And so it is with a heightened relish for the serener simplicities of
life, that I return to my quiet rooms, my old trees, my carelessly
ordered garden, as a sailor floats into the calm waters of the
well-known haven out of the plunge and surf of the sea. There is no
strain here to torment me, no waste to afflict me. I do not have to
spend reluctant hours in enjoyments which I do not enjoy; I am not
overshadowed by the sense of engagements which I am bound to keep.
Moreover, I can return to the beloved work which is unwillingly
suspended in the bustle of town. I do not know why it is that I have so
deep a sense of the value of time, when what I do matters so little to
any one. But at least I have here the sense of doing work that may
conceivably minister something to the service of others, while in town
I have the sense of spending hours in occupations that cannot in any
way benefit others, while they are certainly no satisfaction to myself,
"In hoc portu quiescit
Si quis aquas timet inquietas,"
says the wistful poet; and the tossing on the waves of the world thus
gives me the tonic sense of contrast to my peaceful life which it would
otherwise lack. It is the sail and vinegar of the banquet, lending a
brisk and wholesome savour to what might otherwise tend to become vapid
and dull.
XIV
I have just finished a book and despatched it to the press.
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