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The Value of the World and of Oneself
 The Value of the
World and of Oneself
Philosophical Optimism and Pessimism
from Aristotle to Modernity

M O R SE G EV
 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Segev, Mor, author.
Title: The value of the world and of oneself : philosophical optimism
and pessimism from Aristotle to Modernity/ Mor Segev.
Description: New York, NY, United States of America : Oxford University Press, [2022] |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022000740 (print) | LCCN 2022000741 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780197634073 (hb) | ISBN 9780197634097 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Optimism. | Pessimism. | Philosophy.
Classification: LCC B829 .S425 2022 (print) | LCC B829 (ebook) |
DDC 149/.5—dc23/eng/20220203
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022000740
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022000741

DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197634073.001.0001

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America
To the memory of Martha Leonhardt,
née Löwenberg (1902–1943).
 Contents

Acknowledgments  ix
Abbreviations  xi

Introduction  1

1. Schopenhauer’s Critique of the Optimism of the

Hebrew Bible and Spinoza  18

2. Self-​Abnegation and Its Reversion to

Optimism: Schopenhauer  43

3. Nihilism and Self-​Deification: Camus’s Critical

Analysis of Nietzsche in The Rebel  78

4. Aristotle’s Critique of Ancient Pessimism  113

5. Optimism and Self-​Devaluation #1: Aristotle  158

6. Optimism and Self-​Devaluation #2: Maimonides on

Aristotle and the Hebrew Bible  194

7. An Aristotelian Response to Schopenhauer’s

Challenge to Optimism  223

References  245
Index  253
 Acknowledgments

This book is a product of years of thinking about and comparing

the philosophical views of Aristotle, Maimonides, Spinoza,
Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, and Camus. Between 2016 and 2021,
parts of this project were presented in Jerusalem, Oxford, Krakow,
Tampa, Newcastle, Milwaukee, and Budapest, and I am thankful to
my audiences on these occasions for many helpful comments and
suggestions. My ideas took shape over the years with the help of
feedback from and conversations with many individuals, including
Audrey Anton, Hanoch Ben-Yami, Anastasia Berg, István Bodnár,
Robert Bolton, Katarzyna Borkowska, Abraham Bos, Ursula
Coope, John Cooper, John Cottingham, Kati Farkas, Maciej Kałuża,
Andrea Kern, Philipp Koralus, Iddo Landau, Oksana Maksymchuk,
Yitzhak Melamed, Angela Mendelovici, Alexander Nehamas, Sarah
Nooter, Ács Pál, Michael Peramatzis, Max Rosochinsky, Anna
Schriefl, Christiane Tewinkel, Andrea Timár, David Weberman,
Robert Wicks, Jessica Williams, and Eric Winsberg.
I am grateful to the Hardt Foundation for the Study of Classical
Antiquity for granting me the Research Scholarship for Young
Researchers in 2018, to the Institute for Advanced Study at the
Central European University for granting me a fellowship in 2020,
which enabled me to complete most of this book and to present and
discuss it with colleagues from a variety of fields, to St. Catherine’s
College, Oxford, for hosting me as a Visiting Fellow in 2021, and to
the Faculty of Philosophy at Oxford University for allowing me to
present the project at the Workshop in Ancient Philosophy during
my stay. Thanks are also due to Lucy Randall, Hannah Doyle, Sean
Decker, and Leslie Johnson at Oxford University Press, to my anon-
ymous referees for their helpful comments and suggestions, and to
x Acknowledgments

Nandhini Thanga Alugu and Dorothy Bauhoff for their assistance

with the production of the book.
Chapter 1 is based on my chapter “Schopenhauer on Spinoza’s
Pantheism, Optimism, and Egoism,” in Y. Y. Melamed (ed.), A
Companion to Spinoza (Hoboken, NJ, 2021), 557–​67. Chapter 4 is
based in part on my “Death, Immortality and the Value of Human
Existence in Aristotle’s Eudemus Fr. 6, Ross,” Classical Philology
(forthcoming). Parts of Chapters 5 and 6 are based on my “Aristotle
on the Proper Attitude Toward Divinity,” American Catholic
Philosophical Quarterly (2020). I would like to thank the publishers
for allowing me to make use of these materials.
 Abbreviations

The following are the abbreviations used for the titles of the works
by the main authors discussed in this book.

Works by Aristotle:
Cael. De caelo
DA De anima
De phil. De philosophia
Div. De divinatione per somnum
EE Eudemian Ethics
GA Generation of Animals
GC Generation and Corruption
HA History of Animals
IA Progression of Animals
Metaph. Metaphysics
Meteor. Meteorology
MM Magna Moralia
NE Nicomachean Ethics
PA Parts of Animals
Poet. Poetics
Pol. Politics
Protr. Protrepticus
Rh. Rhetoric
Top. Topics

Works by Maimonides:
EC Eight Chapters
GP The Guide of the Perplexed
MT Mishneh Torah
HD Hilchot Deot (in MT )
xii Abbreviations

Works by Spinoza:
E Ethics
TTP Tractatus Theologico-​Politicus
Works by Schopenhauer:
MR Manuscript Remains
PP Parerga and Paralipomena
FHP Fragments for the History of Philosophy (in PP)
WWR The World as Will and Representation

Works by Nietzsche:
BGE Beyond Good and Evil
BT The Birth of Tragedy
BVN Briefe von Nietzsche (Nietzsche’s letters)
EH Ecce Homo
GM The Genealogy of Morals
GS The Gay Science
HH Human, all too Human
NCW Nietzsche contra Wagner
NF Nachgelassene Fragmente (Posthumous fragments)
Z Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Works by Camus:
F The Fall
MS The Myth of Sisyphus
R The Rebel
 Introduction

In evaluating the world and one’s life within it, two positions, dia-
metrically opposed to one another, have often been taken by prom-
inent figures in the history of philosophy. The view traditionally
referred to as philosophical optimism may be encapsulated by the
two following propositions:

O1: The world is optimally arranged and is accordingly valuable.

O2: As part of the world, human life is valuable enough to make
one’s own existence preferable over one’s nonexistence.

Philosophical pessimists, by contrast, maintain the following:

P1: The world is in a woeful condition and is ultimately valueless.1

P2: Our nonexistence in the world is, or would have been, pref-
erable over our existence.

The commitment to either of these two corresponding pairs of

propositions—regarding the value of the world and the value of
human life—appears again and again in traditional formulations
and characterizations of philosophical optimism and pessimism.
Arthur Schopenhauer, reacting to optimism, characterizes it

1 Throughout, by “x is valueless” I mean, not that x cannot be evaluated, but rather

that, upon evaluation, it turns out that x is not at all valuable (notice that, in addition,
P1’s evaluation of the condition of the world as woeful in fact attributes disvalue to the
world). The view that one might not appropriately form value judgments concerning the
world, or anything in it, will be considered in Chapter 3.

The Value of the World and of Oneself. Mor Segev, Oxford University Press.
© Oxford University Press 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197634073.003.0001
2 Introduction

as a view countenancing that “the world is what is best” (WWR

II.L: 644), and that “our existence [is] to be gratefully acknowl-
edged as the gift of the highest goodness guided by wisdom” and is
thus “in itself praiseworthy, commendable, and delightful” (WWR
II.XLV: 570).2 Implied in this description is the idea that the world
is valuable, and is ordered rationally and optimally (O1), and that
it is these features that ground the preferability of one’s own ex-
istence as a part of that good whole (O2). Schopenhauer goes on
to characterize (without, however, naming) pessimism as the view
according to which “this [human] existence is a kind of false step
or wrong path” and “is the work of an originally blind will, the
luckiest development of which is that it comes to itself in order
to abolish itself ” (WWR II.XLV: 570). Disregarding the details
of the metaphysical theory underlying this statement (to which
we shall return later), the general point of contrast between this
view and the optimism that Schopenhauer objects to is that pes-
simism rejects the existence of an ultimately valuable, rationally
ordered world, and with it the prospects of viewing human exist-
ence as valuable, worthwhile, or otherwise choice-worthy. Indeed,
Schopenhauer claims, approvingly, that in the Gospels “world
and evil are used almost as synonymous expressions” (WWR
I, §59: 326). He also explicitly speaks of the “wretched condition of
the world” (die jammervolle Beschaffenheit der Welt), associating it
with pessimism (WWR II.XLVIII: 621), and repeatedly attributes
“vanity” (Nichtigkeit) and “valuelessness” (Werthlosigkeit) to all
things (P1),3 which he thinks expresses itself in the suffering of
all that lives (I, §68: 397), and which in turn for him implies that

2 All translations and page numbers of Schopenhauer’s texts are taken from E. F.

J. Payne, unless otherwise noted.

3 WWR II.XXXVII: 434; II.XLVI: 574; Brieftasche 9, pp. 17–18 (Payne, 160–1);

Reisebuch 33, pp. 30–1 (Payne, 13–14). See Chapter 2 for a more detailed discussion
of these texts. Payne translates Werthlosigkeit as “worthlessness”; reasonably, since
Schopenhauer uses the word as an evaluative term (as I use “valuelessness” throughout).
Nichtigkeit, for him, is an evaluative term as well (making Payne’s translation of it as
“vanity” appropriate), as it denotes primarily the futility of all striving and aiming, which
inevitably lead to suffering (WWR I, §68: 385, 394–7; II.XXXVII: 435; II.XLVI: 634–5).
 Introduction 3

“complete nonexistence would be decidedly preferable to” human

life (I, §59: 324) (P2).
This understanding of philosophical optimism and pessimism
is still quite standard. The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy, for ex-
ample, describes as “the starkest expression of pessimism” the claim
made by the chorus in Sophocles’s Oedipus at Colonus that it is best
not to be born and second best to die as soon as possible (cf. OC
1224–7) (P2), and associates optimism with, e.g., Aristotelian phi-
losophy and its “sense of the harmony of nature and the attaina-
bility of ends,” implying, similarly to optimism as we have just seen
Schopenhauer presents it, that the rational ordering of the world
makes both the world itself and one’s existence within it valuable
and their existence worthwhile (O1–O2).4 However, several other
ideas are often associated, and sometimes conflated, with these two
views. Discussions of optimism and pessimism often refer, respec-
tively, to the ideas that progress is possible or impossible, that this
world is the best or worst one possible,5 and that there is more good
in the world than evil or vice versa.6 For the sake of terminological
clarity, let us distinguish these different ideas from optimism and
pessimism as we have defined them and as they will be discussed in
the rest of this book.7
It is natural enough to associate a view locating value in the
world with the idea that progress is possible or even forthcoming.
But an optimist may well hold the view that progress is unneces-
sary, or even impossible, because the world is already perfectly

4 S. Blackburn, The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy, 3rd ed. (Oxford, 2008), ad “opti-

mism and pessimism.”

5 N. Bunnin and J. Yu, The Blackwell Dictionary of Western Philosophy (Maiden, 2004),

ad “optimism” and “pessimism.”

6 L. E. Loemker, “Pessimism and Optimism,” in D. M. Borchert (ed.), Encyclopedia of

Philosophy, 2nd ed., vol. 7 (Detroit, 2006), 244–54, at 244–5.

7 P. Prescott, “What Pessimism Is,” Journal of Philosophical Research 37 (2012),

337–56, helpfully distinguishes pessimism from cynicism, fatalism, the affirmation of

decline, nihilism, and despair. Prescott’s own definition of pessimism is as “the belief that
the bad prevails over the good.” He also claims, contrary to my understanding of pessi-
mism in this book, that pessimism essentially involves “personal investment” and hence
also “emotional commitment.”
4 Introduction

good in its current condition. By the same token, a pessimist may

concede the possibility of various kinds of progress—say, in the dis-
tribution of resources and the enactment of human rights—while
maintaining that even at their peak, it would be better if human
beings and the world at large had not existed.8 Similarly, although
one would generally expect an optimist to adhere to the Leibnizian
idea that ours is the best of all possible worlds, committing oneself
to that idea is not enough to count as an optimist. Pessimists may
consistently adhere to that same conception of the world, while
arguing that even the best possible world is not good enough to
justify its existence.9 As James Branch Cabell puts it in The Silver
Stallion: “The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all pos-
sible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is true.”10 Furthermore,
both a consistently optimistic view and a consistently pessimistic
one may hold that this world is both the best and worst one pos-
sible, if they maintain in addition that this world is the only one
possible.11 Finally, thinking that the world on balance contains
more good than bad is insufficient for motivating an optimistic
position, since the world in that case may still contain enough evil
pertaining to the human species, e.g., so as to make it preferable for
humans not to exist. Sophocles’s dictum—that it is best not to be
born and second best to die quickly—is clearly not meant to apply
to the gods, who are of course repeatedly appealed to throughout
the play, and the worth of whose life is left unchallenged, and this
fact nevertheless does not detract from the pessimistic tone of that

8 On this point see also Prescott (2012, 341–3), discussing J. F. Dienstag, Pessimism

(Princeton, NJ, 2006).

9 L. E. Loemker (2006, 244–5) and F. C. Beiser, Weltschmerz: Pessimism in German

Philosophy 1860–1900 (Oxford, 2016), 153, associate a similar move with Eduard
von Hartmann. See also S. Neiman, Evil in Modern Thought: An Alternative History
of Philosophy (Princeton, NJ, 2015), 22; M. Migotti, “Schopenhauer’s Pessimism in
Context,” in R. Wicks (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Schopenhauer (Oxford, 2020), 284–
98 at 285–6.
10 J. B. Cabell, The Silver Stallion (New York, 1926), 129. Quoted in D. Benatar, The

Human Predicament (Oxford, 2017), 5; Cf. Migotti (2020), 285–6.

11 Cf. Migotti (2020), 286.
 Introduction 5

dictum. And, conversely, one may think that evil predominates in

the world and still reject the pessimistic conclusion that a human
life is not worth having.
Though the terms “optimism” and “pessimism” are fairly re-
cent,12 their basic tenets date back to the earliest stages of recorded
philosophical discussion, and understandably so, given the basic
questions that they address and their relevance to evaluating one’s
environment and one’s own existence. It is sometimes argued that
tracing optimistic and pessimistic views to pre-modern philos-
ophy is anachronistic. Joshua Foa Dienstag, for instance, claims
that “pessimism is a modern phenomenon” since, “[l]ike opti-
mism, pessimism relies on an underlying linear concept of time, a
concept that only became a force in Western thinking in the early
modern period,” with ancient thought being dominated by a “cy-
clical” conception of time.13 We need not assess Dienstag’s view
of the gradual change in conceptions of time. It suffices for our
purposes to note that optimism and pessimism, as we have de-
fined them, apply on either conception. As we have noted, both
optimism and pessimism may be consistently adhered to whether
or not one even takes a stance on the possibility or likelihood
of historical progress. Given the definitions we have offered, we
seem warranted to look for optimistic and pessimistic views in
any period and culture in which one could ask—as one clearly al-
ready did ask in, say, ancient Israel and classical Greece—whether
the world is perfectly ordered and good, and whether human life
is worth living.
In this book we shall compare the views of several philosophers
who did ask themselves just these questions and have answered
them by constructing views that can appropriately be described
as either optimistic or pessimistic, in entirely different intellec-
tual environments and historical periods ranging from classical

12 Loemker (2006, 244) traces the term “optimism” to 1737 and “pessimism” to 1795.
13 Dienstag (2006), 8–9; cf. ibid., 166.
6 Introduction

Greece to twentieth-century France. It would not be feasible, and

there shall be no attempt, to provide a comprehensive survey of
relevant views during that time frame. Instead, we shall focus
on representative cases—Aristotle, Maimonides, Spinoza,
Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Camus—which lend themselves
particularly well to mutual comparison, especially since some of
them engage with the others’ views explicitly. Maimonides con-
sciously and openly adopts and develops major parts of Aristotle’s
views concerning the value of the world and of human exist-
ence. Schopenhauer engages with Spinoza and criticizes his view,
which he associates with the optimism that he finds in the Hebrew
Bible. Nietzsche criticizes Schopenhauer’s pessimism, and Camus
in turn criticizes Nietzsche and his attempt at transcending both
optimism and pessimism. Of course, by creating a dialogue be-
tween themselves and their predecessors on these issues, the
philosophers in question could have themselves been guilty of
anachronism to some degree. Even if so, it arguably would still be
worthwhile to examine their understanding and use of previous
views, e.g., in order to analyze the chain of influence leading to
modern theories on relevant issues.14 But I hope to show that, as
I have already argued so far, comparing the views of all of these
philosophers on the issues focused on in this book is both in-
structive and appropriate.
Even on the assumption that ancient, medieval, and modern
optimistic and pessimistic views may be safely compared,
questions may nevertheless arise concerning the potential im-
port of such a comparison. To begin with, it is sometimes
suggested that optimism is a puerile position, upheld unreal-
istically and irrationally by those who have not been properly
exposed to the evils of the world, and rejected and supplanted

14 On the usefulness of anachronism for such purposes, see D. Graham, “Anachronism

in the History of Philosophy,” in P. H. Hare (ed.), Doing Philosophy Historically (Buffalo,

NY, 1988), 137–48, esp. 142–4.
 Introduction 7

by those who have. Discussing ancient Hebrew optimism, one

scholar writes:15

Unclouded skies and perfect happiness are conditions of inno-

cent childhood. But as the child grows older, clouds appear in the
skies and happiness becomes less and less perfect. Thus while the
ancient Hebrews during many centuries seemed wholly satisfied
with the affairs of life, never doubting for one moment that JHVH
had ordered everything for the best, the time came when they
began to ask the why and wherefore of many happenings.

Similarly, as we shall see in Chapter 1, Schopenhauer criticizes op-

timism (in its monotheistic and pantheistic varieties), among other
things, for its naïveté, and for failing to account for the suffering
and misfortune prevalent in the world, having instead to blindly
assert that all phenomena are manifestations of the world’s perfec-
tion, and hence that all human and even animal behavior, e.g., is
“equally divine and excellent” (WWR II.XLVII: 590). Perhaps, then,
optimistic views, as such, are too naïve to merit serious considera-
tion? However, optimism, as we have defined it, need not be naïve
in this way. For one may posit that the world is optimally arranged
and is perfectly valuable without conceding that each and every one
of its parts is equally valuable.
Indeed, as we shall see in Chapters 5 and 6, both Aristotle and
Maimonides offer a complex optimistic theory, on which the world,
though perfectly arranged and valuable (O1), contains an axiological
hierarchy pertaining to its various parts. Since humans are placed
relatively low on that hierarchy, the world’s perfection and absolute
value are not compromised by the imperfections pertaining to and
the pain undergone by them. But, given the world’s perfection, the
existence of such creatures, flawed though they are, is preferable to

15 A. Guttmacher, Optimism and Pessimism in the Old and New Testaments (Baltimore,

MD, 1903), 125.

8 Introduction

their nonexistence (O2). This version of optimism presents a viable

alternative to pessimistic approaches. This is especially true because,
as we shall see in Chapters 2 and 3, both the most influential modern
pessimistic position (by Schopenhauer) and an influential attempt
to do away with both optimism and pessimism (by Nietzsche) have
been criticized for ultimately reverting to optimism, and hence for
being fundamentally inconsistent. This fact raises the question as to
whether “pure” pessimism, or a complete rejection of optimism, is
possible in principle. And, if it is not, then it seems that conscious
and explicit optimism could prove a viable alternative.
As a second consideration, one might argue that the debate be-
tween optimism and pessimism is really a debate over the exist-
ence of a perfect deity. As we shall see in Chapter 3, this is precisely
what Nietzsche does argue (cf. HH I.28). But, if that is the case, then
one might be inclined to bracket the debate between optimism and
pessimism as a theological controversy, and hence as potentially ir-
relevant for those who wish to evaluate the world and human life
without recourse to the question of God’s existence. Indeed, all of
the views discussed in this book do engage with the existence and
nature of divinity and with religion, either supportively or critically.
Schopenhauer responds to optimism primarily in its monotheistic
and pantheistic varieties, and he links his own pessimistic view to
Christianity and Buddhism. Nietzsche, while himself associating
both optimism and pessimism with a theological framework and
criticizing both on that account, is himself later criticized by Camus,
ironically, for “deifying” the world and envisaging a divine human
being in the form of an Übermensch. In turn, Aristotle’s view of the
magnanimous person, and Maimonides’s corresponding notion of
the “righteous person” (hassid), are both informed by the attitude
such a person would have toward divinity. And the world’s perfec-
tion, for both thinkers, is a function of its divinity or its relation to
the divine. It is therefore not surprising that the traditional debate be-
tween optimism and pessimism also reserves a special place (e.g., in
Maimonides’s and Schopenhauer’s works, as we shall see in Chapter 2
and Chapters 6–7) for an engagement with the classical “problem of
 Introduction 9

evil,” challenging the existence of a benevolent and omnipotent deity

in the light of the suffering and imperfections contained in the world.
However, though the issues dealt with by philosophical optimism
and pessimism intersect with discussions in theology and the phi-
losophy of religion, they do not clearly depend on those domains of
inquiry. An optimally ordered world, in principle, may be so without
either having been created by a deity or being identified with one.
And the existence of a given species within such a world could argu-
ably also be worthwhile regardless of any relation to a deity. Thus, a
pessimistic response to optimism need not attack the conception of
divinity underlying it, and indeed would be potentially incomplete
if it addressed only that conception. Similarly, the classical problem
of evil admits of variations, and ones which need not appeal to the
existence of God. Schopenhauer, as we shall see in Chapter 1, thinks
that this problem confronts Spinozistic pantheism—which does not
countenance the existence of a benevolent and omnipotent God—
because the world as God must on pantheism make the existence
of suffering impossible. By the same token, a non-theistic and non-
pantheistic optimistic view could also be confronted with a version
of the problem of evil, appropriately modified: How could a per-
fectly ordered and positively valuable world include imperfections
and untoward agony? In this case, it seems that neither the question
nor the answer needs to appeal to God or religion.
One may also wonder whether it is neither optimism nor pes-
simism, but rather some intermediate position, that is more likely
to ultimately convince. Without committing oneself to the optimal
arrangement of the cosmos, nor to its valuelessness, one may locate
some order and goodness in the world, and may attach such value
specifically to certain human endeavors or experiences, which, if
attained, may make human existence either worth having (O2) or
not (P2), without thereby leading one either to full-fledged opti-
mism (O1 + O2) or to outright pessimism (P1 + P2).16 We may refer
to views locating enough value to support O2 as quasi-optimistic,

16 I am thankful to Anna Schriefl for a helpful discussion concerning this point.

10 Introduction

and call those rejecting enough such value to support P2 quasi-

pessimistic. All of these views, as well as an intermediate position
that remains neutral concerning the worth of human life, may be
represented on a spectrum as follows:

Human nonexistence Human existence

is preferable is preferable
(pessimistic “camp”) (optimistic “camp”)

Value in the world

0
Pessimism Quasi-Pessimism Quasi-Optimism Optimism

One challenge facing positions falling in between optimism and

pessimism is to provide specific criteria for determining just how
much value found in the world justifies supporting either the op-
timistic assessment of human existence as worthwhile, or the pes-
simistic counterpart of that assessment. Another challenge would
be to show that value of the right kind and amount, once deter-
mined, can be reliably expected to persist so as to support those
assessments consistently. Part of the attraction of a fully optimistic
or pessimistic theory, by contrast, is that it provides an evaluation
of the world that is clear-cut and unfluctuating. Furthermore, op-
timism provides a unique reason for maintaining that human ex-
istence is worthwhile, which seems unavailable to other theories.
For, if the world is perfectly ordered and good, then human life,
however individually potentially distressing, may be worthwhile
simply insofar as it contributes to that perfection as one of its parts
(as we shall see in Chapter 4, Aristotle reasons along these lines in
motivating his view of death as an evil). Granted, it may be the case
that both optimism and pessimism can be conclusively shown to
be false, with some intermediate theory being shown to be more
plausible. Even in such a case, however, examining optimism and
pessimism exhaustively would still prove beneficial. These theories
 Introduction 11

could function as limiting cases, and their shortcomings may point

out which type of intermediate theory is more likely to be true—
one falling in the “optimistic camp” (i.e., upholding that there is
enough value in the world to make human life preferable over non-
existence) or in the “pessimistic camp.”
In Chapter 1, I examine Arthur Schopenhauer’s critique of the
optimism he reads in the Hebrew Bible and in Spinoza’s philosophy.
According to Schopenhauer, the Hebrew Bible presents a consist-
ently optimistic worldview. Already in Genesis, Schopenhauer
points out, the acts of creation are followed by the locu-
tion: “And God saw that [it was] good” (‫)וירא אלהים כי טוב‬. In fact,
Schopenhauer continues, so good is this creation, according to the
biblical view, that it leaves nothing to look forward to outside of this
world, and the Bible consequently recommends simply rejoicing
in the joys of the present (Ecclesiastes IX. 7– 10). On that view, the
world in all its parts is impeccable by hypothesis. Any seeming im-
perfection within the world, including those pertaining to human
beings and their lives, must be merely apparent.
Schopenhauer finds an equivalent view in Spinoza’s pantheism.
For Spinoza, God is a being whose “essence excludes all imper-
fection and involves absolute perfection” (E1p9s), and it is the
only substance of which we can conceive (E1p14) and in which
we (like everything else) have our being (E1p15). The conclusion
to draw is that we, too, are parts of that perfect entity. And so, as
Schopenhauer sees it, Spinoza’s theory, just like the biblical world-
view, is essentially optimistic. By the basic assumption of these two
systems, there can be no fault in our existence, and hence nothing
to improve. Schopenhauer, however, finds this optimistic outlook
unconvincing, for two main reasons. First, given the immense suf-
fering one witnesses in the world, optimism generally generates
some version of the classical problem of evil, which it is unable to
solve. One’s individual life cannot plausibly be construed as “per-
fect,” as it must be if we consider it a part of a perfectly created
cosmos. Second, optimism itself, once adopted, ironically makes
12 Introduction

individuals worse than they otherwise would have been. For, since
optimism encourages one to look favorably upon one’s individual
life, it also promotes egoism, which inevitably leads to cruelty.
In Chapter 2, we shall turn to Schopenhauer’s own pessimistic
theory and to Nietzsche’s critique of it. Schopenhauer presents an
alternative to Jewish and pantheistic optimism, and the unreason-
able self-commendation that he believes they promote. Human
life, as Schopenhauer thinks it is standardly lived, is objectively fu-
tile and indeed miserable. Life, for him, involves continuous strife
(WWR I, §61: 331), which is inescapable even by means of suicide
(§54: 281). Whenever we find ourselves under the impression that
our human condition is any better than that, we are simply mis-
taken. However, Schopenhauer also thinks that there is a way out
of this predicament. The solution is to be found in his notion of the
“denial of the will-to-live” (§68: 397). Knowing and acknowledging
that no form of life can be free from suffering, and that attempting
to alleviate one’s suffering from within the framework of one’s
life is necessarily done in vain, one gradually grows frustrated
with living as such, and ceases to will it. Such a process, if carried
out properly, ultimately yields “[t]rue salvation” (§68: 397). By
dimming (and, ultimately, eliminating) the subjective investment
in one’s own life, with its various aims, goals, choices, and values,
Schopenhauer thinks, one could potentially exist in an objectively
praiseworthy way.
However, Schopenhauer’s claim that self-abnegation is pref-
erable over any standard instance of individual life seems to in-
volve him in a paradox. As Nietzsche (GM III.28) argues directly
against Schopenhauer, and as Thomas Nagel (in Mortal Questions)
later argued against similar positions, the recommendation of
eliminating one’s aims is itself explainable only as the willful pursuit
of an aim. Willing not to will, in other words, is still willing, and a
desire not to desire is still a desire. Indeed, this criticism exposes
an even graver problem for Schopenhauer. Since Schopenhauer
promotes self-abnegation as a desirable goal, his view turns out to
 Introduction 13

share an important element in common with the Jewish and pan-

theistic optimistic views he sets out to reject. The very prospect of
solving totally the misery and misfortune inherent to the human
condition implies that, at least in principle, we need not find our-
selves, or at least remain, in an imperfect world or in a less than
fully desirable state.
The problem intensifies when we attend to the theoretical basis
for Schopenhauer’s recommendation. He believes that the de-
nial of the will-to-live would bring about the most desirable state
one could aspire to, precisely because in that state one ceases, for
all intents and purposes, to exist as an individual human being or
phenomenon. But that presupposes that there is something beyond
phenomena for humans to exist as. For Schopenhauer, that is the
“will”—the “thing-in-itself ”—constituting the true reality under-
lying all phenomena. If what we most truly are is a non-phenomenal
metaphysical substratum, however, then whatever phenomenal
attributes we have, including all the imperfections and suffering
Schopenhauer locates in the human condition, do not truly belong
to us. At bottom, we are immutable, eternal, and impeccable, as is
the entire world. As it turns out, the very commendation of world
and self that Schopenhauer abhors in what he calls Jewish and pan-
theistic optimism can be attributed to Schopenhauer’s own view
of the world and the self (understood as what they essentially and
truly are).
Nietzsche does not simply reject Schopenhauer’s recommenda-
tion of the denial of the will-to-live, along with the metaphysics un-
derlying it. He also suggests an alternative. This alternative, which
itself faces a formidable challenge, is the subject of Chapter 3.
Based on his idea of the “death of God” and his rejection of abso-
lute values, Nietzsche recommends creating novel values through
affirming the world and oneself. Nietzsche envisages his al-
ternative as overcoming the problems of both pessimism (à la
Schopenhauer) and optimism (of the kind Schopenhauer him-
self rejects). He describes his Zarathustra as recognizing that the
14 Introduction

optimist is just as bad as, if not worse than, the pessimist (EH IV.4).
Nevertheless, Nietzsche’s view arguably does ultimately revert to
the same evaluation of the world and of oneself that both he and
Schopenhauer find problematic. It has been argued, that is, that
Nietzsche, too, endows the world and its various parts, including
individual human beings, with ultimate value. In The Rebel, Albert
Camus suggests that Nietzsche’s top goal—“creation” (Schaffen)
or “yes-saying” (Ja-sagen), roughly, aligning one’s will with the
world—amounts to thinking of the world as a deity and of one-
self as divine, after and despite the “death of God.” Thus, although
Nietzsche criticizes monotheism for privileging God as singularly
valuable and believers in Him as singularly correct (GS 143), he
himself privileges the world and those individuals who value it in
just this way.
Both Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, though criticizing optimistic
views for overvaluing human beings, are nevertheless led, in dif-
ferent ways, to overvalue individual human beings to an arguably
unprecedented degree. There is, however, one readily available view
that seems to deliberately and consistently avoid this consequence.
This view, which dates back to Aristotle and is later developed by
Moses Maimonides, is interestingly one which both Schopenhauer
and Nietzsche would consider optimistic, and rightly so.
Aristotelian optimism will be examined in detail in Chapters 5 and
6. However, in order to appreciate the relevance of that theory to
later views, we will first, in Chapter 4, compare the ancient pessi-
mistic approaches that Aristotle engages with to their modern
counterparts, and especially to Schopenhauer’s view (as we have
already seen, pessimistic sentiments and views make an appear-
ance already in ancient Greek philosophy and literature, and the
connections of those to modern pessimism, as we shall see, do not
elude Schopenhauer himself). In a fragment from a lost dialogue,
titled the Eudemus, Aristotle tells a story about Silenus, who, upon
being captured by King Midas, utters a statement encapsulating a
pessimistic view resembling Schopenhauer’s views on human life
 Introduction 15

and existence. I shall argue that Aristotle presents Silenus’s words

in order to reject them, along with Plato’s view in the Phaedo of
death as a blessing and a release. This criticism is applicable to
Schopenhauer’s general view, and it sets the ground for establishing
Aristotle’s own alternative to pessimism.
In Chapter 5, I turn to the details of Aristotle’s optimistic theory.
For Aristotle, the person who has reached the highest value hu-
manly possible, and recognizes her value adequately, qualifies as
“magnanimous” (megalopsuchos). Occupying a middle position
between the “small-souled” and the “vain,” the magnanimous
person is concerned with “honors and dishonors” exactly appropri-
ately, knowing when to accept and reject them and taking the right
amount of pleasure in them when they are deserved (NE IV.3).
Despite a long controversy surrounding the criteria Aristotle thinks
a magnanimous person must meet, there are good reasons to iden-
tify that person with Aristotle’s philosopher, who is best equipped
to appreciate and assess, not only human honors and dishonors, but
also what in Aristotle’s system are the greatest honors in existence—
those attributed to the unmoved movers of the heavenly bodies and
spheres, i.e., Aristotle’s gods. Being acquainted with these ultimate
causes of reality and their magnificence, the magnanimous person
comes to devalue humanity and devotes her life and efforts to the
divine. This devotion to the divine, which seems to go against the
natural tendency of organisms to further their own lives and spe-
cies, is nevertheless quite consistent with Aristotle’s teleological
view of nature, according to which nature exhibits a clear hierarchy
of species, with each species teleologically oriented not only to-
ward its own interests but also toward the good of superior species.
Importantly, this view of nature is predicated on the assumption
that the world functions optimally and is perfectly good as is. Thus,
Aristotle’s view presents an alternative to pessimism. However, it
also avoids a core feature characteristic of biblical and Spinozist op-
timism as characterized by Schopenhauer, of the unintentionally
optimistic features of Schopenhauer’s theory revealed by Nietzsche,
16 Introduction

and of Nietzsche’s inadvertent optimism as analyzed by Camus.

For Aristotle’s view devalues humanity by comparison to superior
entities, and hence resists overvaluing humanity or oneself.
Moses Maimonides consciously appropriates much of Aristotelian
theory and integrates it into both his philosophical system and his
biblical interpretation. In Chapter 6, I discuss Maimonides’s appro-
priation and development of Aristotle’s optimism, which helps to
put that theory in conversation with post-classical debates on the
value of the world and of human life. In the Guide of the Perplexed III,
Maimonides sets out to solve the classical problem of evil. His solu-
tion rests, not on disregarding or explaining away suffering or evil in
the world, but rather on the devaluation of human beings. Coming
to terms with our own inferiority as humans to higher entities such
as the heavenly bodies and the separate intellects, Maimonides
thinks, allows us to adopt a sober and correct optimistic worldview.
In establishing his devaluation of human beings for this purpose,
Maimonides relies on his interpretation of Jewish sources and, im-
plicitly, on his understanding of Aristotle’s philosophy. Various bib-
lical and Talmudic texts venerate viewing oneself, and indeed the
whole of humankind, as lowly. Abraham, Moses, King David, Isaiah,
and Job have all been described as, and commended for, sharing in
this recognition and conducting their lives in accordance with it.
Humans, in general, are likened to a “vanity” in Psalms 144:4, and
to maggots and worms in Job 25:6. Maimonides harmonizes such
statements with his own conception (and ideal) of the righteous
person and prophet—a philosopher who, like Aristotle’s magnan-
imous person, devalues humanity and herself and devotes her life
and efforts to the divine. Based on these views, Maimonides is able
to sustain an optimistic worldview which, far from implying the im-
peccability of human beings, is in fact grounded in the devaluation of
humanity.
Finally, in Chapter 7, I assess the degree to which Aristotelian
theory is capable of answering the challenge that Schopenhauer
poses to optimism. I conclude that, contra Schopenhauer, Aristotle’s
 Introduction 17

view, especially as developed by Maimonides, is capable of dealing

with the classical problem of evil without compromising its opti-
mistic principles and without having to resort to personal immor-
tality. I also outline an Aristotelian-Maimonidean response to
Schopenhauer’s claim that optimism inevitably leads to moral de-
pravity and cruelty. Indeed, the Aristotelian-Maimonidean stance
on these issues not only defends optimism against Schopenhauer’s
challenge, but also suggests that it is indeed a view such as
Schopenhauer’s that is essentially self-centered and hence poten-
tially morally hazardous. I close by considering further objections
to optimism (raised both by Schopenhauer and by others), and the
ways in which Aristotelian optimism might respond to them. One
group of such objections focuses on the irrelevance of Aristotle’s
theory to contemporary discussion, given its teleological principles
and commitment to such things as the eternity of biological spe-
cies. I argue that a modified version of Aristotelian optimism can
withstand such objections.
Another random document with
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to the company as if nothing had happened; and marriages
were sometimes kept a profound secret for months. It was
not a good fashion, and brought about a good many
complicated lawsuits, but it was not considered at all
disreputable.

Mrs. Philippa's fortune was in her own right, and nobody

had a shadow of authority over her, except, perhaps, her
brother, and as she was older than he by two or three
years, she naturally did not think he had any special right to
direct her. Doctor Brown's family, though not distinguished,
was respectable. There was nothing against him personally,
and he had a comfortable private fortune besides his office
at Durham. Nevertheless Sir Julius was furiously angry, and
wrote Mrs. Deborah a most unreasonable letter—as though
she had been the one to blame.

I think Mrs. Chloe suffered the most of any one from this
very unexpected healing of Mrs. Philippa's twenty years'
heart-break. She missed her sister, whom she had really
loved despite her unkindness, and I am sure she felt it hard
that Mrs. Philippa should get a rich husband, while she
herself had none at all. It was truly pitiable to see how the
poor thing's thoughts still ran upon such things, though
every one in the house could see with half an eye that she
was not long for this world. She grew thinner and weaker
every day, and her little dry cough kept her awake in spite
of all Mrs. Deborah's bread jellies, and poppy and lettuce
syrups.

Mr. Lethbridge used to come and read to her sometimes,

but she did not like him very much, and, indeed, he was not
a cheering visitor. I used to wonder if he thought it was
good for a sick person to hear the particulars of every case
of illness and suffering in the parish.
Mrs. Philippa paid us a visit, during Lent, with her husband.
I never in all my life saw any one so pleased with being
married. She could talk of nothing else, and uttered some
speeches which made us young ones feel as if we did not
know where to look. I never was fond of seeing over-much
billing and cooing in public between even young married
folks; but I never saw a bride and bridegroom of twenty-
one so exasperatingly silly in this respect as Doctor and
Mrs. Brown. However, she was very good-natured, and
invited us all to visit her so seen as she should be settled in
her new house, which, according to her description, was
quite a palace. She was especially kind to Mrs. Chloe, and
took great pains to amuse her. She staid a whole week, and
then left her old home apparently without a single regret.

We had another visitor during Lent, namely, Mr. Cheriton. It

seems Mr. Lethbridge had business in Newcastle which
would keep him there some three weeks, and Mr. Cheriton
learning of it, arranged to exchange duties with him for that
time. Oh what a comfort it was to have him preach again!

He held service on Wednesdays and Fridays, and, as we

always went to church, we saw him tolerably often. Mrs.
Deborah invited him to make the Hall his home during his
stay, but he declined, saying that there were so many cases
of severe illness among the people—as, indeed, there were
—that he wished to be near at hand in case of a sudden
call. Mrs. Deborah admitted the validity of the excuse, but
begged him to come to dinner or supper without ceremony,
as he would always find a plate, and he did so with very
tolerable frequency. Both parties kept carefully clear of
politics, and I think Mrs. Deborah came to regard Mr.
Cheriton's whiggery as more his misfortune than his fault—
as a kind of disorder that ran in some families like gout.
Mr. Cheriton was a fine musician, as I have said, and he
brought us a great parcel of new music by the best
composers. We used to sing together a deal, which was a
great pleasure to Mrs. Chloe. Next to having a love affair of
her own, was the pleasure of watching another's.

But Mr. Cheriton did Mrs. Chloe good in other and better
ways. He himself proposed that as she could not go to
church, he should have prayers for her benefit every
Sunday evening, after which he would read her his sermon.
He was a true "son of consolation," and knew just what to
say and what not. Whenever he spent the evening with us,
we had evening prayers, which we did not at other times,
and Mr. Cheriton usually said a few words upon the Gospel
for the day or week.

I think Mrs. Deborah, at first, looked on this practise of

preaching in a private house, as a dangerous innovation
akin to field preaching, and holding conventicles; but she
soon came to like it.

Mr. Cheriton held several long conversations with Mrs.

Chloe, and I began presently to perceive a change in her.
She left off talking about her past matrimonial chances, and
her plans for visiting "my Sister Brown," when warm
weather came. Her Bible was constantly in her hand or by
her side as she sat in her great chair or lay on the couch,
and she spent a good deal of time studying a volume of Mr.
Charles Wesley's poems, which Mr. Cheriton had brought to
Amabel.

"I don't know how it is, but they seem somehow to express
just what I want!" she said rather apologetically to Mrs.
Deborah one day. "And, you know, Sister Deborah, that Mr.
Wesley is a regularly ordained clergyman of the Church of
England."
"Do read them as much as you like, if they are any comfort
to you, Sister Chloe!" was Mrs. Deborah's reply.

I think she would even have welcomed a Roman Catholic

priest if he had brought any comfort to Chloe. I used
sometimes to wonder, by the way, how Mrs. Deborah
reconciled her hatred of popery and her almost idolatrous
loyalty to the banished Stewarts, but there were a great
many others in the same case. I do not believe there were
ever a more unreasonable and unreasoning set of people
than the English Jacobites. After all the national experience
of the faithlessness of their idols, they were just as ready to
fall down and adore them again, as though they had never
broken a pledge. They worshipped the Church of England.
Yet they were ready to set over her a man who was bound
by the most solemn obligations to overthrow her. It was
certainly a pity to see the blood and treasure that were
thrown away, and the misery and distress that were brought
about, by the unreasoning loyalty to one particular family,
which had never shown itself worthy of trust.

Mr. Cheriton went home at last promising to come again as

soon as possible, and leaving a great many well wishes
behind him. While he had been very careful not to interfere
with Mr. Lethbridge's arrangements, but on the contrary had
upheld him in every possible way, the people could not but
feel the difference between his ministrations and those of
the rector.

"Seems like as if one could talk to that gentleman and open

one's mind to him!" said Mary Thorne, a very intelligent old
woman in one of the alms houses. "He listens to one, he
does, and finds out what one means. I told him all my
trouble about the Sacrament,—" a matter on which poor old
Mary had been much exercised—"and told him how I was
afraid either to come or to stay away. Mr. Lethbridge always
said it was want of faith, and Doctor Brown would just say,
'poor soul, poor soul,' kind of pitying like, and then go home
and send me some broth or something. He was very kind,
but he didn't help me any. But 'Muster Cheriton,' he made it
all plain, and now it seems as if I could not wait for Easter
to come, that I may go to the Lord's table."

Easter came and passed very happily, and it was observed

that there were more communicants than were ever seen
before. We all went to church in the morning, except Mrs.
Chloe, who had failed a great deal of late, and now seldom
left her bedroom before noon.

In the afternoon, Mr. Lethbridge brought the feast to her,

and to old Roberts, who was growing very infirm and hardly
able to perform his duties.

Amabel and I walked out in the park, gathered a great

nosegay for Mrs. Chloe, and talked of our future as young
folks will do. Of course, I was to live with Amabel, till I had
a home of my own, and was to have the south room which
looked toward the church. I was not so light-hearted as
Amabel, for Mrs. Thorpe, who wrote to us sometimes, had
mentioned in her last letter that her nephew's ship had
never been heard from since it sailed for the Indies, and
that people were beginning to think something had
happened to her. However, I kept my troubles to myself, or
rather I tried humbly to lay them on some one better able
to bear them than I, and I listened to Amabel's plans and
discussed them with real interest and pleasure.

"Mrs. Chloe does not talk any more about the set of chairs
she was going to begin in the spring," remarked Amabel.
"She never says anything now about getting well when the
warm weather comes, but I think she seems a great deal
happier than she used."
"She has given up!" said I. "You know dear Mother Superior
used to say that there was great happiness in giving up.
Mrs. Chloe told me the other day, that you and Mr. Cheriton,
between you, had done her more good than you would ever
know."

"I am sure I am very glad to hear it!" said Amabel, her

quiet eyes shining with pleasure.

"Lucy, what have I done that I should be so happy? While

you that are so much better in every way—"

Amabel stopped short. It was the first time she had given
me a hint that she had guessed my secret.

"Don't, please, Amabel!" said I. "I hope I can bear all I am

called on to endure, but I can't bear to hear it talked about
even by you. Forgive me, dear!" For I was afraid I might
have hurt her.

"There is nothing to forgive!" said Amabel, pressing my arm

in hers. "I should feel just so."

We walked home without any more words, and I shut

myself up alone awhile. Comfort came to me by and by, and
when Mrs. Chloe remarked, as I kissed her good-night, that
this had been a happy day, I was glad to be able to agree
with her.

The next day but one, as Amabel and I were returning from
the village school, we were astonished to meet Mr. Cheriton.
His face was pale, his dress disordered, and his jaded horse
showed how fast he had travelled. It was just at the
entrance of the avenue, and one of the grooms being at
hand, Mr. Cheriton gave him the horse, with a charge to be
careful of him, as he had made a hasty journey.
"We were not looking for you!" said Amabel. "What has
brought you in such a hurry?" Then turning pale as Mr.
Cheriton did not answer, "Walter, what is it! You have ill
news. What does it mean?"

"That is what you must tell me!" said Mr. Cheriton, in a

hoarse voice, not a bit like his own. "I received this letter
yesterday. Read it both of you."

He put it into Amabel's hand, as he spoke, and I looked

over her shoulder. It was a very short and ungracious letter
from Sir Julius, saying that he had heard reports injurious
to Mr. Cheriton's character, and having learned from the
best authority, that these reports were even less than the
truth, he forbade him to entertain any hopes of his
daughter, or even to see her more.

"An enemy hath done this!" was Amabel's first word.

"Yes, but who? I did not know that I had one. I know some
idle tales were told about me at one time, but I thought
they had all died out long ago. Amabel, you will not—"

"Don't ask Amabel to pledge herself to anything just this

moment!" I interrupted. "Let us go straight to Mrs.
Deborah."

"You are right, Lucy!" said Mr. Cheriton. "I hardly know what
I am doing. Let us go to Mrs. Deborah, as you say."

"Mrs. Deborah is in her own sitting-room, reading her

letters!" said Richard, in answer to my inquiries. "An
express has come from Sir Julius, with great news."

I do not know that I have any Scotch blood, but I certainly

do have at times an odd kind of second sight. The moment
Richard spoke, I knew it all.
We found Mrs. Deborah sitting in her little room, half office,
half parlor. She had an open letter before her, but she was
not reading it. She was pale, and her black brows seemed
almost to hide her eyes. She hardly seemed at first to
understand who we were, and asked somewhat fiercely
what we meant by coming to disturb her.

"We wanted help!" said Amabel. "Aunt, can you explain

that?" Handing her the letter as she spoke.

Mrs. Deborah glanced through it.

"Too well!" said she. "I also have had a letter which explains
it all. Child, your father is married again, and to Lady
Throckmorton."

CHAPTER XX.

VISITORS.

"THAT is it!" said Mr. Cheriton, striking his hand on the

table, while Amabel and I stood as if dumb. "She told me
when I would not come to her card parties on Sunday, that
she would send me a bull's head. * And to think of the
hours that I have wasted, and worse than wasted in that
woman's house—dishonoring my Master's livery. It is a
judgment upon me, but this child—what has she done?"

* Alluding to the old Scottish and Northumbrian custom

of placing a bull's head before guests, whose death was
determined on.

"Hush, Walter, do not speak rashly, nor talk of judgments!"

said Amabel, speaking quite calmly, though she was pale as
death. "We will not talk of judgments, but of chastenings."

"Of persecutions, rather!" I added. "Blessed are they who

are persecuted for righteousness' sake! If you had kept on
flattering her, she would not have been your enemy."

"If I had never begun it, she could not have found occasion
against me!" returned Mr. Cheriton. "My sin hath found me
out."

"Hush!" said Mrs. Deborah, raising her hand. "You young

people think you have all to bear. Is it nothing to me to
have that woman come into my place,—knowing her as I
do? To see my only brother besotted with a—Oh me, oh me!
How shall I ever tell Chloe?"

And Mrs. Deborah broke down in a burst of bitter weeping,

dreadful to see in one usually so self-restrained. We were all
about her in a moment. She clasped Amabel in her arms,
and laying her head on her shoulder as she knelt on the
floor, she sobbed bitterly.

As for me, I was too fiercely angry to cry. Mr. Cheriton, who
had in some degree regained his self-control, at the sight of
Mrs. Deborah's distress, now spoke in his deep voice—

"Let us pray!"

I shall never forget that prayer, nor how it sustained and

comforted us all. We knelt in silence for some moments,
and then Mrs. Deborah rose—

"Children, we must consider what is to be done!" said she.

"It is evident that my brother has been set against Mr.
Cheriton, by somebody interested in preventing this
marriage. Be quiet while I read you his letter, or that part of
it which relates to you."

We listened accordingly. The letter was a repetition, for the

most part, of what Sir Julius had written to Mr. Cheriton,
only that it entered more into particulars, accusing Mr.
Cheriton of low intrigues, and conduct unbecoming a
gentleman, and concluded by saying—

"I will never give my daughter to a canting Methodist. Let

Mr. Cheriton give up his irregular practices—his field
preaching and class-meetings, let him apologize to my wife
for his affronts to her, and show by his conduct that he
regrets them, and I may possibly be induced to overlook
the natural irregularities of a young man. I say possibly, for
I may have other and higher views for my daughter."

"He is very good!" said Mr. Cheriton, with a look on his face
and a tone of bitterness in his voice, which I never
witnessed or heard before. "If I will give up preaching to the
poor and seeking the lost, that is to say, if I will give up the
work I am doing for the Lord, he will possibly overlook what
I am said to have done for the devil. As to Lady
Throckmorton, as I have never affronted her, I owe her no
apology. What say you, Amabel? Shall I give up my
preaching to the colliers and ballast men, for your sake?"
"Never!" said Amabel firmly. "I would rather never see you
more in this world, than that you should swerve one hair's
breadth from your duty for my sake."

"Besides, it would be only a chance!" said I. "Do you not

see, that Sir Julius says he may have other and higher
views for his daughter?"

"Let us say no more at present, my children!" said Mrs.

Deborah. "But take time to think. Mr. Cheriton, you are
much in need of refreshment. Lucy, will you order
something? Amabel, my love, you had better retire to your
room and compose your spirits. We will talk of this matter
again."

But a sad interval was to pass before the matter was again
discussed. We had not yet separated, when Jenny came in
all haste to say, that Mrs. Chloe had fallen into a fainting-fit,
and her woman could not bring her to, with all she could do.

"It was just that grinning fool Richard!" said Jenny in great
wrath. "He must come in with a basket of sticks, for Mrs.
Chloe wanted a bright fire, and what must he do, but
congratulate her on the happy news as he called it, and
when Mrs. Chloe asked what it meant, he said master was
married to Lady Throckmorton, and poor Mrs. Chloe, she
just gave one mournful cry and sunk back like one dead."

All these particulars were given to us, for Mrs. Deborah had
hurried to her sister. Poor Mrs. Chloe came out of her
fainting-fit, only to have a dreadful bleeding from her lungs.
An express was sent in all haste for the doctor, and another
for Mrs. Philippa—Mrs. Brown, I should say. The doctor did
not arrive till night, and then gave no hopes. Mrs. Chloe
survived about a week, and then passed quietly away, in
the comfort of a reasonable, religious, and holy hope. I
suppose she could not have lived long at any rate; but there
is no doubt that the news of her brother's marriage to a
woman whom she disliked, and with the best of reasons,
hastened her end. She gave Mrs. Deborah written directions
as to the disposition of her affairs, and said that she had
made her will, which was in the hands of Mr. Thirlwall, the
family lawyer and man of business at Newcastle. I had
supposed as much, knowing that he had paid her several
visits during the winter.

An express had been sent to Sir Julius, as soon as Mrs.

Chloe's case had been pronounced hopeless, and he arrived
in time for the funeral without his wife, who he said was
unfit for such a hasty journey.

I am not apt to take impressions at first sight. But when I

do, though I may sometimes change them for awhile, I am
very apt to return to them. My first sight of Sir Julius'
picture, led me to think him a vain man, at once weak and
obstinate. I have never seen cause to change my opinion.

Sir Julius greeted his sister with a great show of cordiality,

but withal, much as if he had been an impudent lad caught
robbing an orchard and determined to brave it out. He was
very gracious to Amabel, and more condescending to me
than I thought there was any call for, seeing that my family
was as good as his own or better, and that he had all these
years been pocketing the rents from my poor father's little
estate of Black Lees. (So I had learned from Mrs. Chloe,
though forgot to mention it in the right place.) However, I
was determined to bear everything for Amabel's sake.

He could not well find fault with the arrangements for the
funeral, seeing that Mrs. Chloe had ordered them all
herself; but he frowned at the needless expense, as he
called it, of giving new frieze coats to the poor men in the
alm-houses, and new gray gowns to the old women; and
swore roundly, when he heard that Mrs. Chloe had ordered
Mr. Cheriton to officiate at her funeral, "that he would not
have the canting Methodist enter his house."

"There will be no occasion for him to do so, since he will

meet my poor sister's corpse at the church-yard!" replied
Mrs. Deborah calmly. "Let me advise you, brother, to swear
no rash oaths. There has been harm enough done that way
in this family."

Sir Julius was silent, and made no more objection to Mr.

Cheriton. I could not but see how Mrs. Deborah put him
down, whenever they were together.

We had another very unexpected guest at the funeral.

Notice of Mrs. Chloe's death had been sent to an aunt of
Mrs. Deborah's who had married one of the Scots of
Eskdale, and was called Lady Thornyhaugh, after the name
of the estate, as the custom is in Scotland concerning
landed proprietors. She was a widow of many years
standing, and was about eighty-five years old, though no
one would have taken her to be seventy. She arrived on
horseback riding behind a trusty man-servant, and attended
by her bower-woman, as she called her, as old, upright, and
active as herself.

I fell in love with her at once, and she was kind enough to
take equally to me. Her presence was a great comfort to us
all, and especially to Mrs. Deborah. She was a beautiful old
lady, with silvery white hair which would curl in spite of her,
eyes the exact counterpart of Amabel's, and a perfectly
refined and ladylike manner. She spoke with a very strong
Scotch accent, but we had learned Scotch enough from
Elsie, not to mind that.
The funeral was celebrated, and then came the reading of
the will, at which all the family were present. It seemed
that Mrs. Chloe was much richer than either of her sisters,
since beside her share of her mother's fortune, which was
not inconsiderable, she had inherited some five thousand
pounds from a god-mother, for whom she was named.

This fortune, after a legacy of five hundred pounds apiece to

her brother and Mrs. Brown, and the same to myself; was
equally divided between Mrs. Deborah and Amabel. Mrs.
Deborah's portion was also to be divided between Amabel
and me after her death. Remembrances were left to Doctor
Brown and Mr. Lethbridge, to the doctor and lawyer, and to
each of the servants—even to the little girl who weeded the
flower-beds.

I think, Mrs. Philippa—I shall never learn to write Mrs.

Brown—was disappointed a little, but if so she was too
proud to show it. Indeed, I must say that no one could have
behaved better than she did throughout the whole affair. I
should say that Mrs. Chloe left "my Sister Brown" all her
ornaments, of which she had a great many, and a fine
cupboard of blue china which she had been collecting all her
life, and which Mrs. Philippa had always coveted.

Sir Julius, on the contrary, did not try to hide his vexation.
It was plain that he had always counted on Mrs. Chloe's
leaving all her money to himself, and I was wicked enough
to be glad to see him disappointed. He swore roundly at Mr.
Thirlwall for allowing Mrs. Chloe to make such an absurd
will, and for not letting him know about it in time to have it
altered.

The old gentleman took snuff, and answered quietly that it

was not his place to betray the secrets of his clients, but
that if Sir Julius was dissatisfied, he was quite welcome to
employ any other lawyer he pleased; whereat Sir Julius
drew in his horns, if I may be allowed the expression, and
began to stammer some sort of apology.

"I am astonished at you, brother, I am, indeed!" said Mrs.

Brown, with a great deal of real dignity. "My Sister Chloe
had a right to dispose of her property as she pleased, and I
for one am quite satisfied with the arrangement. Doctor
Brown, are you not satisfied with my sister's disposition of
her estate?"

"Certainly, my dear, certainly," replied the doctor; "and I

should have been satisfied if the good lady had not left us a
penny."

In which, I doubt not, he spoke the truth, for he was

already rich, and love of money was not one of his faults.

Sir Julius stayed at home about a week, and went away in a

much better humor than that he had brought with him. He
was very proud of Amabel's beauty and accomplishments,
and disarmed by her submission to his will. He had a long
talk with Mr. Cheriton, and at last, of his own accord, he
promised to put no force upon Amabel's inclinations for the
present, though he insisted that the young people should
neither see each other nor correspond till he gave them
permission, and this they both promised.

"I would not have the lass build too much on her father's
present mood," said the old lady from Thornyhaugh, as we
two sat together in the little south room the evening after
Sir Julius had departed. "I should not speak so of my nevoy
belike, but he aye minds me of what was said of King James
the Sixth by ane wha keened him weel. 'Do you ken a
jackanape?' said he. 'If you hold Jocko by the chain you can
make him bite me, but if I hold him by the chain I can make
him bite you.'"

"That is just what I think, madam," said I. (As we were

alone together I thought I might have the comfort of
speaking my mind for once.) "I know Lady Throckmorton—
Lady Leighton, I mean—a little, and from what I have seen
of them both, I do not believe Sir Julius is likely to make
any stand against her."

"Aye, and what do you know of her, my lass?"

In answer I gave her an account of our visit to Lady

Throckmorton.

"Just like her!" was the comment. "What's bred in the bone
stays long in the blood. I keened her mother before her, and
she was just such another. A fine guardian, truly, to set over
his daughter. Aweel, Lucy Corbet, I am no Papist nor favorer
of Papists, or of them that would bring them back on this
land, but, saving their religion, I would wish you and my
niece were safe back yonder in your convent. Poor children!
This world is a hard place for motherless lassies."

She stroked my head as I sat on a low seat to which she

had called me beside her, and I kissed her beautiful
withered hand, and felt comforted by her sympathy.

"What I most fear, if I may venture to say so, madam—" I

began, and then stopped.

"Say what is in your mind, bairn," said the old lady, "I shall
never repeat a word."

"What I fear for Amabel then is, that Lady Throckmorton—I

mean Lady Leighton—will try to marry her up to some of
the men who are always hanging about her—to Lord
Bulmer, for instance. Do you think, madam, that in that
case Amabel would be bound to obey?"

The old lady meditated for a moment before she spoke.

"No, bairn, I would not say so. If my nephew forbids his

daughter to marry this minister—what is his name?"

"Mr. Cheriton."

"Aye, Mr. Cheriton. If my nevoy forbids his daughter to

marry this man, though there be naught against him,
doubtless his daughter is bound to obey her father, at least
till she is of age. Children are to obey their parents in the
Lord. But no parent has the right to make his child perjure
herself by promising to love and honor a man whom she
hates and despises, or to promise to love one man while her
heart is another's. That such matches have sometimes
turned out well to appearance is but saying that sin is
sometimes overruled for good. Nay, I am as earnest as any
one for obedience to parents, but if a father bids his child to
bow down before an idol, she is not bound to obey."

We both started as Amabel came forward to the fire and

spoke, for we had not heard her enter.

"I think you are quite right, aunt," said she. "If my father
requires me to give up Mr. Cheriton I will do so, at least till I
am of age, but nothing shall ever make me marry any one
else, while he lives—nothing!"

She spoke without excitement, but with the calm resolute

air I knew so well.

"You are right, niece!" said Leddy Thornyhaugh. "So long as

you hold that resolution, nobody can make you marry. But if
you should ever, either of you, be driven to straits and need
a friend, come to me at Thornyhaugh and you shall find
one, if I am alive."

The good lady went away next day much regretted by us

all. Elsie would fain have returned with her foster-sister, for
such she was, but after some private conversation, she
decided to remain.

Doctor and Mrs. Brown also took their departure, Mrs.

Philippa—there it goes again—had made herself very
agreeable during her stay. She seemed wonderfully well-
pleased with her new state of life, and I suppose happiness
agreed with her. She gave us all pressing invitations to
come and visit her, and was very affectionate to Mrs.
Deborah at parting. I believe she did really in some degree
begin to appreciate her sister's forbearance toward her
through all those weary years. As for her husband, he was
always pleasant when he was pleased, and some people are
not even that. He was just the husband for Mrs. Philippa for
he was too easy-going to mind her little tempers, while he
could be firm enough when once he set his foot down.

As soon as our company had departed, Mrs. Deborah set on

foot a great house-cleaning and renovating. Sir Julius had
intimated his intention to return to Highbeck Hall in the
course of the summer with his wife and a party of friends,
and Mrs. Deborah was determined to leave all in order for
him. I say to leave advisedly, for nothing could shake her
determination to depart from Highbeck Hall before Lady
Leighton entered it.

"I will never see that woman in my honored mother's

place!" she said. "If my brother had chosen to marry a
sober respectable person like his second wife, though she
had been even a grocer's daughter, I should have nothing to
say; but I will never sleep under the same roof with that
woman."

Amabel and I found in this cleaning and moving process

some diversion at least. It was quite wonderful to me to see
what hoards of curious things had accumulated in the
house. Such heaps of old finery—silks and satins and laces
—such odds and ends of gold and silver, and old-fashioned
ornaments and what not. In turning out a chest of drawers
one day, we came cross an old needlecase of gold with blue
and white enamel, and seeing how much I admired it, Mrs.
Deborah gave it to me. Carelessly enough I laid it on the
top of a tall cabinet which stood in our bedroom, but when I
went to look for it, it had disappeared.

"What can have become of it?" said I to Amabel. "I am sure

I laid it here this morning."

"You should have put it carefully away in your work-bag,

and then it would have been safe!" remarked Amabel,
seeing an occasion which indeed she seldom wanted in my
case, for a little homily on tidiness. "Perhaps it has rolled
down behind the cabinet."

"I can see it!" said I peeping into the very narrow space
between the cabinet and the wall. "But I cannot reach it. Let
us try to move the cabinet out a little, Amabel."

To our agreeable surprise, the apparently heavy cabinet

moved with a good deal of squeaking and creaking indeed
but with tolerable ease, upon rollers concealed in the gilt
griffin's claws which formed its feet. I recovered my
needlecase and then began admiring the freshness and
beauty of the hanging behind the cabinet.

"It is of a different pattern from the rest!" remarked

Amabel. "It is like that in the little withdrawing-room down
stairs."

"It is not fastened to the wall, either," said I.

I raised the long strip of hanging as I spoke, and to my

surprise—to my alarm I might almost say—I discovered a
bolted door behind it.

"See here, Amabel!" said I. "This door opens into the ghost
room! Are you not afraid?"

"No, I don't know that I am!" replied Amabel. "There is a

good substantial bolt, as you see, and as for the ghost I
believe that sort of gentry do not need doors for their
entrance and exit."

"Would you dare open it?" said I. "I have a curiosity to see
how a room looks into which no one has set foot for two
hundred years and more."

"Well, look then! What harm can it do! And yet after all I
would let it alone, I think!" said Amabel. "Perhaps Mrs.
Deborah would not like it."

At that moment Amabel was called down stairs to attend to

some matter or other. I looked at the bolted door and my
curiosity grew stronger. I could not think of any harm it
would do to take a peep, and I wanted to see what a
ghost's room looked like. So I pushed back the bolt and
opened the door with less difficulty than I expected, rather
dreading all the time, lest I should see the poor wolf-lady's
green fiery eyes glaring at me through the darkness.

However, I saw nothing of the kind. The door opened into a

kind of closet or press, and that into a common-place
looking room enough, with a bed hung with dark faded red
stuff, and other furniture of the same sort. The windows