I am not speaking here of savages whose life is often only one degree
above that of the apes in their woods. Consider, for instance, a
porter in Naples or Venice (in the north of Europe solicitude for the
winter months makes people more thoughtful and therefore reflective);
look at the life he leads, from its beginning to its end:--driven by
poverty; living on his physical strength; meeting the needs of every
day, nay, of every hour, by hard work, great effort, constant tumult,
want in all its forms, no care for the morrow; his only comfort
rest after exhaustion; continuous quarreling; not a moment free for
reflection; such sensual delights as a mild climate and only just
sufficient food will permit of; and then, finally, as the metaphysical
element, the crass superstition of his church; the whole forming a
manner of life with only a low degree of consciousness, where a man
hustles, or rather is hustled, through his existence. This restless
and confused dream forms the life of how many millions!
Such men _think_ only just so much as is necessary to carry out their
will for the moment. They never reflect upon their life as a connected
whole, let alone, then, upon existence in general; to a certain extent
they may be said to exist without really knowing it.
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