people as a rule soon get tired
of undisturbed leisure, and it becomes burdensome if there are no
fictitious and forced aims to occupy it, play, pastime and hobbies of
every kind. For this very reason it is full of possible danger, and
_difficilis in otio quies_ is a true saying,--it is difficult to keep
quiet if you have nothing to do. On the other hand, a measure of
intellect far surpassing the ordinary, is as unnatural as it is
abnormal. But if it exists, and the man endowed with it is to be
happy, he will want precisely that undisturbed leisure which the
others find burdensome or pernicious; for without it he is a Pegasus
in harness, and consequently unhappy. If these two unnatural
circumstances, external, and internal, undisturbed leisure and great
intellect, happen to coincide in the same person, it is a great piece
of fortune; and if the fate is so far favorable, a man can lead the
higher life, the life protected from the two opposite sources of human
suffering, pain and boredom, from the painful struggle for existence,
and the incapacity for enduring leisure (which is free existence
itself)--evils which may be escaped only by being mutually
neutralized.

But there is something to be said in opposition to this view. Great
intellectual gifts mean an activity pre-eminently nervous in its
character, and consequently a very high degree of susceptibility to
pain in every form. Further, such gifts imply an intense temperament,
larger and more vivid ideas, which, as the inseparable accompaniment
of great intellectual power, entail on its possessor a corresponding
intensity of the emotions, making them incomparably more violent than
those to which the ordinary man is a prey. Now, there are more things
in the world productive of pain than of pleasure. Again, a large
endowment of intellect tends to estrange the man who has it from other
people and their doings; for the more a man has in himself, the less
he will be able to find in them; and the hundred things in which they
take delight, he will think shallow and insipid. Here, then, perhaps,
is another instance of that law of compensation which makes itself
felt everywhere. How often one hears it said, and said, too, with some
plausibility, that the narrow-minded man is at bottom the happiest,
even though his fortune is unenviable. I shall make no attempt to
forestall the reader's own judgment on this point; more especially as
Sophocles himself has given utterance to two