Bring these
fellows into the country, or set them aboard ship, and you will see how
they pine for their desk or their study. They have no curiosity; they
cannot give themselves over to random provocations; they do not take
pleasure in the exercise of their faculties for its own sake; and unless
Necessity lays about them with a stick, they will even stand still. It is
no good speaking to such folk: they _cannot_ be idle, their nature is not
generous enough; and they pass those hours in a sort of coma, which are
not dedicated to furious moiling in the gold mill. When they do not
require to go to the office, when they are not hungry and have no mind to
drink, the whole breathing world is a blank to them. If they have to wait
an hour or so for a train, they fall into a stupid trance, with their eyes
open. To see them, you would suppose there was nothing to look at and no
one to speak with; you would imagine they were paralyzed or alienated; and
yet very possibly they are hard workers in their own way, and have good
eyesight for a flaw in a deed or a turn of the market. They have been to
school and college, but all the time they had their eye on the medal; they
have gone about in the world and mixed with clever people, but all the
time they were thinking of their own affairs. As if a man's soul were not
too small to begin with, they have dwarfed and narrowed theirs by a life
of all work and no play; until here they are at forty, with a listless
attention, a mind vacant of all material amusement, and not one thought to
rub against another while they wait for the train.
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