who is privileged in this respect leads two lives, a personal and an
intellectual life; and the latter gradually comes to be looked upon
as the true one, and the former as merely a means to it. Other people
make this shallow, empty and troubled existence an end in itself. To
the life of the intellect such a man will give the preference over
all his other occupations: by the constant growth of insight and
knowledge, this intellectual life, like a slowly-forming work of art,
will acquire a consistency, a permanent intensity, a unity which
becomes ever more and more complete; compared with which, a life
devoted to the attainment of personal comfort, a life that may broaden
indeed, but can never be deepened, makes but a poor show: and yet,
as I have said, people make this baser sort of existence an end in
itself.

The ordinary life of every day, so far as it is not moved by passion,
is tedious and insipid; and if it is so moved, it soon becomes
painful. Those alone are happy whom nature has favored with some
superfluity of intellect, something beyond what is just necessary to
carry out the behests of their will; for it enables them to lead an
intellectual life as well, a life unattended by pain and full of vivid
interests. Mere leisure, that is to say, intellect unoccupied in the
service of the will, is not of itself sufficient: there must be a
real superfluity of power, set free from the service of the will and
devoted to that of the intellect; for, as Seneca says, _otium sine
litteris mors est et vivi hominis sepultura_--illiterate leisure is
a form of death, a living tomb. Varying with the amount of the
superfluity, there will be countless developments in this second life,
the life of the mind; it may be the mere collection and labelling of
insects, birds, minerals, coins, or the highest achievements of poetry
and philosophy. The life of the mind is not only a protection against