Ashland tidings. [volume] (Ashland, Or.) 1876-1919, 1913-05-01
A Pessimist's Bad Logic.

made it? What will happen to il
in the long run? Why are we living
here and what will become of us
and our race when all is done? He
who answers these questions and
others like them cheerfully will en-
Joy life. For him the sun shines
every day, clear or cloudy, the birds
sing even in winter. and death has
no terrors because he believes that
the good king who made and loveth
all has assured us of victory over
the grave. But if the answer is
gloomy, life takes on a leaden hue,
joy grows sodden and sorrow deep
ems to despair. He is haunted by
the everlasting what is the use?"
that poisons effort and makes
achievement vain. 1t was for reas-
ons of this nature that William
James taught us to cling to every
comforting scrap of faith we could
manage to get hold of. 'If it works
WE'LL" said the great philosopher,
"and makes life richer, then, for our
earthly purposes, it is true" But
there are some men in the world
who prefer a gloomy creed. They
see no side of the universe but the
black one. Their God, if they have
any, is code of laws anC the only
heaven they are willing to believe
in is humiliation.
Such men cannot help their de-
spair. 1t is born in them. Argu-
ment does not cheer them in the
least. Prayer does them no good.
Like poor Ephraim, they are Joined
to their idols, and it is best to let
them alone. When they die and find
out what delightful place heaven
really is, perhaps their countenances
will grow a little less gloomy, but
we do not feel at all sure of it. The
tree of life will not bear exactly the
fruit they relish. The sea of glass
will have spots on its shining sur
face which, for them, will blot out
the glory. One of these tempera-
mental grumblers has been writing
for the Edinburgh Review. He takes
up the question whether human hap
piness can be increased or not, and,
of course, answers it in the most
melancholy way. Being a miserable
disciple of Herbert Spencer, he be-
gins by defining life in the good old
Spencerian style as "a correspond
ence between inner and outer con-
ditions," nothing more, leaving out
the three essentials which really
make life what it is. These essen
tials are consciousness, will and the
passion for achievement, and not one
of them is accounted for by Spen
GERS mechanical concept. Our au
thor, whose name is Mccormick, ad
mits that physical disasters, cold
pain and hunger tend to diminish,
but that makes no difference. Men
tai miseries come in to take thei1
place and we are no better off thar
we were before. Increase of knowl
edge increases sorrow" and all i.
vanity and veXation of spirit. More
over, compassion conserves the un
worthy whom the old law of sur
vival would have killed off and thus
civilization marches ever more slow.
ly and laboriously, encumbered by
an ever-lengthening retinue of camr
followers and the sick and wound.
ed"
! How any sane man could believe
that civilization marches more slow
ly now than it did in the days OF
witchcraft and judicial torture is a
mystery, but never mind about that
Facts make little impression on a
brain determined not to see them
Let us contemplate the "ever-length-
ening train of parasitic camp follow
ers' for moment. Mr.. Mccormick
is depressed to think that there is
no way to get rid of it, The fools
the vicious, the weaklings must grow
more and more numerous as the
world wags on because we are toe
tender-hearted to slay them, as we
ought. The soul of the genuine pes.
simist has no faith in remedies. Eff.
! fort, as far as he is concerned, does
not count And yet the world has
discovered a way to cut off the train
of the imbecile and standardization
, killing them. We have only to pre-
, vent them from propagating theil
kind and the problem, terrible as il
= looks, is solved forever. Most of the
; defects which make a man a cam
follower of civilizations army instead
OF soldier in the ranks are heredi
} tary. Deprive him of the power tC
pass them on to the next generation
= and they will die when he does. S,
= much for this wall. 1t is heard i,
= all the fortresses of the pessimists
but it is as empty as the howl of ,
= coyote on a windswept mountain