Die Einsamkeit ist noth:  doch sei nur nicht gemein,
  So kannst du ueberall in einer Wueste sein.

It is natural for great minds—­the true teachers of humanity—­to care little about the constant company of others; just as little as the schoolmaster cares for joining in the gambols of the noisy crowd of boys which surround him.  The mission of these great minds is to guide mankind over the sea of error to the haven of truth—­to draw it forth from the dark abysses of a barbarous vulgarity up into the light of culture and refinement.  Men of great intellect live in the world without really belonging to it; and so, from their earliest years, they feel that there is a perceptible difference between them and other people.  But it is only gradually, with the lapse of years, that they come to a clear understanding of their position.  Their intellectual isolation is then reinforced by actual seclusion in their manner of life; they let no one approach who is not in some degree emancipated from the prevailing vulgarity.

From what has been said it is obvious that the love of solitude is not a direct, original impulse in human nature, but rather something secondary and of gradual growth.  It is the more distinguishing feature of nobler minds, developed not without some conquest of natural desires, and now and then in actual opposition to the promptings of Mephistopheles—­bidding you exchange a morose and soul-destroying solitude for life amongst men, for society; even the worst, he says, will give a sense of human fellowship:—­

Hoer’ auf mit deinem Gram zu spielen, Der, wie ein Geier, dir am Leben frisst:  Die schlechteste Gesellschaft laesst dich fuehlen Dass du ein Mensch mit Menschen bist.[1]

[Footnote 1:  Goethe’s Faust, Part I., 1281-5.]

To be alone is the fate of all great minds—­a fate deplored at times, but still always chosen as the less grievous of two evils.  As the years increase, it always becomes easier to say, Dare to be wise—­sapere aude.  And after sixty, the inclination to be alone grows into a kind of real, natural instinct; for at that age everything combines in favor of it.  The strongest impulse—­the love of woman’s society—­has little or no effect; it is the sexless condition of old age which lays the foundation of a certain self-sufficiency, and that gradually absorbs all desire for others’ company.  A thousand illusions and follies are overcome; the active years of life are in most cases gone; a man has no more expectations or plans or intentions.  The generation to which he belonged has passed away, and a new race has sprung up which looks upon him as essentially outside its sphere of activity.  And then the years pass more quickly as we become older, and we want to devote our remaining time to the intellectual rather than to the practical side of life.  For, provided that the mind retains its faculties, the amount of knowledge and experience