leasures which require sensibilities unlike his own; and conversely it
must be remembered that he took delight in what would to many men be a
weariness of the flesh. The obviously sincere belief, however, in his
own happiness proves at least one thing. He was thoroughly contented
with his own position. He was never brooding over vexations, or dreaming
of what might have been. Could he have been asked by Providence at any
time, Where shall I place you? his answer would almost always have been,
Here. He gives, indeed, admirable reasons for being satisfied. He had
superabundant health and strength, he scarcely knew what it was to be
tired, though he seemed always to be courting fatigue, or, if tired, he
was only tired enough to enjoy the speedy reaction. His affections had
a strength fully proportioned to his vigour of mind and body; his
domestic happiness was perfect; and he had a small circle of friends
both appreciative and most warmly appreciated. Finally, if the outside
world was far from being all that he could wish, it was at least
superabundantly full of interest. Though indifferent to many matters
which occupy men of different temperament, he had quite enough not only
to keep his mind actively engaged, but to suggest indefinite horizons of
future inquiry of intense interest. He was in no danger of being bored
or suffering from a famine of work. Under such conditions, he could not
help being happy.

Yet Fitzjames's most decided convictions would have suited a
thorough-going pessimist. Neither Swift nor Carlyle could have gone much
beyond him in condemning the actual state of the political or religious
condition of the world. Things, on the whole, were in many directions
going from bad to worse. The optimist is apt to regard these views as
wicked, and I do not know whether it will be considered as an
aggravation or an extenuation of his offence that, holding such
opinions, Fitzjames could be steadily cheerful. I simply state the fact.
His freedom from the constitutional infirmities which embittered both
the great men I have mentioned, and his incomparably happier domestic
circumstances, partly account for the difference. But, moreover, it was
an essential part of his character to despise all whining. There was no
variety of person with whom he had less sympathy than the pessimist
whose lamentations suggest a disordered liver. He would have fully
accepted the doctrine upon which Mr. Herbert Spencer has insisted, that