instead of real and permanent, pain. Card-playing is, in fact, a mere
tickling of the will.[1]

[Footnote 1: _Vulgarity_ is, at bottom, the kind of consciousness in
which the will completely predominates over the intellect, where the
latter does nothing more than perform the service of its master, the
will. Therefore, when the will makes no demands, supplies no motives,
strong or weak, the intellect entirely loses its power, and the result
is complete vacancy of mind. Now _will without intellect_ is the most
vulgar and common thing in the world, possessed by every blockhead,
who, in the gratification of his passions, shows the stuff of which he
is made. This is the condition of mind called _vulgarity_, in which
the only active elements are the organs of sense, and that small
amount of intellect which is necessary for apprehending the data of
sense. Accordingly, the vulgar man is constantly open to all sorts of
impressions, and immediately perceives all the little trifling things
that go on in his environment: the lightest whisper, the most trivial
circumstance, is sufficient to rouse his attention; he is just like an
animal. Such a man's mental condition reveals itself in his face, in
his whole exterior; and hence that vulgar, repulsive appearance, which
is all the more offensive, if, as is usually the case, his will--the
only factor in his consciousness--is a base, selfish and altogether
bad one.]

On the other hand, a man of powerful intellect is capable of taking
a vivid interest in things in the way of mere _knowledge_, with no
admixture of _will_; nay, such an interest is a necessity to him. It
places him in a sphere where pain is an alien,--a diviner air, where
the gods live serene.