The man's mind is indeed
rather like an unfortunate domestic servant who, though not always at
work, is never off duty, never night or day free from the menace of a
damnable electric bell; and it is as stale as that servant. His
business is capable of ringing the bell when the man is eating his
soup, when he is sitting alone with his wife on a warm summer evening,
and especially when he wakes just before dawn to pity and praise
himself.
But he defends the position:
"My business demands much reflection--constant watchfulness."
Well, in the first place, an enterprise which demands watchfulness day
and night from the same individual is badly organized, and should be
reorganized. It runs contrary to the common sense of Nature. And, in
the second place, his defence is insincere. He does not submit to the
eternal preoccupation because he thinks he ought, but simply because
he cannot help it. How often, especially just before the dawn, has he
not longed to be delivered from the perfectly futile preoccupation, so
that he might go to sleep again--and failed to get free! How often, in
the midst of some jolly gathering, has he not felt secretly desolate
because the one tyrannic topic would run round and round in his mind,
just like a clockwork mouse, accomplishing no useful end, and making
impossible any genuine participation in the gaiety that environs him!
Instead of being necessary to the success of his business, this morbid
preoccupation is positively detrimental to his business.
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