what is bad. Such is the force of this\nbeautiful and wilful conviction, it carries itself in the face of all\nopposition. I am never discouraged by absence of good. I never can be\nargued into hopelessness. Doubt and mistrust are the mere panic of\ntimid imagination, which the steadfast heart will conquer, and the\nlarge mind transcend.\n\nAs my college days draw to a close, I find myself looking forward with\nbeating heart and bright anticipations to what the future holds of\nactivity for me. My share in the work of the world may be limited; but\nthe fact that it is work makes it precious. Nay, the desire and will\nto work is optimism itself.\n\nTwo generations ago Carlyle flung forth his gospel of work. To the\ndreamers of the Revolution, who built cloud-castles of happiness, and,\nwhen the inevitable winds rent the castles asunder, turned\npessimists--to those ineffectual Endymions, Alastors and Werthers,\nthis Scots peasant, man of dreams in the hard, practical world, cried\naloud his creed of labor. \"Be no longer a Chaos, but a World. Produce!\nproduce! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a\nproduct, produce it, in God's name! 'Tis the utmost thou hast in thee;\nout with it, then. Up, up! whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it\nwith thy whole might. Work while it is called To-day; for the Night\ncometh wherein no man may work.\"\n\nSome have said Carlyle was taking refuge from a hard world by bidding\nmen grind and toil, eyes to the earth, and so forget their misery.\nThis is not Carlyle's thought. \"Fool!\" he cries, \"the Ideal is in\nthyself; the Impediment is also in thyself. Work out the Ideal in the\npoor, miserable Actual; live, think, believe, and be free!\" It is\nplain what he says, that work, production, brings life out of chaos,\nmakes the individual a world, an order; and order is optimism.\n\nI, too, can work, and because I love to labor with my head and my\nhands, I am an optimist in spite of all. I used to think I should be\nthwarted in my desire to do something useful. But I have found out\nthat though the ways in which I can make myself useful are few, yet\nthe work open to me is endless. The gladdest laborer in the vineyard\nmay be a cripple. Even should the others outstrip him, yet the\nvineyard ripens in the sun each year, and the full clusters weigh\ninto his hand. Darwin could work only half an hour at a time; yet in\nmany diligent half-hours he laid anew the foundations of philosophy. I\nlong to accomplish a great and noble task; but it is my chief duty and\njoy to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble. It\nis my service to think how I can best fulfil the demands that each day\nmakes upon me, and to rejoice that others can do what I cannot. Green,\nthe historian,[1] tells us that the world is moved along, not only by\nthe mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of the tiny\npushes of each honest worker; and that thought alone suffices to guide\nme in this dark world and wide. I love the good that others do; for\ntheir activity is an assurance that whether I can help or not, the\ntrue and the good will stand sure.\n\n    [1] Life and Letters of John Richard Green. Edited by Leslie Stephen.\n\nI trust, and nothing that happens disturbs my trust. I recognize the\nbeneficence of the power which we all worship as supreme--Order, Fate,\nthe Great Spirit, Nature, God. I recognize this power in the sun that\nmakes all things grow and keeps life afoot. I make a friend of this\nindefinable force, and straightway I feel glad, brave and ready for\nany lot Heaven may decree for me. This is my religion of optimism.\n\n\n\n\nPart ii. Optimism Without\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPart ii\n\nOptimism Without\n\n\nOptimism, then, is a fact within my own heart. But as I look out upon\nlife, my heart meets no contradiction. The outward world justifies my\ninward universe of good. All through the years I have spent in\ncollege, my reading has been a continuous discovery of good. In\nliterature, philosophy, religion and history I find the mighty\nwitnesses to my faith.\n\nPhilosophy is the history of a deaf-blind person writ large. From the\ntalks of Socrates up through Plato, Berkeley and Kant, philosophy\nrecords the efforts of human intelligence to be free of the clogging\nmaterial world and fly forth into a universe of pure idea. A\ndeaf-blind person ought to find special meaning in Plato's Ideal\nWorld. These things which you see and hear and touch are not the\nreality of realities, but imperfect manifestations of the Idea, the\nPrinciple, the Spiritual; the Idea is the truth, the rest is delusion.\n\nIf this be so, my brethren who enjoy the fullest use of the senses are\nnot aware of any reality which may not equally well be in reach of my\nmind. Philosophy gives to the mind the prerogative of seeing truth,\nand bears us into a realm where I, who am blind, am not different from\nyou who see. When I learned from Berkeley that your eyes receive an\ninverted image of things which your brain unconsciously corrects, I\nbegan to suspect that the eye is not a very reliable instrument after\nall, and I felt as one who had been restored to equality with others,\nglad, not because the senses avail them so little, but because in\nGod's eternal world, mind and spirit avail so much. It seemed to me\nthat philosophy had been written for my special consolation, whereby I\nget even with some modern philosophers who apparently think that I was\nintended as an experimental case for their special instruction! But in\na little measure my small voice of individual experience does join in\nthe declaration of philosophy that the good is the only world, and\nthat world is a world of spirit. It is also a universe where order is\nAll, where an unbroken logic holds the parts together, where disorder\ndefines itself as non-existence, where evil, as St. Augustine held, is\ndelusion, and therefore is not.\n\nThe meaning of philosophy to me is not only in its principles, but\nalso in the happy isolation of its great expounders. They were seldom\nof the world, even when like Plato and Leibnitz they moved in its\ncourts and drawing-rooms. To the tumult of life they were deaf, and\nthey were blind to its distraction and perplexing diversities. Sitting\nalone, but not in darkness, they learned to find everything in\nthemselves, and failing to find it even there, they still trusted in\nmeeting the truth face to face when they should leave the earth behind\nand become partakers in the wisdom of God. The great mystics lived\nalone, deaf and blind, but dwelling with God.\n\nI understand how it was possible for Spinoza to find deep and\nsustained happiness when he was excommunicated, poor, despised and\nsuspected alike by Jew and Christian; not that the kind world of men\never treated me so, but that his isolation from the universe of\nsensuous joys is somewhat analogous to mine. He loved the good for its\nown sake. Like many great spirits he accepted his place in the world,\nand confided himself childlike to a higher power, believing that it\nworked through his hands and predominated in his being. He trusted\nimplicitly, and that is what I do. Deep, solemn optimism, it seems to\nme, should spring from this firm belief in the presence of God in the\nindividual; not a remote, unapproachable governor of the universe, but\na God who is very near every one of us, who is present not only in\nearth, sea and sky, but also in every pure and noble impulse of our\nhearts, \"the source and centre of all minds, their only point of\nrest.\"\n\nThus from philosophy I learn that we see only shadows and know only\nin part, and that all things change; but the mind, the unconquerable\nmind, compasses all truth, embraces the universe as it is, converts\nthe shadows to realities and makes tumultuous changes seem but moments\nin an eternal silence, or short lines in the infinite theme of\nperfection, and the evil but \"a halt on the way to good.\" Though with\nmy hand I grasp only a small part of the universe, with my spirit I\nsee the whole, and in my thought I can compass the beneficent laws by\nwhich it is governed. The confidence and trust which these conceptions\ninspire teach me to rest safe in my life as in a fate, and protect me\nfrom spectral doubts and fears. Verily, blessed are ye that have not\nseen, and yet have believed.\n\nAll the world's great philosophers have been lovers of God and\nbelievers in man's inner goodness. To know the history of philosophy\nis to know that the highest thinkers of the ages, the seers of the\ntribes and the nations, have been optimists.\n\nThe growth of philosophy is the story of man's spiritual life. Outside\nlies that great mass of events which we call History. As I look on\nthis mass, I see it take form and shape itself in the ways of God. The\nhistory of man is an epic of progress. In the world within and the\nworld without I see a wonderful correspondence, a glorious symbolism\nwhich reveals the human and the divine communing together, the lesson\nof philosophy repeated in fact. In all the parts that compose the\nhistory of mankind hides the spirit of good, and gives meaning to the\nwhole.\n\nFar back in the twilight of history I see the savage fleeing from the\nforces of nature which he has not learned to control, and seeking to\npropitiate supernatural beings which are but the creation of his\nsuperstitious fear. With a shift of imagination I see the savage\nemancipated, civilized. He no longer worships the grim deities of\nignorance. Through suffering he has learned to build a roof over his\nhead, to defend his life and his home, and over his state he has\nerected a temple in which he worships the joyous gods of light and\nsong. From suffering he has learned justice; from the struggle with\nhis fellows he has learned the distinction between right and wrong\nwhich makes him a moral being. He is gifted with the genius of Greece.\n\nBut Greece was not perfect. Her poetical and religious ideals were far\nabove her practice; therefore she died, that her ideals might survive\nto ennoble coming ages.\n\nRome, too, left the world a rich inheritance. Through the\nvicissitudes of history her laws and ordered government have stood a\nmajestic object-lesson for the ages. But when the stern, frugal\ncharacter of her people ceased to be the bone and sinew of her\ncivilization, Rome fell.\n\nThen came the new nations of the North and founded a more permanent\nsociety. The base of Greek and Roman society was the slave, crushed\ninto the condition of the wretches who \"labored, foredone, in the\nfield and at the workshop, like haltered horses, if blind, so much the\nquieter.\" The base of the new society was the freeman who fought,\ntilled, judged and grew from more to more. He wrought a state out of\ntribal kinship and fostered an independence and self-reliance which no\noppression could destroy. The story of man's slow ascent from savagery\nthrough barbarism and self-mastery to civilization is the embodiment\nof the spirit of optimism. From the first hour of the new nations each\ncentury has seen a better Europe, until the development of the world\ndemanded America.\n\nTolstoi said the other day that America, once the hope of the world,\nwas in bondage to Mammon. Tolstoi and other Europeans have still much\nto learn about this great, free country of ours before they understand\nthe unique civic struggle which America is undergoing. She is\nconfronted with the mighty task of assimilating all the foreigners\nthat are drawn together from every country, and welding them into one\npeople with one national spirit. We have the right to demand the\nforbearance of critics until the United States has demonstrated\nwhether she can make one people out of all the nations of the earth.\nLondon economists are alarmed at less than five hundred thousand\nforeign-born in a population of six million, and discuss earnestly the\ndanger of too many aliens. But what is their problem in comparison\nwith that of New York, which counts nearly one million five hundred\nthousand foreigners among its three and a half million citizens? Think\nof it! Every third person in our American metropolis is an alien. By\nthese figures alone America's greatness can be measured.\n\nIt is true, America has devoted herself largely to the solution of\nmaterial problems--breaking the fields, opening mines, irrigating\ndeserts, spanning the continent with railroads; but she is doing these\nthings in a new way, by educating her people, by placing at the\nservice of every man's need every resource of human skill. She is\ntransmuting her industrial wealth into the education of her workmen,\nso that unskilled people shall have no place in American life, so that\nall men shall bring mind and soul to the control of matter. Her\nchildren are not drudges and slaves. The Constitution has declared it,\nand the spirit of our institutions has confirmed it. The best the land\ncan teach them they shall know. They shall learn that there is no\nupper class in their country, and no lower, and they shall understand\nhow it is that God and His world are for everybody.\n\nAmerica might do all this, and still be selfish, still be a worshipper\nof Mammon. But America is the home of charity as well as of commerce.\nIn the midst of roaring traffic, side by side with noisy factory and\nsky-reaching warehouse, one sees the school, the library, the\nhospital, the park-works of public benevolence which represent wealth\nwrought into ideas that shall endure forever. Behold what America has\nalready done to alleviate suffering and restore the afflicted to\nsociety--given sight to the fingers of the blind, language to the dumb\nlip, and mind to the idiot clay, and tell me if indeed she worships\nMammon only. Who shall measure the sympathy, skill and intelligence\nwith which she ministers to all who come to her, and lessens the\never-swelling tide of poverty, misery and degradation which every year\nrolls against her gates from all the nations?\n\nWhen I reflect on all these facts, I cannot but think that, Tolstoi\nand other theorists to the contrary, it is a splendid thing to be an\nAmerican. In America the optimist finds abundant reason for confidence\nin the present and hope for the future, and this hope, this\nconfidence, may well extend over all the great nations of the earth.\n\nIf we compare our own time with the past, we find in modern statistics\na solid foundation for a confident and buoyant world-optimism. Beneath\nthe doubt, the unrest, the materialism, which surround us still glows\nand burns at the world's best life a steadfast faith. To hear the\npessimist, one would think civilization had bivouacked in the Middle\nAges, and had not had marching orders since. He does not realize that\nthe progress of evolution is not an uninterrupted march.\n\n    \"Now touching goal, now backward hurl'd,\n    Toils the indomitable world.\"\n\nI have recently read an address by one whose knowledge it would be\npresumptuous to challenge.[2] In it I find abundant evidence of\nprogress.\n\n    [2] Address by the Hon. Carroll D. Wright before the\n    Unitarian Conference, September, 1903.\n\nDuring the past fifty years crime has decreased. True, the records of\nto-day contain a longer list of crime. But our statistics are more\ncomplete and accurate than the statistics of times past. Besides,\nthere are many offences on the list which half a century ago would not\nhave been thought of as crimes. This shows that the public conscience\nis more sensitive than it ever was.\n\nOur definition of crime has grown stricter, our punishment of it more\nlenient and intelligent. The old feeling of revenge has largely\ndisappeared. It is no longer an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.\nThe criminal is treated as one who is diseased. He is confined not\nmerely for punishment, but because he is a menace to society. While he\nis under restraint, he is treated with humane care and disciplined so\nthat his mind shall be cured of its disease, and he shall be restored\nto society able to do his part of its work.\n\nAnother sign of awakened and enlightened public conscience is the\neffort to provide the working-class with better houses. Did it occur\nto any one a hundred years ago to think whether the dwellings of the\npoor were sanitary, convenient or sunny? Do not forget that in the\n\"good old times\" cholera and typhus devastated whole counties, and\nthat pestilence walked abroad in the capitals of Europe.\n\nNot only have our laboring-classes better houses and better places to\nwork in; but employers recognize the right of the employed to seek\nmore than the bare wage of existence. In the darkness and turmoil of\nour modern industrial strifes we discern but dimly the principles that\nunderlie the struggle. The recognition of the right of all men to\nlife, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, a spirit of conciliation\nsuch as Burke dreamed of, the willingness on the part of the strong\nto make concessions to the weak, the realization that the rights of\nthe employer are bound up in the rights of the employed--in these the\noptimist beholds the signs of our times.\n\nAnother right which the State has recognized as belonging to each man\nis the right to an education. In the enlightened parts of Europe and\nin America every city, every town, every village, has its school; and\nit is no longer a class who have access to knowledge, for to the\nchildren of the poorest laborer the school-door stands open. From the\ncivilized nations universal education is driving the dull host of\nilliteracy.\n\nEducation broadens to include all men, and deepens to reach all\ntruths. Scholars are no longer confined to Greek, Latin and\nmathematics, but they also study science; and science converts the\ndreams of the poet, the theory of the mathematician and the fiction of\nthe economist into ships, hospitals and instruments that enable one\nskilled hand to perform the work of a thousand. The student of to-day\nis not asked if he has learned his grammar. Is he a mere\ngrammar-machine, a dry catalogue of scientific facts, or has he\nacquired the qualities of manliness? His supreme lesson is to grapple\nwith great public questions, to keep his mind hospitable to new ideas\nand new views of truth, to restore the finer ideals that are lost\nsight of in the struggle for wealth and to promote justice between man\nand man. He learns that there may be substitutes for human\nlabor--horse-power and machinery and books; but \"there are no\nsubstitutes for common sense, patience, integrity, courage.\"\n\nWho can doubt the vastness of the achievements of education when one\nconsiders how different the condition of the blind and the deaf is\nfrom what it was a century ago? They were then objects of\nsuperstitious pity, and shared the lowest beggar's lot. Everybody\nlooked upon their case as hopeless, and this view plunged them deeper\nin despair. The blind themselves laughed in the face of Ha\u00fcy when he\noffered to teach them to read. How pitiable is the cramped sense of\nimprisonment in circumstances which teaches men to expect no good and\nto treat any attempt to relieve them as the vagary of a disordered\nmind! But now, behold the transformation; see how institutions and\nindustrial establishments for the blind have sprung up as if by magic;\nsee how many of the deaf have learned not only to read and write, but\nto speak; and remember that the faith and patience of Dr. Howe have\nborne fruit in the efforts that are being made everywhere to educate\nthe deaf-blind and equip them for the struggle. Do you wonder that I\nam full of hope and lifted up?\n\nThe highest result of education is tolerance. Long ago men fought and\ndied for their faith; but it took ages to teach them the other kind of\ncourage,--the courage to recognize the faiths of their brethren and\ntheir rights of conscience. Tolerance is the first principle of\ncommunity; it is the spirit which conserves the best that all men\nthink. No loss by flood and lightning, no destruction of cities and\ntemples by the hostile forces of nature, has deprived man of so many\nnoble lives and impulses as those which his intolerance has destroyed.\n\nWith wonder and sorrow I go back in thought to the ages of\nintolerance and bigotry. I see Jesus received with scorn and nailed\non the cross. I see his followers hounded and tortured and burned. I\nam present where the finer spirits that revolt from the superstition\nof the Middle Ages are accused of impiety and stricken down. I behold\nthe children of Israel reviled and persecuted unto death by those who\npretend Christianity with the tongue; I see them driven from land to\nland, hunted from refuge to refuge, summoned to the felon's place,\nexposed to the whip, mocked as they utter amid the pain of martyrdom a\nconfession of the faith which they have kept with such splendid\nconstancy. The same bigotry that oppresses the Jews falls tiger-like\nupon Christian nonconformists of purest lives and wipes out the\nAlbigenses and the peaceful Vaudois, \"whose bones lie on the mountains\ncold.\" I see the clouds part slowly, and I hear a cry of protest\nagainst the bigot. The restraining hand of tolerance is laid upon the\ninquisitor, and the humanist utters a message of peace to the\npersecuted. Instead of the cry, \"Burn the heretic!\" men study the\nhuman soul with sympathy, and there enters into their hearts a new\nreverence for that which is unseen.\n\nThe idea of brotherhood redawns upon the world with a broader\nsignificance than the narrow association of members in a sect or\ncreed; and thinkers of great soul like Lessing challenge the world to\nsay which is more godlike, the hatred and tooth-and-nail grapple of\nconflicting religions, or sweet accord and mutual helpfulness. Ancient\nprejudice of man against his brother-man wavers and retreats before\nthe radiance of a more generous sentiment, which will not sacrifice\nmen to forms, or rob them of the comfort and strength they find in\ntheir own beliefs. The heresy of one age becomes the orthodoxy of the\nnext. Mere tolerance has given place to a sentiment of brotherhood\nbetween sincere men of all denominations. The optimist rejoices in the\naffectionate sympathy between Catholic heart and Protestant heart\nwhich finds a gratifying expression in the universal respect and warm\nadmiration for Leo XIII on the part of good men the world over. The\ncentenary celebrations of the births of Emerson and Channing are\nbeautiful examples of the tribute which men of all creeds pay to the\nmemory of a pure soul.\n\nThus in my outlook upon our times I find that I am glad to be a\ncitizen of the world, and as I regard my country, I find that to be an\nAmerican is to be an optimist. I know the unhappy and unrighteous\nstory of what has been done in the Philippines beneath our flag; but I\nbelieve that in the accidents of statecraft the best intelligence of\nthe people sometimes fails to express itself. I read in the history of\nJulius C\u00e6sar that during the civil wars there were millions of\npeaceful herdsmen and laborers who worked as long as they could, and\nfled before the advance of the armies that were led by the few, then\nwaited until the danger was past, and returned to repair damages with\npatient hands. So the people are patient and honest, while their\nrulers stumble. I rejoice to see in the world and in this country a\nnew and better patriotism than that which seeks the life of an enemy.\nIt is a patriotism higher than that of the battle-field. It moves\nthousands to lay down their lives in social service, and every life so\nlaid down brings us a step nearer the time when corn-fields shall no\nmore be fields of battle. So when I heard of the cruel fighting in the\nPhilippines, I did not despair, because I knew that the hearts of our\npeople were not in that fight, and that sometime the hand of the\ndestroyer must be stayed.\n\n\n\n\nPart iii. The Practice of Optimism\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPart iii\n\nThe Practice of Optimism\n\n\nThe test of all beliefs is their practical effect in life. If it be\ntrue that optimism compels the world forward, and pessimism retards\nit, then it is dangerous to propagate a pessimistic philosophy. One\nwho believes that the pain in the world outweighs the joy, and\nexpresses that unhappy conviction, only adds to the pain. Schopenhauer\nis an enemy to the race. Even if he earnestly believed that this is\nthe most wretched of possible worlds, he should not promulgate a\ndoctrine which robs men of the incentive to fight with circumstance.\nIf Life gave him ashes for bread, it was his fault. Life is a fair\nfield, and the right will prosper if we stand by our guns.\n\nLet pessimism once take hold of the mind, and life is all topsy-turvy,\nall vanity and vexation of spirit. There is no cure for individual or\nsocial disorder, except in forgetfulness and annihilation. \"Let us\neat, drink and be merry,\" says the pessimist, \"for to-morrow we die.\"\nIf I regarded my life from the point of view of the pessimist, I\nshould be undone. I should seek in vain for the light that does not\nvisit my eyes and the music that does not ring in my ears. I should\nbeg night and day and never be satisfied. I should sit apart in awful\nsolitude, a prey to fear and despair. But since I consider it a duty\nto myself and to others to be happy, I escape a misery worse than any\nphysical deprivation.\n\nWho shall dare let his incapacity for hope or goodness cast a shadow\nupon the courage of those who bear their burdens as if they were\nprivileges? The optimist cannot fall back, cannot falter; for he knows\nhis neighbor will be hindered by his failure to keep in line. He will\ntherefore hold his place fearlessly and remember the duty of silence.\nSufficient unto each heart is its own sorrow. He will take the iron\nclaws of circumstance in his hand and use them as tools to break away\nthe obstacles that block his path. He will work as if upon him alone\ndepended the establishment of heaven on earth.\n\nWe have seen that the world's philosophers--the Sayers of the\nWord--were optimists; so also are the men of action and\nachievement--the Doers of the Word. Dr. Howe found his way to Laura\nBridgman's soul because he began with the belief that he could reach\nit. English jurists had said that the deaf-blind were idiots in the\neyes of the law. Behold what the optimist does. He controverts a hard\nlegal axiom; he looks behind the dull impassive clay and sees a human\nsoul in bondage, and quietly, resolutely sets about its deliverance.\nHis efforts are victorious. He creates intelligence out of idiocy and\nproves to the law that the deaf-blind man is a responsible being.\n\nWhen Ha\u00fcy offered to teach the blind to read, he was met by pessimism\nthat laughed at his folly. Had he not believed that the soul of man is\nmightier than the ignorance that fetters it, had he not been an\noptimist, he would not have turned the fingers of the blind into new\ninstruments. No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or\nsailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human\nspirit. St. Bernard was so deeply an optimist that he believed two\nhundred and fifty enlightened men could illuminate the darkness which\noverwhelmed the period of the Crusades; and the light of his faith\nbroke like a new day upon western Europe. John Bosco, the benefactor\nof the poor and the friendless of Italian cities, was another\noptimist, another prophet who, perceiving a Divine Idea while it was\nyet afar, proclaimed it to his countrymen. Although they laughed at\nhis vision and called him a madman, yet he worked on patiently, and\nwith the labor of his hands he maintained a home for little street\nwaifs. In the fervor of enthusiasm he predicted the wonderful movement\nwhich should result from his work. Even in the days before he had\nmoney or patronage, he drew glowing pictures of the splendid system of\nschools and hospitals which should spread from one end of Italy to\nthe other, and he lived to see the organization of the San Salvador\nSociety, which was the embodiment of his prophetic optimism. When Dr.\nSeguin declared his opinion that the feeble-minded could be taught,\nagain people laughed, and in their complacent wisdom said he was no\nbetter than an idiot himself. But the noble optimist persevered, and\nby and by the reluctant pessimists saw that he whom they ridiculed had\nbecome one of the world's philanthropists. Thus the optimist believes,\nattempts, achieves. He stands always in the sunlight. Some day the\nwonderful, the inexpressible, arrives and shines upon him, and he is\nthere to welcome it. His soul meets his own and beats a glad march to\nevery new discovery, every fresh victory over difficulties, every\naddition to human knowledge and happiness.\n\nWe have found that our great philosophers and our great men of action\nare optimists. So, too, our most potent men of letters have been\noptimists in their books and in their lives. No pessimist ever won an\naudience commensurately wide with his genius, and many optimistic\nwriters have been read and admired out of all measure to their\ntalents, simply because they wrote of the sunlit side of life.\nDickens, Lamb, Goldsmith, Irving, all the well-beloved and gentle\nhumorists, were optimists. Swift, the pessimist, has never had as many\nreaders as his towering genius should command, and indeed, when he\ncomes down into our century and meets Thackeray, that generous\noptimist can hardly do him justice. In spite of the latter-day\nnotoriety of the \"Rub\u00e1iy\u00e1t\" of Omar Khayy\u00e1m, we may set it down as a\nrule that he who would be heard must be a believer, must have a\nfundamental optimism in his philosophy. He may bluster and disagree\nand lament as Carlyle and Ruskin do sometimes; but a basic confidence\nin the good destiny of life and of the world must underlie his work.\n\nShakespeare is the prince of optimists. His tragedies are a revelation\nof moral order. In \"Lear\" and \"Hamlet\" there is a looking forward to\nsomething better, some one is left at the end of the play to right\nwrong, restore society and build the state anew. The later plays, \"The\nTempest\" and \"Cymbeline,\" show a beautiful, placid optimism which\ndelights in reconciliations and reunions and which plans for the\ntriumph of external as well as internal good.\n\nIf Browning were less difficult to read, he would surely be the\ndominant poet in this century. I feel the ecstasy with which he\nexclaims, \"Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth this autumn\nmorning!\" And how he sets my brain going when he says, because there\nis imperfection, there must be perfection; completeness must come of\nincompleteness; failure is an evidence of triumph for the fulness of\nthe days. Yes, discord is, that harmony may be; pain destroys, that\nhealth may renew; perhaps I am deaf and blind that others likewise\nafflicted may see and hear with a more perfect sense! From Browning I\nlearn that there is no lost good, and that makes it easier for me to\ngo at life, right or wrong, do the best I know, and fear not. My heart\nresponds proudly to his exhortation to pay gladly life's debt of pain,\ndarkness and cold. Lift up your burden, it is God's gift, bear it\nnobly.\n\nThe man of letters whose voice is to prevail must be an optimist, and\nhis voice often learns its message from his life. Stevenson's life has\nbecome a tradition only ten years after his death; he has taken his\nplace among the heroes, the bravest man of letters since Johnson and\nLamb. I remember an hour when I was discouraged and ready to falter.\nFor days I had been pegging away at a task which refused to get itself\naccomplished. In the midst of my perplexity I read an essay of\nStevenson which made me feel as if I had been \"outing\" in the\nsunshine, instead of losing heart over a difficult task. I tried again\nwith new courage and succeeded almost before I knew it. I have failed\nmany times since; but I have never felt so disheartened as I did\nbefore that sturdy preacher gave me my lesson in the \"fashion of the\nsmiling face.\"\n\nRead Schopenhauer and Omar, and you will grow to find the world as\nhollow as they find it. Read Green's history of England, and the world\nis peopled with heroes. I never knew why Green's history thrilled me\nwith the vigor of romance until I read his biography. Then I learned\nhow his quick imagination transfigured the hard, bare facts of life\ninto new and living dreams. When he and his wife were too poor to have\na fire, he would sit before the unlit hearth and pretend that it was\nablaze. \"Drill your thoughts,\" he said; \"shut out the gloomy and call\nin the bright. There is more wisdom in shutting one's eyes than your\ncopybook philosophers will allow.\"\n\nEvery optimist moves along with progress and hastens it, while every\npessimist would keep the world at a standstill. The consequence of\npessimism in the life of a nation is the same as in the life of the\nindividual. Pessimism kills the instinct that urges men to struggle\nagainst poverty, ignorance and crime, and dries up all the fountains\nof joy in the world. In imagination I leave the country which lifts up\nthe manhood of the poor and I visit India, the underworld of\nfatalism--where three hundred million human beings, scarcely men,\nsubmerged in ignorance and misery, precipitate themselves still deeper\ninto the pit. Why are they thus? Because they have for thousands of\nyears been the victims of their philosophy, which teaches them that\nmen are as grass, and the grass fadeth, and there is no more greenness\nupon the earth. They sit in the shadow and let the circumstances they\nshould master grip them, until they cease to be Men, and are made to\ndance and salaam like puppets in a play. After a little hour death\ncomes and hurries them off to the grave, and other puppets with other\n\"pasteboard passions and desires\" take their place, and the show goes\non for centuries.\n\nGo to India and see what sort of civilization is developed when a\nnation lacks faith in progress and bows to the gods of darkness. Under\nthe influence of Brahminism genius and ambition have been suppressed.\nThere is no one to befriend the poor or to protect the fatherless and\nthe widow. The sick lie untended. The blind know not how to see, nor\nthe deaf to hear, and they are left by the roadside to die. In India\nit is a sin to teach the blind and the deaf because their affliction\nis regarded as a punishment for offences in a previous state of\nexistence. If I had been born in the midst of these fatalistic\ndoctrines, I should still be in darkness, my life a desert-land where\nno caravan of thought might pass between my spirit and the world\nbeyond.\n\nThe Hindoos believe in endurance, but not in resistance; therefore\nthey have been subdued by strangers. Their history is a repetition of\nthat of Babylon. A nation from afar came with speed swiftly, and none\nstumbled, or slept, or slumbered, but they brought desolation upon the\nland, and took the stay and the staff from the people, the whole stay\nof bread, and the whole stay of water, the mighty man, and the man of\nwar, the judge, and the prophet, and the prudent, and the ancient, and\nnone delivered them. Woe, indeed, is the heritage of those who walk\nsad-thoughted and downcast through this radiant, soul-delighting\nearth, blind to its beauty and deaf to its music, and of those who\ncall evil good, and good evil, and put darkness for light, and light\nfor darkness.\n\nWhat care the weather-bronzed sons of the West, feeding the world\nfrom the plains of Dakota, for the Omars and the Brahmins? They would\nsay to the Hindoos, \"Blot out your philosophy, dead for a thousand\nyears, look with fresh eyes at Reality and Life, put away your\nBrahmins and your crooked gods, and seek diligently for Vishnu the\nPreserver.\"\n\nOptimism is the faith that leads to achievement; nothing can be done\nwithout hope. When our forefathers laid the foundation of the American\ncommonwealths, what nerved them to their task but a vision of a free\ncommunity? Against the cold, inhospitable sky, across the wilderness\nwhite with snow, where lurked the hidden savage, gleamed the bow of\npromise, toward which they set their faces with the faith that levels\nmountains, fills up valleys, bridges rivers and carries civilization\nto the uttermost parts of the earth. Although the pioneers could not\nbuild according to the Hebraic ideal they saw, yet they gave the\npattern of all that is most enduring in our country to-day. They\nbrought to the wilderness the thinking mind, the printed book, the\ndeep-rooted desire for self-government and the English common law that\njudges alike the king and the subject, the law on which rests the\nwhole structure of our society.\n\nIt is significant that the foundation of that law is optimistic. In\nLatin countries the court proceeds with a pessimistic bias. The\nprisoner is held guilty until he is proved innocent. In England and\nthe United States there is an optimistic presumption that the accused\nis innocent until it is no longer possible to deny his guilt. Under\nour system, it is said, many criminals are acquitted; but it is surely\nbetter so than that many innocent persons should suffer. The\npessimist cries, \"There is no enduring good in man! The tendency of\nall things is through perpetual loss to chaos in the end. If there was\never an idea of good in things evil, it was impotent, and the world\nrushes on to ruin.\" But behold, the law of the two most sober-minded,\npractical and law-abiding nations on earth assumes the good in man and\ndemands a proof of the bad.\n\nOptimism is the faith that leads to achievement. The prophets of the\nworld have been of good heart, or their standards would have stood\nnaked in the field without a defender. Tolstoi's strictures lose power\nbecause they are pessimistic. If he had seen clearly the faults of\nAmerica, and still believed in her capacity to overcome them, our\npeople might have felt the stimulation of his censure. But the world\nturns its back on a hopeless prophet and listens to Emerson who takes\ninto account the best qualities of the nation and attacks only the\nvices which no one can defend or deny. It listens to the strong man,\nLincoln, who in times of doubt, trouble and need does not falter. He\nsees success afar, and by strenuous hope, by hoping against hope,\ninspires a nation. Through the night of despair he says, \"All is\nwell,\" and thousands rest in his confidence. When such a man censures,\nand points to a fault, the nation obeys, and his words sink into the\nears of men; but to the lamentations of the habitual Jeremiah the ear\ngrows dull.\n\nOur newspapers should remember this. The press is the pulpit of the\nmodern world, and on the preachers who fill it much depends. If the\nprotest of the press against unrighteous measures is to avail, then\nfor ninety-nine days the word of the preacher should be buoyant and of\ngood cheer, so that on the hundredth day the voice of censure may be\na hundred times strong. This was Lincoln's way. He knew the people; he\nbelieved in them and rested his faith on the justice and wisdom of the\ngreat majority. When in his rough and ready way he said, \"You can't\nfool all the people all the time,\" he expressed a great principle, the\ndoctrine of faith in human nature.\n\nThe prophet is not without honor, save he be a pessimist. The ecstatic\nprophecies of Isaiah did far more to restore the exiles of Israel to\ntheir homes than the lamentations of Jeremiah did to deliver them from\nthe hands of evil-doers.\n\nEven on Christmas Day do men remember that Christ came as a prophet of\ngood? His joyous optimism is like water to feverish lips, and has for\nits highest expression the eight beatitudes. It is because Christ is\nan optimist that for ages he has dominated the Western world. For\nnineteen centuries Christendom has gazed into his shining face and\nfelt that all things work together for good. St. Paul, too, taught the\nfaith which looks beyond the hardest things into the infinite horizon\nof heaven, where all limitations are lost in the light of perfect\nunderstanding. If you are born blind, search the treasures of\ndarkness. They are more precious than the gold of Ophir. They are love\nand goodness and truth and hope, and their price is above rubies and\nsapphires.\n\nJesus utters and Paul proclaims a message of peace and a message of\nreason, a belief in the Idea, not in things, in love, not in conquest.\nThe optimist is he who sees that men's actions are directed not by\nsquadrons and armies, but by moral power, that the conquests of\nAlexander and Napoleon are less abiding than Newton's and Galileo's\nand St. Augustine's silent mastery of the world. Ideas are mightier\nthan fire and sword. Noiselessly they propagate themselves from land\nto land, and mankind goes out and reaps the rich harvest and thanks\nGod; but the achievements of the warrior are like his canvas city,\n\"to-day a camp, to-morrow all struck and vanished, a few pit-holes and\nheaps of straw.\" This was the gospel of Jesus two thousand years ago.\nChristmas Day is the festival of optimism.\n\nAlthough there are still great evils which have not been subdued, and\nthe optimist is not blind to them, yet he is full of hope. Despondency\nhas no place in his creed, for he believes in the imperishable\nrighteousness of God and the dignity of man. History records man's\ntriumphant ascent. Each halt in his progress has been but a pause\nbefore a mighty leap forward. The time is not out of joint. If indeed\nsome of the temples we worshipped in have fallen, we have built new\nones on the sacred sites loftier and holier than those which have\ncrumbled. If we have lost some of the heroic physical qualities of our\nancestors, we have replaced them with a spiritual nobleness that turns\naside wrath and binds up the wounds of the vanquished. All the past\nattainments of man are ours; and more, his day-dreams have become our\nclear realities. Therein lies our hope and sure faith.\n\nAs I stand in the sunshine of a sincere and earnest optimism, my\nimagination \"paints yet more glorious triumphs on the cloud-curtain of\nthe future.\" Out of the fierce struggle and turmoil of contending\nsystems and powers I see a brighter spiritual era slowly emerge--an\nera in which there shall be no England, no France, no Germany, no\nAmerica, no this people or that, but one family, the human race; one\nlaw, peace; one need, harmony; one means, labor; one taskmaster, God.\n\nIf I should try to say anew the creed of the optimist, I should say\nsomething like this: \"I believe in God, I believe in man, I believe in\nthe power of the spirit. I believe it is a sacred duty to encourage\nourselves and others; to hold the tongue from any unhappy word against\nGod's world, because no man has any right to complain of a universe\nwhich God made good, and which thousands of men have striven to keep\ngood. I believe we should so act that we may draw nearer and more near\nthe age when no man shall live at his ease while another suffers.\"\nThese are the articles of my faith, and there is yet another on which\nall depends--to bear this faith above every tempest which overfloods\nit, and to make it a principle in disaster and through affliction.\nOptimism is the harmony between man's spirit and the spirit of God\npronouncing His works good.\n\n\nThe End\n\n[Illustration]","title":"Optimism: An Essay","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":8778}