The Prolongation of Life: Optimistic Studies

by Elie Metchnikoff

“It is old age which is come upon me,” he cried; “I feel painful impressions much less acutely and pleasant impressions have less effect on me. The relative proportions of the two remain as before, that is to say, unpleasant things still impress me much more strongly than pleasant things.” By analysing and comparing his emotions, he discovered something new, in fact that some impressions were, so to speak, neutral. As he was less sensitive to unharmonious sounds, and at the same time less affected by music itself, he found himself in a more tranquil condition. Awakening in the middle of the night, he experienced a kind of happiness which reminded him of that formerly produced by morphine, and which was characterised by his hearing no sound, either pleasant or unpleasant. He became less disgusted by drugs, but at the same time indifferent to the pleasures of the table which he had appreciated in his youth. He also delighted in consuming more and more simple food. A piece of black bread and a glass of water became real treats to him. Insipid dishes, which he formerly despised, were now specially agreeable to him.

Just as in the evolution of art, violent coloration has yielded to the low tones of Puvis de Chavannes, as views of fields and meadows are preferred to those of mountains and lakes; just as in literature, tragic and romantic studies have been successfully replaced by scenes of daily life, so the psychical development of my friend displayed a similar change. Instead of taking his pleasure in mountains or in places famed for their picturesqueness, he was content to watch the budding of the leaves of the trees of his garden, or a snail overcoming its fears and putting out its horns. The simplest occurrences, such as the lisping or the smile of a baby or the first words of a child, became sources of real delight to this elderly man of science. What was the meaning of these changes which took so many years to be accomplished? It was the growth of his sense of life. The instinct of life is little developed in youth. Just as a young woman gets more pain than pleasure from the earlier part of her married life, just as a new-born baby cries, so the impressions from life, especially when they are very keenly felt, bring more pain than pleasure during a long period of human life. The sensations and feelings are not stable; they undergo evolution, and when that takes place more or less normally, it brings about a state of psychical equilibrium.

And thus my friend, formerly so entrenched in pessimism, came to share my optimistic view of life. The discussions that we had had for so many years ended in complete agreement. “However,” said he, “to understand the value of life, one must have lived long; otherwise one is in the position of a man blind from his birth to whom are recounted the beauties of colours.” In a word, my friend towards the end of his life changed from abject pessimism to complete optimism.

Such a transformation or evolution cannot be regarded as unusual. In The Nature of Man, I showed that most of the great pessimistic writers had been young men. Such were Buddha, Byron, Leopardi, Schopenhauer, Hartmann, and Mailaender, and there might be added many other names of less well known men.

The question has often been asked why Schopenhauer, who was certainly sincere in his philosophy and who extolled Nirvana as the perfect state, came to have a strong attachment to life, instead of putting it to a premature end as was done later on by Mailaender. The reason was that the philosopher of Frankfort lived long enough to acquire a strong instinct of life. M. Moebius,[184] a well-known authority on madness, has made a close investigation of Schopenhauer’s biography, and has established the fact that towards the end of his life his views were tinged with optimistic colours. On his seventieth anniversary, he took pleasure in the consoling idea of the Hindoo Oupanischad and of Flourens that the span of man’s life might reach a century. As Moebius put it, “Schopenhauer as an old man enjoyed life and was no longer a pessimist” (p. 94). Not long before his death he still hoped to survive yet another twenty years. It is true that Schopenhauer never recanted his early pessimistic writings, but that was probably because he did not fully realise his own mental evolution.

In looking through the work of modern psychologists, I cannot find recognition of the cycle of evolution of the human mind. In Kowalevsky’s able and conscientious study of pessimism, I was specially struck by one phrase. “Evils such as hunger, disease, and death are equally terrible at all stages of life and in every rank of society” (p. 95) said that author. I notice here a failure to recognise the modification of the emotions in the course of life which, none the less, is one of the great facts of human nature. Fear of death is by no means equally great at all stages of life. A child is ignorant of death and has no conscious aversion from it. The youth and the young man know that death is a terrible thing, but they have not the horror of it that comes to a mature man in whom the instinct of life has become fully developed. And we see that young men are careless of the laws of hygiene, whilst old men devote to them sedulous attention. This difference is probably a notable cause of pessimism in young men. In his studies of the mind, Moebius[185] has stated his view that pessimism is a phase of youth which is succeeded by a serener spirit. “One may remain a pessimist in theory,” he says, “but actually to be one, it is necessary to be young. As years increase, a man clings more firmly to life.” “When an old man is free from melancholia, he is not a pessimist at heart.” “We cannot yet explain clearly the psychology of the pessimism of the young, but at least we can lay down the proposition that it is a disease of youth” (p. 182).

The cases of Schopenhauer and of the man of science whose psychical history I have sketched fully confirm the view of the alienist of Leipzig.

The conception that there is an evolution of the instinct of life in the course of the development of a human being is the true foundation of optimistic philosophy. It is so important that it should be examined with the minutest care. Our senses are capable of great cultivation. Artists develop the sense of colour far beyond the point attained by ordinary men, and distinguish shades that others do not notice. Hearing, taste, and smell also can be educated. Wine tasters have an appreciation of wine much more acute than that of other men. A friend of mine, who does not drink wine, can distinguish burgundy from claret only by the shapes of the bottles, but is devoted to tea and has a very fine palate for different blends. I do not know if a good palate is a natural gift, but however this may be, it is certain that the palate can be brought to a high condition of perfection.

The development of the senses is specially notable in the case of the blind in whom other powers become extremely acute. As I thought that investigation of the educability of other senses in blind persons very important from the point of view of the development of the sense of life, I have tried to obtain the best available information on the question. The perfection of touch in the blind is accepted so generally as a truth that one would have expected to find convincing facts in its favour. However, it is not true. Griesbach,[186] using a well-known method for estimating tactile discrimination, found that the sense of touch is not more acute in the blind than in normal persons. Blind persons distinguished the points of a pair of compasses as separate, only when they were at least as far apart as in case of normal persons. Dr. Javal,[187] a well-known oculist who himself became blind, stated his surprise at finding that “tactile discrimination is quite notably less acute in the case of the blind than in the case of those with unimpaired vision. For instance, the index finger of a blind man who was a great reader got separate sensations from the points of a pair of compasses only when these were three millimetres apart, whilst a man with normal sight had the double sensation at a distance of two millimetres” (p. 123). Griesbach goes still farther, stating that neither hearing nor smell is better developed in the blind than amongst normal people. Although these senses may come to replace to a certain extent the sense of sight, this occurs merely because the blind person uses impressions which the clear-sighted person hardly notices. As we see what is going on around us, we do not concentrate our attention on the different sounds and smells or other such phenomena. The blind person, on the other hand, not being absorbed by impressions of sight, gives attention to the others. Such and such a sound tells him that the garden gate of his neighbour has been opened to let out a carriage which he must avoid. A particular smell lets him recognise the place where he is, as stable or kitchen.

From the present point of view, it is not exactly the acuteness of the senses which is most important. The acuteness might be equal in a blind person and in a normal person. It might even be greater in the latter, and yet it is only the blind person who can decipher without difficulty raised points so as to understand their meaning as well as when a normal person reads a printed book. This power of the blind person is developed only after a long period of learning, and depends on the appreciation of very delicate tactile impressions. I must point out, moreover, that the method of deciding by means of a pair of compasses gives information only with regard to one side of the tactile sense.