g on brow
and cheek, it leaves no shadow on the spirit within. It is so easy to
see this in the lives of others, however hard it is to realise it for
oneself. What interest is there in the record of the life of a
perfectly prosperous and equable person? And what inspiration is equal
to that which comes when we read the life of one who suffered much,
when we see the hope that rose superior to thwarted designs and broken
purposes, and the joy that came of realising that not through easy and
graceful triumph is the soul made strong? Why does one ask oneself
about the dead hero, when his life rounds itself to the view, not
whether he had enough of prosperity and honour to content him, but
whether he had enough of pain and self-reproach to perfect his
humanity? Suffering is no part of the soul; the soul has need to
suffer, but it is made to rejoice; and when it has earned its joy, it
will abide in it.

And now a word of personal experience. This book is a record of an
experiment in happiness. I had the opportunity, and I took it, of
arranging my life in every respect exactly as I desired. It was my
design to live alone in joy; not to exclude others, but to admit them
for my pleasure and at my will. I thought that by desiring little, by
sacrificing quantity of delight for quality, I should gain much. And I
will as frankly confess that I did not succeed in capturing the
tranquillity I desired. I found many pretty jewels by the way, but the
pearl of price lay hid.

And yet it would be idle to say that I regret it. I may wish that it
had all fallen out otherwise, that things had been more comfortably
arranged, that I had been allowed to dream away the days in my
hermitage; but it was not to be; and I have at least learned that not
thus can the end be attained. The story of my failure cannot be told
here, but I hope yet to find strength and skill to tell it. At present
I have but endeavoured to catch the texture of the pleasant days,
before my visions began to fade about me. And indeed I can say
sincerely that those days were happy; but the root of the mistake was
this: I have by nature a very keen appetite for the subtle flavours of
life, a sense of beauty in simple things, a relish for the absurdities
and oddities as well as for the beauties and finenesses of temperament,
a critical appreciation of the characteristic qualities of landscapes
and buildings, a sense which finds satisfaction as well in such
commonplace things as