constitution of this
consciousness, which is in most cases far more important than the
circumstances which go to form its contents. All the pride and
pleasure of the world, mirrored in the dull consciousness of a fool,
are poor indeed compared with the imagination of Cervantes writing his
_Don Quixote_ in a miserable prison. The objective half of life and
reality is in the hand of fate, and accordingly takes various forms in
different cases: the subjective half is ourself, and in essentials is
always remains the same.

Hence the life of every man is stamped with the same character
throughout, however much his external circumstances may alter; it is
like a series of variations on a single theme. No one can get beyond
his own individuality. An animal, under whatever circumstances it
is placed, remains within the narrow limits to which nature has
irrevocably consigned it; so that our endeavors to make a pet happy
must always keep within the compass of its nature, and be restricted
to what it can feel. So it is with man; the measure of the happiness
he can attain is determined beforehand by his individuality. More
especially is this the case with the mental powers, which fix once for
all his capacity for the higher kinds of pleasure. If these powers are
small, no efforts from without, nothing that his fellowmen or that
fortune can do for him, will suffice to raise him above the ordinary
degree of human happiness and pleasure, half animal though it be; his
only resources are his sensual appetite,--a cozy and cheerful family
life at the most,--low company and vulgar pastime; even education, on
the whole, can avail little, if anything, for the enlargement of his
horizon. For the highest, most varied and lasting pleasures are those
of the mind, however much our youth may deceive us on this point; and
the pleasures of the mind turn chiefly on the powers of the mind. It
is clear, then, that our happiness depends in a great degree upon what
we _are_, upon our individuality, whilst lot or destiny is generally
taken to mean only what we _have_, or our _reputation_. Our lot,
in this sense, may improve; but we do not ask much of it if we are
inwardly rich: on the other hand, a fool remains a fool, a dull
blockhead, to his last hour, even though he were surrounded by houris
in paradise. This is why Goethe, in the _West-oestliclien Divan_, says
that every man, whether he occupies a low position in life, or emerges
as its victor, testi