qass.:: _ Book. nw SOLITUDE CONSIDERED, WITH RESPECT TO ITS INFLUENCE The Mind and the Heart. WRITTEN ORIGINALLY IN GERMAN. BY M. ZIMMERMAN^ LULIC COUNSELLOR AND PHYSICIAN Tt) HIS BRITANNICK MAJESTY AT HANOVER. TRANSLATED FROM THS FRENCH OF J. B.MERCIER. NEW-LONDON : PRINTED BT CADT & EELLS, FOR THOMAS AND WHIPPLE, NEW BURYP0R1\ isor. fjt*%. SOidfers Heme Library Jen- £5, 5,933 PREFACE French translator. »©<^>@« T HE Title of this work will, perhaps, give some alarm to delicate ears : the word " Solitude" may inspire melancholy and unfavorable ideas ; it is how- ever only necessary to read a few pages to be undeceived. The author is not one of those extra- vagant Misanthropes, who would compel mankind, born for Society, and connected with it by a variety of indissoluble ties, to retire into forests, to inhabit dens and caves, and to live only with wild beasts ; he is a friend to humanity ; a sensible and virtuous individual, an honest citizen, honoured by the es- teem of his Prince, who endeavours to enlighten the minds of his fellow-creatures upon a subject the most interesting to them — the attainment of hap- piness. No writer ever appeared more completely satis- fied that man is born for Society, or seems to have better studied all the social duties of life, than M. IV PREFACE OF THE Zimmermann. But what is society ? what arc the social duties of life i These are the questions which the author examines. The important cha- racters of Father, Husband, Son, and Citizen, impose on man certain indispensable obligations which are ever dear to the virtuous heart ; they establish be- tween him, his country and his family, relations too necessary and too agreeable to be neglected. It is not however in tumultuous joys, in the noisy pleas- ures of public entertainments, in blindly following the chimeras of ambition, the illusions of self-love, or the speculations of desire, that men must expect to feel the charms of those reciprocal ties which unite them to Society ; to perceive the dignity of those duties which nature made productive of so many pleasures ; to taste that true felicity which is accompanied by independence and content ; a feli- city so seldom desired only because it is so little n n, but which every man may cultivate within own breast. Alis ! who has not frequently experienced the necessity of entering into that sacred asylum as a refuge from the misfoi tunes of life, or as a relief from the fatigues of satiated pleasures ? Yes, all men, from the sordid schemer who daily sinks un- der the weight of his labours, to the proud statesman Intoxicated by the incense of popular applause, ex- perience the desire of terminating their precarious career ; every bosom feels an anxiety for repose ; every mind fondly wishes to steal from the vortex of a busy and unquiet life, to enjoy tranquility in the Solitude of retirement. Under the peaceful shades of Solitude, the mind of man regenerates, and his faculties acquire new force ; it is there alone that the happy can enjoy the fullness of felicity, or the miserable forget his woe j it is there that the FRENCH TRANSLATOR, V bosom of sensibility experiences its most delicious emotions ; that creative genius frees itself from the shackles of Society, and darts forth the warmest rays of imagination : all the ideas of our minds, eve- ry inclination of our hearts, lean toward this desired goal. " There is indeed," says a sensible English- man, " scarcely any writer who has not celebrated " the happiness of rural privacy, and delighted him- " self and his readers with the melody of birds, the " whisper of groves, and the murmur of rivulets ; " nor any man eminent for extent of capacity, or ¥ greatness of exploits, that has not left behind him " some memorials of lonely wisdom and silent dig- " nity." The part of the work to which I am most attach- ed is particularly addressed to the attention of youth ; it is to them that it will perhaps be most useful, and I fondly flatter myself that to their minds it will also afford the highest pleasure. . Young my- self, and sensible of the truly beautiful, I felt myself led on by the charms of a work, which elevated my mind, warmed my imagination, and touched my heart. May it produce the same effects upon my young countrymen ! May it, notwithstanding the weakness of this translation, inspire them with the same enthusiasm ! At least, I may venture to ex- claim in the words of M. Zimmermann, " Dear and " virtuous young man, into whose hands this book " perchance may fall, receive with affection the good « which it contains, and reject all that is cold and " bad ; all that does not touch and penetrate the " heart : but if you thank me for the performance, " if you bless me, if you acknowledge that I have " enlightened your mind, corrected your manners, " and tranquilized your heart, I shall congratulate " myself on the sincerity of my intentions, and think A 2 VI PREFACE OF THE " my labours richly rewarded. If, in pursuing it, u you find yourself able to justify your inclination " for a wise and active Solitude, your aversion from " those societies which only serve to destroy time, M and your repugnance to employ vile and shameful " means in the acquisition of riches, I shall ask no " other benediction for my work." It will perhaps appear surprising that, entertain- ing so high a veneration for the writings of M. Zimmermann, I could permit myself with profane hand to retrench the greater part of his work : per- mit me therefore to disclose the reasons which influenced my conduct. Four large volumes on the subject of Solitude appeared to me to be a work too arduous for the generality of French rea- ders, and particularly for French booksellers to undertake ; for even this short Essay, without the recommendation of M. Le Tourneur, could not have acquired the honour of the /tress. Besides, al- though the whole work bears the marks of genius, and the two first volumes, which principally treat of monastic Solitude, contain without doubt many judi- cious reflections, yet they are perhaps rather too long for many readers, and are even capable of dis- pleasing some, whose narrow prejudices might be shocked by the liberal sentiments of the Author, who has appealed to the decision of reason alone upon the subject of certain abuses rendered sacred by the motives from which they proceeded. Not- withstanding this, however,* I could not determine to retrench the work before I had consulted several men of letters, of enlightened understandings, and in high favor with the public : No, I never could have ventured, on my own judgment, to have prun- ed any part of a work which has acquired the uni- FRENCH TRANSLATOR. vll versal approbation of the German Empire*, and ob* tained the suffrages of an Empress celebrated for the superior brilliancy of her mind, and who has signified her approbation in the most flattering manner. On the 26th of January, 1785, a Courier, dis- patched by the Russian Envoy at Hamburgh, presented M. Zimmermann with a. small casket, in the name of her Majesty the Empress of Russia. The casket contained a ring, enriched with dia- monds of an extraordinary size and lustre, and a gold medal, bearing on one side the portrait of the Em- press, and on the other the date of the happy reformation of the Russian Empire. This present the Empress accompanied with a letter written in her own hand, containing these remarkable words : " To M. Zimmermann, Counsellor of State and " Physician to his Britannic Majesty, to thank him " for the excellent precepts he has given to mankind " in his Treatise upon Solitude." * The author is already inserted in the collection of Clastic Authors printed at Carlsrube. SOLITUDE CONSIDERED, WITH RESPECT TO ITS INFLUENCE UPON THE MIND AND THE HEART. CHAPTER THE FIRST. INTRODUCTION. IN this unquiet and tumultuous scene of life, sur- rounded by the restraints of ceremony, the urgencies of business, the shackles of society, and in the evening of my days, I feel no delight in tracing back the images of pleasures that pass so transiently away : my soul dwells with higher satisfaction on the memory of those happy days of my youth, when solitude was my sole amusement ; when I knew no place more agree- able than the sequestered cloister and the silent cell, the lonely mountain and the sublimely awful grove ; nor any pleasures more lively than those I experienced in conversing with the dead. I love to recal to my mind the cool and silent scenes of Solitude ; to oppose them to the heat and bustle of the world j to meditate on those advantages which id THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE the great and good of every age have acknowledged they possess, though perhaps too seldom experienced ; to reflect on. the powerful . consolations they afford when grief corrodes the mind, when disease afflicts the body, when the number of our years bends us to the ground ; to contemplate, in short, the benign in- fluence of Solitude upon all the troubles of the heart. Solitude is that state in which the soul freely re- signs itself to its own reflections. The sage, therefore, who banishes from his mind all recollection of the objects by which he is surrounded, and retires within himself, is not less solitary than he who forsakes soci- ety, and devotes himself entirely to the calm enjoy- ments of a lonely life. In retirement every man surrenders himself without restraint or limitation, to the guidance of his own ideas, and implicitly adopts the sentiments which his taste? temper, inclination and genius, inspire. Observe the shepherds of those extensive deserts % one chaunts the beauty which captivates his soul - r another moulds the clay into a rustic vase ; the surrounding charms of nature form the sole delight and admiration of a third ; while a fourth investigates the precepts of the moral law, or contemplates the sublime truths of our holy religion. If they were respectively to meet a lovely shepherdess beneath the shades of their retirement * seated oirthe borders of some gently flowing stream, the heart of each might perhaps become the slave of love ; but deprived of all that is dear to man, and doomed to taste involuntary Solitude, the best resource for each is to resign him- self to the dictates of his inclination ; a resource to which every well-disposed and virtuous mindmaycon- stantly resort without dismay or danger. Man in a state of perfect freedom possesses an in- nate right to follow the suggestions of his fancy : some are delighted by the soft melody of the nightingale* QN THE MIND AND THE HEART. 11 l^hile others listen with equal pleasure to the hideous shriekings of the owl. Some there are to whom even the visits of friendship are displeasing ; who, to avoid the painful intercourse, confine themselves eternally at home, and consume their hours in writing books, ox killing flies. v The poor dejected heart constantly attaches itself to some favorite object, as far at least as circumstances and situation will permit, from which it draws its con- solation and support. Roaming through the cloisters of the Magdalene Convent, at Hidelsheim, I was surprised to observe an aviary of Canary birds in the cell of a Religeuse. A Brabancon gentleman, fear- ful of the effects of cold, and having the same aversion from women that certain persons are said to feel from mice, lived five and twenty years at Brussels, im- mured within his house, without any other amusement than that of collecting a magnificent cabinet of paint- ings and pictures. Under the confinement even of the dungeon itself, men, deprived forever of their liberty, endeavour to beguile the solitude in which they are forced to live, by devoting their thoughts, as far as they are able, to those pursuits which afford them the highest pleasure. The Swiss philosopher, Michael Ducret, measured the height of the Alps during his confinement in the prison of Aarburg, in the canton of Berne, in Swisserland ; and while Baron be Trenck, a prisoner* in the tower of Magdebourg, was every moment anxiously employed in forming projects to effect his escape, General Walrave, the compan- ion of his captivity, contentedly passed his time in the feeding of chickens. The term Solitude does not, I conceive, always import a total absence from the world. Sometimes it conveys to my mind the idea of dwelling in a convent, $r a country village : sometimes I understand it t.Q 1$ THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE mean the library of a man of learning : and sometimes an occasional retreat from the tumults of active life. Men are frequently Solitary without being alone ; for to constitute a state of Solitude, it is sufficient if the mind be entirely absorbed by those ideas which its own reflections create. The haughty Baron, proud of the distinctions of birth, feels himself alone in every society whose mem- bers are not ennobled by an equal number of titles derived through a long line of hereditary descents. A profound reasoner is, in general, Solitary at the tables of the witty and the gay. The mind, even amidst the clamours of a popular assembly, may withdraw its attention from the surrounding objects, may retire as effectually within itself, may become as Solitary as a monk in his monastery, or a hermit in his cell. In short, Solitude may be as easily attained amidst the gayest circles of the most brilliant city, as in the unin- terrupted silence of a poor, deserted village ; at London and at Paris, as well as on the plains of Thebais or in the desartsof Nitria. A treatise therefore upon the real advantages to be derived from Solitude, appeared to me a proper means to assist men in their search after happiness. The fewer external resources men possess, the greater ef- forts they make to discover in themselves the power of being happy ; and the more they are enabled to part, without regret, from their connections with each other, the nearer they most certainly approach to true felicity. The pleasures of the world appear to me to be unworthy of the avidity with which they are pui> sued ; but it is equally true, that upon a serious ex^ amination, all those Catholic notions, once so celebrated, of a total seclusion from the world and its concerns, ap* pear altogether impracticable, and equally absurd. To render the mind independent of human assistance, and £each it to rely entirely upon the strength of its own ON THE MIND AND THE HEAKT. IS powers, is, I acknowledge, a noble exertion ; but it is certainly as meritorious, to learn the art of living happi- ly in the bosom of society, and of rendering ourselves useful and agreeable to the rest of mankind. While, therefore, I describe the allurements of Solitude, I shall endeavour to warn my readers against those dangerous excesses into which some of its disciples have been betrayed ; excesses as repug- nant to the voice of reason, as they are condemned by the precepts of our holy religion. Happily to avoid all the dangers by which my sub- ject is surrounded, to sacrifice nothing to prejudice, to advance nothing in violation of truth, to obtain the ap- probation of the peaceful disciples of reason and philo- sophy, will be my anxious endeavour ; and if affliction shall derive a ray of consolation from my labours, if melancholy, in forgetting the horrours of its situation, shall raise its dejected head to bless me ; if I shall be able to convince the innocent votaries of rural retire- ment, that the springs of pleasure soon dry up in the heat of the metropolis, that the heart remains cold and senseless in the midst of all its noisy and factitious joys ; if they shall learn to feel the superior pleasures of a country life, become sensible of the variety of resources which they afford against idleness and vexation ; what purity of sentiment, what peaceful thoughts, what un- fading happiness, the view of verdant meads, the sight of numerous flocks and herds quitting the fertile mea- dows on the close of day, instil into the mind • what ineffable delight the sublime beauty of a wild ro- mantic country, interspersed with distant cottages, and. occupied by freedom and content, ravishes the soul ; how much more readily, in short, we forget all the pains and troubles of a wounded heart, on the borders of a gen- tle stream, than amidst the concourse of deceitful joy s, so fatally followed in the courts of princes, my task will be accomplished, and all my wishes amply gratfied I B 14 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE CHAPTER THE SECOND. TEE GENERAL ADVANTAGES OF SOLITUDE. S< IOLITUDE engages the affections of men, when- ever it. holds up a picture of tranquility to their view. The doleful and monotonous sound of the clock of a sequestered monastery, the silence of nature in a still night, the pure air on the summit of a high mountain*, the thick darkness of an ancient forest, the sight of a temple fallen into ruins, inspire the soul with a soft melancholy, and banish all recollection of the world and its concerns. But the man who cannot hold a friendly correspondence with his own heart, who de- rives no comfort from the reflections of his mind, who dreads the idea of meditation, and is fearful of passing a single moment with himself, looks with an equal eye on solitude and on death. He endeavours to en- joy all the voluptuousness which the world affords ; drains the pernicious cup of pleasure to its dregs ; and until the dreadful moment approaches, when he be- holds his nerves shattered, and all the powers of his soul destroyed, he has not courage to make the Relay- ed confession, " lam twed o/the world, and all its idle follies^ and now prefer the mournful shade of the cypress to the intoxication of its noisy pleasures and tumultuous j ' oys ." The dangers to which a life of Solitude is exposed, (for even in Solitude many real dangers exist) afford no substantial argument against it ; as by a judicious employment of the hours of activity and repose, and a proper vigilance upon the desires of the heart,- they may be easily eluded. The adventurous navigator, when acquainted with the signal of approaching dan- gers, and the situation of those rocks and shoals which ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. \5 threaten his safety/, no longer fears the perils to which he was before exposed. The advantages of Solitude are still less disproved by the complaints of those who, feeling a continual desire to escape from themselves, are incapable of every enjoyment but what the world affords ; to whom retirement and tranquility appear vapid and fatiguing ; and who, unconscious of any- nobler pleasure than that of paying or receiving visits, have, of course, no idea of the delights of Solitude. It is, therefore, only to those distinguished beings who can resort to their own bosoms for an antidote against disquiet, who are fearless of the numerous sac- rifices which virtue may demand, whose souls are endowed with sufficient energy to drive away the dread of being alone, and whose hearts are susceptible of the pure and tranquil delights of domestic felicity, that I pretend to recommend the advantages of Soli- tude. The miserable being, in whose bosom the corruptions of the world have already destroyed these precious gifts of nature ; who knows no other pleasure, is sensible to no other happiness than what cards or the luxury of a richly-furnished table afford ; who disdains all exercise of the understanding, thinks all delicacy of sentiment unnatural, and, by a brutality al- most inconceivable, laughs at the sacred name of sensibility ; must be lost to virtue, and utterly incapa- ble of pleasure from any operations of his own mini. Philosophers, and ministers of the gospel, if they were entirely to deprive themselves of the pleasures of society, and to shun, with rigid severity, the honest comforts and rational amusements of life, would, with- out doubt, essentially injure the interests of wisdom and virtue ; but there are not, at present, many pre- ceptors who carry their doctrines to this extent : on the contrary, there exists a multitude, both in the country and the town, to whom solitude would be in- supportable, who shamefully devote their time to noisy 16 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE dissipations and tumultuous pleasures, altogether in- consistent with their characters and functions. The celebrated xra has passed, when a life of retirement and contemplation was alone esteemed, and when the approaches to heaven were measured in proportion as the mind receded from its attachments to the world. After having examined the influence of Solitude upon the general habits of life, and upon those ordina- ry pleasures which are pursued with such unceasing avidity, I shall shew, in the first division of this chap- ter, that it enables man to live independent and alone ; that there is no misfortune it cannot alleviate, no sor- row that it will not soften ; that it adds dignity to his character, and gives fresh vigour to the powers of his mind ; that he cannot, in any other situation, acquire so perfect a knowledge of himself ; that it enlarges the sphere of attention, and ripens the seeds of judge- ment : in short, that it is from the influence of Solitude alone, that man can hope for the fruition of unbroken pleasures, and never-fading felicity* The enjoyments of active life may easily be blended with the most ordinary advantages of Soli- tuae j aim we snail soon oiscover upon wnat founda* tions the opinions of those philosophers are built, who maintain, that the tumults of the world, and the dissi- pation of its votaries, are incompatible with the calm exercise of reason, the decisions of a sober judgement, the investigation of truth, and the study of the human heart. The legion of fantastic fashions to which a man of pleasure is obliged to sacrifice his time, impairs the rational faculties of his mind, and destroys the native energies of his soul. Forced continually to lend him- self to the performance of a thousand little triflings, a thousand mean absurdities, he becomes by habit frivo- lous and absurd. The face of things no longer wears its true and genuine aspect j and his depraved tastQ ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. IT loses all relish for rational entertainment or substantial pleasure. The infatuation seizes on his brain, and his corrupted heart teems with idle fancies and vain ima- ginations. These illusions, however, through which the plainest object comes distorted to his view, might easily be dispelled. Accustomed to a lonely life, and left to reftect in calmness and sobriety, during the si- lence of the Solitary hour, upon the false joys and deceitful pleasures which the parade of visiting, and the glare of public entertainments, offer to our view, he would soon perceive and candidly acknowledge their nothingness and insipidity : soon would he behold the pleasures of the world in their true colours, and feel tmit he had blindly wandered in pursuit of phantoms ; possessing something in appearance, but nothing in reality. Languor and dissatisfaction are ever the inevitable consequences of this ardent pursuit of entertainments and divei -sions. lie who has drained the cup of pleas- ure to its last drop ; who is obliged to confess that his hopes are fled, unci that the world no longer contains an object worthy of his pursuit ; who feels disappoint- ments and disgust mingled with all his enjoyments ; who seems astonished at his own insensibility ; who no longer possesses the magic of the enchantress Imagination to gild and decorate the scene ; calls in vain to his assistance the daughters of sensuality : their caresses can no longer charm his dark and melancholy mind ; the soft and syren song of luxury no longer can dispel the cloud of discontent which hovers round his head. Behold yon weak old man, his mind enervated, and his constitution gone, running after pleasures that he no more must taste. The airs of gaiety which he af- fects, render him ridiculous. His attempts to shine expose him to derision. His endeavours to display tut wit and eloquegce of youth, betray him into the * B 2 18 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE garrulity of old age. His conversation, filled with repetitions and fatiguing narrative, creates disgust, and only forces the smile of pity from the lips of his youth - ful rivals. To the eye of wisdom, however, that saw him through all the former periods of his life, spark- ling in all the circles of folly, and rioting in the noisy rendezvous of extravagance and vice, his character always appeared the same. The wise man, in the midst of the most tumultuous pleasures, frequently retires within himself, and si- lently compares what he might do with what he is doing. Surrounded even by the excesses of intoxica- tion, he associates oniy with those warm and generous Bonis, whose highly elevated minds are drawn towards each other, by wishes the most virtuous, and senti- ments the most sublime. The silence-of Solitude has more than once given birth to enterprizes of the great- est importance and utility ; and some of the most celebrated actions of mankind were, perhaps, first inspired among the sounds of music, or conceived in the mazes of the dance. Sensible and elevated minds never commune more closely with themselves, than in those places of public resort in which the low and the vulgar, abandoned to the caprice of fashion and the illusions of sensuality, become incapable of reflect- ion, and blindly sufYer themselves to be overwhelmed by the torrent of folly-and distraction. Vacant souls are always burthensome to their pos- sessors ; and it is tire weight of this burthen that im- pels them incessantly in the pursuits of dissipation for relief. The irresistible inclination by which they are carried continually abroad, the anxiety with which they search for society, the trifles on which from day to day they spend their time, announce the emptiness of their minds, and the frivolous affections of their hearts. Possessing no resources within themselves, they are forced to rove abroad; aaA- fasten upon every ON THE MIND AND THE HEAR.T. 19 object that presents itself to their view, until they find % the wished-for harbour, to protect them against the attacks of discontent, and prevent them from reflecting on their ignoble condition, The enjoyments of sense, therefore, are thus inde- fatigably followed only as a mean of escaping from themselves. They seize with avidity upon every ob- ject that promises to occupy the present hour agreea- bly, and provide entertainment for the day that is passing over their heads : this must ever be: some external object, some new phantom, something that shall prevent them from remaining with themselves. The man whose mind is sufficiently fertile to invent, hour after hour, new schemes of pleasure ; to open, day after day, fresh sources of amusemt nt for the lazy and luxurious, is a valuable companion indeed ; he is their best, their only friend : not that they are them- selves destitute of ability to find such employment as might prevent the total sacrifice of time, and relieve their bosoms from the burthen of themselves ; but having always indulged the inclination of being led continually from one new object to another, the call of pleasure becomes the first want and most ardent wish of their lives. From that moment, they insensibly lose the power of acting from themselves, and depend for every thing on those about them, without being able to direct or determine the impressions they ought to receive. This is the reason why the iuch, who are seldom acquainted with any other pleasures than those of sense, are, in general, the most miserable of men. The nobility and courtiers of France think their en- joyments appear vain and ridiculous only to those who have not an opportunity of partaking them ; but I am of a different opinion. Returning one Sunday from Trianon to Ver- sailles, I perceived at a distance, a number of people 20 THE INFLUENCE 02 1 SOLITUDE assembled upon the terrace of the castle ; and on a nearer approach, I beheld Louis the Fifteenth, surrounded by all his court* at the windows of the palace. A man very richly dressed, with a large pair of branching antlers fastened on his head, whom they called the stag, was pursued by about a dozen others, who composed the pack. The pursued and the pur- suers leaped into the great canal, scrambled out again, and ran about to all parts, while the air resounded wkh the acclamations of clapping of hands, to encourage the continuance of the sport. " What can all this mean i n said I to a Frenchman who stood near me. " Sir," he replied with a very serious countenance, « it is for the entertainment of the court." The most obscure and indigent persons are certainly happier than these sovereigns of the world, and their slavish retinue, when reduced to the necessity of adopt- ing such mean and abject modes of entertainment. The courtier, when he appears at a levee, out- wardly affects the face of joy, while his heart is inwardly a prey to the most excruciating sorrows ; and speaks with the liveliest interest of transactions in which he had no concern ; but perhaps it is necessary to his consequence that he should raise false appear- ances to the minds of his visitors, who, on their side, impose equally on him in return. The success, alas ! ©fall his schemes affords him no other pleasure than to see his apartments crowded with company, whose only merit and recommendation, in his eyes, is a string cf hereditary titles, of perhaps no very remote antiqui- ty, or honorable origin. On this privation of the light of human reason do the felicities of a worldly life most frequently depend. From this dark source, spring the inordinate pride of the haughty nobie s and the no less unbounded ambi- tion of the simple mechanic. Hence arise the disdain of some, the haughtiness of others, and the folly of all, ON TtiE MIND AND tfHE HEART, 21 To men of dissipated minds, who dread beyond every other fear, the painful intrusion of a rational sentiment, these numerous and noisy places of public resort, appear like temples dedicated to their idol, pleasure. He who seeks happiness en the couch of indolence ; who expends all the activity of his mind, all the energies of his heart, upon trifling objects ; who suffers vain and frivolous pursuits to absorb his time, to engage his attention, to lock up all the functions of his soul, cannot patiently endure the idea of being for one moment by himself. Direful condition ! Is there then no occupation whatsoever, no useful employment, no rational recre- ation sufficiently high and dignified for such a charac« ter ? €s he of necessity reduced to the afflicting situation of not being able to perform a good and vir- tuous action, during the intervals of suspended pleasure ? Can he render no services to friendship I to his country ! to himself ? Are there no poor and miserable beings, to whose bosoms he might afford a charitable comfort and relief ? Is it, in short, im- possible lor such a character to become, in anv way ? more wise or virtuous tnan ne was betore i The powers of the human soul are more extensive than they are in general imagined to be ; and he who, urged by inclination or compelled by necessity, most frequently exerts them, will soon find that the highest felicities of which our nature is capable, reside entire - ly within ourselves. The wants of life are, for the greater part, merely artificial ; and although sensual objects most efficaciously contribute to our pleasure and content, it is not because the enjoyment of them is absolutely necessary, but because they have been ren- dered desirable by the effect of habit* The gratifica- tions they afford easily persuade us, that the posses- sion of them is essential to happiness ; but if we had fortitude tQ resist their charms, and courage to Joo^. 32 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE within our own bosoms for that felicity which we so anxiously expect to derive from external objects, we should frequently find a much greater variety of re- sources there than all the objects of sense are capable of affording. Men of superficial minds may indeed derive some amusements from assemblies, to which the company in general resort merely to see and to be seen. But how many women of fashion expire in such assem- blies, under all the mortification of disappointed vani- ty ? how many neglected wits sullenly retire into some obscure corner of the room ? The mind, on entering the circles of the great and gay, is apt to flatter itself too highly with hopes of applause ; to wait wUh too much anxiety for the promised pleasure. Wit, co- quetry, sensuality, it is true, are at these meetings, frequently exercised with considerable success. Eve- ry candidate displays the little talent he possesses, to the best advantage ; and the least informed are not un- frequently considered the most shining characters*-— The eye, however, may occasionally be gratified by the sight of objects really agreeable ; the ear may listen to observations truly flattering. Lively thoughts and sensible remarks, now and then prevail. Charac- ters equally amiable and interesting, occasionally mix among the groupe. We may form acquaintance with men of distinguished merit, whom we should not oth- erwise have had ah opportunity of knowing ; and meet with women of estimable qualities and irreproachable conduct, whose reined conversation ravishes the mind with the same delight that their exquisite beauty cap- tivates the heart. But by what a number of painful sensations must this change of pleasures be purchased i He whom a silent sorrow, a secret discontent, a rational disposition prevents from mixing in the common dissipations of Jife ; cannot see without a sigh the gay conceit, the airy ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 23 confidence, the blind arrogance, and the bold loquacity, ■with which these votaries of worldly pleasures proclaim a felicity, that leads them, almost inevitably to their ruin. It is indeed, irresistably laughable to observe the excessive joy of so many men in place, the absurd airs of so many old dowagers, the presumptuous and ri&ic* ulcus fopperies of so many hoary -headed children : but who, alas 1 is there, that will not grow tired even of the pleasantest comedy, by seeing it too frequently ? He, therefore, who has often been an eye-witness of these scenes, who has often yawned with fatigue in these temples of pleasure, and is convinced that they exhibit rather the illusion and appearance than the substance and reality of pleasure, becomes sad and sor- rowful in the midst of all their joys, and hastily retires to domestic privacy, to taste of pleasures in which there is no deceit ; pleasures, which leave neither disquiet- ude nor dissatisfaction behind them. An invitation to the board of Luxury, where Dis- ease with leaden sceptre is known to preside, where painful truths are blurted in the ears of those who hop- ed they were concealed, where reproach and calumny fall without discrimination on the best and worst of characters, is in the estimation of the world, conceived to confer the highest honour, and the greatest pleasure. But he who feels the divine energies of the soul, turns with abhorrence from those societies which tend to di- minish or impair their operations. To him the sim- plest fare, with freedom and content, in the bosoms of an affectionate family, is ten thousand times more agreeable than the rarest dainty and the richest wine, with a society where politeness imposes a silent atten- tion to some vain wit, from whose lips nothing but fa- tiguing nonsense ever proceeds. Confidence unlimited, sentiments mutually inter- changed and equally sincere, are the only sources from 24 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE which the true pleasures of society can spring. The spiritless and crowded assemblies of the world, where a round of low and little pleasures fills the hour of en- tertainment, and prids only aspires to display a pomp of dress and levity of behaviour, may perhaps afford a glimpse of joy to light and thoughtless minds, eager- ly impatient to remove the weight which every vacant hour accumulates. But men of reason and reflection, who instead of sensible conversation, instead of any ra- tional amusement, find only a dull unvaried jargon, a tiresome round of compliments, feel aversion from these temples of delight, and resort to them with cold- ness, dissatisfaction, and disgust. Plow tiresome do all the pleasures of the world ap- pear, when compared with the happiness of a faithful, tender, and enlightened friendship ! How joyfully do we shake of the shackles of society for that high and intimate connection of the soul, where our inclinations are free, our feelings genuine, our sentiments unbias- sed ; where a mutual confidence of thoughts and ac- tions, of pleasures and of pains, uninterruptedly pre- vails ; where the heart is led with joy along the path of virtue, and the mind conducted by happiness into the bowers of truth ; where every thought is anticipated before it escapes from the lips ; where advice, consola- tion, succour, are reciprocally given and received in all the accidents and misfortunes of life ! The soul, thus animated by the charm of friendship, springs from its sloth and apathy, and views the irradiating beams of hope breaking on its repose. Casting a retrospective eye on the time that has passed, the happy pair mu- tually exclaim with the tenderest emotions, " Oh ! " what pleasures have we not already experienced, " what joys have we not already felt ?" Does the tear of sorrow steal down the cheek of the one ? the other, with affection wipes it tenderly away. The deepest sorrows of the one are felt with equal poignancy by QT$ THE MIND ANB THE HEART. 55 £he other : but what sorrow can resist the consolation which flows from an intercourse of hearts so tenderly, so intimately, so closely united ! Day after day, they communicate to each other all that they have seen, all that they have heard, all they feel and every thing they know. Time flies before them on his swiftest pinions. The ear is never tired of the gratification of listening to each other's conversation. The only misfortune of which they have any fear, is the greatest they can possibly experience, the misfortune of ab« sence, separation, and death . Possessed of such refined felicity, it must not be at- tributed to austerity of character, or incivility of man- ners, but to a venial error of imagination, if the inter- courses of ordinary minds no longer charm us ; if we become insensible to their indifference, and careless of their aversion ; if in consequence of the superiority of our joys we no longer mix in the noisy pleasures of the world, and shun all society which has numbers on- ly for its recommendation. But it is the lot of human bliss to be unstable. Of- tentimes, alas ! when we conceive our enjoyments most certain and secure, an unforeseen and sudden blow strikes, even in our very arms, the unhappy vic- tim of its fate. On such an event all the pleasure of our lives appears to be forever extinguished ; the sur- rounding objects seem desert and forlorn ; every thing we behold excites terror and dismay. The arms of friendship are in vain extended to embrace the friend that is no more ; in vain the voice of fondness articu- lates the beloved name. The step, the well-known step seems suddenly to strike upon our listening ear ; but reflection interposes, and the fancied sounds are heard no more : all is hushed, still, and lifeless : we- are rendered almost insensible of existence. Solitude appears on every side, and the bleeding heart with- draws the attention of the mind from every living £5 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE object. The wearied spirits, in the hour of dejection, persuade us that affection is gone, and that we are no longer capable of loving, or of being beloved ; and to a heart that has once tasted the sympathies of love, life without affection, is death the most horrible. The unfortunate being, therefore, who has experienced this misery, is inclined to live in Solitude, and die alone. In these reflective moments, in this sudden transition from the height of happiness to the deepest misery, no person seems anxious to offer him the smallest consolation, to participate*^ his sufferings, of to be capable of forming an adequate idea of his dis* tress : the grief, indeed, which such a loss inflicts* cannot be conceived until it has been felt. It is, however, under circumstances like these that Solitude enjoys its highest triumph : It is here that all the advantages that result from it may be fully experienced ; for affliction has no wounds to which* when wisely applied, it will not give immediate easei and in the event completely cure. The wounds of affliction, it is true, admit only of a slow and gradual remedy. The ait of living alone requires so much initiation before it can be acquired, is subject to such a variety of accidents, and depends so much upon situations suitable to the bent of parti* cular characters, that the mind must have attained a high degree of maturity for Solitude, before effects so considerable and advantagous can be expected from it ; but he who has acquired sufficient vigour to break the galling chains of prejudice, and from his earliest youth has felt esteem, and fondness for the pleasures of retirement, will not, under such circumstances, b« embarrassed in his choice. From the moment he perceives himself indifferent to the objects which sur* round him, and that the gaieties of public society have lost their charms, he will then rely on the powers of his soul, and never be less alone than in the company of himself. «N THE MIND AND THE HEAR*. 27 ' Men of genius are frequently condemned to em- ployments as disagreeable to the temper of their minds, as a nauseous medicine is to an empty stomach* Forced to toil upon some dry and disgusting subject, confined to a particular spot, and utterly "unable to release themselves from the troublesome and imped- ing yoke, such characters seldom expect tranquility on this side of the grave ; for deprived of the oppor- tunities of engaging in the dissipations of life, every object which the world presents to their view encreasefc their disgust. It is not for them, they exclaim, that the young zephyrs ope i the budding foliage with their caressing breath : that the feathered choir put forth, in enlivening strains, their rural songs ; that odoriferous flowers deck the enamelled meads. But leave these complainants to themselves, give them their liberty and liesure, and you would soon observe the native enthusiasm of their minds regenerate, and see them in the highest region, soaring with the bol3 wing and penetrating eye of the bird of Jove. If Solitude be capable of dissipating griefs of thi& complexion, what effect will it not produce on th« minds of men who have the opportunity of retiring, at pleasure, to its friendly shades, who only seek for the enjoyment of a pure air, and whose only desire is do- mestic felicity ? When Antisthenes was asked what service he had received from philosophy ; he answer- ed, " It has taught me to subdue myself." Popb says, that he never laid his head on his pillow without reflecting, that the most important lesson of life was to learn the art of being happy within himself. It seems to me, that all those who are capable of living contentedly at home, and of loving every object by which they are surrounded, even to the dog and cat, have found what Pope looked for. Those pleasures and dissipations which are sought after with so much eagerness and anxiety, have in 28 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE truth, the effect of producing the most serious re^ flections in our minds, when we commune with ourselves. It is then that we learn in what the true felicity of life properly consists, whether in the pos- session of those external objects which we have no power either to alter or reform, or in a due and proper regulation of ourselves. It is then that we begin to perceive how false and faithless those flattering illu- sions prove, which seem to promise us so much hap- piness. A lady, possessed of youth and beauty, wrote to me one evening, on returning from a celebrated ri- dotto, " You observed with what gaiety and content I 14 quitted the scene. Believe me, I felt a void so pain- " fill in my breast at the sight of those factitious joys, K that I could willingly have torn the flowery decora- " tions from my dress." All the pleasures of the world are nothing 1 , if they do not render the heart more happy in itself, and tend to increase our domestic felicity. On the contrary, every species of misfortune, however accumulated, may be borne by those who are capable of enjoying the privacy of study, and the elegant recreation which books afford. To have obtained this resource, is al- ready to have made considerable advances towards happiness ; for it would be presumptuous to exact more from us, than an inclination to regulate the af- fections of the heart, and to controul the' passions of the mind. A celebrated philosopher, therefore, has with great judgment observed, that there is both pride and falsehood in pretending that man alone is capable of effecting; his own happiness. We are, however, most certainly capable of modifying the natural dispo- sitions of our souls ; we are capable of forming our tastes, varying our sentiments, directing our inclina- nations, of subduing even the passions themselves ; and we are then, not only less sensible of all the wants tf life, but feel even satisfaction under circumstance* Olt THE MIND AND THE HEART. 29 which to others would appear grievous and intolera- ble. Health is, without doubt, one of the most pre- cious enjoyments man can possess ; and yet there are circumstances and situations, under which, even the privation of it may be accompanied with real tranqui- lity. How many times have I returned my thanks to the Great Disposer of human events, for an indisposi- tion which has confined me at home, and enabled me to invigorate the weakened functions of my soul in quietude and silence ; a happiness that receded as my indisposition quitted me. After having been obliged to drag through the streets of the metropolis every day of my life, during a number of years, with a fee- ble constitution, and weakened limbs, susceptible on feeling the smallest cold, to the same sensations as if knives were separating the flesh from the bone ; after experiencing, day after day, in the course of my pro- fessions, sorrows so afflicting, that I offered up the gratitude of my heart with tears of joy, when it pleas- ed the Almighty to afford me a moment of ease and quietude y it will not be wondered that any indisposi- tion which occasioned my confinement, should afford me inexpressible happiness. The physician who possesses the least sensibility, being continually employed in administering relief to the sufferings of others, must, without doubt, fre- quently forget his own ; but, alas ! how often also must he feel the honour of his situation, where he is summoned to exercise a power not within the reach of his art, and is obliged to attend, notwithstanding all the bodily and mental anguish he may personally feel. Under such circumstances, the disease which relieves the mind from the distraction of anxiety, is to me a soft repose, a pleasing Solitude ; provided peevish friends do not intrude, and politely disturb me with their fatiguing visits. In these moments, I pray the benediction of Heaven on those who neglect to oyer- c 2 St THB INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE whelm me with their idle conversation, and, with the* kindest compassion, forget to disturb me by enquiries after my health. A single day, in which I can remain quietly at home, without being obliged to receive a visitor, and employ my mind on literary subjects, af- fords rn?, notwithstanding my bodily pain, more real pleasure than our women of quality and men of fashion ever felt, from all their feastings and entertainments. The diminution which our sufferings experience in Solitude, is in itself a considerable advantage ; for quietude of mind, to men whose duties depend on the public voice, from whom an indefatigable activity i3 exacted, and who unavoidably pass their days in the midst of continued anxieties, is in effect transcendant felicity. The mind, whether of the ycung or of the old, no longer feels the fear of being alone, when it is capable of occupying itself in privacy, on some useful or agreeable subject. If the temper should be soured by ill-humour, we should endeavour to create a diversion of the mind, by reading with some fixed and particular design ; and it is impossible to read without deriving some advantage* provided we have a pen or pencil, ready to mark the new ideas as they occur, or the observations which illustrate and confirm those we already possess ; for \mless we apply what we learn to our own dispositions, or the characters of other men, study of any kind soon, becomes fatiguing : exercise, however, will easily Jead to this habit ; and then, reading is, perhaps, one of the most sure and certain remedies against lassitude and discontent. The mind having once acquired the habit of fixing its attention, is always capable of driving away painful and unpleasant ideas. The sight of a noble and inte* resting object, the study of a useful science, a picture- in which the various revolutions of society are history <>N THE MIND ANT* THE HEART. 31 cally displayed, and the progress made in any particu* lar art, agreeably rivet attention, and banish the sorrows of the mind. Pleasures of this description, it is certain, greatly transcend all those wnich administer merely to the senses. I am aware, that in speaking of the pleasures of the mind, sublime meditation, the profound deduc- tions of reason, and the brilliant" effusions of fancy are in general understood ; but there are also others, for the perfect enjoyment of which, neither extensive knowledge nor extraordinary talents are necessary. These are the pleasures which result from activity and employment ; pleasures that are equally within the reach of the ignorant clown, or learne. hiioso- pher, and which produce enjoyments no less exquisite 4 than those we first mentioned : the exertion of manual labour, therefore, ought nev@r to be despised. I am acquainted with gentlemen who are instructed in the mechanism of their own watches ; who are able to work as painters, locksmiths, carpenters ; and who are not only furnished with tools proper to almost every branch of trade, but know also how to use thern. Such characters never feel the least disquietude from the want of society, and are, in consequence, the happiest of men. The labours we experience in any art or science, from the recreation of it, and when carried to a cer- tain degree of perfection, render man social with him- self, and counterbalance the greatest moral evils. To conquer difficulties is to promote our pleasures ; and every time our efforts attain to a certain point, from whence we ct.n view with complacency the end of our labours, the soul feels an inexpressible tranquility and satisfaction, and, being contented within itself, seeks for no higher pleasure. The enjoyments of the heart are within the reach of all men who> free, easy and affectionate, are con- S2 the influence of soljtuds. tented with themselves, and pleased with those about them. Aias I how much superiour, therefore, for this reason, is the happiness which a country life affords, to that deceitful felicity which is affected in the courts of Princes, and in the brilliant circles of the great and gay ; a truth severely felt by men of worldly pleas- ure, and confessed by their frequent complaints of restlessness and languor — complaints unknown among the vallies of the Alps, or upon those mountains where innocence yet dwells, and which no visitor ever quitted without the tribute of a tear. The fatal poison, however, which lurks beneath the manners of luxurious cities, might easily be avoided, by renouncing the insipid life in which the inhabitants are engaged. Virtuous actions convey tranquility to the soul ; and a joy equally calm and permanent ac- companies that man into the closest recesses of retire- ment, whose mind is fixed upon discharging the duties of humanity. With what delight, also, do we dwell upon the recital of our school adventures, the wanton tricks of our youth ! The history of the early periods of our lives, '.he remembrance of our plays and pas- times, of the little pains and puerile wishes of our in- fancy, always recal to our minds the most agreeable ideas. Ah ! with what complacent smiles, with what soft regret, a venerable old man turns his eyes upon the happy sera w r hen the incarnation of youth animated all his joys ; when he entered into every enterprize with vigour, vivacity and courage ; when he sought difficulties only to display his powers in surmounting- them ! Let us contrast the character we formerly bore, with .that which we at present possess ; or, by giving a freer range to our ideas, let us rather cast our tho'ts upon the various events of which w T e have been wit- nesses, upon the means which the Almighty has thought proper to employ in the exaltation or debars?- ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. So ment of empires ; upon the rapid progress which the arts and sciences have made, within our own remem- brance ; upon the advancement of philosophy, and the retreat of prejudice ; upon the ascendancy which ig- norance and superstition stili maintain, notwithstand- ing the sublime efforts of genius to suppress them ; upon the bright irradiations of intellect, and the moral depravation of the heart ; and we shall soon perceive' the clouds of languor disappear, and tranquility, peace* and good humour prevail. The inexpressible felicity, that variety of delightful enjoyments, so superior to the gratifications of sense, which solitude affords to every reflecting mind, are ca«* pable of being relished at every period of our lives ; in the last decay of age, as well as in the earliest primer of youth. He who, to a vigourous constitution, a free spirit, an easy temper, has added the advantages of a cultivated understanding, will here experience, while his heart continues pure and his mind innocent, the highest and most unalterable pleasure. The love of exercise animates all the faculties of the soul, and in- creases the energies of nature. Employment is the first desire of every active mind. It is the silent con- sciousness of the superiority of our nature, of the force of our intellectual powers, of the high dignity of our character, which inspires great souls with that no- ble ardour which carries them to the true sublime.— r Constrained, by the duties of their situation, to mix in the intercourses of society ; obliged to submit, ia spite of their inclination, to the frivolous and fatiguing dissipations of the world ; it is in withdrawing from these tumultuous scenes, into the silence of medita- tion, that men become sensible of the divine efferves- ence of their souls, feel a wish to break their chains, to escape from the servility of pleasure, and from all the noisy and tumultuous joys in which they are engaged. We never feel with higher energy and satisfaction 34 TtfE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE with greater comfort and cordiality, that we live, think, tire reasonable beings, self-active, free, capable of the most sublime exertions, and partaking of immortality, than in those moments when we shut the door against the intrusions of impertinence and fashion. There are few vexations so insupportable as those tasteless visits, those annoying partialities, by which a life of lazy opulence and wanton pleasure is occupied. " My thoughts,** says Rosseau, " will only come " when they please, and not when I cruise." Obliged', therefore, to wait for their arrival, the intrusion of a stranger, or even Uie visit of an acquaintance by whom he was not intimately known, was always dreadful to him. It was for this reason, alone, that this extraor- dinary character, who seldom experienced an hour of tranquility unaccompanied by pain, felt such petulant >n against the importunate civilities and emp~ ty compliments of common conversation, while he en- intercourse of sensible and well in- formed I i:;hest delight.* How soon, a] dignity of the human charac- ter becomes debased, by : ssociatrng with low and little minds ! How many rays of thought, precious rays I emanating immediately from the Deity, upon the mind of man, are extin^uishua by the noxious vapour of stagnated life ! But it is meditation and reflection that must give them birth, elevate them to the heights of genius, make them subsistent with the nature of the human mind, and confommble to the spirit of the human character. Virtues to which the soul cannot raise itself, ev- en in the most amiable of all societies, are frequently * M I never could endure" says Rosseau, u the empty ^ &nd unmeaning comfiliments of common conversation i . but from conversations useful or ingenious, I have aU ways derived the greatest pleasure, and have never refu~ ted to participate in them." ©N THE MIND AND THE HEART. 35 produced by solitude. Separated, by distance, from* our friends, we feel ourselves deprived of the compa- ny of those who are dearest to our hearts ; and to re- lieve the dreary void, we aspire to the most sublime efforts, and adopt the boldest resolutions. On the con- trary, while we are under the protecting care of friend- ship and of love, while their kind offices supply all our wants, and their affectionate embraces lock us eternally in their arms, we forget, in the blandishments of such a state, almost the faculty of self-motion, lose sight of the power of acting from ourselves, and sel- dom reflect that we may be reduced to the necessity of supporting ourselves under the adversities of life. To guard against this event, therefore, it is proper, by retiring into Solitude, to experience and rely upon the strength of our own powers. The soul, weakened by the storms of life, then acquires new vigour ; fixes the steady eye of fortitude on the frowns of adversity, and learns to elude the threatening rocks on • which the happiness of vulgar minds is so frequently wTecked ~ He who devotes his days to Solitude, finds resource^ within himself of which he had no idea; while philo- sophy inspires him with courage to sustain the mosl rigourous shocks of fate. The disposition of man becomes more firm, his o- pinions more determined and correct, when, urged by the tumults of life, he reflects, in the qiyetude of his heart, on his own nature and the manner of the world. The constitution of a versatile and undecided character proceeds entirely from that intellectual weakness which prevents the mind from thinking for itself. Such char- acters consult upon every occasion the oracle of pub- lic opinion, so infalliable in their ideas, before they know what they ought to think, or in w T hat manner their judgement should be formed, or their conduct regulated. Weak minds always conceire it most safe to adopt So THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE the sentiments of the multitude. Th< y never venture an opinion upon any subject until the majority have .decKud. l/hese decisions, whether upon men or thin b s, they implicitly follow, without giving them- selves the trouble to enquire who is right, oron which side the truth Ks. The spirit of truth, and love of equity, indeed, are only to be expected from those who are fearless of living alone. Men of dissipated minds are never the protectors of the weak, or the avengers of the oppressed. Are the various and powerful hosts of fools and knaves your enemies ? Are ycu injured in your property by injustice, or in your fame by calumny ? You must not hope for re- dress from light characters, or for support from men of dissipation; for they only repeat the voice of errour, and propagate the fallacies of prejudice. To live in Solitude, to feel ourselves alone, only in- spires fear, inasmuch as it contributes to extinguish one corporeal power by giving birth to another. The powers of the mind, on the contrary, augment in pro- portion as they become more concentrated, when no person is united to us, or ready to afford protection. To live undisturbed, to mitigate the suffering of pre- sent impressions, t© render the mind superior to the accidents of life, and to gain sufficient intrepidity to oppose the danger of adversity, it is absolutely neces- sary to live alone. How smoothly flows the stream of life when we have no anxiety to enquire, " Who did this ?" " Who said that V How many miserable pre- judices, and still more contemptible passions, has one serious reflection subdued ! How quickly, in such a situation, that slavish, shameful, and idolatrous vener ration for every unworthy object disappears ! With what noble spirit the votary of Solitude fearlessly dis- dains those characters who conceive that high birth and illustrious descent, confer a privilege to tyrannize over inferior men, to whom they frequently afford so many reasons to hold them in contempt. Gar THE MI1SD AND THE HEART. W. An ingenious and celebrated observer of men and things in tor ins us, it is in leisure and retirement alone, that the soul exalts itself into a sublime superiority over the accidents of life, becomes indifferent to the good or evil it may experience, the praise or censure it may receive^ the life it may enjoy, or even the deatbt it may suffer. It is in Solitude alone that those noble $nd refined ideas, those profound principles and uner- ring axioms, which form and support every great character, are developed. Even philosophy itself, continues this excellent Philosopher, in his observations Upon Cicero, and those deep theories upon which the Sublime conduct of the statesman is founded, and which enable him to perform with excellence the important duties with which he is charged, are formed in the si- lence of Solitude, in some distant retirement from the great theatre of the world. As Solitude, therefore, not only gives firmness to the characters, and propriety to the sentiments of men, but leads the mind to a true degree of elevation, so likewise, there is no other situation in which we so Soon acquire the important knowledge of. ourselves. Retirement connects us more closely with our own bosoms, and we live in habits of the strictest inti- macy only with ourselves. It is certainly possible for men to be deliberate and wise, even amidst ail the tu- mults of the world, especially if their principles be well fixed before they enter on the stage of life ; but. it is much more difficult to preserve an integrity of conduct amidst the corruptions of society, than in the simplicity of Solitude. How many men please only by their faults, and recommend themselves only by their vices J Plow many profligate villains and unprin- cipled adventurers, of insinuating manners, are well deceived by society, only because they have learnt the art of administering to the follies, the weaknesses, the vices, of t,hoss who give the lead to fashion i How is D 3S- THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE it possible that the mind, intoxicated with the fumes of that incense which flattery burns to its honour, should be capable of knowing or appreciating the characters of men i But, on the contrary, in the silence and tran- quility of retirement, whether we are led by inclination to the study of ourselves, awakened to reflection by a sense of misery, or compelled to think seriously on our situation, and to examine the inward complexion of the heart, we can learn what we are and what we ought to be. How many new and useful discoveries may be made, by occasionally forcing ourselves from the vortex of the world, to the calm enjoyments of study and re* flection i To accomplish this end, it is only necessary to commune seriously with our hearts, and to examine our conduct with candour and impartiality. The man of worldly pleasure, indeed, has reason to shun this ielf-examination, conscious that the result of the en- quiry would be extremely unfavorable : for he who >nly judges of himself by the flattering opinion which ithers have been pleased to express of his character, vill, in such a scrutiny, behold with surprize, that he t8 the miserable slave of fashion, habit, and public opinion ; submitting with laborious diligence, and the utmost possible grace, to the exactions of politeness, and the authoritative demands of established ceremo- ny ; never venturing to contradict the imperious voice of fashion, however senseless and absurd its dictates may appear ; obsequiously following the example of others, giving credit to every thing they say, doing every thing they do, and not daring to condemn those pursuits which every one seems so highly to approve. If such a character possess that degree of candour he ought s he will not only perceive, but acknowledge, that an infinite number of his daily thoughts and actions, are inspired by a base fear of himself, or arise from a servile complaisance to others ; that in the ON THE MIND AND THE HEART, 39 ^company of princes and statesmen, he only seeks to flatter their vanities, and indulge their caprices ; that by his devotion to politeness, he submits to become the minister of their vices, rather than ofrtT them the smallest -contradiction, or hazard an opinion which is likely to give them the least displeasure. Whoever With calm consideration views this terrifying picture, will feel in the silent emotion of his heart, the necessity of occasionally retiring into Solitude? and seeking society with men of nobler sentiments and purer ^principles. The violent alternatives of pleasure and pain, of hope and fear, of content and mortification, incessant- ly torment the mind that has not courage to rise superior to the influence of the objects of sense. The virtues fly from the habitation of a heart that yields it- self to first impressions, of a heart that is forever obedient to the feelings of the moment, and incapable of exerting a dominion over them. The virtues also cease to dwell in the bosoms of the worldly, who, fol- lowing the example of the times, are guided in all their actions by sinister motives, and directed to every end, by the mean consideration of self interest, either immediate or remote. To exercise even virtue itself, with advantage and effect, it is necessary to retire into Solitude: to avoid the impediments which the acci- dents of the passing day may create ; to estimate, by a silent examination, the true value of things, and the real merit of human actions. The mind debased by the corruptions of the world, has no idea of relinquish- ing the prospect of present benefit, and making a noble sacrifice of glory and of fortune. They never appre- ciate any action by its intrinsic merit, but conduct all their calculations upon a vile notion of lucre, and only assume the garb of virtue as a mean of snatching some poor advantage, obtaining some paltry honour, or gaining some serviceable credit : to those who, from 40 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE their power and superiority, might, if they were equally base and contemptible, prejudice their inte- rests, they pay a servile court, flatter, lie, calumniate and cringe, and depart only to commit new baseness elsewhere. Man discovers with deeper penetration, the extent and nature of the passions by which he is swayed, £ to bear my ©X THE MIND AND THE HEART. £3 afflictions, nor courage to resist them ; while I was yet pursued by malice, and outraged by calumny ;— in such a situation, I can easily conceive that my ex- clamation might be — " leave me