questions, Wherefore? Whither? and Whence? to his mind. But his soul
rather warms to his work, and, be this the counting of a floweret's
petals or the breaking of stones by the roadside, he spends his whole
fund of interest, pleasure, strength, and aspirations upon it. This
paradox--the scientific man--has lately dashed ahead at such a frantic
speed in Germany, that one would almost think the scientific world
were a factory, in which every minute wasted meant a fine. To-day the
man of science works as arduously as the fourth or slave caste: his
study has ceased to be an occupation, it is a necessity; he looks
neither to the right nor to the left, but rushes through all
things--even through the serious matters which life bears in its
train--with that semi-listlessness and repulsive need of rest so
characteristic of the exhausted labourer. This is also his attitude
towards culture. He behaves as if life to him were not only otium but
sine dignitate: even in his sleep he does not throw off the yoke, but
like an emancipated slave still dreams of his misery, his forced haste
and his floggings. Our scholars can scarcely be distinguished--and,
even then, not to their advantage--from agricultural labourers, who in
order to increase a small patrimony, assiduously strive, day and
night, to cultivate their fields, drive their ploughs, and urge on
their oxen. Now, Pascal suggests that men only endeavour to work hard
at their business and sciences with the view of escaping those
questions of greatest import which every moment of loneliness or
leisure presses upon them--the questions relating to the wherefore,
the whence, and the whither of life. Curiously enough, our scholars
never think of the most vital question of all--the wherefore of their
work, their haste, and their painful ecstasies. Surely their object is
not the earning of bread or the acquiring of posts of honour? No,
certainly not. But ye take as much pains as the famishing and
breadless; and, with that eagerness and lack of discernment which