exhausted, all that survives is Vanity--Vanity is the abiding
substance of us, the _I_ in us. Vanity is only to be satisfied by gold
in floods. Our dreams need time and physical means and painstaking
thought before they can be realized. Well, gold contains all things in
embryo; gold realizes all things for us.

"'None but fools and invalids can find pleasure in shuffling cards
all evening long to find out whether they shall win a few pence at the
end. None but driveling idiots could spend time in inquiring into all
that is happening around them, whether Madame Such-an-One slept single
on her couch or in company, whether she has more blood than lymph,
more temperament than virtue. None but the dupes, who fondly imagine
that they are useful to their like, can interest themselves in laying
down rules for political guidance amid events which neither they nor
any one else foresees, nor ever will foresee. None but simpletons can
delight in talking about stage players and repeating their sayings;
making the daily promenade of a caged animal over a rather larger
area; dressing for others, eating for others, priding themselves on a
horse or a carriage such as no neighbor can have until three days
later. What is all this but Parisian life summed up in a few phrases?
Let us find a higher outlook on life than theirs. Happiness consists
either in strong emotions which drain our vitality, or in methodical
occupation which makes existence like a bit of English machinery,
working with the regularity of clockwork. A higher happiness than
either consists in a curiosity, styled noble, a wish to learn Nature's
secrets, or to attempt by artificial means to imitate Nature to some
extent. What is this in two words but Science and Art, or passion or
calm?--Ah! well, every human passion wrought up to its highest pitch
in the struggle for existence comes to parade itself before me--as I
live in calm. As for your scientific curiosity, a kind of wrestling