In the third volume of the “Shelburne Essays” Mr. More has one dealing with Byron’s “Don Juan.” I smile when I reflect with what contempt Mr. More would greet the proposition that he should read a modern writer as slangy, as licentious, and as popular as Byron! But “Don Juan” was written a hundred years ago; so it is a “classic,” and Mr. More greets its author as the last of the great pessimists, one who had the wit to recognize the futility of human life, and the courage to speak his conclusions plainly. Things have changed since Byron’s day, Mr. More explains. “We, who have approached the consummation of the world’s hope, know that happiness and peace and the fulfilment of desires are about to settle down and brood for ever more over the lot of mankind.” This, I had better explain, is sarcasm on Mr. More’s part. He is irritated because modern scientific people have presumed to think that human problems can be solved. He is so much irritated that he turns his essay on Byron into a series of sneers at “the new dispensation of official optimism.” For example, this kind of thing: Next year, or the next, some divine invention shall come which will prove this melancholy of the poets to have been only a childish ignorance of man’s sublimer destiny; some discovery of a new element more wonderful than radium will render the ancient brooding over human feebleness a matter of laughter and astonishment; some acceptance of the larger brotherhood of the race will wipe away all tears and bring down upon earth the fair dream of heaven, a reality and a possession forever; some new philosophy of the soul will convert the old poems of conflict into meaningless fables, stale and unprofitable. What is the meaning of this attitude of envenomed resentment at the idea of a hope for mankind? We shall note it again and again among the poets and critics of the ancient regime--of what we may call “the old dispensation of official pessimism.” It used to puzzle me that scholars and thinkers should be so malicious and perverted as to find pleasure in trampling upon human aspiration; but after years of pondering I think I understand it. These gentlemen are guests at a banquet, who, seeing the food too long delayed, and despairing of anything better, have filled their bellies with husks and straw; and now, when they are full, and can no longer eat, they see the good food coming to the table!