absorbed in that of the species, must not their existence be too?  The curse of vulgarity reduces man to the level of animals, for his nature and existence are merged in that of the species only.  It is taken for granted that anything that is high, great, or noble by its very nature stands isolated in a world where no better expression can be found to signify what is base and paltry than the term which I have mentioned as being generally used—­namely, common.

* * * * *

According as our intellectual energy is strained or relaxed will life appear to us either so short, petty, and fleeting, that nothing can happen of sufficient importance to affect our feelings; nothing is of any importance to us—­be it pleasure, riches, or even fame, and however much we may have failed, we cannot have lost much; or vice versa, life will appear so long, so important, so all in all, so grave, and so difficult that we throw ourselves into it with our whole soul, so that we may get a share of its possessions, make ourselves sure of its prizes, and carry out our plans.  The latter is the immanent view of life; it is what Gracian means by his expression, tomar muy de veras el vivir (life is to be taken seriously); while for the former, the transcendental view, Ovid’s non est tanti is a good expression; Plato’s a still better, [Greek:  oute ti ton anthropinon axion hesti, megalaes spoudaes] (nihil, in rebus humanis, magno studio dignum est).

The former state of mind is the result of the intellect having gained ascendency over consciousness, where, freed from the mere service of the will, it grasps the phenomena of life objectively, and so cannot fail to see clearly the emptiness and futility of it.  On the other hand, it is the will that rules in the other condition of mind, and it is only there to lighten the way to the object of its desires.  A man is great or small according to the predominance of one or the other of these views of life.

* * * * *

It is quite certain that many a man owes his life’s happiness solely to the circumstance that he possesses a pleasant smile, and so wins the hearts of others.  However, these hearts would do better to take care to remember what Hamlet put down in his tablets—­that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

* * * * *

People of great and brilliant capacities think little of admitting or exposing their faults and weaknesses.  They regard them as something for which they have paid, and even are of the opinion that these weaknesses, instead of being a disgrace to them, do them honour.  This is especially the case when they are errors that are inseparable from their brilliant capacities—­conditiones sine quibus non, or, as George Sand expressed it, chacun a les defauts de ses vertus.

On the contrary, there are people of good character and irreproachable minds, who, rather than admit their few little weaknesses, carefully conceal them, and are very sensitive if any reference is made to them; and this just because their whole merit consists in the absence of errors and defects; and hence when these errors come to light they are immediately held in less esteem.