SOLITUDE 
 
 CONSIDERED WITH 
 
 RESPECT TO ITS INFLUENCE 
 
 V F V 
 
 THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 WRITTEN ORIGINALLY IN GERMAN 
 
 i 
 
 B T 
 
 M. ZIMMERMAN N, 
 
 
 
 AVLIC COUNSELLOR AND PHYSICIAN TO HIS 
 BRITANNIC MAJESTY AT HANOVER. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE TRENCH 
 O P 
 
 J. B. M E R C I E R. 
 
 SOLITUDE ou je trouve une douceur fecrete 
 
 Lteux que j'aimai toujours, ne poui rai- jc jamait, 
 
 Jx>in du raonde ft du bruit, gouter 1'ombre et le frai t 
 
 Ob I qui m'arrctera fous vos lombres afylf s ? 
 
 Qaand poorront les Neuf Sceun, loin dpi Court et dct Villci, 
 
 JVToccuper tout entier . 
 
 LA FONTAINE, 
 It Songf tun Habitant d Mogol, L. XI, FaUe If. 
 
 L Q N P Q Ni 
 
 fRIMTED FOR C, DILLY, 1$ THE POULTRY. 
 M,DOC,XCI, 
 
Reproduced by DUO PAGE process 
 in the United States of America 
 
 MICRO PHOTO INC. 
 Cleveland 12, Ohio 
 
 . . 
 
 Ti t 
 
1791 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction, * ' * * P a g e * 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 
 f be General Advantages of Solitude i 8 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD, 
 
 fbe Influence of Solitude upon tie Mind t 83 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 
 
 We Influence of Solitude ufon tbeHeart, * 1 9 
 

PREFACE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 DRENCH TRANSLATOR. 
 
 THE Title of this work will perhaps give 
 fome alarm to delicate ears : the word 
 " SOLITUDE" may infpire melancholy and un- 
 favourable ideas ; it is however only neceffary 
 to read a few pages to be undeceived. The 
 author is not one of thofe extravagant Mifan* 
 thropcs who would compel mankind, born for 
 Society, and connected with it by a variety of 
 indiflbluble ties, to retire into forefts, to inhabit 
 dens and caves* and to live only with wild beads ; 
 he is a friend to humanity, a fenfible and vir- 
 tuous individual,, an honed citizen, honoured 
 by the edeem of his Prince, who endeavours to 
 enlighten the minds of his fellow-creatures upon 
 
 A afub- 
 
a PREFACE OF THE 
 
 a fubjecl: the mod interefting to them, the at- 
 tainment of HAPPINESS. 
 
 No writer ever appeared more completely fa- 
 tisfied that man is born for Society, or feems to 
 have better fludied all the focial duties of life, 
 thanM. ZIMMERMANN. But what is Society ? 
 what are the focial duties of life ? Thefe are the 
 queftitfns which the author examines. The 
 important chara&crs of Father, Hufband, Son, 
 and Citizen, impofc on MAN certain indifpenfy- 
 ble obligations which are ever dear to the vir- 
 tuous heart; they eftabiilh between him r his 
 country and his family, relations too neccflary 
 and too agreeable to be neglected. It is not how, 
 ever in tumultuous joys, in the noify pleafurea 
 of public entertainments, in blindly follow- 
 ing the chimeras of ambition, the illufions of felf- 
 love, or the fpeculationsof delire, that men muft 
 exped to feel the charms of thofe reciprocal 
 ties which unite them to Society ; to perceive the 
 dignity of thofe duties which nature made pro* 
 du&ive of fo many pleafures ; to tafte that true 
 felicity which is accompanied by independence 
 and content ; a felicity fo feldom c'efired .only 
 
 btcaufc 
 
FRENCH TRANSLATOR. v m 
 
 becnufe it is fo little known, but which every 
 man may cultivate within his own breaft. 
 
 AI/AS ! who has not frequently experienced 
 the neceflity of entering into that facred afylum 
 as a refuge from the misfortunes of life, or as a 
 relief from the fatigues of faiiated pleafures ? 
 Yesi all men, from the fordid fchemer who daijy 
 fink sunder the weight of his labours, tothe proud 
 ft.uefman intoxicated by the incenfe of popular 
 applaufe, experience the defire of terminating 
 their precarious career; every bofom feels an 
 anxiety for repofe ; every mind fondly wiflies to 
 ftealfrom the vortex of a bufy and unquiet life, 
 to enjoy tranquillity in the Solitude of retire- 
 ment. Under the peaceful ftiades of Solitude, 
 the mind of man regenerates, and his faculties 
 acquire new force ; it is there alone that the hap- 
 py can enjoy the fulnefs of felicity, or the mi- 
 ferable forget his woe ; it is there that the bolbm 
 of fenfibility experiences its moft delicious emo- 
 tions ; that creative genius frees itlelf from 
 the (hackles of Society, and darts forth the warm- 
 eft rays of imagination : all the ideas of our 
 minds, every inclination of our hearts, lean to- 
 ward this defired goal. M There is indeed," 
 
 A 2 fays 
 
IV PREFACE OF THE 
 
 fays a fenfible Englimman, <c fcarccly any 
 44 writer who has not celebrated the happinefa 
 44 of rural privacy, and delighted himfelfan^ 
 4< bis readers wth the melody of birds, the 
 44 whifper of groves, and the murmur of rivu- 
 44 lets ; nor any man eminent for extent of capa- 
 44 city, or greatnefs of exploits, that has not 
 c4 left behind him fome memorials of lonely 
 4< wifdom and lilent dignity." 
 
 THE part of the work to which I am moft at- 
 tached is particularly addrcflcd to the attention of 
 YOUT ii ; it is to them that it will perhaps be moll 
 ufeful, and I fondly flutter myfelf that to their 
 minds it will alfo afford the higheft pleafure. 
 Young myfelf, and fenliblc of the truly beauti- 
 ful, I felt myfelf led on by the charms of a work 
 which elevated my mind, warmed my imagina- 
 tion, and touched my heart. May it produce the 
 fame effe6>s upon my young countrymen ! May 
 it, notwithstanding the weaknefs of this tranila- 
 tion, infpire them with the lame enthufiafm ! At 
 leaf! I may venture to exclaim in the \vords of 
 Jvl. '/i M AIKRM ANN, 4t lKar and virtuous young 
 ** nan ir:t;> whole hands this book perchance 
 <: may fall, receive with arlcctioii the good 
 
 44 which 
 
FRENCH TRANSLATOR. * 
 
 " which it contains, and reject all that is cold 
 44 and bad ; all that does not touch and penetrate 
 " the heart ! But if you thank me for the per- 
 " formance, if you blefs me, if you acknow- 
 44 ledge that I have enlightened your mind, 
 44 corrected your manners, and tranquillized 
 * 4 your heart, I (hall congratulate myfclf on 
 44 the fincerity of my intentions, and think my 
 " labours richly rewarded. If, in purfuing it, 
 " you find yourfelf able to juftify your inclina- 
 44 tion for a wife and active Solitude, youraver- 
 44 fion from thofe focieties which only ferve to 
 44 deftroy time, and your repugnance to employ 
 4< vile and (hameful means in the acquifitiort of 
 44 riches, I (hall alk no other benediction for 
 44 my work." 
 
 IT will perhaps appear furprifing that, enter- 
 taining fo high a veneration for the writings 
 of M. ZIMMERMAXN, 1 could permit myfelf 
 with profane hand to retrench the greater part 
 of his wcrk : permit me therefore to difclofe the 
 reafonswhich influenced my conduct. Fourlarge 
 volumes on the fubject of SOLITUDE appeared to 
 me to be a work too arduous for the generality of 
 
 French 
 
*i PREFACE OF THE 
 
 French readers, and particularly for French 
 bookfellers to undertake; for even this fh-.rt 
 Eflay, without the recommendation of ^ 1 . I ,E 
 TOURNEUR, could not have acquired rh ^ honour 
 cftbe prefs. Befide, although the \vh >lj work 
 bears the marks of genius, and the t-\o firft vo- 
 lumes, which princip lly treat o- tnonaftic Soil- 
 iude t contain without doubt many judicious re- 
 flections, yet they are perhaps rather too long for 
 many readers, and are even capable of difpleafing 
 Ibme, whofe narrow prejudice* might be Ihock*- 
 ed by the liberal fentiments of the Author, who 
 has appealed to the decifion of REASON alone 
 upon the fubjed of certain abufes rendered fa- 
 cre4 by the motives from which they proceed- 
 ed. Notwithftanding this, however, I could not 
 determine to retrench the work before I had 
 confulted feveral men of letters, of enlightened 
 underftandings, and in high favour with the 
 Public : No, I never could have ventured, on 
 my own judgement, to have pruned any part of 
 a work which has acquired the univerfal appro- 
 bation of the German Empire *, and obtained 
 
 * The Author is already inferted in the collcflion of 
 Authors pripted at Carhrubt, 
 
 the 
 
FRENCH TRANSLATOR. vil 
 
 the fufFrages of an Emprefs celebrated for the 
 fuperior brilliancy of her mind, and who has 
 lignified her approbation in the moft flattering 
 manner. 
 
 On the 26th January 1785, a Courier, dif- 
 patched by the Ruffian Envoy at Hamburg, pre- 
 lented M. ZIMMEKMANN with a fmall cafket 
 in the name of her Majefty the Emprefs of 
 Ruitia. The calket contained a ring enriched 
 with diamonds of an extraordinary fize andluftre, 
 and a gold medal, bearing on one fide the por- 
 trait of the Emprefs, and on the other the date 
 of the happy reformation of the Ruffian Em- 
 pire. This prefent the Emprefs accompa- 
 nied with a letter written in her own hand, 
 containing thefe remarkable words : " To M. 
 * ZIMMERMANN, Couufcllor of State and 
 " Phyfician to his Britannic Majefty, to thank 
 " him for the excellent precepts he has given to 
 4< mankind in his Treatilcupon SOLITUDE." 
 
 SOLI- 
 
SOLITUDE 
 
 CONSIDERED WITH 
 
 RESPECT to ITS INFLUENCE 
 
 w r t> K 
 
 THE MIND AND THE teEART 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 "T N this unquiet and tumultuous fc^n<* of life, 
 * furrounded by the reftraints of ceremony, 
 the urgencies of bufincfs, the Ihackles of fociety, 
 and in the evening of my days, I feel no delight 
 in tracing back the images of pleafures that pafs 
 fo tranfiently away : my foiil dwells with higher 
 iatisfaclion on the memory of thofe happy days 
 of my youth, when SOLITUDE was jny fole 
 imufement ; when I knew no place more agreeable 
 than the fcqueftcred cloifter and the filent cell, 
 the lonely mountain and the fublimely awful 
 grove; nor any pleafures more lively than thofe 
 1 experienced in convening with the dead. 
 
 I love to recall to my mind the cool arvd 
 filent fccnes of Sojitude ; to oppofc them to the 
 
 B heat 
 
* THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 heat and buftle of the world ; to meditate on 
 thofe advantages which the great and good of 
 every age have acknowledged they poflefs, though 
 perhaps too feldom experienced ; to reflect on 
 the powerful confolations they afford when grief 
 corrodes the mind, when difeafe afllidU the body, 
 when the number of our years bends us to the 
 ground ; to contemplate, in fhort, the benign in- 
 fluence of Solitude upon all the troubles of the 
 heart. 
 
 SOLITUDE is that {late in which the foul freely 
 refigns itfelf to its own reflections. The fage, 
 therefore, who banvflies from his mind all recol- 
 lection of the objects by which he is furroundcd, 
 and retires within himfelf, is not lefs folitary than 
 he who forfakes fociety and devotes himfelf 
 entirely to the calm enjoyments of a lonely life. 
 
 In retirement every man furrcnders himfelf, 
 without reftrainr or limitation, to the guidance of 
 his own ideas, and implicitly adopts the fenti- 
 ments which his tatle, temper, inclination, and 
 genius, infpire. 
 
 Obiefve the fliepherds of thofe extenfive de- 
 ferts : one chaunts the beauty which captivates 
 his foul ; another moulds the clay into a ri'.ftic 
 vafe ; the furrounding charms of nature form the 
 . fole delight and admiration of a third ; while a 
 fourth invcftigates the precepts of the moral law, 
 .or contemplates the fublime truths of cur 
 holy religion. If they were reflectively to 
 
 meet 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HfcART. 3 
 
 meet a lovely (hepherdefs beneath the (hades of 
 iheir retirement, feated on the borders of fome 
 gently flowing ftream, the heart of each might 
 perhaps become the Have of love; but deprived of 
 all that is dear to man, and doomed to tafte in- 
 voluntary Solitude, the beft refource for each is 
 to refign himfelf to the dictates of his inclina- 
 tion : a refource to which every well-difpofed and 
 vjrtuous mind may conltamly refort without dif- 
 may or danger. 
 
 MAN in a flate of perfect freedom poflefles art 
 innate right to follow the fuggeftions of his 
 fancy : fome are delighted by the foft melody 
 of the nightingale, while others liilen with equal 
 pleafure to the hideous ihriekings of the owl. 
 Some there are to whom even the vifits of friend- 
 fhip are difpleafing ; who, to avoid the painful in- 
 tercourfe, confine themfelves eternally at home* 
 and confume their hours in writing books, or 
 killing flies* 
 
 The poor dejected heart conftantly attaches 
 itfelf to fome favourite object, as far at leaft as 
 circumftances and fituation will permit, front 
 which it draws its ccnfolation and fupport. Roam- 
 ing through the cloifters of the Magdalene Convent 
 at HI&ELSHEIM, I was (lirprifed to obferve art 
 aviary of Canary birds in the cell of a RE LI* 
 CIEUSE. A Braban<jon gentleman, fearful of the 
 effects of cold, and having the fame averfion from 
 WOMEN that certain perfons are faid to feel from 
 
 B ^ MICE, 
 
4 tHE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDtf . 
 
 MICE, lived five and twenty years at BRUSSELS 
 immured within his houfe, without any other 
 amufement than that of callec"Ung a magnificent 
 cabinet of paintings and pictures. 
 
 Under the confinement eVen of the dungeon 
 itfelf, men, deprived for ever 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 thofe purfuits which afford 
 them the higheft pleafure. The Swifs philofopher 
 MICHAEL DUCRET meafured the heights of the 
 Alps during his confinement in the prifon of 
 AARBURG, in the canton of BERNE inSwissF.R- 
 JLAND ; and while BARON DE TRENCK, a prifoncr 
 in the tower of MAGDEBOURG, was every moment 
 anxioufly employed in forming projects to effect 
 his efcape, GENERAL WALRAVE, the companion 
 of his captivity, contentedly pafled his time in 
 
 * 
 
 the feeding of chickens. 
 
 \ 
 
 The term SOLITUDE does not, I conceive, al- 
 ways import a total abfence from the world. 
 Sometimes it conveys to my mind the idea of 
 dwelling in a convent, or a country village : 
 fometimes I underftand it to mean the library 
 of a man of learning : and fometimes an occa- 
 lional retreat from the tumults of active life. 
 
 Men arc frequently Solitary without being alone ; 
 for to conftitute a ftate of Solitude, it is fufficient 
 if the mind be entirely abforbcd by thofe ideas 
 which its own reflections create. 
 
 The 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 5 
 
 The haughty BARON, proud of the diftin&ions 
 of birth, feels himfelf alone in every fociety 
 whofc members are not ennobled by an equal num- 
 ber of titles derived through a long line of heredi- 
 tary defcents. A profound reafoner is, in general, 
 Solitary at the tables of the witty and the gay. 
 The mind, even amidft the clamours of a popular 
 afiembly, may withdraw its attention from the 
 furrounding objects, may retire as effectually 
 within itfelf, may become as Solitary as a monk 
 in his monaftery or a hermit in his cell. In 
 fliort, Solitude may be as eafily attained amidft 
 the gayeft circles of the moft brilliant city, as in 
 the uninterrupted filence of a poor, dcfcrted 
 village; at LONDON and at PARIS, as well as on 
 flic plains of THEBAisor in thedefartsof NITRIA. 
 
 A treatife therefore upon the real advantage* 
 to be derived from Solitude, appeared to me a 
 proper means to facilitate men in their fearch af- 
 ter happinefs. The fewer external refources men 
 pofl'efs, the greater efforts they make to difcover 
 in themfelves the power of being happy ; and the 
 more they are enabled to part, without regret, 
 from their connections with each other, the nearer 
 they moft certainly approach to true felicity. The 
 pleafures of the world appear to me unworthy 
 of the avidity with which they are purfued ; but 
 it is equally true, that, upon a ferious examination, 
 all thofe Catholic notions, once fo celebrated, of 
 |t total feclufion from the world and its concerns, 
 
 8 3 appear 
 
6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 appear altogether impradicable, and equally ab* 
 furd. To render the mind independent of 
 human afiiftances, and teach it to rely entirely 
 upon the ftrength of its own powers, is, I ac- 
 knowledge, 'a noble exertion ; but it is certainly 
 as meritorious to learn the art of living happily 
 in the bofom of fociety, and of rendering ourfelves 
 ufeful and agreeable to the reft of mankind. 
 
 "While, therefore, I defcribe the allurements 
 of SOLITUDE, I (hall endeavour to warn my 
 readers againft thofe dangerous excefles into 
 which fome of its difciples have been be- 
 trayed; excefles as x repugnant to the voice of 
 reafon, as they are condemned by the precepts of 
 our holy religion. 
 
 Happily to avoid all the dangers by which my 
 fubject is furrounded, to facrifice nothing to pre- 
 judice, to advance nothing in violation of truth, 
 to obtain the approbation of the peaceful difciplei 
 of reafon and philofophy, will be my anxious en- 
 deavour ; and if affliction ftiall derive a ray of 
 confolation from my labours ; if melancholy, in 
 forgetting the horrors of its fituation, mail raife 
 its dejected head to blefs me ; if I (hall be able to 
 convince the innocent votaries of rural retirement 
 that the fprings of pleafure foon dry up in the 
 heat of the metropolis ; that the heart remains 
 cold and fenfelefs in the midft of all its noify and 
 factitious joys : if they fliall learn to feel the fu- 
 perior pleafurds of a country life, become fenfible 
 
 of 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 7 
 
 of the variety of refources they afford againft idle- 
 ncfs and vexation ; what purity of fentiment, what 
 peaceful thoughts, what unfading happinefs the 
 view of verdant meads, the fight of numerous 
 flocks and herds quitting the fertile meadows on 
 the clofe of day, inftil into the mind ; with what 
 ineffable delight the fublime beauty of. a wild 
 romantic country, interfperfed with diftant cot- 
 tages, and occupied by freedom and content, 
 ravifhes the foul; how much more readily, in 
 ftiort, we forget all the pains and troubles of a 
 wounded heart on the borders of a gentle ftream$ 
 than amidft the concourfe of deceitful joys fo 
 fatally followed in the courts of princes; my 
 tafk will be accompliflied, and all my wiftcs 
 amply gratified ! 
 
 B 4 CHAP, 
 
f THE fNFLUENCE OF^OUTUDE 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND, 
 
 THE GENERAL ADVANTAGES OF SOLITUDE. 
 
 SOLITUPE engages the affections of men, 
 whenever it holds up a piclure of tranqui- 
 lly to their view. The doleful and monotonous 
 found of the clock of a fequellered monailery, 
 the lilence of nature in a ftill night, the pure 
 air on the fummit of a high mountain, the thick 
 darknefs of an ancient foreft, the fight of a tem- 
 ple fallen into ruins, infpire the foul with a fofc 
 melancholy, and banifh all recollection of the 
 world and its concerns. But the man who cannot 
 hold a friendly corrcfpondence with his o\vn 
 heart, who derives no comfort from the reflections 
 of his mind, who dreads the idea of meditation 
 and is fearful of patting a fingle moment with 
 himfelf, looks with an equal eye on Solitude and 
 on death. He endeavours to enjoy all the volup- 
 tuoufncfs which the world affords ; drains the 
 pernicious cup of pleafure to its dregs; and until 
 the dreadful moment approaches when he beholds 
 his nerves fhattercd, and all the powers of his foul 
 deilroycd, he has not courage to make the de- 
 layed confefiion, " / am tired of THE WORLD a,ui 
 ell its idle follies, and now prejer tie mournful fiade 
 of tbe cyprefs ta the intoxication of its noljy pictures 
 Mil tumultuous joys." 
 
 The 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. f 
 
 The dangers to which a life of Solitude is expo 
 fed, for even in Solitude many real dangers exift, 
 afford no lubftantial argument againft it ; as by 
 a judicious employment of the hours of activity 
 and repofe, and a proper vigilance upon the defires 
 of the heart, they may b? eafily eluded. The 
 adventurous navigator, when acquainted with the 
 fignal of approaching dangers, and the lituation of 
 thofe rocks and (hoals which threaten his fafety, no 
 longer fears the perils to which he was before ex- 
 pofed. The advantages of Solitude are dill lefs dif- 
 proved by the complaints of thofc who, feeling a 
 continual defire to efcape from themfelves, are in* 
 capable of every enjoyment but what the world 
 affords ; to whom retirement and tranquility ap- 
 pear vapid and fatiguing; and who, unconfcious of 
 any nobler pleafure than that of paying or receiving 
 vifits, have of courfe no idea of the delights of 
 Solitude. 
 
 It is, therefore, only to thofe diftinguiflicd 
 beings who can refort to their own bofoms for 
 an antidote againft difquict, who are fearlcfs of 
 the numerous facrifices which virtue may demand, 
 >vhofe fouls arc endowed with fufficicnt energy to 
 drive away the dread of being alone, and whofc 
 hearts are fufceptible of the pure and tranquil 
 delights of domeftic felicity, that I pretend to 
 recommend the advantages o SOLITUDE. The 
 miferable being in whofe bofom the corruptions 
 f the world has already deftroyed thefe pre- 
 cious gifts of nature ; who knows no other plea- 
 
 fure, 
 
i. THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 furc, is fenfible to no other happinefs than what 
 cards or the luxury of a richly-furnimcd table 
 afford ; who difdains all excrcife of the under- 
 ftanding, thinks all delicacy of fentiment unna- 
 tural, and, by a brutality almoft inconceivable, 
 laughs at the facred name of fenfibility ; inuft 
 be loft to virtue, and utterly incapable of pleafure 
 from any operations of his own mind. 
 
 Philofophers, and mimfters of the gofpel, if they 
 were entirely to deprive themfelvcs of the pleafures 
 of focicty, and to fhun, with rigid fevcrity, the 
 honeft comforts and rational amufements of life, 
 would, without doubt, dlcntially injure theinterelts 
 of wifdom and virtue; but there are not, at prcient f 
 many preceptors who carry their doctrines to this 
 extent : on the contrary, there exifls a multitude, 
 both in the country and the town, to whom Soli- 
 tude would be infupportable, who fhamtfully de- 
 vote their time to noify diflipations and tumultuous 
 pleafures altogether inconfiftent with their charac- 
 ters and funclions. The celebrated icra is paflecl 
 when a life of retirement and contemplation was 
 alone efteemcd, and when the tpproaches to 
 heaven were meafured 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 thofe 
 ordinary pleafures which are purfued with fuch 
 unceafing avidity, 1 fhall (hew, in the firft divificn 
 of this Chapter, that it enables MAN to live inde- 
 pendent 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. n 
 
 pendent and alone; that there is no misfortune 
 it cannot alleviate, no forrow that it will not 
 {often ; that it adds dignity to his character, and 
 gives frelh vigour to the powers of his mind ; that 
 he cannot, in any other fituation, acquire fo per- 
 fect a knowledge of himfelf ; that it enlarges the 
 fphere of attention, and ripens the feeds of judge- 
 ment : in fliort, that it is from the influence of 
 Solitude alone that man can hope for the fruition 
 of unbroken pleafures and never-fading felicity. 
 
 THE ENJOYMENTS of active life may eafily be 
 blended with the mod ordinary advantages of Soli- 
 tude ; and we (hall foon difcover upon what foun- 
 dations the opinions of thofe philofophers are 
 built, who maintain that the tumults of the 
 world, and the diflipation of its votaries, arc in- 
 compatible with the calm exercife of reafon, the 
 decilions of a fobcr judgement, the invcftigation of 
 truth, and the ftudy of the human heart. 
 
 The legion of fnntaftic fafhions to which a 
 man of pleafure is obliged to facrifice his time, 
 impairs the rational faculties of his mind, and de- 
 ftroys the native energies of his foul. Forced 
 continually to lend himfelf to the performance of 
 a thoufand little triflings, a thoufand mean ab- 
 furdities,he becomes by habit frivolous and abfurd. 
 The face of things no longer wears its true and 
 genuine afpect ; and his depraved tafte lofes all relifh 
 for rational entertainment or fubftantial pleafure. 
 The infatuation feizcs on his brain, and his corupted 
 
 heart 
 
ic THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 heart teems with idle fancies and vain imaginations, 
 Thefe illufions however, through which the plained 
 object comes diflorted to his view, might eafilv 
 be difpelled. Accuftomed to a lonely life, and 
 left to reflect in calmnefs and fobriety, during 
 the filence of the Solitary hour, upon the falle 
 joys and deceitful plcafurcs which the parade of 
 vifiting and the glare of public entertainments 
 offer to our view, he would foon perceive and 
 candidly acknowledge their' nothingnefs and in-, 
 fipidity: foon would he behold the plcafurcs of 
 the world in their true colour;, and feej that he 
 had blindly wandered in purfuit of pha.nto:ris; 
 poficffing foniething in appearance, but nothing 
 in reality. 
 
 Languor and dilFatii>faclion arccvcrthc inevitable 
 P 
 
 confcqucnces of this ardent purfuit of entertain- 
 ments and divcrfions. He who has drained the cup 
 of pleafurc to its lalt drop ; who is obliged 
 to confcfs that his hopes arc fled, and that the 
 \vorld no longer contains an object worthy of his 
 purfuit ; who feels disappointment and difgull min- 
 gled with all his enjoyments ; who iccnis aitonimed 
 at his own infenfibility ; \vho no longer poiieilH 
 the magic of the enchantrefs IMAGINATION to 
 gild and decorate the iccnc ; calls in vain to his 
 affiftance the daughters of fenfuality : their 
 carcilcs can no longer charm his dark and melan- 
 choly mind ; the fott and fyrcn fong of luxury no 
 longer can difpel the cloud of difcontcnt which 
 hovers round his head. 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. J 
 
 Behold yon weak old man, his mind enervated, 
 and his conflitution gone, running after pleafurcs 
 that he no more mull tafte. The airs of gaiety 
 which he aftc&s render him ridiculous. His 
 attempts to thine expole him to derifion. His 
 endeavours to difplay the wit and eloquence of 
 youth, betray him into the garrulity of old age. 
 His converfation, filled with repetitions and fati- 
 guing narrative, creates difguft, and only forces the 
 imile of pity from the lips of his youthful rivals. To 
 the eye of wifdom however, who favv him througli 
 all the former periods of his life,fparkling in the cir- 
 cles of folly, and noting in the noify rendezvous 
 of extravagance and vice, his character always 
 appeared the fame. 
 
 The wife man, in ttie midfl of the mofl tumul- 
 tuous pleafures, frequently retires within himfelf, 
 and filently compares what he might do with 
 what he is doing. Surrounded even by the cx- 
 ceiics of intoxication, he aflbciates only with thofe 
 warm and generous fouls, whofe highly elevated 
 minds arc drawn towards each other by wifhes the 
 moft virtuous and fentiments the mod fublime. 
 The filcnce of Solitude has more than once given 
 birth to cnterprizes of the greateft .importance and 
 utility ; and fomc of the moft celebrated actions, 
 of mankind were perhaps firft infpired among the 
 founds of mufic, or conceived in the mazes of 
 the dance. Scnfible and elevated minds never 
 
 com- 
 
14 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 commune more clofely with themfelvcs than in 
 thofe places of public refort in which the low 
 and vulgar, abandoned to the caprice of 
 fafhion and the illufions of fenfuality, become 
 incapable of reflection, and blindly fufifer 
 themfelves to be overwhelmed by the torrent of 
 folly and diftraction. 
 
 Vacant fouls are always burthenfome to their 
 poffeflbrs; and it is the weight of this burden that 
 impels them inceflantly in the purfuits of diflipa- 
 tion for relief. The irrefiftiblc inclination by 
 which they are carried continually abroad, the 
 anxiety with which they fearch for fociety, the 
 trifles on which from day to day they fpcnd 
 their time, announce the emptinefs of their minds 
 and the frivolous affection of their hearts. Pof- 
 feffing no refources within themfelves, they arc 
 forced to rove abroad, and fatten upon every 
 object that prefents itfelf to their view, until they 
 find the wiflied -for harbour to protect them againft 
 the attacks of difcontent, and prevent them from 
 reflecting on their ignoble condition. 
 
 The enjoyments of fenfe, therefore, are thus 
 indcfatigably followed only as a mean of efcaping 
 from themfelves. They feize with avidity upon 
 every object that promifes to occupy the prefent 
 hour agreeably, and provide entertainment for the 
 day that is pafling over their heads : this mufl 
 ever be fomc external object, fome new phantom, 
 fometbing that fliall prevent them from remain- 
 ing 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 15 
 
 ing with themfelves. The man whofe mind is 
 fufficiently fertile to invent hour after hour new 
 fchemes of pleafure, to open day after day frefli 
 fources of amufement for the lazy and luxurious, 
 is a valuable companion indeed ; he is their beft, 
 their only friend : not that they are themfelves def- 
 titute of ability to find fuch employment as might 
 prevent the total facrifice of time, and relieve 
 their bofoms from the burthen of themfelves ; but 
 having always indulged the inclination of being 
 led continually from one new object to another, 
 the call of pleafure becomes the firft want and 
 mod ardent wiih of their lives. From that mo- 
 ment they mfcnfibly lofe the power of acting from 
 themfelves, and depend tor every thing on thofc 
 about them, without being able to direct or deter- 
 mine the impreflTions they ought to receive. This 
 is the reafon why THE RICH, who are fehdom ac- 
 quainted with any other pleafures than thofe of 
 fenfe, are, in general, the moft miferable of men. 
 
 The nobility and courtiers of FRANCE think 
 their enjoyments appear vain and ridiculous only 
 to thofe who have not the opportunity of par- 
 taking in them: but I am of a different opi- 
 nion. Returning one Sunday from TRIANON to 
 VERSAILLES, I perceived at a diftancc a number 
 of people afiembled upon the terrace of the 
 caflle ; and on a nearer approach I beheld Louis 
 THE FIFTEENTH furrounded by his court at the 
 windows of the palace. A man very richly 
 
 dreffed, 
 
i6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOllTUtfE 
 
 drefled, with a large pair of branching antlers 
 fattened on his head, whom they called THE 
 STAG, was purfvied by about a dozen others who 
 compofed THE PACK. The purfued and the pur- 
 fuers leaped into the great canal, fcrambled out 
 again j and ran about to all parts, while the air re- 
 founded with the acclamations of clapping of hands, 
 to encourage the continuance of the Iport. " What 
 " can all this mean ?" faid I to a Frenchman who 
 flood near me. *' Sir," he replied with a very 
 fcrious countenance, " it is for the entertain* 
 " ment of THE COURT." 
 
 The mod obfcure and indigent conditions art 
 certainly happier than thefe fovereigns of the world, 
 and their flaviih retinue, when reduced to the 
 neceflity of adopting fuch mean and abject modes 
 of entertainment. 
 
 THE COURTIER, when he appears at a levee, 
 outwardly aflcds the face of joy, while his heart 
 is inwardly a prey to the mofl excruciating for- 
 ro\\ s ; and fpeaks with the livelieft intered of 
 traniaclions in which he had no concern : but 
 perhaps it is necelFary to his confequence that 
 he fliould raife falfe appearances to the minds of 
 his vifitors, who on their fide impofe equally on 
 him in return. The fuccefs, alas ! of all his 
 fchemes affords him no other pleafure than to fee 
 his apartments crowded with company, whofe 
 only merit and recommendation in his eyes is 
 a ilnng of hereditary titles, of perhaps no very 
 remote antiquity or honourable origin. 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. -17 
 
 On this privation of the light of human reafon 
 do the felicities of a worldly life moft frequently 
 depend. From this dark fource fpring the inor- 
 dinate pride of the haughty noble, and the no 
 Icfs unbounded ambition of the fimple mechanic. 
 Kence arife the difdain of fome, the baughtinefs 
 of others, and the folly of all. 
 
 To men of diffipated minds, who dread, beyond 
 every other fear, the painful intrufion of a rational 
 fcntiment, thefe numerous and noify places of 
 public refort appear like temples dedicated to their 
 idol, PLEASURE. He who feeks happinefs on the 
 couch of indolence; who. expends all the activity 
 of his mind, all the energies of his heart, npon 
 trifling objects ; who Curlers vain and frivoloui 
 purfuits to abforb his time, to engage his atten- 
 tion, to lock up all the ^motions of his foul 
 cannot patiently endure the idea of being for one 
 moment by himfelf. Direful condition ! Is there 
 then no occupation whatfocver, no ufeful employ- 
 ment, no rational recreation fufficiently high and 
 dignified for fuch a character ? Is he of neceflity 
 reduced to' the afflicting fituacion of not being able 
 to perform a good and virtuous action during the 
 intervals of fufpended pleafure ? Can he render 
 no fervices to friendlhip ! to his country ! to him* 
 felf ? Are there no poor and mifcrable beings, to 
 whofc bofoms he might afford a charitable comfort 
 ant) relief? Is it, in ihort, impofiible for fuch a 
 
 C character 
 
it THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 character to become, in any way, more wife of 
 virtuous than he was before ? 
 
 The powers of the human foul are more ex- 
 tenfive than they are in general imagined to be; 
 and he who, urged by inclination, or compelled by 
 neceflity, moft frequently exerts them, will foor> 
 find that the higheft felicities, of which our na- 
 ture is capable, refidc entirely within ourfelves. 
 The wants of life are, for the greater part, merely 
 artificial ; and although fenfual objects moft effica- 
 cioufly contribute to our pleafure and content, it 
 is not becaufe the enjoyment of them is abfoluteiy 
 neceflary, but becaufe they have been rendered 
 defirable by the effect of habit. The gratifications 
 
 they afford eatily perfuade us, that the pofTeflion of 
 them is effential to happinefs ; but if we had for- 
 titude to refill their Charms, and courage to look 
 within our own bofoms for that felicity which we 
 fo anxioufly expect to derive from external objects, 
 we mould frequently find a much greater variety 
 of refources there than all the objects of fenfe arc 
 capable of affording. 
 
 Men of fuperficial minds may indeed derive 
 fome amufement from alVemblies, to which tlir 
 company in general refort merely to fee and to If 
 
 f?en : but how many women of faQiion expire in 
 fuch afTemblies, under all the mortification of difup- 
 pointed vanity ? how many neglected wits fullenlr 
 retire into fome bbfcure corner of the room? The 
 
 mind, on entering the circles of the great and gay, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 19 
 
 is apt to flatter itfelf too highly with hopes of ap- 
 phufe ; to wait with too much anxiety for the pro- 
 mifed pleafure. Wit, coquetry, fenfuality, it is 
 true, are, at thefe meetings, frequently exercifed 
 with confiderable fuccefs. Every candidate dif- 
 plays the little talent he poflefTes to the beft ad- 
 vantage ; and the leaft informed are not unfre- 
 quently confidered the mod mining characters. 
 The eye, however, may occafionaily be gratified by 
 the fight of objects really agreeable ; the ear may 
 liften to obfervations truly flattering. Lively 
 thoughts and fenfible remarks now and then prevail. 
 Characters equally amiable and interefting, occa- 
 fionaily mix among the group. We may form 
 acquaintance with men of diftinguiflied merit, 
 whom we mould not otherwife have had an oppor- 
 tunity of knowing j and meet with women of 
 eftimable qualities and irreproachable conduct, 
 whofe refined converfation ravifhes the mind with 
 the fame delight that their exquillte beauty captU 
 vates the heart. 
 
 But by what a number of painful fcnfations mud 
 this chance of pleafures be purchafed. He whom 
 a filent forrow, afecret difcontent, a rational difpo- 
 fition prevent from mixing in the common difli- 
 pations of life, cannot fee without a figh, the 
 giy conceit, the airy confidence, the blind arro- 
 gance, and the bold loquacity, with which thefe 
 votaries of worldly pleafures proclaim a felicity, 
 jhat leads them, almofl inevitably, to their ruin. 
 
 C 2 h 
 
*<* . THE INFLUENCE OF 8OUTUDB 
 
 It is, indeed, irrefiftibly laughable to obfervs 
 the exec/five joy of fo many men in place % the 
 abfurd airs of fo n:any old ,d w ' a S crs > the prefurnp- 
 tuous and ridiculous fopperies of fo many hoary* 
 headed children ; but who, alas ! is there, that 
 will not grow tired even of the pleafanteft co- 
 medy, by feeing it too frequently > He, there- 
 fore, who has often been an cye-witnefs of thefc 
 fcenes, who has often yawned with fatigue in thefo 
 temples of pleafure, and is convinced that they 
 exhibit raihcr the iilufion and appearance than 
 the fubuance and reality of plcafure, becomes 
 fad and forrowful in the mid ft of all their joys, 
 and haftily retires to domeilic privacy, to talle of 
 pleafures in which there is no deceit \ plcafures 
 which leave neither difquictude nor diflatisfacTioi* 
 behind them. 
 
 An invitation to. the board of Luxury, where 
 DISEASE with leaden fceptre is known to prefide, 
 where painful truths are blurted in the ears of 
 thofe who hoped they were concealed, where re- 
 proach and calumny full without difcrimination, 
 on the beft and word of characters, is, in the 
 eftimation of the world, conceived to confer the 
 highcft honour, and the greatcft plcafure. But 
 he who feels the divine energies of the foul, turns, 
 with abhorrence from thofe focieties which tend to 
 diminiih or impair their operations. To him the 
 fimplcfb fare, with freedom and content in the 
 bofoms of an affectionate family, is ten thoufanc} 
 
 times 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. ci 
 
 tfmesmore agreeable than the rareft dainty and the 
 richeft wine, with a Society where politeneft 
 impofei a filent attention to fome vain wit, front 
 \vhofe lips nothing but fatiguing ndnfenie ever 
 proceeds. 
 
 Confidence unlimited, fentirrierits mutually in- 
 terchanged and equally fincere, are the only 
 fources from which ths true pleafures of fociety 
 tan fpring. The fpiritlefs and crowded afTem*- 
 blies of the world, where a round of low and 
 little pleafures fills the hour of entertainment, and 
 pride only afpires to difplay a pomp of drcffi 
 and levity of behaviour, may perhaps afford a 
 glimpfeofjoy to light and thoughtlefs minds, ea- 
 gerly impatient to remove the weight which every 
 vacant hour accumulates. But men of reafon and 
 refle&ion, who inftcad of fenfible converfation, 
 inftead of any rational amufement, find only a dull 
 unvaried jargon ; a tirefome round of compliments/ 
 feel averlion from thefe temples of delight, and 
 
 refort to them with coldnefs^ diflatisfa&ion, and 
 difguft. 
 
 How tirefome do all the plcafurcs of the world 
 appear, when compared with the happinefs of a 
 faithful, tender, and enlightened friendfhip ! How 
 joyfully do we ihake off the (hackles of fociety 
 for that high and intimate connection cf the foul, 
 where our inclinations are free, our feelings ge- 
 nuine, our fentirrients unbiased ; where a mutual 
 confidence of thoughts and actions, of plcafures 
 and of pains, uninterruptedly prevails ; where the 
 C 3 heart 
 
ss THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 heart is led with Joy along the path of Virtue, and 
 the mind conducted by Happinefs into the bowers 
 of Truth ; where every thought is anticipated be- 
 fore it efcapes from the lips ; where advice, con- 
 folation, fuccour, are reciprocally given and re- 
 ceived in all the accidents and misfortunes of 
 life. The foul, thus animated by the charm of 
 friendlhip, fprings from its (loth and apathy, and 
 views the irradiating beams of Hope breaking 
 on its repofe. Catting a retrofpcctive eye on the 
 time that has patted, the happy pair mutually ex- 
 claim with the tendered emotions, " Oh ! what 
 " pleafures have we not already experienced, what 
 " joys have we not already felt ? " Does the tear 
 of forrow (leal down the cheek of the one ? the 
 other, with affection, wipes it tenderly away. The 
 deepeft forrows of the one are felt with equal 
 poignancy by the other : but what forrow can refift 
 the confolation which flows from an intercourfe of 
 hearts fo tenderly, fo intimately, fo clofely, united. 
 Day after day, they communicate to each other all 
 that they havefeen, all that they have heard, all that 
 they feel, and every thing they know. Time flics 
 before them on his fwifteft pinions. The car is 
 never tired of the gratification of liftenir.g to each 
 other's converfation. The only misfortune of 
 which they have any fear, is the greatefl they 
 cun p jilibly experience, the misfortune of abfence, 
 reparation, and death. 
 
 PoiTeiicd cf fuch rtfined felicity, it mud not be 
 attributed to auftcrity of charade:, or incivility of 
 
 manners, 
 
Otf THE MINt) AtiD THE HEART. a* 
 
 Snanners, but to a venial error of imagination, if 
 the intercourfes of ordinary minds no longer charm 
 us ; if we become infenfible to their indifference, 
 ind carclefs of their averfion ; if in confcquence of 
 the fuperiority of our joys we no longer mix in 
 the noify pleafures of the world, and fliun all fo- 
 cicty which has numbers only for its recom- 
 mendation. 
 
 But it is the lot of human blifs to be unftable. 
 Oftentimes, alas ! when we conceive our enjoy- 
 ments mod certain and fecure, an unforefeen and 
 fudden blow ftrikes, even in our very arms, the un- 
 happy victim of its fate. On fuch an event all the 
 pleafure of our lives appears to be for ever cxtin- 
 guiflied ; the furrounding objects feem dcfert and 
 forlorn ; every thing we behold excites terror and 
 difmay. The arms of friendfhip are in vain ex- 
 tended to embrace the friend that is no more ; in 
 vain the voice of fondnefs articulates the beloved 
 name. The itep, the well-known ftep, feems 
 fuddenly to ftrike upon our liftening ear ; but re- 
 flection interpofes, and the fancied founds are heard 
 no more : all is hufhed, ftill, and lifelefs : we are 
 rendered almoft infenfible of exiftence. Solitude 
 appears on every fide, and the bleeding heart with- 
 draws the attention of the mind from every living 
 object. The weaned fpirits, in the hour of de- 
 jection, perfuade 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 tailed the 
 
 C 4 fympathies 
 
2 f THE INFLUENCE OF SOLIT3UDE 
 
 fympathics of love, life, without affection, is death 
 the mod horrible. The unfortunate being there- 
 fore, who has experienced this mifery, is inclined 
 to live in Solitude, and die alone. In thefe re- 
 flecting moments, in this fudden tranfition from 
 the height of happinefs to the deepeft mifery, no 
 perfon fecms anxious to ofTer him the fmalleft con- 
 folation, to participate in his fuflferings, or to be 
 capable of forming an adequate idea of his diflrefs : 
 the grief, indeed, which iucha loft inflicts, cannot, 
 be conceived until it has been felt. 
 
 It is, however, under circumilances like thefe 
 that SOLITUDE enjoys iis highcft triumph : it is 
 here that all the advantages which refult from it 
 may be fully experienced ; for affliction has no 
 wounds to which, when wifely applied, it will not 
 give immediate cafe, und in the event completely 
 core. 
 
 The wounds of affliction, it is true, admit only 
 of a flow and gradual remedy. The art of living 
 alone requires ib much initiation before it can be 
 acquired, is fubject to fuch a variety of accidents, 
 and depends fo much upon fituations fuitable to 
 the bent of particular characters, that the mind 
 mud have attained a high degree of maturity for 
 Solitude, before effects fo confiderablc and advan- 
 tageous can be expected from it ; but he who hai 
 acquired fufficient vigour to break the galling 
 chains of prejudice, and from his earliefl youth has 
 felt dlecm and fondnefs for the plcafurcs of re- 
 tirement, will not, under fuch circumflances, be 
 
 cmbarrafled 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2$ 
 
 embarrafled in his choice. From the moment he 
 perceives himfelf indifferent to the obje&s which 
 iurround him, and that the gaieties of public fociety 
 have loil their charms, he will then rely on the 
 powers of his Ibul, and never be lefs alone than in 
 the company of himfelf. 
 
 Men of genius arc frequently condemned to em- 
 ployments as difagreeable to the temper of their 
 minds as a naufcous medicine is to an empty fto- 
 nu'.ch. Forced to toil upon fome dry and dif- 
 gufling fubjed, confined to a particular fpot, and 
 utterly unable to releafe themfelves from the 
 troublefomc and impeding yoke, fuch characters 
 feldom expect tranquillity on this fide the grave ; 
 for, deprived cf the opportunities of engaging in the 
 diflipations of life, every objed which the world 
 prefents to their view encreafes their difguft. It is 
 not for them, they exclaim, that the young zephyrs 
 open the budding foliage with their carefiing 
 breath ; that the feathered choir pour forth, in 
 enlivening drains, their rural fongs ; that odo- 
 riferous llowers deck the enamelled meads. But 
 leave thele complainants to themfelves, give them 
 their liberty and leifurc, and you would foon ob- 
 ferve the native enthufuifm of their minds regene- 
 rate, and fee them in the higheft region foariog 
 with the bold wing and penetrating eye of the bird 
 of JOVE. 
 
 If Solitude be capable of diflipating griefs of this 
 complexion, what effect will it not produce on 
 
 the 
 
ft THE INFLUENCE O^ SOLITUDE 
 
 the minds of men who have the opportunity of 
 retiring at pleafure to its friendly (hades, who 
 only feek for the enjoyments of a pure air, and 
 whofe only defire is domeftic felicity? "When 
 ANTISTHENES was afked, What fervices he had 
 received from philofophy ? he anfwered, " It has 
 taught me tofubdue myfelf." Popfays,that he ne- 
 ver laid his head upon his pillow without reflecting, 
 that the mod important leflbn of life was to learn the 
 ait of being happy within himielf. It feems to me 
 that all thofc who are capable of living contentedly 
 at home, and of loving every object by which they 
 are furrounded, even to the dog and the cat, have 
 found what i j o? looked for. 
 
 Thofe plcafures and diffipations which arc fought 
 after with fo much eagernefs and anxiety, have, in 
 truth, the eflfecl of producing the mofl fcrious re- 
 flection in our minds, when we commune with 
 ourfelves. It is then that we learn in what the true 
 felicity of life properly confiils, whether in the pof- 
 fcflion of thofc external objeds which we have no 
 power either. to alter or reform, or in a due and 
 proper regulation of ourfelves. It is then that we 
 begin to perceive how falfe and faithlcfs thofe flat- 
 tering illufions prove which feem to promife us fo 
 much happinefs. A lady, poflcfled of youth and 
 beauty, wrote to me one evening on returning from 
 a celebrated ridotto, <c You obferved with what 
 " gaiety and content I quitted the fecne. Believe 
 ' me, I tclt a void fo painful in my breaft at the 
 
 4< fight 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. */ 
 
 i 
 
 *' fight of thole factitious joys, that I could wil- 
 *' lingly have corn the 'flowery decorations from 
 " my drefs." 
 
 All the pleafures of the world arc nothing, if they 
 do not render the heart more happy in itfelf, and 
 tend to increafe our domeftic felicity. On the 
 contrary, every fpecies of misfortune, however 
 accumulated, may be borne by thofe who poffefa 
 tranquillity at home, who are, capable of enjoying 
 the privacy of iludy, and the elegant recreation which 
 books afford. To have obtained this refource, is 
 already to have made considerable advances to- 
 wards happincfs ; for it would be prefumptuous to 
 exact more from us than an inclination to regulate 
 the affections of the heart, and lo controul the 
 paflions of the mind. A celebrated philofopher, 
 therefore, has with great judgement obferved, that 
 there is both pride and falfchood in pretending 
 that man alone is capable of effecting his own 
 happinefs. We are, however, moft certainly 
 capable of modifying the natural difpofitions of 
 our fouls ; we are capable of forming our taftes, 
 varying our fentiments, directing our inclinations, 
 offubduing even the patfions themfelves; and we 
 are then not only lefs fenlible of all the wants of 
 life, but feel even fatisfaction under circumftances 
 which to others would appear grievous and intole- 
 rable. Health is, without doubt, one of the moCt 
 precious enjoyments man can pofiefs ; and yet 
 there are circumtUnces and foliations under which 
 
 cvea 
 
s8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 even the privation of it may be accompanied with 
 real tranquillity. How many times have I return- 
 ed my thanks to the Great Difpofer of human 
 events for an indifpofition which has confined me ac 
 home, and enabled me to invigorate the weakened 
 functions of my foul in quietude and filence ; a hap- 
 pinefsthat receded as my indifpofition grew better. 
 After having been obliged to drag through the 
 tlreets of the metropolis every day of my life 
 during a number of years with a feeble conftitution, 
 and weakened limbs, (ufceptible, on feeling the 
 imalleft cold, to the fume fcnfation as if knives 
 were icparating the flelh from the bone ; after 
 experiencing day after day, in the courfe of my 
 profefrion, ibrrows to afflicting, that I offered up 
 the gratitude of my heart with tears of joy when it 
 pleafed the Almighty to afford me a moment of 
 cafe and quietude ; it will not be wondered that 
 any indifpofition which occafioned my confine- 
 ment (hould afford me inexprellible happinefs. 
 
 The phyfician who poilcifes the leaft.fenfibility, 
 being continually employed in adminiflering relief 
 to the fufterings of others, muft, without doubt, 
 frequently forget his own; but alas! how often 
 alfo mull he feel the horror of his fituation, where 
 he is fummoncd to exercife a power not within the 
 reach of his art, and is obliged to attend, notwith- 
 (landing all the bodily and menial anguilh he may 
 rfonally feel. Under fuch circumftar.ces, the dif- 
 eafe which relieves the mind from the diftraclion o 
 anxiety, is to me a foft repofe, a pleafing Solitude,- 
 
 provided 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2f 
 
 provided peevifiS friends do not intrude, and po- 
 litely difturb me with their fatiguing vifits. la, 
 thefc moments I pray the benediction of Heaven on, 
 thofe who ncglcdto overwhelm me with their idle 
 convcrfation, and, \vith the kindcft companion, 
 forget to difturb me by enquiries after my health. 
 A fingle clay in which I can remain quietly at home, 
 without being obliged to receive a vifitor, and em- 
 ploy my mind on literary fubjcds, affords me, not- ' 
 withstanding my bodily pain, more real pleafure 
 than our women of quality and men of faihion ever 
 felt from all their feaftings and entertainments. 
 
 The diminution which our fuffcnngs experience 
 in Solitude, is in itfelf a confiderable advantage; for 
 quietude of mind to men whofe duties depend on 
 the public voice, from whom an indefatigable afti- 
 vity is exafted, and who unavoidably pafs their 
 days in the midft of continued anxieties, is in effect 
 tranfcendent "felicity. . 
 
 The mind, whether of the young or of the old, 
 no longer feels the fear of being alone when it is 
 capable of occupying itfelf in privacy on fomc 
 ufeful or agreeable fubject. 
 
 If the temper fhould be foured by ill-humour, 
 we mould endeavour to create a diverfion of the 
 mind by reading with fome fixed and particular 
 defign ; and it is impoflible to read without deriv- 
 ing fome advantage, provided we have a pen or 
 pencil ready to mark the new ideas as they occur, 
 pr the obfervations which iiluftrate and confirm 
 
 thofc 
 
2 o THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 thofe we already poflcfs ; for unlefs we apply what 
 we learn to our own difpofitions, or the characters 
 of other men, ftudy of every kind foon becomes 
 fatiguing : exercife, however, will eafily lead to 
 this habit, and then reading is perhaps one of the 
 rnoft fure and certain remedies againft lafiitudc and 
 difcontent. 
 
 The mind having once acquired the habit of 
 fixing its attention, is always capable of driving 
 away unpleafant and painful ideas. The fight of 
 a noble and interefting objetfr, the ftudy of a ufeful 
 fcience, a picture in which the various revolutions 
 of fociety are hiilorically difplayed, and tli pro- 
 grcfs made in any particular art, agreeably rivet 
 the attention, and baniih the fprrows of the mind. 
 
 Pleafurcs of this defcription, it is certain, greatly 
 tranfccnd all thofe which adminifler merely to the 
 fenfes. I am aware, that in fpeaking of the plea- 
 fures of the mind, fublime meditation, the pro. 
 found deductions of reafon, and the brilliant efTufions 
 of fancy, are in general underftood ; but there are 
 tlfo others, for the perfect enjoyment of which nei- 
 ther extcnfive knowledge nor extraordinary talents 
 are neccflary. Thefe are the pleafurcs which rcfult 
 from activity and employment ; pleafures that arc 
 equally within the reach of the ignorant clown or 
 learned philofopher/and which produce enjoyments 
 no left exqiiifite th;m thofe we firft mentioned: the 
 exertbn of manual labour, therefore, ought never to 
 be defpifed. I am acquainted with gentlemen who 
 
 arc 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 31 
 
 tre inftructed in the mcchanifm of their own 
 watches ; who arc able to \york as painters, lock- 
 fmiths, carpenters ; and who are not only furnittied 
 with almoft all the tools proper to every brandy 
 of trade, but know alfo how to tifc them : fuch 
 d haraders never feel the lead difquictude from the 
 want of focicty, and arc in confequence the hap- 
 pieft of men. 
 
 The labours \ye experience in any art or fciencc 
 form the recreation of it ; and when carried to a 
 certain degree of perfection, render man focial with 
 liimfelf, and counterbalance the grcateft of moral 
 evils. To conquer difficulties is to promote our 
 pleafures; and every time our efforts attain to a 
 certain point, from whence we can view with com- 
 placency the end of our labours, the foul feels an 
 inexprefiible tranquillity and fatisfaftion, and, 
 being contented within it fell", fecks for n,o higher 
 pleafure. 
 
 The enjoyments of the heart are within the reach 
 of all men who, free, eafy, and aftcdionatc, are 
 contented with themfclves, and pleafed with thofc 
 about them. Alas ! how much fuperior, therefore, 
 for this reafon, is the happinefs which a country 
 life affords,to that deceitful felicity which is afFec"lcd 
 in the courts of Princes, and in the brilliant 
 circles of the great and gay ; a truth fcverely felt 
 by men of worldly pleafure, and confefled by their 
 frequent complaints of reftlefsncfs and languor ; 
 complaints unknown among the vallies of the Alps, 
 
 or 
 
52 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 or upon thofe mountains where innocence yet 
 dwells, and which no vifitor ever quitted without 
 the tribute of a tear. 
 
 The fatal poifon, however, which lurks beneath 
 the manners of luxurious cities might eafily be 
 avoided, by renouncing the infipid life in which 
 the inhabitants are engaged. Virtuous actions 
 convey tranquillity to the foul ; and a joy equally 
 calm and permanent accompanies the man into 
 the clofeft recclfes. of retirement, vhofe mind is 
 fixed upon, difcharging the duties of humanity, 
 With what delight aifo do \vc dwell upon the 
 recital of our fchopl adventures, the wanton tricks 
 of our youth. The hiflory of the early periods 
 of our lives, the remembrance of our plays and 
 paftimes, of the little pains r.nd puerile wifhes of 
 our infancy, always recall to our minds the mod 
 agreeable ideas. Ah ! with what complacent 
 frnilcs, with what foft regret a venerable old man 
 turns his eyes upon the happy sera when the in- 
 carnation of youth animated all his joys, when ho 
 entered into every enterpri/.e with vigour, viva- 
 city, and courage, when he fought difficulties only 
 to diiplay his powers in furmounting them. 
 
 Let us contrail the character we formerly bore 
 with that which we at prcfcnt poilcfs; or, by 
 giving a freer range to our ideas, let ijs rather caft 
 our thoughts upon the various events of which we 
 have been witneffes, upon the means which the 
 Almighty has thought proper to employ in the 
 
 exaltation, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 33 
 
 exaltation or clebafement of empires^ upon the ra- 
 pid progrefs which the arts and fciences have 
 made within our own remembrance, upon the ad- 
 vancement of philofophy and the retreat of pre- 
 judice, upon the afcendancy which ignorance and 
 iuperftition ftill maintain, notwithflanding the fub- 
 lime efforts of genius to fupprefs them, upon the 
 bright irradiations of intellect, and the moral 
 depravation of the heart, and we (hall foon per- 
 ceive the clouds of languor difappear, and tran- 
 quillity, peace, and good-humour prevail. 
 
 The inexpreflible felicity, that variety of de- 
 lightful enjoyments, fo fuperior to the gratifi- 
 cations of fenfe, which Solitude affords to every 
 reflecting mind, arc capable of being reliflied at 
 every period of our lives ; in the laft decay of age 
 as well as in the earlieft prime of youth. He who 
 to a vigorous conflitution, a free fpirit, an cafy 
 temper, has added the advantages of a cultivated 
 under (landing, will here experience, while his heart 
 continues pure and his mind innocent, the higheft 
 and mod unalterable pleafure. The love of ex- 
 ercife animates all the faculties of the foul, and 
 ihcreafes the energies of nature. Employment is 
 the firft defire of every active mind. It is the filent 
 confcioufnefs of the fuperiority of our nature, of 
 the force of our intellectual powers, of the high 
 dignity of our character, which infpire great foiiU 
 with that noble ardour which carries them to the 
 true fublitne. Condrained by the duties of their 
 
 D fituation 
 
34 THE INFLUENCE OK SOLITUDE 
 
 fituation to mix in the intercourfes of fociety ; obli- 
 ged to fubmit, in fpite of their inclination, to the 
 frivolous and fatiguing diilipations of the world, it is 
 in withdrawing from thefe tumultuous fcenes, into 
 the filehceof meditation, that men become fenfiblc 
 of the divine effervefcence of their fouls, feel a 
 wi(h to break their chains, to efcape from the fer- 
 vility of pleafure, and from all thenoify and tumul- 
 tuous joys in which they are engaged. We never 
 feel with higher energy and fatisfaction, with 
 greater comfort and cordiality, that we live, think, 
 are reafonable beings, fclf-adive, free, capable of 
 the moft fublime exertions, and partaking of im- 
 mortality, than in thofe moments when we fhut 
 the door againft the intrufions of impertinence 
 and fafhion. 
 
 There are few vexations fo infupportable as thofe 
 taftelefs vifits, thofe annoying partialities by which, 
 a life of lazy opulence and wanton pleafure is oc- 
 cupied. " My thoughts," fays ROUSSEAU, " will 
 ' only come when they pleafe, and not when I 
 " chufe." Obliged, therefore, to wait for their 
 arrival, the intrufion of a ftranger, or even the vifit 
 of an acquaintance by whom he was not intimately 
 known, was always dreadful to him. It was for 
 this reafon alone that this extraordinary character, 
 who fcldom experienced an hour of tranquillity 
 unaccompanied by pain, felt fuch petulant indio-. 
 nation againft the importunate civilities and empty 
 
 compli- 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 35 
 
 npliments 6F common cohverfation, while he 
 i joyed the rational intercourfe of fenfible and 
 veil-informed minds with the higheft delight *. 
 
 How foon, alas, the dignity of the human cha- 
 icier becomes debafed by aflbciating with low 
 I little minds ! How many rays of thought, 
 ; ecious rays ! emanating immediately from the 
 Deity upon the mind of man, are extinguiflied by 
 ihe noxious vapours of ftagnated life! But it is 
 Meditation and reflection that mufl give them birth^ 
 levate them to the heights of genius, make them 
 ibliftent with the nature of the human MIND, and 
 mformable to the fpirit of the human character. 
 
 VIRTUES to which the foul cannot raife itfelf, 
 rvcn in the mod amiable of all focieties, are fre* 
 pently produced by Solitude. Separated by dif- 
 mce from our friends, we feel ourfelves deprived 
 f the company of thofe who are deareft to our 
 .arts; and to relieve the dreary void, we afpire 
 ? the mod fublime efforts* and adopt the boldefl 
 .Solutions. On the contrary, while we are under 
 .c protecting care of friendfhip and of love, while 
 '.eir kind offices fupply all our wants, and their 
 icclionate embraces lock us eternally in their 
 :ms, we forget, in the blandimments of fuch a 
 itc, almoft the faculty of felf-motion, lofe fight 
 
 " I neve* could endure*'* fays ROUSSEAU, the empty and 
 unmeaning compliment* of common converfation ; but from 
 converfations ufeful or ingenious, I have always felt the higheft 
 f leafure, and have never refufed to partake of them." 
 
 D i of 
 
5 6 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDfc 
 
 of the powers of acting from ourfelves, and fcldom 
 reflect that we may be reduced to the neceflity of 
 fupporting ourfelves under the adverfities of life. 
 To guard againfl this event, therefore, it is pro- 
 per, by retiring into Solitude, to experience and 
 rely upon the ftrength of our own powers. The 
 foul, weakened by the ftorms of life, then acquire* 
 new vigour, fixes the Heady eye of fortitude on 
 the frowns of adverfity, and learns to elude the 
 threatening rocks on which the happinefs of vulgar 
 minds fo frequently is wrecked. He who devotei 
 his days to Solitude, finds refources within himfelf 
 of which he had no idea, while philofophy infpiret 
 him with courage to fuftain the mod rigorous 
 (hocks of fate. 
 
 The difpofition of man becomes more firm, his 
 opinions more determined and correct, when, 
 urged by the tumults of life, he reflects, in the 
 quietude of his heart, on his own nature and the 
 manners of the world. The conftitution of a ver- 
 fatile and undecided character proceeds entirely 
 from that intellectual weaknefs which prevents the 
 mind from thinking for itfelf. Such characters 
 confult upon every occafion the ORACLE of pub- 
 lic opinion, fo infallible in thejr ideas, before they 
 know what they ought to think, or in what manner 
 their judgment (hould be formed, or their conduct 
 regulated. 
 
 Weak minds always conceive it raoft fafe to adopt 
 the femiment* of the multitude. They never 
 
 venture 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART, 37 
 
 venture an opinion upon any fubjedt until the 
 majority have decided. Thefe decifions, whether 
 upon men or things, they implicitly follow, without 
 giving themfelves the trouble to enquire who is 
 right, or on which fide the truth lies, 'the fpirit 
 of truth and love of equity, indeed, are only to be 
 cxpe&ed from thofe who are fearlefs of living 
 alone. Men of diffipated minds are never the pro- 
 tcdors of the weak, or the avengers of the op- 
 preffed. Are the various and powerful hods of 
 fools and knaves your enemies ? Are you injured 
 in your property by injuftice, or in your fame by 
 calumny ? You muft not hope for redrefs from 
 light characters, or for fupport from men of difli- 
 pation ; for they only repeat the voice of error, and 
 propagate the fallacies of prejudice. 
 
 To live in Solitude, to feel ourfelves alone, only 
 infpires fear, inafmuch as it contributes to extih- 
 guim one corporeal power by giving birth to ano- 
 ther. The powers of the mind, on the contrary, 
 augment in proportion as they become more con- 
 centrated, whemio perfon is united to us, or ready 
 to afford protection. To lire undifturbed, to 
 mitigate the fuffering of prefect impreffions, to 
 render the mind fuperior to the accidents of 
 lite, and to gain fufficieht intrepidity to opppfe 
 the danger of adverfity, it is abfolutely neceflary 
 to live alone. How fmoothly flows the ftream of 
 life when we have no anxiety to enquire " Who did 
 this ?" ' Who faid that ?" How many mifcrable 
 
 D 3 prejudice!, 
 
5 8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 prejudices, and flill more contemptible paffions,ha$ 
 one ferious reflection fubdued ! How quickly, in 
 fuch a fituation, that flaviih, mameful, and ido- 
 latrous veneration for every unworthy object dif- 
 appears ! With what noble fpirit the votary of So- 
 litude fearlefsly difdains thole characters who con- 
 ceive that high birth and i-lluftrious defcent confer 
 a privilege to tyrannize over inferior men, to whom 
 they frequently afford fo many reafons to. hold 
 them in contempt. 
 
 An ingenious and celebrated obferver of men 
 and things informs us, it is in leifure and retirement 
 alone, that the foul exalts itfclf into a fublime 
 fuperiority over the accidents of life, becomes in- 
 different to the good or evil it may experience, 
 the praife or cenfure it may receive, the life it may 
 enjoy, or even the death it may fufler. It is in Soli- 
 tude alone that thofe noble and refined ideas, thofe 
 profound principles and unerring axioms which 
 form and fupport every great character, are deve- 
 loped. Even philofophy itfelf, continues this 
 excellent Philolbpher, in his observations upon 
 CICERO, and thofe deep theories upon which the 
 fublime conduct of the ftatefman is founded, and 
 which enable him to perform with excellence the 
 important duties with which he is charged, are 
 formed in the filence of Solitude, in fome diftant 
 retirement from the great theatre of the world. 
 
 As Solitude, therefore, not only gives firmnefs 
 to the characters, and propriety to the femiments 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 39 
 
 of men, but leads the mind to a true degree of ele- 
 vation, fo likewife there is no other fituation in 
 which we fo foon acquire the important knowledge 
 of ourfelves. 
 
 RETIREMENT connects us more clofely with our 
 own bofoms, and we live in habits of the ftricteft 
 intimacy only with ourfelves. It is certainly pof- 
 fible for men to be deliberate and wife, even amidft 
 all the tumults of the world, efpecially if their prin- 
 ciples be well fixed before they enter on the ftage 
 of life ; but it is much more difficult to preferve an 
 integrity of conduct amidft the corruptions of 
 fociety than in the fimplicity of Solitude. How 
 many men pleafe only by their faults, and recom- 
 mend themfelves only by their vices ! How many 
 profligate villains and unprincipled adventurers, 
 of infinuating manners, are well received by fo- 
 ciety, only becaufe they have learnt the art of 
 udminiftering to the follies, the weaknefTes, the 
 vices of thofe who give the lead to falhion. How 
 is it poflible that the mind, intoxicated with the 
 fumes of that incenfe which Flattery burns to its 
 honour, fliould be capable of knowing or ap- 
 preciating the characters of men. But, on the 
 contrary, in the filence and tranquillity of retire- 
 ment, \yhether we are led by inclination to the 
 ftudy of ourfelves, awakened to reflection by a 
 fenfe qf rriifery, or compelled to think fcrioufly 
 C>n pur fituation, and to examine the inward conv 
 
 P 4 
 
40 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 plexion of the heart, we can learn what we are, 
 and what we ought to be. 
 
 How many new and ufeful difcoveries may be 
 made by occailonally forcing qurfelves from the 
 vortex of the world to the calm enjoyments of 
 ftudy and reflection! To accompli (h this end, 
 it is only necelTary to commune ferioufly with 
 pur hearts, and to examine our conduct with 
 candour and impartiality. The man of worldly 
 pleafure, indeed, has realbn to 'Ihun this felf- 
 examination, confcious that the rcfult of the en- 
 qiiiry would be extremely unfavourable : for he 
 who only judges of himfelf by the flattering opi- 
 nion which others have been pleafed to exprcfs 
 of his character, will in fuch a fcrutiny behold 
 with furprize, that he is the miferable flave of 
 fafhion, habit, and public opinion, fubmitting with 
 laborious diligence, and the utmofl pofiible grace, 
 to the exaclions of politencfs, and the authoritative 
 demands of eftablifhed ceremony ; never venturing 
 to contradict the imperious voice of fafhion, how- 
 ever fenfelefs and abfurd its dictates may appear ; 
 obfequioully following the example of others, 
 giving credit to every thing they fay, doing every 
 thing they do, and not during to condemn thofc 
 purfuits which every one feems fo highly to approve 
 If fuch a character poflefs a degree of candour, 
 he will not only perceive, but acknowledge, that 
 an infinite number of his daily thoughts and ac- 
 tions are infpired by a bafe fear of himfelf, or 
 
 a rife 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 41 
 
 jarife from a fervile complaifance to others J that m 
 the company of princes and ftatefmen he only 
 fecks to flatter their vanities, and indulge their 
 caprices; that by his devotion to politenefs, he 
 fubmits to become the minifter of their vices, 
 rather than offer them the fmallcft contradiction, 
 or hazard an opinion that is likely to give them 
 the leaft difpleafure. Whoever with calm con* 
 lideration views this terrifying picture, will feel 
 in the filent emotions of his heart the ncccfTity of 
 occasionally retiring into Solitude, and fceking 
 fociety with men of nobler fentimcnts and purer 
 principles. 
 
 The violent alternatives of pleaftfre and pain, of 
 hope and fear, of content and mortification, incef- 
 fantly torment the mind that has not courage to rift: 
 fuperior to the influence of the obje&s of fenfe. 
 The virtues fly from the habitation of a heart that 
 yields itfelf to firfi: i'.npreflions, of a heart that is for 
 ever obedient to the feelings of the moment, and 
 incapable of exerting a dominion over them. The 
 virtues alfo ceafe to dwell in the boibms of the 
 worldly, who, following the example of the times, 
 are guided in all their a&ions by finiftcr motives, 
 and directed to every end by the mean confide- 
 ration of felf-intereft either immediate or remote, 
 To exercife even virtue,, itfelf with advantage and 
 effect, it is neceflary to retire into Solitude ; to avoid 
 the impediments which the accidents of the parting 
 day may create > to eftimate, by a filent exami- 
 nation, 
 
4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 nation, the true value of things, and the real merit 
 of human adions. The mind, debafed by the cor- 
 ruptions of the world, has no idea of relinquiihing 
 the profped of prefent benefit, and making a noble 
 facriftce of glory and of fortune, They never ap- 
 preciate any adion by its intrinfic merit ; but con- 
 flud all their calculations upon a vile notion of 
 lucre, and only aflume the garb of virtue as a 
 mean of matching fome poor advantage, obtaining 
 fome paltry honour, or gaining foxe feryiceable 
 credit : to thofe who, from their power and fu- 
 periority, might, if they were equally bafe and 
 contemptible, prejudice their interefts, they pay 
 a fervile court, -flatter, lie, calumniate, and cringe, 
 *md depart only to commjt new bafenefs cjfe 
 where, 
 
 Man difcovers with deeper penetration the 
 extent and nature of the paffions by which he ii 
 fwayed, when he refleds on their power in the 
 calmnefs and filcnce of Solitude, where the foul, 
 being lefs frequently fufpended between hopq 
 and fear, ads with greater freedom. How vir- 
 tuous, alas ! do we all become under the prefr 
 
 fure of calamity ! How fubmiffive, ho-v indulgent. 
 
 
 how kind is man, when the finger of God chaftifes 
 
 his frailties, by rendering his hopes delu(]ve ? and 
 his fchemes abortive; when the Almighty Power 
 humbles human pride, converts our wifdom into 
 folly, our profoundeft counfels into manifeft and 
 ilriking infiances of madnefs! At fuch a moment 
 
 the 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 41 
 
 fhe carcfles of a child, the mod diftant civility 
 from inferiors, afford us the higheft comfort. The 
 fcene, however, prefently changes; we view mif- 
 fortune under a different afped, our foftnefs dies 
 away, our fufferings decreate, the foul begins to 
 rife from its dejection, we acquire a knowledge of 
 its faculties, become indifferent to every external 
 object, and, feeling the extent of its powers, dif- 
 cover our fuperiority over all thofe circumftances 
 which before gave inquietude to fear, and alarm 
 .to wcaknefs. 
 
 Sheltered in the retreats of Solitude from the 
 extremes of fortune, and Icfs expofed to the in- 
 toxication of fuccefs, or the depreflion of difap- 
 pointment, life glides eafily along like the fliadow of 
 a pafling cloud. ADVERSITY need not here intrude, 
 fo teach us how infignificant we are in the eyes of 
 iGod, how helplefs witho\it his afliftance, how much 
 our unchecked pride poifons the happinefs of life, 
 torments the .heart, and becomes the endlefs and 
 increafing fource of human mifery; for in the 
 calm regions of retirement, undifturbed by trea- 
 cherous fondnefs or groundlels hate, if even hope 
 fliould difappear, and every comfort vanim from 
 our view, we are ftill capable of fubmitting to the 
 ftroke of fate with patience and refignation. 
 
 Let every one, therefore, who wiflies to think 
 with dignity, or live with eafe, feek the retreats of 
 Solitude, and enter into a friendly intercourfe with 
 his own heart. How final} a portion of true phi- 
 
 lofophy, 
 
4 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUD8 
 
 lofophy, with an enlightened understanding, will 
 render us humble and compliant ! But, in the 
 mifts of prejudice, dazzled by the intellectual 
 glimmer of falfe lights, every one miftakes the true 
 path, and feeks for happjnefs in the (hades of 
 darknefs and the labyrinths of obfcurity. The 
 habits of retirement and tranquillity can alone 
 enable us to make a juft eflimate of men and thing v 
 and it is by renouncing all the prepofTeflions which 
 the corruptions of fociety have implanted in the 
 mind, that we make the firft advances toward* 
 the rcftoration of reafon, and the attainment of 
 felicity. 
 
 Solitude will afford us this advantage, if when 
 we arc there alone before God, and far retired 
 from the obfcrvation of men, the filcht language 
 of cqnfcience (hews to us the great imperfection 
 of our characters, and the many difficulties we 
 have yet po furmount before we can attain the ex- 
 cellence of which our nature is capable. In fociety 
 men mutually deceive each other : they make * 
 parade of learning, affect fentiments which they dq 
 not pofTefs, dazzje the obierver by borrowed rays, 
 and in the end miflead thcmfelves by the illufioni 
 which they raife, But in Solitude, far rcmove4 
 from the guile of flattery and falfehood, accom- 
 panied by" truth and followed by virtue, the mind 
 enters into a clofe acquaintance with itfelf, form's 
 its judgment with greater accuracy, and feels the 
 incilunable value pf finccrity and fmglenefs of 
 
 heart. 
 
ON THfi MINT5 AND THE ftEART, 4$ 
 
 heart. Here the poffeffion of thefe qualities can 
 never prove injurious ; far in the retreats of So- 
 litude, moral excellence is not an object of 
 either ridicule or contempt. We here compare 
 the falfe appearances of the world with the reality 
 of things, and perceive the advantages they Teemed 
 to promife, and the fpecious virtues they appeared 
 to pofiefs, vanifh like an airy vapour. The pride 
 of human wit, the falfe conclufions of reafon, the 
 mi-takes of vanity, and the weakncfies of the heart, 
 are here developed to the eye of impartiality, 
 All that is imperfect in our faireft virtues, in our 
 fublirneft conceptions, in our mod generous ac- 
 tions, all the oflentations of felf-love, are here ex- 
 hibited in their natural forms. Is it polfible to 
 'acquire fo perfect a knowledge of ourfelves in the 
 world, amidft the buttle of bufmefs, and among 
 the encreafing dangers of focial life ? 
 
 To fubdue the dangerous paflions and pernicious 
 inclinations which agitate and miflead the heart, 
 it is necefTary to fix the attention on other objects, 
 and turn our attachments to more laudable- pur- 
 fuits ; but Solitude is the only fituation in which 
 new fentiments and new ideas, arifmg from inex- 
 hauftible refources, inftil themfelves. into the mind : 
 here the foul acts with perfect freedom in every di- 
 rection, and exerts all the force and energy of which 
 it is fufceptible. And as Solitude to the idle 
 may mitigate the intemperance of defire, fo, on 
 t{ic contrary, to the active it affords a complete 
 
 victory 
 
46 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 victory over all the moil irregular inclinations of 
 the heart. 
 
 Snatched from the illufions of fociety, from the 
 fnares of the world, and placed hi the fecurity of 
 retirement, we view every object in its true form,' 
 as well under the diftractions of misfortune, as in' 
 the pangs of ficknefs and in the anguiih of deaths 
 The vanity and emptinefs of all thofe advantage* 
 "which we expect from external objects, appear in 
 full view, and we difcover the neceflity of curbing 
 the extravagance of our thoughts, and the licen- 
 tioufnefs of our defines. The veil of falfe ap- 
 pearance is removed ; and he who in the world 
 was railed as much above others, as by his faulti 
 and vices he ought to have funk beneath them, 
 here perceives the imperfections which flattery had 
 concealed, and which a croud of mifcrablc flaVes 
 had perhaps the bafenefs and cowardice entirely* 
 to juftify. 
 
 To acquire durable pleafures and true felicity, 
 it is neceilary to adopt that judicious and rational 
 philofophy which confiders life in a ferious point 
 of view, courts enjoyments which neither time nor 
 accident can deflroy, and looks with an eye of pity 
 on the ftupid vulgar, agitating their minds and 
 tormenting their hearts in fplendid miferies and 
 childiQi converfations. Thole however, on the 
 contrary, who have no knowledge of their own 
 hearts, who have no habits of reflection, no mean* 
 of employment, who have not perfcvered in virtue, 
 
 nor 
 
THE WIND AND THS HEART. 47 
 
 nor are able to liften to the voice of reafon, have 
 nothing to hope from SOLITUDE: their joyi 
 are all annihilated when the blood has loft its 
 warmth, when the fenfes are blunted, and their 
 powers diminiflied : on experiencing the lead in- 
 convenience, the mod trifling reverfe of for-* 
 tune, they fall into the deepeft diftrefs, the mod 
 horrid ideas fill their minds, and they are tor- 
 mented with all the agitations of an alarmed ima- 
 gination. 
 
 We have hitherto only pointed out one portion 
 of the general advantages of Solitude ; there are, 
 however, many others which touch men more 
 nearly. Ah ! who has not experienced its kind 
 influence in the adverfities of life ! Who has not 
 in the moment of convalefcence, in the hour of 
 melancholy, in the age when feparation or death 
 has deprived the heart of the intercourfes of friend- 
 fhip, fought relief under its flilutai y (hades ? Happy 
 is the being who is fenfible of the advantages of 
 a religious retirement from the world, of a facred 
 tranquillity, where all the benefits to be derived 
 from fociety imprefs themfelves more deeply in 
 the heart, where every hour is conlecrated to the 
 practice of the mild and peaceful virtues, and where 
 every man, when he is on the bed of death, wifhes 
 he had lived ! But thefe advantages become much 
 more confpicuous when we compare the modes of 
 thought which employ the mind of a folitary phi* 
 lofopher with thofe of a worldly fenfualift; the 
 
 tirefome 
 
I 
 
 4 s .THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 tirefome and tumultuous life of the one with the 
 foft tranquillity of the other ; when \re oppofe the 
 fear and horror which difturb the death-bed of the 
 worldly-minded man with the peaceable and eafy 
 exit of thofe pious fouls who fubmit with reflg- 
 nation to the will of Heaven. It is at this aweful 
 moment that we feel how important it is to turn 
 the eye inwardly upon ourfdves, and to hold a 
 religious communion with our Creator, if we would 
 bear the fufferings of life with dignity, and the 
 pains of death with cafe. 
 
 Solitude affords us the mod inconteftible ad- 
 vantages under the gr-eateft adverfities of life. 
 The convalefcent,the unfortunate, the miianthropiffc 
 here find equal relief-, their tortured fouls here 
 find a balm for the deep and painful wounds they 
 have received, and foon regain their prifline health 
 and vigour. 
 
 Sicknefs and affliction would flee with horror 
 from the retreats of Solitude, if their friendly 
 {hades did not afford them that confolation which 
 they are unable to obtain in the temples of plea- 
 furc. The fubtle vapour which fenfuality and 
 intoxication flied upon the objects that furround 
 a ftate of health and happinefs entirely difap- 
 pear; and all thofe charms, which fubfifl ra- 
 ther in imagination than in reality, lofs their 
 power. To the happy every object wears the de- 
 lightful colours of the rofe ; but to the miferable 
 
 all 
 
ON THE MIND AND THfi HEART. 49 
 
 all is black and dreadful. The two conditions 
 nre equally in the extreme; but neither of them 
 difcovcr the errors into which they are betrayed, 
 until the moment when the curtain drops, when the 
 fcene changes, the illufton is diffipated. Both of 
 them enjoy the dream, while the underftanding 
 continues filent and abforbed. The one feels that 
 God employs his attention in the prefervation of his 
 creatures, even when he fees them the mod aban- 
 doned and profligate. The others devote them- 
 fclvcs to thofe vanities and pleafures with which the 
 fafhions of the world intoxicate the mind, even 
 nkhough at the very moment they reflect ferioufly 
 \ipon themfclves, upon iheir prefent iltuation, their 
 future deftiny, and the means by which alone they 
 can be conducted to perfect felicity. 
 
 How unhappy fliould we be if the Divine Pro- 
 vidence were to grant us every thing we delire ! 
 Even under the very afflictions by which 
 man conceives all the happinefs of his life an- 
 nihilated, God perhaps purpofes fomething ex- 
 traordinary in his favour. New circumftancea 
 excite new exertions. In Solitude and tranqui- 
 lity, if we earneftly endeavour to conquer misfor- 
 tune, the activity of life, which, until the mo- 
 ment of adverfuy, had been perhaps fufpended, 
 fuddenly changes ; and the mind regains its energy 
 and vigour, even while it laments the ftate of 
 inaction to which it conceives itfelf to be irre- 
 trievably reduced. 
 
 E But 
 
jo THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 But there are ftill greater advantages : if forrow 
 force us into Solitude, patience and perfeverancc 
 foon reflore the foul to its natural tranquility and 
 joy. We ought never to infpect the volume of 
 futurity ; its pages will only deceive us : on 
 the contrary, we ought for ever to repeat this 
 experimental truth, this confolatory maxim, Thar 
 the objects which men behold at a diftance 
 with fear and trembling, lofe, on a nearer ap- 
 proach, not only their difagreeable and menacing 
 afpect, but frequently, in the event, produce the 
 mod agreeable and unexpected pleafures. He 
 who tries every expedient, who boldly oppofes 
 himfelf to every difficulty, who (lands Ready and 
 inflexible to every obftacle, who neglects no ex- 
 ertion within his power, and relies with confidence 
 upon the afliftance of God, extracts from affliction 
 both its poifon and its fting, and deprives mif- 
 fortune of its victory. 
 
 Sorrow, misfortune, ficknefs, foon render us 
 eafy and familiar with Solitude. How readily vrc 
 renounce the world, how indifferent we become to 
 all its pleafures, when the infidious eloquence of the 
 pafiions is filenced, when we are diftracted by pain, 
 oppreffed by grief, and defcrted by all our powers. 
 Under fuch circumftances we immediately perceive 
 the wcaknefs and instability of thofe iuccours which 
 the world affords ; where pain is mixed with every 
 joy, and vanity reigns throughout. How many 
 
 ufeful 
 
OT4 THE MIND AND THE HEART. 5 i 
 
 ufeful truths, alas ! does ficknefs teach even to 
 kings and minifters, while they fuffcrthemfelves to 
 be deluded and impofed upon by all mankind. 
 
 The opportunity which a valetudinarian enjoys 
 of employing his faculties with facility andfuccefs 
 in a manner conformable to the extent of his de- 
 figns, is undoubtedly fliort, and pafies rapidly 
 away. Such happineis is the lot only of thofe 
 who enjoy robuft health : they alone can exclaim, 
 " Time my is awn:" but he who labours under con- 
 tinual ficknefs and fuffering, and whofe avocation 
 depends on the public neceflity or caprice, can 
 never Giy that he has one moment to himfelf. He 
 mud watch the fleeting hours as they pafs, and 
 feize an interval of leifure when and where he can. 
 Neceflity as well as reafon convinces him, that he 
 mud, in fpite of his daily fufferings, his wearied 
 body, or his harraffed mind, firmly refift his accu- 
 mulating troubles, and, if he would fave himfelf 
 from becoming the victim of dejection, manfully 
 combat the difficulties by which he is attacked. 
 The more we enervate ourfelves, the more we 
 become the prey of ill health ; but a determined 
 courage and obftinate refiftance frequently reno- 
 vate our powers ; and he who, in the calm of 
 Solitude, vigoroufly wreftles with misfortune, is 
 certain, in the event, of gaining confiderable ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 But under the pains of ficknefs, we are apt too 
 cafilytoliften to the voice of indulgence ; we neglect 
 
 E 2 to 
 
$2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 to cxercife the powers we poflefs ; and, inftead of 
 directing the attention to thofe objects which may 
 divert diffraction and ftrengthen fortitude, we foftcr 
 fondly in our bofoms all the difagreeable circum- 
 flanccs of our fituation. The foul finks from in- 
 quietude to inquietude, lofes all its powers, aban- 
 dons its remaining reafon, and feels, from its in- 
 creafmg agonies and fufferings, no confidence 
 in its own exertions. The valetudinarian fliould 
 force his mind to forget its troubles; mould endea- 
 vour to emerge from the heavy atmofphere by which 
 he is enveloped and deprefled. By thefe exertions 
 he will certainly find unexpected relief, and beable 
 to accomplifli that which before he conceived to 
 be impoflible. For this purpofe, however, he muft 
 firft difmifs the phyficians who daily vifit him to 
 afcertain the ftate of his health; feeling his pulfe 
 with a ludicrous gravity, while they ferioufly 
 lhake their heads, and perform, according to 
 their cuftom, many other affected and ridiculous 
 tricks; but who, from a great inclination to dif- 
 coverwhat does not exift, unhappily never difcern 
 the fymptoms that are mod plainly to be feen. 
 Thefe pretenders to fcience ferve only to alarm the 
 mind of the patient, to rivet his attention more 
 clofcly to thofe very objects which it is his intercft 
 to forget, and to redouble his fuflerings, by the 
 beneficial danger into which they raife the moft 
 trifling circumftance of his diforder. He muft alfo 
 avoid the company of falfe friends, and all thofe 
 
 who 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 53 
 
 who only adminifter flattery to his frailties. He 
 muft learn to aflure them, that he difbelieves all 
 that they have told him ; for if the fenlations they 
 excite are thought to have any foundation in truth, 
 his own imagination immediately fuperinduces a 
 variety of gloomy phantoms and terrifying chi- 
 maeras. 
 
 Thus, under (ituations the mod difficult to 
 fupport, there ftill remain refources and confo- 
 lations in the bofom of Solitude. Are the nerves 
 deranged ? Is the head pained by vertigos ? Has 
 the mind no longer any power to think, the eye 
 to read, the hand to write ? Has it become phy- 
 fically impofiible toexercife any of the functions of 
 the foul ? In fuch a fituation we muft learn " to 
 VEGETATE," faid one of the mod enlightened phi- 
 lofophers of Germany, when he beheld me at Ha- 
 nover, in a condition which rendered me incapable 
 of adopting any other refource. O GARVE ! with 
 what rapture I threw myfelf into your arms ! With 
 what tranfports I heard you fpcak, when you 
 (hewed me the neceffity of learning to fupport 
 myfelf under my accumulated calamities, by con- 
 vincing me that you had experienced equal fuf- 
 ferings, and had been able to pradife the leflbns 
 which you taught. 
 
 The fublime MENDELSOHM, during a certain 
 period of his life, was frequently obliged to retire, 
 when difcourfing^on philofophical fubje&s, to avoid 
 the danger of fainting. In thefe moments it was 
 
 E 3 hi. 
 
54 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 his cuftom to negleft all ftudy, to banilh labour 
 of thought entirely from his mind. His phyfician 
 one day afked him, " How then do you employ 
 " your time, if you do not think? " " I retire 
 " to the window of my chamber, and count the 
 " dies upon the roof of my neighbour's houfe." 
 
 "Without thy tranquil wifdom, O my beloved 
 MENDELSOHM! without thy resignation to the 
 will of HEAVEN, we can never, reach that ele- 
 vated grandeur of character, can never attain to 
 that dignified endurance of our fufferings, can 
 never poflcfs that ftoic fortitude which places hu- 
 man happinefs beyond the reach of mifery, and 
 out of the power of fate. Thy great example 
 pours confolation into the heart ; and humanity 
 fh'-'jlJ behold with grateful joy the fuperiority 
 which retignation affords to us, even under the 
 fevereft of phyfical misfortunes. 
 
 A flight effort to obtain the fainted ray of com- 
 fort, and a calm refignaiion under inevitable mil- 
 fortunes, will mutually contribute to procure re- 
 lief. The man whofe mind adheres to virtue, 
 will never permit himftlf to be fo far overcome 
 by the fenie of misfortune, as not to endeavour 
 to vanquilh his feelings, even when, fallen into 
 the unhappy Hate of defpair, he no longer fees 
 any profpect of comfort or confolation. The 
 mot\ dejected bofom may endure fenfaticns deeply 
 afflicting, provided the mind be not lazy and 
 
 inactive f 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 55 
 
 inactive, will exercife its attention on fome other 
 object than itfelf, and make the fmalled effort 
 to withdraw the foul from brooding over its 
 torments and its forrows, by infpiring the mind 
 with ideas of virtuous fcntiments, noble actions, 
 and generous inclinations. For this reafon, it is 
 neceflary to cultivate in our minds the love of 
 activity, and, after a dutiful and entire fubmiflion 
 to the difpenfations of Heaven, force ourfelves 
 into employment, until, from the \varmth of our 
 exertions, we acquire a habit of alertnefs. I con- 
 fider a difpofition to be active amidd that difguft 
 and apathy which deflroy the nerves of life, as 
 the mod fure and efficacious antidote againd the 
 poifon of a dejected fpirit, a foured temper, a 
 melancholy mind. 
 
 The influence of the mind upon the body is one 
 of the mod confolatory truths to thofe who are 
 the fubject of habitual fufferings. Supported by 
 this idea, they never permit their reafon to be en- 
 tirely overcome : religion, under this idea, never 
 lofes its powerful empire in the bread ; and they 
 are never indructed in- the lamentable truth, that 
 men of the fined fenfibilities and mod cultivated 
 underdandings frequently difcover lefs fortitude 
 under afflictions than the mod vulgar of mankind. 
 It is perhaps incredible, that CAMP ANELLA Jliould 
 have been capable of deranging his mind by 
 gloomy reflections to fuch a degree, that he might 
 
 E 4 have 
 
56 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 have endured the tortures of the rack with lefs 
 pain ; but I can, from my own experience, aflert, 
 that even in the extremity of diftrefs, every object 
 which diverts the attention foftens the evils we en- 
 dure, and frequently drives them, unperceived, 
 away. 
 
 Many celebrated philofophers have by this 
 means at length been able not only to preferve a 
 tranquil mind in the midfl of the mod poignant 
 fufferings, but have even increafed the ftrength of 
 their intelle&ual faculties in fpite of their corporeal 
 pains. ROUSSEAU compofed the greater part of his 
 immortal works under the continual preflure of 
 Ikknefs and of grief. GELLERT, who, by his mild, 
 agreeable, and inftrudive writings, has become 
 the preceptor of Germany, certainly found in this 
 interefting occupation the fureft remedy againft 
 melancholy. At an age already far advanced in 
 life, MENDELSOHM, who, although not by nature 
 fubject to dejection, was for a long time oppreifcd 
 by an almoft inconceivable derangement of the 
 nervous fyftem, by fubmitting with patience and 
 docility to his fufferings, flill maintains all the 
 noble and fublime advantages of his youth, 
 GARVE, who had lived whole years without 
 being able to read, to write, or to think, af- 
 terwards compofed his Treatife on CICERO; and 
 in that work, this profound writer, fo circumfpecl: 
 in nil his exprefiions that he would have been fen- 
 
 fibly 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 57 
 
 fibly affected if any word too emphatic had dropped 
 from his pen, with a fpecies of enthufiafm returns 
 thanks to Almighty God for the imbecility of 
 his confljtution, bccaufe it had convinced him of 
 the extenfive influence which the powers of the 
 mind poflefs over thofe of the body. 
 
 A iirm refolution, a fteady adherence towards 
 fome noble and interefting end, will enable us to 
 endure the mod poignant affliction. An heroic 
 courage is natural in all the dangerous enterprizes 
 of ambition, and in the little crofles of life is 
 much more common than patience ; but a per- 
 ievering courage under evils of long duration, 
 is a quality rarely feen, efpecially when the foul, 
 enervated by melancholy, abandons itfelf to def- 
 pair, its moft ordinary refuge, and looks up to 
 Heaven alone for its protection. 
 
 It is this that renders melancholy the mofl 
 fcvcre of all the calamities of human life ; and 
 of all the remedies againft it, there is none 
 more efficacious than a calm and filent employ- 
 ment of the mind : for in Solitude the weight 
 of melancholy is lefiened by the feebleft effort, by 
 the flighted refifhnce. The moment we make it a 
 rule never to be idle, and to bear our fufferings 
 with patience, the keeneft anguilh of the foul flies 
 from our refignation, and yields to our fubmiihon. 
 While we encourage a fondnefs for activity, and 
 endeavour to repel the incumbent mifery by mo- 
 derate but continued efforts, the fpirits gain new- 
 powers : 
 
5* 
 
 powers; a fmall victory leads to a greater con- 
 queft ; and the joy which fuccefs infpires, imme- 
 diately deftroys the notion we had entertained of 
 cndlefs forrow. If the exertions of reafon and 
 virtue prove ineffectual againft ficknefs and ill- 
 humour, we fhould employ the mind upon fome 
 engaging object which requires but little attention ; 
 for the flighted is frequently capable of fubduing 
 the fevereil forrow. The fhades of melancholy dif- 
 appear, the moment we fix attention on any object 
 that intereds the mind. Oftentimes, alas ! that ex- 
 travagant defpair, that fupinenefs and apathy which 
 rejects all advice, and renders us incapable of con- 
 folation, is only a concealment of our vexations, 
 and of confequcnce becomes a real malady of the 
 mind, which it is impoflible to conquer but by a 
 firm and conftanr perfeverance. 
 
 To men who poflefs a fenfibility too refined, an 
 imagination too ardent, to mix with comfort in the 
 fociety of the world, and who are continually com- 
 plaining of men and things, SOLITUDE is not only 
 defirable, but abfolutcly neceflary. He who fuffcrs 
 himfclf to be afflicted by that which fcarcely excites 
 an emotion in the breads of other men ; who com- 
 plains of thofe misfortunes as fevere which others 
 fcarcely feel ; whofe mind falls into defpair unlefs 
 his happinefs be indantly reftored,and his wants im- 
 mediately iatisfied ; who fuflers unceafing torments 
 from the illufimis of his fancy; who feels himfclf 
 unhappy billy bccaufc profperity docs not anticipate 
 
 his 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 59 
 
 his wifhes ; who murmurs againft the blefiings he 
 receives, becaufe he is ignorant of his real wants ; 
 who flies from one amufement to another; who 
 is alarmed at every thing, and enjoys nothing: 
 he, alas ! is not formed for fociety ; and if Solitude 
 have not power to heal his wounded fpirit, the 
 earth certainly contains no remedy to cure him. 
 
 Men who in other refpects are very rational, 
 poflefled of excellent hearts, of pious difpofitions, 
 frequently fall into difquictude and defpair, but it 
 is almoft entirely their own fault. If their defpair 
 arife, as is generally the cafe, from unfounded fears ; 
 if they love to torment thcmfelves and others upon, 
 every flight inconvenience, upon the fmalleft de- 
 rangement of their health ; if they conftantly refort 
 to medicine for that relief which reafon alone can 
 afford , if they will not endeavour to reprefs the 
 wanderings of their fancies ; if, after having fup- 
 ported the acutefl pains with patience, and blunted 
 the greateft misfortunes by fortitude, they neither 
 can nor will learn to bear the puncture of the 
 fmalleft pin, to endure the lighted accidents of 
 mortal life ; they ought not to complain of the 
 want of courage to any but thcmfelves : fuch cha- 
 racters, who. by a fingle effort of the underftanding 
 might look with an eye of compofure and tran- 
 quillity on the multiplied and fatal fires ifluing 
 from, the dreadful cannon's mouth, fall under the 
 flpprehenfion of being fired at by pop-guns. 
 
 Firmnefs, 
 
4ff 
 
 Firmnefs, refolu.tion, and all thofe qualities of 
 the foul which form a ftoic hardinefs of character, 
 are much fooner acquired by a quiet communion 
 with the heart, than in the bufy intercourfes of 
 mankind, where innumerable difficulties con- 
 tinually oppofe us ; where duty, fervility, flattery, 
 and fear, obftruct exertion; where every thing 
 unites to deftroy our powers ; and where, for this 
 reafon, men of the weakcft minds and mod con- 
 tracted notions are always more active and po- 
 pular, gain more attention, and are better received 
 than men of enlarged and noble minds. 
 
 The mind fortifies itfelf with impregnable 
 ilrength under the (hades of Solitude againft fuf- 
 ferings and affliction. In retirement the frivolous 
 attachments which fteal away the foul, and drive 
 it wandering, as chance may direct, into a dreary 
 void, die away. The diftracting multiplicity of 
 enjoyments are here renounced; we have expe- 
 rienced how little we want ; perhaps have made 
 fo confiderable a progrefs in the knowledge of 
 ourfclves, that we feel no difcompofure when the 
 Almighty chaftifes us with afflictions, humbles our 
 proud fpirits and vain conceits, thwarts the violence 
 of our paiFion, and reftores us to a lively fenfe of our 
 inanity and wcaknefs. How many important truths 
 cio we here learn, of which the worldly-minded 
 man has no idea ; truths which the torrent of va- 
 nity ever v/hd r.is in his diihpated foul! How fa- 
 
 miliarifcd 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. <| 
 
 miliarifed we become with the evils attached to a 
 ftate of mortality, in proportion as we call the 
 calm eye of reflection on ourfelves and on the 
 objedls which furround us ! In a ftate of Solitude 
 and tranquility, how different every thing ap- 
 pears ! The heart expands to the mofl virtuous 
 fentiments; the blufh of confcience reddens on 
 the cheek ; we reach the fublimcft conception* 
 of the mind, adopt the boldeft refolutions, and 
 obferve a conduct truly irreproachable ! 
 
 The unfortunate being who deplores the death 
 of fome beloved friend, conftantly feels a flrong 
 defire to withdraw from the intercourfes of fociety; 
 while all unite to deftroy the laudable inclination. 
 They avoid all converfation with the unhappy fuf- 
 ferer on the fubject of his lofs, and think it more 
 confolatory to furround him with a crowd of ac- 
 quaintance, cold and indifferent to th event, 
 who think their duties fufficiently difcharged by 
 paying the tributary vifit, and chattering from 
 morning till evening on the current topics of the 
 town ; as if each of their pleafantries conveyed a 
 balm of comfort into the wounded heart. 
 
 " Leave me to nyfclf! " I exclaimed a thoufand 
 times, when, within two years after my arrival in 
 GERMANY, I loft the lovely idol of my heart, the 
 amiable companion of my life. Her departed 
 fpirit ftill hovers round me : the tender recolle&ion 
 ot all that (he was to me, the affli&ing remem- 
 brance of all that (he fuffered on my account, are 
 always prefent to my mind. What purity and in- 
 
 nocence ! 
 
6f THE INFLUENCE 6? SOLITCJD2 
 
 noccnce ! what mildncfs and affability ! Her 
 death was as calm and refigned as her life was 
 pure and virtuous ! During five long months the 
 lingering pangs of diffolution hung continually 
 around her. One day, as (lie reclined upon her pil- 
 low, while I read to her " The Death of Chrift" by 
 RAMMLER, fhe caft her eyes over the page, and 
 filendy pointed out to me the following paflagc : 
 " My breath grows weak, my days are fhortened, 
 " my heart is full of affliction, and my foul pre- 
 * c pares to take its flight." Alas ! when I recal 
 all thofe circumftances to my mind, and recoi- 
 led: how iinpoflible it was for me to abandon the 
 world at that moment of anguiih and diftrcfs, 
 when I carried the feeds of death within my 
 bofom, when I had neither FORTITUDE to bear my 
 afflictions, nor COURAGE to refill them; while I 
 was yet purfued by malice, and outraged by ca- 
 lumny ; in fuch a fituation, I can eafily conceive 
 that my exclamation might be, " Leave r>ie fj 
 
 " 
 
 To be alone, far retired from the tumults 
 and embarrafiments of fociety, is the firft and 
 fcndeil defire of the heart, when, under fuch mif- 
 fortunes, we are unhappily fituated among men. 
 who, incapable of equal feeling, have no idea of 
 the torments we endure. 
 
 How! to live in Solitude, to relinquilh the 
 fociety of men, to be buried, during life, in fome 
 wild deferted country ! Oh yes ! fuch a retreat 
 
 affords 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 63 
 
 affords a tender and certain confolation under all 
 the afflictions which fatten on the heart. Such 
 is the eternal fcparation of fenfible and beloved 
 friends ; a feparation more grievous and terri- 
 fying than the fatal period itfclf which termi- 
 nates exiftence : the heart is torn with anguifh, 
 the very ground we tread on feems to fink be- 
 neath our feet, when this horrible and hidden event 
 divides us from thofe who had for fo long a period 
 been all in all to us in life, whofe memory neither 
 time nor accident can wipe away, and whofe abfencc 
 renders all the pleafures of the world odious to our 
 fight. Solitude in fu.ch an event is our only re- 
 fource : but to foften the grief which this eternal 
 feparation inflids, to remove the forrows which 
 prey upon the poor heart, to wipe away the tear$ 
 from the cheeks, we muft, even in Solitude, 
 continue to employ the mind, to excite its at- 
 tention to the accomplishment of fome interefting 
 end, and lead the imagination from one object 
 to another. 
 
 How many torments, alas ! are there that lie 
 concealed from the obfervation of the world, which 
 \ve muft learn to bear within our own bofoms, and 
 which can only be foftened by Solitude and re- 
 tirement ! 
 
 Reprcfent to yourfelf an unfortunate foreigner 
 placed in a country where every one was fufpicious 
 of his character, borne down by misfortunes from 
 every fide, attacked every moment by defpair; 
 
 who, 
 
64 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 who, during a long cotirfe of years, could nci 
 ther (loop nor fit to write, without feeling the 
 moft excruciating pains ; in A country, where, from 
 a fanatic prejudice, every one fire wed thorns and 
 briars in his path ; where, in the midft of all his 
 afflictions, he was deprived of the objeft which was 
 dearefl to him in the world. Yet it was in fuch a 
 country, and under thefe circumftances, that he, at 
 length, found a perfon who extended the hand of 
 affliction towards him *; whofe voice, like a voice 
 from Heaven, faid to him, " Come, I will dry 
 " up your tears, I will infpire courage into your 
 " wounded heart. I will be the kind comforter of 
 " all your fufferings, aid you to fupport them, ba- 
 " nidi the remembrance of forrow from your mind, 
 " recal your fenfibility to the touching beauties of 
 nature, and force you to acknowledge, that the 
 Religion we profefs is alfo infpired by a bene- 
 ficent Deity, whole goodnefs ftrews floweri 
 " over the paths of life. You lhatt afterwards 
 " afford afliftance to me, become part of my 
 " family, and we will read, think, feel, and 
 *' lift up our hands together in oraifons to 
 <c God. I will endeavour to charm away the 
 f filcnce of difguft by entertaining convcrfation; 
 " and, when tranquillity returns, collect for you 
 " all the flowers which adorn the paths of life ; 
 
 * The Author here alludes to MADAME DOR INK, wife of 
 the Counfcllor of State, and daughter to the celebrated Vice* 
 Chancellor STR.UBE. 
 
 5* difcourfe 
 
f 
 
 l< 
 
 ON THE MIND AND Tl4E HEART. 6j 
 
 " difcourfe with you on the charms of virtue ; 
 *' think of* you with love; treat you with efleem; 
 kc rely upon you with confidence ; prove to you, 
 t that the people among whom you are fitu- 
 c< ated are Icis wicked than you conceive them 
 *' to be j and perhaps that they arc not fo at all. 
 " I will remove from your mind all anxiety about 
 ** domcflic concerns ; do every thing to relieve 
 " and pleafe you : you (hall tafte all the hap- 
 pinefsof an cafy tranquil life. I will diligently 
 endeavour to point out your faults, and you, 
 in gratitude, lhall alfo correft mine : you fliall 
 form my mind, communicate to me your know- 
 ledge, and preferVe to me, by the affiftance of 
 " God and your own talents, the felicities of my 
 " life, together with thofe of my hufband and my 
 " children : we will love our neighbours with 
 " the fame heart, and unite our endeavours to 
 " afford confolation to the afflicted and fuccduf 
 " to the diftreiTed." 
 
 But if, after having experienced all this pleafufe 
 during a great number of years ; if, after having 
 enjoyed thefe cortfolations under circumftanccs the. 
 moft critical and cruel ; if, after flattering myfelf 
 that her friendly hands would clofe my dying 
 eyelids, that I mould expire in the arms of this 
 heroic female ; if, for only obeying the Divine 
 impulfe of commiferation, my proteftrefs ihould be 
 torn for ever from the bofom of her family, obliged 
 to leave her country, and feek a voluntary exile in 
 a foreign land ; if I ihould behold myfelf for ever 
 
 F deprived 
 
66 THE INFLUENCE OF $OLITUt>E 
 
 deprived of this dear friend, this protecting angel, 
 \vhat comfort would remain for me on the face of 
 the earth ! Thus abandoned and forlorn, to what 
 afylum could I fly? To SOLITUDE alone! there 
 I might combat my rifing griefs, and learn to fup- 
 port my deftiny with courage. 
 
 To a heart torn, by too rigorous a deftiny, 
 from the bofom that was- opened for its reception, 
 from a bofom in which it fondly dwelt, from an 
 object that it dearly loved, detached from every 
 object, at a lofs where to fix its affection, or com- 
 municate its feelings, Solitude alone can adminifter 
 comfort. To him who, in the cruel hour of repa- 
 ration, exclaims in the bitternefs of his foul, " In 
 " every exertion to do good, my only reward is to 
 <e lve )' ou pleafure ; all the happinefs of my life 
 *' concenters in the joys that you receive!" Soli- 
 tude is the lad and only con fola t ion. 
 
 There are, therefore, fituations from which no- 
 thing but Solitude and retirement can relieve us. 
 For this reafon, it is frequently neceflary that 
 thofc whom melancholy affects, fliould be left 
 alone ; for, as we fliall now proceed to ihcw, they 
 may find in Solitude an infinite variety of confo 
 Jations, and many iburccs of comfort both for the 
 mind and the heart. 
 
 The healthy and the fick, the happy and ths 
 miferable, the rich and the poor, all, without ex- 
 ception, may find infinite advantages in a religious 
 retirement from the world. It is not, alas 1 ia 
 
 the 
 
t>N tllfe MIND AND THE HEART. 6j 
 
 the temples of Pleafure, in thofe meetings where 
 every one empties to its laft drop the cup of 
 t'olly, in the Coteries occupied by vulgar gaiety, in 
 brilliant affemblies, or at luxurious boards, that 
 the mind grows familiar with thofe tender and 
 fublime fentiments which fubdue thedefires of fcn- 
 fualhy, ennoble all the enjoyments of life, raife 
 the pafling moment into importance by connecting 
 it with the .events of futurity, and banifh from 
 A tranfuory life the extravagant fondnefs for the 
 diflipations of the world. 
 
 In Solitude we behold more near and intimately 
 that Providence which overlooks all. Silence con- 
 tinually recals to our minds the confolatory idea^ 
 the mild and fatisfaftory fentiment, that the eye 
 of the Almighty is for ever viewing the a&ions of 
 his creatures ; tnat he fuperintends all our move- 
 ments ; that we are governed by his po\Ver, and 
 prcferved by his goodnefs. In Solitude, the Deity 
 is everywhere before us. Emancipated from tho 
 dangerous fermentations of fenfe, guided by nobler 
 inclinations, poflefled of pure unalterable joys, 
 x-e contemplate with ferioufnefs and vigour, with 
 freedom and with confidence, the attainment of 
 fupreme felicity, and enjoy in thought the hap- 
 pincfs we expeft to reach* In this holy medita- 
 tion, every ignoble fentiment, every painful anxi- 
 ety, every worldly thought and vulgar care, va- 
 ni(h from the mind. 
 
 F 2 
 
6* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 Solitude has already brought us nearer to God, 
 when, befide all the tender and humane feelings of 
 the heart, we feel thofe falutary fenfations which 
 a diftruft and jcaloufy of our own abilities create ; 
 fenfations which in public life make light and tran- 
 ficnt impreffions, ami fade fo foon away. When at 
 the bed of ficknefs I behold the efforts which the 
 foul makes to oppofc its impending difiblution from 
 (he body, and, notwithftanding, difcovcr by the 
 cncrealing tortures the rapid advances of ap- 
 proaching death j when I fee my unhappy patient 
 extend his cold and trembling hands, to thank 
 the Almighty for the final left mitigation of his 
 pains ; when i hear his utterance checked by in- 
 termingled groans, and view the tender looks and 
 filent anguiih of his attending friends ; all my 
 powers abandon me, my heart bleeds, and I tear 
 myfelf from the forrowful fcene, to pour my tears 
 more freely over the unhappy fufierings of hu- 
 manity, to lament 'my own inability, and the vain 
 confidence placed in a feeble art; a coniidencc 
 which men have been fo forward to abufe. Con- 
 fcious of the inefBcacy of art, I never rife from 
 
 
 
 my bed without thinking it a heavenly miracle 
 lhac I am Mill alive. When I count the number of 
 my years, I exclaim, with the livelieft gratitude, iLir 
 God has prcferved my life beyond lay expcdiation. 
 Through what a lea of dangers has his goodn- r i 
 conducted me ! Reflecting every moment on tnc 
 
 weal 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 69 
 
 weaknefs of my condition, and beholding men 
 Suddenly (hatched away before me in the prime 
 and vigour of life ; men who, bm a few hour* 
 before^ entertained no fear of de*ath, and reckoned, 
 perhaps, on an extended length of days ; what can 
 I do, but offer up my filent adorations to that Pro- 
 vidence who has thus favcd me from the menaces 
 of Death ! 
 
 Is it poffible to become wife, and efcape from 
 all the perils with which the world abounds, 
 without renouncing its difiipations, and entering 
 into a ferious examination of ourfclvcs ? It is then 
 only that we are able maturely to reflect upon what 
 we hear and fee ; it is only during the lllcnt oc- 
 cupation of the mind that we can properly view 
 thofe interefting objects to which, in order to ren- 
 der them either ufeful or permanent, we can never 
 devote an attention fufficiently ferious, 
 
 Wifdom is not to be acquired by the inceflant 
 purfuit of entertainments ; by flying, without re- 
 flection, from one party to another ; by continual 
 converfations on low and trifling fubjccts ; by un- 
 dertaking every thing, and doing nothing. " He 
 1 who would acquire true wifdom," fays a ce- 
 lebrated philolbpher, " mud learn to live in So- 
 " litude," An uninterrupted courie of diflipation 
 ftifles every virtuous fentiment. The dominion of 
 reafon is loft amidft the intoxications of pleafure ; 
 its voice is no longer heard ; its authority no. longer 
 preyed, The mind no longer drives to furmount 
 
 F 3 temptations; 
 
90 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 temptations $ but, inftead of avoiding the fnare$ 
 which the pafiions lay in our way, we feek. to find 
 f hem. The precepts of religion are in no fituation 
 fp little remembered, as in {he ordinary diflipations 
 of the world. Engaged in a variety of abfurd pu,r- 
 fuits,intrancedinthedelirium of gaiety and pleafurc, 
 inflamed by that continual inebriety which raifest^c 
 paflions, and ftimulates the deiires, all connections, 
 between God and man are broken ; and we abandon 
 the firft and only fource of true felicity, renounce 
 the faculty of rcaton, and never think of religious 
 duties but with levity and indifference. On the 
 contrary, he who, entering into a ferious felf- 
 examinauon, in filent meditation elevates his 
 thoughts on all occafions towards his God ; who 
 conftders the amphitheatre of nature, the fpangled 
 firmament of Heaven, the verdant meads enamelled 
 with flowers, the ftupendous mountains, and the 
 filent groves, as the temples of the Divinity ; whq 
 directs the emotions of his heart to the Great 
 Author and Conductor of things ; who has con- 
 tinually before his eyes his enlightened Providence, 
 muft mod affurodly have already learned to live in 
 pious Solitude and religious meditation* 
 
 Thus, by devoting daily only as many hours to 
 filent reflection as are employed at the toilet or con- 
 fumed at the card-table, Solitude may be rendered 
 jnftrurnemul in leading the mind to piety, and the 
 heart to virtue. Meditation and reflection convey 
 
 every 
 
ON THE. MIND AND THE HEART. 7< 
 
 every moment greater force and folidity to the 
 intellect, excite abhorrence of too frequent in- 
 tercourfes with mankind, and create difguft of 
 their idle entertainments. We may cherilh the 
 beft intentions towards our fellow-creatures, may 
 tuccour them in diftrefs, may do them all the good 
 in our power, and yet fhnn the luxury of their 
 feafts, fly from their coteries, and difdain their 
 frivolous purfuits. 
 
 The opportunities of exercifmg great virtues, 
 
 of performing actions of extenfive utility or uni- 
 vcrfal benevolence, are confined only to a few cha- 
 rafters. But how many filent virtues arc there, which 
 every man has it in his power to perform without 
 Quitting his chamber ? He who can contentedly 
 employ himfelf at home, may continue there the 
 whole year, and yet in every day of that year may 
 contribute to the felicity of other men; he may 
 liften to their complaints, relieve their diftrefs, 
 render many fervices to thofe who are about him, 
 and extend his benevolence in various ways, with- 
 out being feen by the world/ or known by thofe 
 on whom he confers his favours. 
 
 A ftrong and determined inclination for Solitude 
 is frequently a happy omen of a pious difpofuion. 
 Youth frequently experiences a vague and indefi- 
 nable gloom, which, as the mind advances in reafon, 
 dies progreflively away. It is during this interval 
 that we begin to underdone) the human character, 
 -to Torm an eftimate of ourfelycs, to perceive \yhat 
 
 F4 we 
 
ya THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 we arc, and learn what we ought to be. At thfa 
 period, a phyfical change of conflitution turns the 
 operations of the foul into a new di reft ion ; con- 
 fcience awakens itfclf, and ftrongly fuggefts the 
 neceffity of proftrating oinfclvcs before the throne 
 of God. Mod ell y is the firft IcfTbn of advcrfity, 
 and' felf-diftruft the firft proof we receive of having 
 obtained a knowledge ofourfclvcs. The fophiftry 
 of the paflions is filcnt during tlie ferious folitary 
 hours which we pafs in a finccre felf- examination. 
 If we fomet hncs probe too deeply, and become 
 gloomy and ditcontentcd at our lituation, or fall 
 ihtafuperitilious phrenfies,the impreflions, alas ! arc 
 too foon effaced. Yet even this excels, when 
 compared with its oppofue defect, with that fatad 
 fupinencfs which extinguifhes every virtue, is 
 a real advantage. The fmcere mortification \ve 
 feel on the uifcovery of ow defects, is converted 
 by the light of a pure and rational faith into happy 
 cafe and perfe.51 tranquility. The fanatic euthu- 
 fiaft prefcnts himielf before the Almighty much 
 cftener than the iupercilious \vit, who IcofTs at 
 religion, and calls piety a weakneis, 
 
 The (ludy of ourlelvcs is fo extremely rare, that 
 we ought to pri/.e every thing we obtain by it as 
 clcur and precious trcafures. To induce us to re- 
 nounce our flighty futile diifipations ; to conquer 
 the dilcoiuent which drives us wandering from place 
 to place in icarch of new objects ; to force us into an 
 
 examination 
 
c< 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. ;j 
 
 examination of ourfclves,Gricf muft awakenusfrom 
 our lethargic pleafurcs, Sorrow muft open our eyes 
 to the follies of the world, and the cup of Advcrfity 
 often embitter our lips. From a conviftion of this 
 truth it was, that one of the greatefl philofophersof 
 Germany, the celebrated Mr. GARVE, exclaimed to. 
 Pr. SPALDIVG and MYSELF, " I am indebted to 
 my malady, for having led me to make a clofer 
 *' fcrutiny and more accurate obfervation of my 
 *' own character." 
 
 The powers of religion and philofophy are, in 
 Solitude, united to conduct us to the fame end. 
 Both of them teach us to examine our hearts ; both 
 of them tell us, that we cannot guard with too 
 ferious an apprehenfion againft the dangers of fa- 
 naticifm, nor decry them with too loud a voice ; 
 but they alfo inftruct us, that if virtue cannot be 
 inftilled into the foul without its undergoing fomc 
 convulfions, yet we ought not to be difcouraged 
 by the fear of danger. It is not in the moment 
 of joy, when we tumour eyes from God, and think 
 pot of eternity, that we experience thefe lalutary 
 ponvulfions of the foul. Even Religion, with all 
 her powers, cannot produce them fo foon as a 
 corporeal malady or mental affliction. But if the 
 foul advances too flowly in the heroic courfe of 
 virtue; if, amidft the buftle of the world, the 
 fuggeftions of confcience lofe their power, let every 
 pne retire, as frequently as he poflibly can, into 
 
 Solitude, 
 
74 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 Solitude, and there proflrate himfeJf before Go4 
 and his o\vn heart. 
 
 In the laft moments of life, it is certain that we 
 all wifti we had lived more in Solitude, in a, 
 greater intimacy with ourfelves, and in a clofer com- 
 munion with God. Preifcd by their recolleftion, 
 we then clearly perceive, that all our faults have 
 happened from not fhunaing the fnares of the 
 world ; from not having kept a watchful eye upon 
 the wanderings of the heart, in the midft of thofe 
 clangers by which it was furrounded, Jf we were 
 to oppofe the fentiments of a folitary man, who 
 had paffed his life in pious conference with God, 
 to the fentiments which occupy the minds of dif- 
 fipatcd men, who never think of their Creator, 
 find facrificc their whole exilrence to the enjoyment 
 of the moment ; if we compare the character of a 
 WISE MAN, who reflects in filcnce on the impor-> 
 tance of eternity, with that of the FASHIONABLE 
 BEING, who confumcs all his time at ridottos, 
 balls, and aflfemblies ; we (hall then perceive that :\T\ 
 inclination for Solitude, a dignified retirement, a[ 
 defire of having a feled friend, and a rational lo- 
 ciety, can alone afford us true pleafure, and give 
 us, beyond all the vain enjoyments of the world, 
 f onfolation in death, and hopes of eternal life, 
 
 It is, however, upon the bed of death that we 
 difcover, more than in any other fituation, the great 
 difference between THE JUST MAN, who has patted 
 his days in calm religious contemplation, and 
 
 THE MAN OF THE WOfc-LD, whofe thoughts have 
 
 only 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. yj 
 
 only been employed to feed his pafiions, and gra- 
 tify his defires. A life pafled amidft the tu-> 
 mnltuous difilpations of the world, even when, 
 unfulliedby the commiflion of any crime, concludes, 
 plas ! very differently from that which has been 
 fpent in Solitude, jn innocence, in virtue. 
 
 As example teaches more effectually than pre- 
 cept, as curiofity is more alive to recent facts than 
 fo remote tranfactions, I (hall here relate the 
 hidory of a man of family and fafhion, who, a few 
 years fmce, mot himfelf in London ; from which 
 it will appear, that men poflefled even of the bed 
 feelings of the heart may be rendered extremely 
 miferable, by differing their principles to be coi> 
 rupted by the practices of the world, 
 
 THE Honourable Mr. DAMER, the cldeft fot\ 
 of LORD MILTON, was fjve-and-thirty years of age 
 when he put a period to his exiltencc by means 
 perfectly correfpondent to the principles on which 
 he had lived. He had efpoufed a rich heirefs, the 
 daughter-in-law of GENERAL CONVTAY, Nature 
 had endowed him with extraordinary talents ; and 
 if he had employed them to nobler purpofes, his 
 death mud have made the deeped impreflion on 
 every bofom. Unhappily, how ever, a mod infatuated 
 love of diffipation dedroyed all the powers of his 
 mind, and fome of. the more excellent qualities of 
 his heart. His houfes, his carriages, his horfes, 
 jijs liveries, furpaffed in magnificence and elegance 
 
 every 
 
76 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 every thing that is fumptuous in the metropolis of 
 England. The income he enjoyed was fplendid j 
 but not being quite fufHcient to defray all his ex* 
 pences, he felt himfelf under the neceffity of bor- 
 rowing, and he obtained a loan of one hundrecj 
 ^nd twenty thoufand pounds. A large portion 
 of the money was immediately employed to fuccour 
 thofe of his friends who appeared to be djftreffed ; 
 for his femiments were tender and compaflionate ; 
 but his fenlibility to the wants of others at 
 length obliged him to open his eyes to his own. 
 The fituation in which he found his affairs led 
 him todefpair: he retired to a brothel, fent for 
 four women of the town, and pafied four hour* 
 with infinite gaiety and fpirits in their company, 
 On the near approach of midnight, he requefled 
 they would retire ; and in a few moments after- 
 wards, drawing from his pocket a loaded piftol, 
 which he had carried about with him all the af- 
 ternoon, blew oijt his brains, He hud pafluj 
 the evening with theft' women in the fame manner 
 $s he had been ufcd to pjifs many others with 
 different women of the fame dclcnption, without 
 infilling on favours which they would mofl wil- 
 1 ii^ly have granted. The common convcifation 
 of fuch interviews, or at moft the liberty of a 
 fUlutc, was all he dcfired or expected from them 
 in return for his money. The gratitude he fe!,t 
 for the temporary oblivion v.hich ihefe intercourfes 
 
 occasional. 
 
"ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 7J[ 
 
 occafioned, ripened in his bofom into all the 
 feelings of the warmcft friendfhip. 
 
 A celebrated aftreis on the London theatre, 
 \vhofe conversions had already drained him of 
 confiderable fums of money, rcquefled of him, 
 only three days before his death, to lend her fivc- 
 and-twenty guineas. He returned an anfwer, that 
 he had not at that time more than eight or ten 
 guineas at his command, and thefe he fent to her; 
 but he immediately borrowed the remainder, and 
 guve her the fum (he required. 
 
 This unhappy young man, (hortly before the 
 fatal cataftrophe, had written to his father, and 
 difclofed the real (late of his affairs ; and the night, 
 the very night on which he terminated his ex- 
 itlence, his arfe&ionate parent, the good LORD 
 MILTON, arrived in London,, for the purpofe of 
 paying all the debts of his foil. Thus lived and 
 died this deftitute and diflipated man ! Mow dif- 
 ferent from the life and death of the innocent 
 and virtuous ! 
 
 I truft I fhall be forgiven in reciting here the 
 Story of a Young Lady whofc memory 1 am anxious 
 to preferve ; for I can with great truth fay of her, 
 as PETRARCH faid of his beloved LAURA, 
 " The world is unacquainted with the excellence 
 " of her character; for (lie was only known to 
 " thofe whom Ihe has left behind to bewail her 
 
 " fate." 
 
 Solitude 
 
78 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLlTUDf 
 
 Solitude' in her mind fupplied the place of the 
 world ; for me knew no other plcafures than thofe 
 which a retircd'and virtuous life affords. Submitting 
 with pious refignation to all the difpenfations of 
 Heaven, Ihe fuftained, although naturally of a weak 
 conftitution, e very afllicl ion with undiminiflied for- 
 titude. Mild, good, tender, yet enduring her 
 incefiant fuffcrings without a murmur or a figh ; 
 timid, referved, but difclofmg all the feelings 
 of her foul with a kind of filial enthufiafm ; of this 
 delcription was the fuperior character of whom 1 now 
 write ; a character who convinced me, by her noble 
 fortitude under the levereft misfortunes, how mucli 
 ftrength Solitude is capable of conveying to the 
 minds even of the feebleft beings. Diffident of 
 her own powers, flic relied with the mod perfect 
 confidence upon God, and guided herfelf in everjr 
 thing by my precepts. Taught by my experience, 
 fubmitting to my judgement, (lie felt for me the 
 moll ardent afteclion ; and, without making any 
 profeflions, convinced me by her actions of its fin- 
 cerity. Willingly would I have facrificed my life to 
 favc her ; and 1 am fatisfied flie would have given up 
 . her own for me. My greateft happinefs confined in 
 doing every thing that I thought Was mod agree- 
 able to her. She frequently prefented me with 
 a rofe, a prcfent from which Ihe knew I received 
 confiderable delight ; and from her hand it was fu- 
 perior to the richcfl trcafure. A malady of almofl 
 
 a fin- 
 
6N f HE MIND AND THE HEART. 7* 
 
 afmgular kind, a haemorrhage of the lungs, fuddcnly 
 deprived me of the comfort of this beloved child, 
 even whilelfupported her in my arms. Acquainted 
 \\ith her conftitution, I immediately favv the blow 
 was mortal. How frequently, during that fatal 
 *day, did my wounded bleeding heart bend me on 
 my knees before my God, to implore her recovery ! 
 But I concealed my feelings from her obfervation. 
 Although fenfiUc of her danger, (he never com- 
 municated the lead apprehenllon. Smiles arofe 
 upon her cheeks whenever I entered or quitted 
 the chamber. Although worn down by this fatal 
 diflemper, a prey to the mod corroding griefs, the 
 fharpeft and mod intolerable pains, ftie made no 
 complaint. She mildly anfwcred all my qucftions 
 by fome (hort fentence. but without entering into 
 
 
 
 any detail. Her decay and approaching dillbhuion. 
 became obvious to the eye ; but to the laft moment 
 of her life, her countenance preferved a fcrcnity 
 equal to the purity of her mind and the affec- 
 tionate tendernefs of her heart. 
 
 Thus I beheld my dear, my only daughter, after 
 % lingering fufferance of nine long months, expire 
 in my arms ! Exclufive of the ufual internal ap- 
 pearances which attend a confumption of the lungs, 
 the liver was extremely large, the ftomach un- 
 commonly final! and contracted, and the vifcera 
 much overcharged. So many attacks, alas ! were 
 aeedlefs to the conqueft. She had been the fub- 
 
 tnitfive 
 
So THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE! 
 
 miffive vi<5lim of ill health from her earlieft 
 fancy; her appetite was aimed gone when we left 
 SWISSERLAND ; * refidencc which flie quitted witli 
 her ufual Iweetnefs of temper, and \vithout dif- 
 covering the fmalleft regret, although a young 
 man, as hand Torn e in his perfon as he was amiable 
 in the qualities of his mind, the object of her firft, 
 of her only affection, a few weeks afterwards put 
 an end to his exiftcnce in defpair. 
 
 The few happy days we pafled at HANOVER, 
 where fhe was much refpected and beloved, fhe 
 amuted herlelf by compofmg religious prayers, 
 which were afterwards found among her papers, 
 and in which Ihe implores death to afford her a 
 fpeedy relict from her pains : fhe wrote alfo many 
 letters, always affecting, and frequently fublime, 
 during the fame period. They were rilled witl* 
 exprcflions of the fame defire fpeedily to re-unite 
 her foul with the Author of her days. The lad 
 words my dear, my well-beloved child uttered, 
 amidft the mod painful agonies, were thelc : 
 ' To-day I fhall tafte the joys of Heaven ! " 
 
 We fhould be unworthy of this bright example, 
 if, after having feen the fevcreft fufFerings fuf- 
 tained by a female in the earlieft period of life, 
 and of the weakefl constitution by nature, we per- 
 mitted our minds to be dejected by misfortunes, 
 when by the fmalleft degree of courage we may 
 be enabled to furmount them. A female who, 
 under the anguifh of inexpreflSble torments, never 
 
 permitted 
 
Ott THE MIND AND THE HEART. ti 
 
 permitted the figh of complaint to efcape from 
 her lips ; but fubmittcd with filcnt rcfignation to 
 the will of Heaven, in hope of meeting with re- 
 ward hereafter. She was ever active, invariably 
 mild, always compaftionate to the miferics of 
 others. But WE, who have before our eyes the 
 fublime inftru&ions which a character thus virtuous 
 and noble has given us under the preffure of a fatal 
 difeafe, under the horrors of continued and bitter 
 agonies ; WE, who like her afpire to the attainment 
 of the glorious feat of happinefs and peace, rcfufe to 
 fubmit to the fmalleft facrifice, make no endeavour 
 to oppofe the ftorms of fortune by the exertion of 
 courage, or to acquire that patience and rcfignatipn 
 which a candid examination of our own hearts, 
 and a filent communion with God, would certainly 
 afford. 
 
 Senfible and unfortunate beings ! the lighted 
 afflictions, when compared with griefs like mine, 
 drive you, at prefent, to difquietude and defpair, 
 But, you may give credit to experience, they will ~ 
 eventually raife your minds above the low confidera- 
 tions of the world, and give aftrength to your powers 
 which you now conceive to be impoflible. You no\v 
 think yourfelves funk into the deeped abyfs of 
 fuffering and forrow ; but the time will foon arrive, 
 when you will perceive yourfelves in that happy 
 fituation which lies between an attachment to the 
 earth and a fond devotion to Heaven. You will 
 
 G then 
 
8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE. &c; 
 
 then feel a calm repofe, be fufccptible of pleafures 
 equally fubftantial and fublime ; your minds will 
 be withdrawn from the tumultuous anxieties of 
 life, and filled with ferene and comfortable fen- 
 timents of immortality. BlefTed, fupremely blef- 
 fcd is that being who knows the value of a life 
 patted in retirement and tranquillity ; who is ca- 
 pable of enjoying the filenceof the groves, and the 
 retirement of rural Solitude. The foul then taftcs 
 celeftial pleafures, even under the deepcft impref- 
 fions of forrow and deje&ion ; regains its flrength, 
 collects new courage, and ads with perfect free- 
 dom. The eye looks with ftcadinefs on the tran- 
 fient fufferings of difcafe, the mind no longer feels 
 a dread of Solitude, and we learn to cultivate, 
 during the remainder of our lives, a bed of rofe* 
 round even the tomb of death. 
 
 lido 
 
 f-;fi. 
 
C 83 ) 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 
 tHE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE UPON THE MIND. 
 
 THE ineftimable value of liberty can only be 
 conceived by minds that are free. Slaves 
 are forced to be content even in their bondage. 
 He who has been long toffcd about by the vi- 
 ciflhudes of fortune ; who has learned from the 
 fuSerings of his own experience to form a juft 
 cftimate of men and things; who can examine 
 every object with impartiality ; and, walking in the 
 fteep and narrow paths of virtue, derives his hap- 
 pinefs from his own mind, may be accounted 
 FREE. 
 
 The path of virtue is indeed rugged, dreary, and 
 unfocial ; but it conduces the mind from painful 
 difficulties to fublime repofe, and gently carries us 
 over the acclivities of life into the delightful and 
 cxtenfive plains of happinefs and cafe. The love 
 of Solitude, when cultivated to a certain extent at 
 an early period of our lives, infpires the heart with 
 a noble independence ; efpecially in the breafts of 
 thofe youths, whofe eafy uncorruptcd fouls are yet 
 fufceptible of virtuous impreflions : it is to fuch 
 chtra&ers alone that my precepts can prove ufeful * 
 
 Q 2 it 
 
*4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 it is to fuch character* alone I here pretend to point 
 out the way which leads to true felicity. 
 
 I do not, however, with to conduit them through 
 the paths of mifc-ry to the retreats of Solitude, but 
 would rather induce them to fcek retirement from 
 a dHlike to diflipation, a diftafte to the idle pleafures 
 of life, a contempt for the treacherous profefiions 
 of i lie world, a dread of being fcduced by its in- 
 finuiuing and deceitful gaieties. 
 
 Many men have acquired and experienced in 
 Solitude that fuperiority of genius which enables 
 its poflcfibrs to command events. Like the majcftic 
 cedar which braves the fury of the wildtft wind, 
 there are rrany champions of virtue who have refifted 
 in retirement the ftorms of vice. It has indeed 
 happened, that fome men have retained even in 
 Solitude all the weaknefles of human nature ; but 
 there are alfo many others who have proved, that 
 wife men cannot become degenerate even in the 
 moft dreary feclufion. Vifitcd by the auguft fpirits 
 of the dead, left to liflen to their own thoughts, 
 and fecluded from the fight of every breathing 
 object, they mud converfe with God alone- 
 There are two periods of life in which Solitude 
 becomes peculiarly ufcful : in youth, to acquire 
 a fund of ufeful information, to form the outline of 
 die character we mean to fupport, and to fix the 
 modes of thinking we ought through life invariably 
 to purfue : in age, to call a retrofpective eye on 
 
 the 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE If EART. 85 
 
 the xourfe of life we have led* to reflect on the 
 events that have happened, upon all the flowers 
 we have gathered, upon all the tcmpefts we have 
 furvived. 
 
 LORD BOLINGBROKE fays, that there is not a 
 deeper nor a finer obfervation in all LORD BACON'S 
 works than the following : " We muft chufe betimes 
 " fuch virtuous objeRs as are proportioned to the 
 " means we have of purfuing them, and as belong 
 " particularly tothejlations we are in, and the duties 
 " of thofe ftations. We muft determine and fix 
 " our minds in fuch manner upon them, that 
 Ct the purfuit of them may become the bufinefs, and 
 <c the attainment of them the end of our whole 
 <c lives *. Thus we (hall imitate the great ope- 
 " rations of nature, and not the feeble, flow, and 
 " imperfect operations of art. We muft not pro- 
 " ceed, in forming the moral character, as a ftatuary 
 ** proceeds in forming a ftatue, who works Come* 
 cc times on the face, fometimes on one part, and 
 " fometimes on another; but we muft proceed, 
 " and it is in our power to proceed, as nature does 
 f< in forming a flower, or any other of her pro- 
 ' ductions ; rudimenta partium omnium Jimul par it et 
 " froducit ; (he throws out altogether and at once 
 
 LORD BOLINGBROKE, in his " Idta ef a Patriot AV," has 
 paraphrafed the original, " Vt continue verttt et ejftrmtt ft animur, 
 " una opera, in virlHtes omnts," in order to apply it with greater 
 cfteft to the occaficn for which he quotes it. 
 
 G 3 c the 
 
6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " the whole fyftem of every being, and the nidi- 
 " ments of all the parts.*' 
 
 Ye amiable youths, from whofe minds the ar* 
 tifices and gaieties of the world have not yet obli- 
 terated the precepts of a virtuous education ; who 
 are not yet infected with its inglorious vanities ; 
 who, ilill ignorant of the tricks and blandifhments 
 of feduction, have preferved in your fouls the 
 defire to perform fome glorious action, and re- 
 tained the powers to accomplim it ; who, in the 
 midft of feafting, dancing, and aflemblies, feel an 
 inclination to efcape from their unfatisfactory de- 
 lights, SOLITUDE will afford you a fafc afylum. 
 Let the voice of experience recommend you to 
 cultivate a fondnefs for domeftic pleafures, to roufe 
 and fortify your fouls to noble deeds, to acquire 
 that fine and noble fpirit which teaches you to 
 eftimate the characters of men and the pleafures 
 of fociety, by their intrinfic values. 
 
 You will find it abfolutely neceffary to force 
 yourfelves from a world too trifling and infigni- 
 ficant to afford you any great examples. It is 
 in ftudying the characters of the Greeks, the 
 , Romans, the Englifh, that you mud learn to 
 furmount every difficulty. In what nation will 
 you find more celebrated inftances of human 
 greatnefs ? What people pofiefs more valour and 
 courage, more firmncfs, more knowledge, a grcr.ter 
 love for the arts .and fciences ? But do not deceive 
 yourfelves, by believing that wearing the lair cut 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 87 
 
 fjort which will make you Englijhmcn. You muft, 
 inftcad of that, eradicate the vices, fubdue the 
 weaknefles of your nature, and only imitate them in 
 their peculiar greatnefs. It is the love of liberty, 
 the qualities of courage, penetration, fublimity of 
 fentiment, and ftrcngth of reafon, that conftitute 
 the true F.nglijhman, and not their half boots 
 and jockey hats. It is virtue alone, and not tltles % 
 that elevate the characters of men. An illuftrious 
 defcent is certainly an advantage, but not a merit. 
 1 honour you for having already formed a proper 
 eftimate of thefe fplendid trifles, for having already 
 learned that he who venerates fuch little objecls can 
 never attain to greatnefs. Let women only boaft 
 of hereditary defcent, of a line of anceftors, who, 
 during a courfe of centuries, were perhaps diftin- 
 guifhed from the reft of mankind merely by the 
 fplendour of their equipage, while the humble 
 citizen was forced to follow on foot. In tracing 
 your genealogies, reckon thofe only among the 
 number of your anceftors who have performed 
 fome great and glorious action, whofe fame mines 
 with brilliancy in every page of their country's 
 hiftory, and whofe characters are cited with applaufe 
 and admiration in diftant nations : but never lofc 
 fight of this important truth, that no one can be 
 truly great without a knowledge of himfelf. 
 
 In your journey through life two ways lie open 
 10 your choice. The one will conduct you to a 
 fragrant garden, through delightful groves, perfumed 
 wi;h tlit fwceteft odours, where a verdant bed, 
 
 G 4 bedecked 
 
98 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 bedecked with rofes, will invite your enchanted 
 fenfes to a foft repofe ; this is the path of pleasure 
 which the multitude are eafily feducedto follow, and 
 where mufic, dancing, and love, offer to every fenfc 
 fuch variety of delight. The other is a lefs frequented 
 way,rugged and uneven, the progrefs through it flow, 
 where, while the weaned paffenger toils along, he 
 frequently tumbles down fome dangerous precipice, 
 which to him appeared at greater diftance. Here 
 the cries of favage animals alone are heard, the 
 inceflant cawings of the boding raven, the (harp and 
 fhivering hifles of the wily ferpent ; and the filent 
 unbounded defart which reigns around infpires 
 the mind with terror and affright. The path of 
 pleafure leads us to the world ; the rude and rugged 
 way is the road to honour. The one conducts you 
 through focicty to places and employments either 
 in the city or at court ; the other, fooner or later, 
 will lead you into Solitude. Upon the one road 
 you will perhaps become a villain ; a villain ren- 
 dered dear and amiable by your vices to fociety. 
 Upon the other road, it is true, you may be hated 
 and defpifed ; but you will become A MAN.; a 
 man after my own heart. 
 
 The rudiments of a great character muft bo 
 formed in Solitude. It is there alone that the 
 folidity of thought, the fondnefs for activity, the 
 abhorrence of indolence, which conftitute the hero 
 and the fage, are firll acquired. Many celebrated 
 Germans of my acquaintance lived folitary lives, 
 
 uncon^ 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 9 
 
 unconnected with fociety, during their refidencc 
 at the univerfity. They fhimned the fafhionablc 
 vices of the collegians, and preferred their native 
 purity ; they adopted a floicifm, and prcfervcd not 
 only thc-ir chaftity, but their application to fludy. 
 They are now become miniders of ftate, celebrated 
 writers, and great philofophers, who have diffufcd 
 \vifdom, banifhed prejudice, and from their earlicfl; 
 youth opened new roads in life utterly unknown 
 to vulgar minds. 
 
 A tribute of the higheft gratitude is due to the 
 noble chara&er who has obferved, " When you be- 
 ** hold a youth of folid parts withdraw himfelf 
 '* from the world, fall into a low and melancholy 
 1 humour, become filcnt in company, and teftify 
 " by the fcvcrity of his manners and coldnefs of 
 " his feelings, that the contemptible beings with 
 " whom he has aflbciated have infpired his foul 
 " with difguft; if you perceive that his mind 
 " emits its rays like flames of lightning in the 
 c obfcurity of a dark night, and then falls into a 
 1 long and filcnt calm ; if you difcover that he 
 " feels himfelf fur rounded by a painful void, and 
 c that every object which prefents itfelf only in- 
 ** fpires his mind with new averfion and difguft; 
 " you then behold, notwithftanding he has not 
 " openly complained, a happy plant, which only 
 <f requires the cultivation of a judicious hand to 
 " bring forth its fruits, and difclofe its beauties. 
 " O ! apply to it a foftering care. It will become 
 *' worthy of your kindnefs : and he who (lops the 
 
90 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " progrefs of its life, is the mod deteftable of 
 " murderers." 
 
 To rear a youth of this defcription would form 
 the joy and pleafure of my future days. I would 
 nourim him in my very heart. 1 would watch over 
 him with the tendered care. I would conceal his 
 growing virtues from the jealous and malignant ob- 
 fei vation of envious eyes ; prevent their endeavours 
 to fupprefs the efforts of a genius furpafiing their 
 own ; and with a fingle whifper I would drive away 
 thofe noxious vermin, enervated and infipid men of 
 fufhion, from my healthful plant. If, however, fuch 
 an amiable youth did not immediately liilen to my 
 voice, and become obedient to my precepts ; if he 
 did not altogether dcipife the manners of the 
 world, I would let him occallonally fail among the 
 rocks of life, and permit him to be gently wrecked 
 in fituations where experience, deficient of the 
 powers of yeuih, would have efc-iped from danger. 
 
 Solitude fometimes begets a degree of arrogance 
 andobftinacy; but a little experience in the world 
 foon eradicates thefe defects. The mifanthropy of 
 thcfe noble youths, their contempt of folly, and their 
 pride of fpirit, changes by the maturity of age into 
 dignity of character, and gives them a more generous 
 intrepidity, a more exalted contempt of that fear 
 which youth naturally entertain intheibcietyof men. 
 Thefatirea they once dreaded then loic all their 
 l.'jenneis, and only form a contraft of what things 
 ire with what they cu^ht to be. Their con- 
 tempt 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. ol 
 
 tempt for vice rifes into a noble cnthufiafm for 
 virtue; and they extract from the long intellectual 
 war of experience a complete knowledge of the 
 world, and a compafiionate feeling which, however 
 it may occafionally fwervc, will never die. 
 
 But there is alfo a fcience of the heart too 
 frequently neglected, and with which it is ne- 
 ceffary, at leafc as far as it is poflible, to fa- 
 miliarife ourfclves in early youth. This is the 
 noble fcience of philofophy, which forms thc- 
 characters of men, which teaches us to attain. the 
 end we wim rather by the blandifhments of love 
 than by the efforts of power ; a fcience which cor- 
 rects the cold dictates of reafon by the warm feel- 
 ings of the heart, opens to view the dangers to 
 which they are expofcd, animates the dormant fa- 
 culties of the mind, and prompts them to the 
 pnictice of all the virtues. 
 
 DION had been brought up in all the bafenefsancl 
 fervility of courts ; he was accuftomed to a life 
 of foftnefs and effeminacy, and, which is more 
 pernicious, to a life of great magnificence, pro- 
 fufion, and pleafure of every kind : but no fooner 
 had he read the divine PLATO, no fooner had he 
 tailed of that refined philofophy which leads to 
 a life of virtue, than his whole foul became deeply 
 enamoured of its charms. 
 
 The infpiration. which DION caught from read- 
 ing the works of PLATO, every mother may filently, 
 
9 2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 and unperccived, pour into the mind of her 
 child. Fhilofophy, from the lips of a wife 
 and fenfible mother, penetrates into the mind 
 through the feelings of the heart. Who is not 
 fond of walking even through the roughed 
 and moft difficult path, when conducted by the 
 hand they love ? What fpecies of inftrufUon can 
 excel the fweet leffons which proceed from a fe- 
 male mind endowed with a found understanding, 
 an elevated ftyle of thinking, and whofe heart feels 
 all the affeflion that her precepts infpire ? Oh ! 
 may every mother fo endowed be blelTed with a 
 child who fondly retires with her to her cloiet, and 
 liftens with delight to her inftructions ; who, with 
 a book in his pocket, loves to climb among the 
 rocks, alone ; who, when engaged in rural fport, 
 throws himfclf at the foot of fome venerable tree, 
 and feeks rather to trace out great and illuflrious 
 characters in the pages of PLUTARCH, than to 
 toil for game in the thickets of the furrounding 
 woods. The wiQies of a mother are accomplished 
 when the Solitude and filence of the forefts excite 
 fuch thoughts in the mirici of her beloved child * ; 
 when he begins to think that he has already fuf- 
 ficiently fecn the world, and knows that there are 
 ftill greater characters than the Burgomafler and 
 Counfellor of the town, or even than the noble 
 Lord of the furrounding villages ; characters who 
 
 * " Mirum fjl t " fays the Younger Pliny, " ut animus agitatlo*e 
 *' ttwlu^ne cordons excitctxr. Jam undiyue ftlv<e et Sa!itu.lo if/o- 
 ' rumpte Hind filetttiwrt, quod vciatisii dutar, n?gxa ct>:t*thnis 
 /ant." 
 
 enjoy 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 95 
 
 enjoy more pure and elevated pleafures than ths 
 gaming-table or afiemblies are capable of afford* 
 ing ; characters who at every interval of leifure 
 feek the (hades of Solitude with rapture and de- 
 light ; in whole minds the love of literature and 
 philofophy has dwelt from their carlicft infancy; 
 whole hearts thefe ftudies have warmed and ani- 
 mated at every fubfequent period of their lives ; 
 and who amiclft the greateft clangers prcfcrvc that 
 delightful tafle which has power to banifli me- 
 lancholy from the deeped cavern, and dejection 
 from the mod frightful defert. 
 
 But fuppofe a fon thus educated at length fixed 
 in the metropolis; think how every obj eft mull 
 excite difguft in his bread, and render him un- 
 happy. It is therefore proper to inftruct him, that 
 a wife and feniiblc man, whatever may be his foli- 
 ation in life, his age, or the country he inhabits, 
 may find in Solitude innumerable refourccs againft 
 the infipklity of fociety and all the falfe and de- 
 ceitful joys of the world. 
 
 The provincial towns poflcfs many advantages 
 over great and populous cities, by bringing us back 
 to a knowledge of ourlelves. With what iuperior 
 pleafurc do we pafs our time, how much more Icifurc, 
 liberty, and quietude we enjoy in an humble vil- 
 lage than in a great city, where the mind is con- 
 tinually diftrafted by too great variety of objects. 
 Here we live contented with ourfelves, without 
 being every morning tormented with a number of 
 
 meflages, 
 
94 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 inefTages, by inceflant propofals of fome new 
 fchemc to kill the day. Here we are not necef- 
 fitated to facrifice every domeflic care, all the oc- 
 cupations of the mind, even the fweet converfe 
 of thofe we love, to endlcfs vifirs. The quietude 
 cf rural retirement affords us opportunity to fol- 
 low the courfe of our fentiments and ideas, to 
 examine whether they arc juft, before we determine 
 on our choice ; in great cities, on the contrary, 
 men act firft, and reflect on their conduct after- 
 wards. In a village, the imprefiions we receive 
 are more lively and profound ; whilft in great cities, 
 time is entirely employed to create amufements, 
 which vaniih the moment they are approached ; 
 ihe bofom enjoys no rcpofe, and while it llghs for 
 reft, the hope, defire, ambition, duty, langour, 
 ciifguft, and contrition which it eternally feels* 
 drives it for ever away. 
 
 But the minds of thole who have retired to the 
 calm fcencs of rural litV, are frequently as vacant and 
 deferted as the hamlets in which they live ; and they 
 find the Icifurc, the happy Icilure which they enjoy 
 without knowing its value, tedious and irkfome. 
 There are, indeed, very few who have acquired the 
 art of rendering Solitude ufeful and rational. 
 Men of rank proudly fancy that their honour would 
 be degraded by the company of nifties, and, in 
 confequcnce of this miftaken idea, prefer a life 
 of conftraint, avoid all intercourfe, and live in 
 
 fplendid 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. $5 
 
 fplendid langour, rather than enjoy a free and 
 happy life with rational and honed peafants* 
 They ought to adopt a conduct directly the re- 
 Verfe, efpecially when they are difcontented with 
 themfelves: they ought to mix familiarly in the 
 company of all honed men, and acquire the edeein 
 of every one by their kindnefs and attentions. The 
 lowlied clown capable of communicating a new 
 thought, or of raifing one agreeable fentiment 
 in the mind, is on that account a very inte- 
 feding companion to a man who is at a lofs ho\v 
 to employ his time, who is tormented by vexation 
 and ill-humour. Thofe to whom time is a bur.- 
 den, mould not defpife even the humbled cha- 
 racter ; and in the rural retreat, the (hephcrd and 
 the King fhould live on equal terms, forget the 
 paltry didinctions of birth, and all the prejudices 
 which the manners of the world have railed re- 
 fpecting the difference of their fituation. This 
 conduct would at lead be more pleating than to 
 hear a rudic reprobating the venality of the 
 nobility, only becaufe the gentlemen of his neigh- 
 bourhood refufe to admit him into theif company. 
 
 The only way, as it appears to me, by which men 
 of diftindtion can live happily in the country, is to 
 deport themfelves peaceably and affably to every 
 one, 10 feel and to exercife a univerfal attention 
 and kind concern for the comfort of others, and 
 
 to 
 
96 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 to grant them as much of their time and con* 
 verfation as they (hall think proper. 
 
 It is impofiible to conceive what advantages the 
 mind gains in the Solitude of a fequedered village, 
 when it once begins to feel difgufl at the tirefome 
 intercourfcs of the great world. Life is no where 
 fo completely enjoyed ; the happy days of youth 
 are no where more advantageoully employed ; a 
 rational mind can no where find greater oppor- 
 tunities of employing its time; the dangers even 
 of Solitude itfclf are no where fooner learned, or 
 more eaiily avoided. Jivery little village may be 
 coniidcred as a convent, where a fmall fociety of 
 perfons, diftant and detached from the world, are 
 confined to few ideas ; where, for that rcaibn, the 
 paflions of the wicked ferment and difcharge them, 
 felves with greater force ; and where calm and 
 honed minds mull aflfociate with congenial cha- 
 racters, or retire to Solitude in their humble cell. 
 
 Small towns refemble each other in certain ma- 
 terial points, and only differ in the manner by 
 which they arc governed. The mind is never fub- 
 jected to a more odious tyranny than that which 
 prevails in thcfe little republics ; where not only 
 the rich citizen ereds himfclf into a proud matter 
 over his lefs wealthy equals, but where the con- 
 tracted notions of this little tyrant become, if un- 
 pppofed, the ftandard of reafon to all the town. 
 
 Small 
 
t)N THE MIND AND THE HEART. 97 
 
 the members of fmall republics care only for 
 themfelves, and feel little anxiety about any thing 
 that pafies beyond their own limits. The all-pow- 
 erful and imperious Governor confiders his little 
 territory as the univerfev His breath alone decides 
 cveryquellion that is propofed at theGuit.D-HALL ; 
 and the reft of his time is wholly occupied in main- 
 taining his authority over the minds of his feliow- 
 citizens, in relating anecdotes of families, circulating 
 fuperftitious tales, talking of the price of corn, the 
 collection of* tyth.es, the rents of his manors, hay- 
 harveft, vintage-time, or the next market. Next 
 to God, he is within his own little town the greatefl 
 man upon the face of the earth. The humble ho- 
 neft citizen (lands with fear and trembling in the 
 prefencc of his redoutable majefty ; for he knows 
 that he is able to ruin him by an immediate pro- 
 cefs. The wrath of an upftart magiftrafe is more 
 terrible than the thunder of Heaven ; for this foon 
 paflfes away, but that remains for ever. The good 
 judges of a provincial town raife their proud heads, 
 and look down with contempt on the humbU 
 luitors; govern order, cenfure, and condemn, 
 without regard to truth or juflice ; and their ap- 
 probation or diflike eftablifhes in credit, or con- 
 figns to infamy. 
 
 The inhabitants of thele towns are in gene* 
 ral much addicted to LAW : an attorney is in 
 their eyes the brighteft genius ; the facred voice 
 of Reafon b an empty found ; in vain (he cries 
 
 H aloud, 
 
,8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITl/DB 
 
 aloud ; for they only believe that right which the 
 court of juftice ihall decree. If one among them 
 ihould abfent himfelf from their meetings, and, 
 yielding to reflection, mould think and aft with 
 liberality or candour, they fufpect him of fome in- 
 ' tention to impofe on them ; for, except in the re- 
 ligious order, they have no idea of a fludious man ; 
 and language will not furnifh any word exprefiive 
 of the high contempt in which they hold a literary 
 character. They are ignorant that reafon andfuper- 
 fitlon are contradictory terms. The man who fmiles 
 at their credulity in believing that fome misfortune 
 is impending, becaufe a hen has laid her egg before 
 iheir door, a crow has croaked upon the chimney- 
 top, or a moufe his run along the floor, cannot, 
 in their idea, pofTefs the lead religion. They are 
 yet ignortmt that men are no longer confidered 
 free-thinkers, for humbly doubting whether the 
 frequent fpots in linen announce the death of 
 fome beloved relation. They know not, alas I 
 that it is poflible to become ferviceable to man- 
 kind, without having ever opened their lipi 
 in the town-hall ; and that, at all events, they 
 may hereafter be noticed by the really great and, 
 good, notwithftanding they have happened to 
 incur the difpleafure of the great men of their 
 little town. They are unconfcious that there 
 are men of independent fpirits in the world, 
 and that they are the only beings who would fo 
 
 tamely 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 99 
 
 tamely endure a mean fubmiflion to the little tyrant 
 of their poof domain. They do not feel that an 
 honeft man will only bow before the Deity himfelf, 
 only fubmit to the laws of his country, only re- 
 verence fuperior talents, obey virtue, refpedt me- 
 rit, and fmilc at the vain wrath and ludicrous 
 appearance of the provincial magiftrate, when he 
 receives him in anger with his hat upon his head. 
 They do not perceive that SLANDER, the common 
 fcourge of every country-town, is only the vice of 
 thofe narrow minds who vifit their neighbour merely 
 to fpy out his errors, and report with increafed 
 malevolence whatever they can find wrong, either 
 in his houfe, his kitchen, or his cellar. In fliort, 
 they who arc ignorant of fo many things, cannot 
 be apprifed, that they would foon tire of the idle 
 talk and chatter of a country-town; that they 
 would no longer amufe themfelvcs in picking out 
 their neighbour's faults, if they were once ac- 
 quainted with the advantages of Solitude; with what 
 a noble ardour they would boldly proceed through 
 the road of Jcience, and, fuperior to the meannefs 
 of envy, free from the difgrace of calumny, would 
 fteadily puriue the path of virtue with hardinefs 
 and vigour. 
 
 A determined rcfolution to lead a life of Solitude 
 
 . is the only remedy that can be adopted in a fmi- 
 
 ation like this. An univerfal philanthropy for all 
 
 the world will not filence the tongue of envy ; for 
 
 H 2 even 
 
io* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 even to fuch a conduct the world will always mr* 
 putc intereftcd motives ; we muft therefore live 
 without- affording fuch opportunities to calumny, 
 and, with the exception of thofe whom we love 
 and revere, turn our back* on the reft of mankind. 
 
 A virtuous young man, who perhaps afpircs to 
 advance himfelf in life, will not in the world find the 
 lead afiiftance. In no-one of the fafhionable circles 
 will he meet with information or encouragement ; 
 he will neither make himfelf known or beloved ; 
 and if he mould excite attention, he will not be 
 underftood ; they will confider him as a weak ri- 
 diculous character, who, inftead of feeking by adu- 
 lation to gain the intereft of the great and pow 
 erful, prefers the pleafurc of writing or reading by 
 himfelf. In vain has he been reared in the boibm 
 of a liberal and enlightened family; in vain has 
 he received hi? education among the nobleft cha- 
 racters ; in vain are his principles eftablimed by a 
 correfpondence with the bed and mod learned 
 philofophers of the age ; for thefe advantages only 
 afford greater inducement to opprefs his activity 
 and ftop his courfe. 
 
 Does the ear hear or the heart feel all this in a- 
 provincial town, to which the refinements of the 
 metropolis have not yet fpread ? What man will 
 continue to patronize him, unlefs he becomes dex- 
 terous in affording ufcful accommodation to thofe in 
 \hofe hands the whole power refides ; from whom 
 
 alone 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 101 
 
 alone hunger can receive bread, or induftry pro- 
 cure employment ; to whofe will every thing is 
 fubmitted ; who dired and govern every move- 
 ment ; and by whofe nod, honour, fame, efteem 
 are conferred or taken away ? His mind mutt 
 cautioufly conceal the fuperiority of its knowledge; 
 his eyes mint appear blind to what he fees ; his heart 
 feem fenfelefs of what he feels ; he muft constantly 
 Men to <i loofe and frothy convention, during 
 which, however fatiguing it maybe, he is denied the 
 privilege of yawning, and is ruined for ever, if, 
 by his filence, he permits the fhadow of dif- 
 fatisfaftion to appear. He will be defpifed as 
 a man of fenfeand undemanding, notwithftanding 
 he ufes every endeavour to be thought otherwife * 
 surrounded by fo much deformity, both he and 
 his friends might blufl, for want of that diftin 
 guifhmg eminence upon the back, but that he 
 ican them gravely talk at the J&/,/ de KlU upon 
 : important care of a ftable, much oftener than 
 they meet in London and Ver fatties to decide uoon 
 the fate of Europe; and maft fit with as much 
 attention to hear them argue upon the right of a 
 P-~,l, as if he was place d in the fynod of 
 'I* god, Perceiving, therefore, that prefumpdon, 
 'gnorance, and proud ftupidity are infinitely in 
 
 v a r C K nlightencd mind - 
 whatever addreft he may conceal his 
 
 e,aaiy ,efc W o a fool a. a fool 
 
 H 3 higher 
 
101 
 
 higher eilimation than the nobleil exercifc of 
 reafon; thit men of the duiieft apprehenfions are 
 the mod forward and impudent ; that their vain 
 and idle boaftings alone model the wit and 
 diredl the opinion of the day; that envy fattens 
 itfeli moil invetenitc-ly upon the enlightened and 
 well-informed ; that phUofophy is couiidered as a 
 contemptible delirium, and liberty miilaken for 
 a fpirit of revolt : perceiving, in ihqrt, that it is 
 impoflible to fucceed, unlefs by means of the moil 
 fervile complaifance and the moil degrading fub^ 
 miflion, what can fave a fenfible and ingenuous, 
 youth from the perils of fuch a fcene but; 
 SOLITUDE ? 
 
 The poor poet MARTIAL *, on his return tq 
 Bibilis, the place of his nativity, in Spain, after ha- 
 ving lived thirty-four years among the moll learned 
 and enlightened mtn of ROME, found nothing but 
 a dreary defert, a frightful Solitude. Uiublc to 
 form a fociety which could afford him the iVnalleft 
 plcafure, a painful languor preyed upon his mind. 
 Forced to aflociate with perfons who felt no pleafure 
 in the elegant delights of literature, who polleiicd no 
 Tvnowledge of the fciences, heiighed inccflantly to 
 rev ill t the beloved metropolis ( where he had acquired 
 fuch univerfal fame and approbation ; where his good 
 
 * " dtcedit his" fays MARTIAL, in the Preface to the 
 Twelfth Book of his Epigrams, mnnicipalium rub'tgo dtntium 
 " tt juditi'i loco lii>cf-ad>-uerjus quad difficile eft baler e quotidie 
 lomitn JicmachumS* 
 
 fcnfc, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 103 
 
 fcnfe, his penetration, his fagacity were praifed ; 
 where his writings were promifcd immortality by the 
 admiration of the Younger PLINY, to whom they 
 appeared to poflefs equal fliarpnefs, wit, and eafe.; 
 whilft, on the contrary, in the ftupid town of 
 Bibilis his fame only acquired him that which in 
 fmall cities will ever attend an excellent character, 
 envy and contempt. 
 
 In general, however, in all fmall towns the mind 
 regains by occafional Solitude that which it has loft 
 by its commerce with the world. If it be abfolutelf 
 neceflary that you mould be abfurd thro* politenefs, 
 and blind with your eyes completely open; if, 
 in the infipid circles of famion, you are obliged 
 to conceal your ideas, and fubdue your feelings ; 
 if you are forced to liften with attention to that 
 which you would rather be deaf than hear ; if you 
 muft be chained to the flavery of the gaming- 
 table, although there is no punimment to you fo 
 fevere ; if every happy thought muft be ftrangled 
 in its birth, all brilliancy of expreflion fuppreiled, 
 the looks of love concealed, and honeft truth dif- 
 guifed ; if your whole time muft be devoted to 
 pleafe chara&ers who are ignp.'ant of your merit ; 
 O REFLECT !- that infuch a fituation the enervated 
 fpirit lies buried in cold obfcurity, like the fire in 
 the flint untouched by fteel ; that your foul may 
 languilh many years in this dangerous apathy ; and 
 making a noble effort, fly from the feafts and coteries 
 
 H 4 9 
 
104 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 of your corrupted city, retire into the tranquillity 
 of domeflic comfort, feck the filence of the groves, 
 live in the fociety of your own heart, and tafte, as 
 your reward, the charms of that ineftimable liberty 
 which you have fo long negle&cd to obtain. 
 
 Freed from the world, the veil which dimmed 
 the fight will immediately vanifh ; the clouds which 
 obfcurcd the light of rcafon difappear; the painful 
 burthen which opprcflcd the foul is alleviated ; wo 
 no longer wrcltle with misfortunes, bccaufe we 
 know how to foften them ; we no longer murmur 
 ngainft the difpenfatipns of Providence, but reflect 
 with calmncfs and ferenity on the advantages we 
 have derived from Solitude, The Contented heart 
 foon acquires the habit of patience; every cor- 
 roding care flics from our breads on the wings of 
 gaiety ; and on every fide agreeable and interefting 
 Iccncs prcfcnt thcmfclves to our view : the bril- 
 liant fun finking behind the lofty mountains, 
 tinging their fnow-crowned fummits with gold; 
 the feathered choir haftening to their mofly homes, 
 to tafte the fweets of calm repofe; the proud 
 crowing of the amorous cock ; the flow march of 
 the oxen returning from their daily toil ; the noble 
 a&ivity of the generous fteed : furrounded by 
 fuch objects, we receive the vifits of intruders with 
 an open air, and, provided they do not too fre- 
 quently interrupt the pleasures of our retreat, we 
 reconcile our hearts to all mankind. 
 
 '?ut 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 But it is ftill more neceflary to lave ourfelves frotn 
 the dangers of the metropolis than from thofc of 
 the provincial towns. The follies and vices of 
 high-life are much more contagious than thofe of 
 the fimple citizen. How foon the fined beams of 
 the imagination die away ! How foon does good- 
 ncfs lofe its power where fenfe and truth are con- 
 ftantly defpifed ; where llrong and energetic minds 
 jnfpire averfion ; and the virtues are thrown afide 
 as an inconvenient and opprcflive yoke ! How 
 foon does the human mind become weak and fu- 
 perftcial, when feparated from thofe by wnom it 
 might be enlightened and adorned ! How fud- 
 denly do all the finer feelings of the heart, and 
 the nobleft efforts of the mind, decay in the com- 
 pany of thofe oflentatious characters who affect tq 
 difdain all tafte, all pleafures, in mixed focielits *. 
 
 'The great and fafliionable, however, are in 
 every country efteemed the bed company ; but 
 the great, unhappily, are not in truth always the 
 bejl, however they may think proper to contemn 
 the inferior orders of mankind. Whoever can deduce 
 his nobility through a courfe of fixteen defcents, 
 the value of his character is invariably fixed : 
 the courts of princes and the manfions of the 
 great are open to receive him ; and where merit is 
 
 ' The French is, Jt/cmblee* fan: auvre melee ; " to which 
 13 fubjoined the follqwing explanation : " Thefe, in the ftyle 
 f of the German nobility, are aflcmblies from which not only all 
 f commoner i are excluded, but all thofe whofe mhtitj even is liabl 
 ff to the Icaft fufpicion." 
 
 pvcr- 
 
o6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 overlooked, he almoft univerfally acquires pre- 
 cedency over the man whofe merit is his only re- 
 commendation ; but thofe qualities which alone 
 can render him valuable as a MAN, his EXCELLENCY 
 mud learn- in focieties where the powers of the mind 
 and the virtues of the heart alone confer dignity 
 nnd diilindlion. Let fuch a character, if he fliould 
 chance to find one folitary moment while he is 
 waiting in the antichamber of a prince, examine 
 with rational calmnefs all thofe high prerogatives 
 of which he is fo proud ; which., in his eftimation, 
 place him fo much above the ordinary level of 
 mankind, and induce him to retrace his defcent to 
 the creation of -the world ; and he will find, that 
 titles and genealogies without MERIT refemblc thofe 
 air-balloons which rife high only in proportion to 
 their want of weight. 
 
 In almoft every country, however, thefe title* 
 of nobility feparate a certain clafs of men from 
 their feliov.'-citizens, who are in general better 
 informed, more wife, more virtuous, and not 
 unfrequenrty polTefled of that true nobility, a 
 great and honourable character ! Men who have 
 nothing to depend on for their fame, rank, or 
 or cflablimment in the world, but a line of an- 
 ccflry, not always the mod refpcftable ; who, 
 reiving iblely on the merit of their birth, never 
 leek to acquire any other, becaufe it is the only 
 merit of which they have any idea, have in all 
 companies the higheft precedency. It is true, 
 that fuch men are generally acquainted with the 
 
 new eft 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEAR'!'. if 
 
 neweft modes of drefs, conduct with fupcrior /kill 
 the varying fafliions, underftand the BON-TON, 
 exemplify the etiquette and manners of the clay, 
 and, conceiving they \vere formed for the refine- 
 ments of fcnfuality and voluptuoufuefs, fancy 
 themleiyes of courie endowed with the moft de- 
 licate and ftnfible faculties. 
 
 Languor and difgufl, however, penetrate even 
 into thofc illuftrious alTcmb'ies from whence even 
 the pure and ancient nobility exclude the profane 
 vulgar. Tins proportion may perhaps at firft view 
 appear a paradox. But liften to the manner in 
 which a lady, whofe perfonal qualifications ren- 
 dered her more refpeclable than even the fplendour 
 of her birth, explained this ieni^nia : 
 
 The men of whom our fclcct parties are 
 
 r compofed, do not always poflefs the fame tafte 
 
 ' and the fame fcntiment with refped to thefe af- 
 
 * fcmblies ; but 5t is ftill more rare for the women 
 
 ' to be' really fond of them. It is, in general, 
 
 1 the lot of THE GREAT to poflefs a greafdeal by 
 
 ' their birth,todefire much more than they poilefs, 
 
 f and to enjoy nothing : in confcquence of this 
 
 c difpofitfon, they fly to places of public refort 
 
 1 in fearch of each other; they meet without 
 
 ft feeling the fmalleft pleafure, and mix among 
 
 (< the group without being obferved."- " What 
 
 1* is it then that re-unites them ? " afked I. f< It 
 
 < c is their rank/' (he replied, " and afterwards 
 
 " cuftom, 
 
io* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " cuflom, latitude, and the continual de fire of 
 " dUTipation ; a defire infeparably attached to 
 " perfons of our condition." 
 
 Since it is really poflible to experience difgufl 
 and languor in the afiemblies and other enter- 
 tainments of THE GREAT, let us examine if Solitude 
 may not have a ufeful influence on the minds of 
 even this dafs of perfons. 
 
 Milled by falie information, THE NOBILITY 
 maintain, that all the plcafures of Solitude center in 
 * contempt of the world and hatred of mankind, 
 or, what is flill worfe, that mifanthropy is the only 
 bafis on which they are founded. On the contrary, 
 2 am perfectly fatisfied, that their minds feel much 
 more fplecn and mortification on their return from 
 ft public afiembly, than they poflefTed when they 
 quitted home to fee the world, In Solitude there 
 can be no contention : on the contrary, how many 
 MEN are there who, frequenting public places with 
 the vain hope of enjoying a tranfient plcafure, find 
 all their addrcfics rcfufcd, and only experience ac-. 
 cumulated pain. The fober voice of reafon i? 
 there but faintly heard ; while the light unmeaning 
 tongue of folly is liftcncd to with delight ; our 
 intellectual communications afford,. no relifli | no 
 reciprocity of ftntiment prevails ; the appearance 
 of fatisfaction frequently excites envy, and a fe- 
 renity of mind is mifconftrued into fadnefs. The 
 refpedive members of a numerous aflcmbly are in 
 
 general 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE ftfcART. toy 
 
 general aftuated by fuch different and oppofite 
 imereta, that it is impoflible to reconcile them with 
 each other. Afk that young and lovely girl, If 
 in a public aflembly (he always experienced the 
 pleafures which (he hoped to find ? Afk her, If 
 her heart is not tortured with vexation when the 
 rich and youthful beaii,unfafcinated by her charms, 
 pays his addrelfes to fome rival beauty ? Afk this 
 rival beauty, What pangs her bofom feels when 
 (lie perceives herfelf iupplanted by fome happier 
 fair? and let this laft acknowledge the kind of 
 pleafure flie receives, if her admirer pays the leaft 
 attention even to the fair female whom her heart 
 adores. Afk that fober matron whofc bofom here- 
 tofore has felt thefe torments, if (he is not almoft 
 furious when higher compliments are pafled on the 
 beauty of youth, than on the wifdom of age ? 
 
 An Englilh gentleman whom I met in Germany 
 
 faid in a manner extremely picturcfquc, " There 
 
 ' are women who are eternally jealous that you 
 
 * do not pay them fufficient refpecl, and who, in 
 ' confequence, aflume an arrogance which would 
 
 * be infupportable even in anemprefs; while fhc 
 might, by complacent fmiles, not only render 
 every one about her pleafed and happy, bus 
 obtain their admiration and applaufe. The falfc 
 dignity of fuch characters ruffles their tempers 
 
 ' like the quills upon the fretful porcupine, or 
 the feathers of a turkey-cock in wrath." , 
 
 The 
 
Ho THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUbB 
 
 The moft diflipated mart muft furely vie"w fuck 
 characters with abhorrence and difgufl ; and if 
 he ferioufly reflects, how many there are who, 
 carelefs of diftinguifhing between appearances and 
 reality, feel with equal indifference the love of 
 truth and dread of falfehood ; how frequently the 
 perfons who compofe what is ftyled GOOD COM- 
 PANY are, even in the judgment and opinion of 
 their fmcereft and mod liberal admirers, dazzled 
 by falfe brilliancy, and gratified by the moft trifling 
 information ; that they (hurt with terror the ad- 
 vantages of reflection, tranquillity, and Solitude ; 
 that they prefer a life of inceflant diffipation, and 
 feldom confult their judgments or exercife their 
 understandings ; that they rather expeft to receive 
 pleafure from others, than endeavour to find it 
 within themfelves ; conduct themfelves by cafual 
 advice, rather than take the trouble of thinking 
 for themfelves; that amidft the moft favourable 
 opportunities to obferve and ftudy the human cha- 
 radter, they neither think nor fpcak but by the in- 
 formation of others ; that they guide themfelves 
 by the prejudices of their education, the pride of 
 their rank, and the dilates of fafliion ; that they 
 blindly adopt and defend the reigning opinion of the 
 moment ; and revolve continually round the fame 
 circle of defective notions, falfe ideas, and obfcurc 
 cxpreflions ; in reflecting on thefe errors, the moft 
 4iflipated man muft exclaim with one of the moft 
 
 virtuous 
 
ON TOE MIND AND THE HEART. til 
 
 virtuous and refpeftable fages of Germany, " To be 
 ". forced to frequent this good company, isto a. thinking 
 " and judicious mind one of the greateft torments 
 " of life : but when a wife man is obliged from 
 " indifpenfable motives to endure this torment, 
 " he will learn by experience to feel in a ftill 
 " higher degree the ineftimable value of, a rational 
 " Solitude." 
 
 Men of the world therefore, if they aft with 
 candour, and in the fmcerity of their hearts ex- 
 amine the 'merits of thcfe focieties, will foon en- 
 tertain the deeped contempt for this noify and 
 tumultuous fcene of life, learn to prefer the calni 
 delights of Solitude, and feel a happy inclination 
 growing in the bofom to difplay in more laudable 
 purfuits the ftrength and energy of the mind. 
 In thefe frequent viciflitudes of life, in this fuo 
 ceflion of embarrufifments, in this continual dif- 
 trnclion of the mind, every intellectual power 
 evaporates. 
 
 By this fcrupulous attention to all the du- 
 ties of politenefs, running incefiantly from door 
 to door to gain information of every man's health, 
 we may, indeed, pay the court of flattery to 
 both high and low; but we alfo thereby mod 
 fliamefully facrifice our lives. The paflion for 
 play not 'only confumes time, but enervates the 
 fpirits; while the obligations of gallantry reduce 
 the foul to the mod abjcft date of fervitude. 
 
 The 
 
iix THfc INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 The other entertainments of the great and gay 
 fcre of as little value as their convcrfations. The. 
 man on whom Heaven has only beftowed the 
 talent of dancing, will make but a poor figure in 
 fociety* The courtier, whofe converfation entirely 
 coniifts of obfervations, that *' this is contrary to 
 " the eftablifhed etiquette- that is the ncwefl 
 " falhion thefe are the moft elegant embroideries 
 '* on lllkj cloth, and velvet in fuch a month 
 9 there will be A GALA," is a creature ftill more 
 pitiful. A man may without doubt recommend 
 himfelf by fuch kind of information, by that af- 
 fected intereft with which he fpeaks on a thouiund 
 trifling concerns of life, by the approbation which 
 Ke gives to every paflion, the flattery with which 
 he fooths every prejudice and encourages every 
 folly ; but he thereby narrows his mind, and xlc- 
 flroys the faculty of confidering and forming a jufl 
 cflimate of any important fubject. Befides, the 
 plcafures of high-life cannot be enjoyed without 
 the concurrence of great numbers in the fame 
 object at the fame time : but reading and me~- 
 ditation may be enjoyed at any time, and continued 
 Without the interveniion of another perfon. It is 
 true, indeed, that if a man of the world were 
 only to think of this mode of life, he would be de- 
 fpifed as a mifanthrope, and be obliged every mo- 
 ment to liflen to. the recommendation of entering 
 into the round of public pleafures to effect his 
 cure. But, on the contrary, the focieties of the 
 
 world 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 113 
 
 world, while they add fome little refinement to 
 the natural rudenefs of human manners, tend 
 to increafe a mifanthropic temper, by furniftiing 
 the mind with a variety of reafons to juftify it. 
 In fhort, the burthen of mifanthropy is not greater 
 jn the mind of him who flies from the plcafures of 
 the World, than in him who feeks them : the firfl 
 character only feels a hatred of vice and folly; 
 while, on the contrary, the idle and diffipated man 
 hates every pcrfon who diftinguiflies himfelf either 
 by the goodnefs of his heart or the fuperiority of his 
 underftanding; and by his endeavours to deride all 
 who poflefs merit, difcovers that he feels no hope of 
 acquiring for himfelf either reputation or eftecm. 
 
 The mind that ferioufly contemplates thefe 
 truths, and many others which thefe will fug-? 
 geft, mud feel the neceflity of retiring .occa- 
 fionally from the world ; at lead of confining 
 himfelf to the company of a few faithful friends, 
 whofe wit and talents, when compared with thofe 
 of the generality of men, will be what A STOP- 
 WATCH is when compared with AN HOUR-GLASS. 
 By the one you may undoubtedly difcover the ' 
 courfe of time ; but the other, from the nice 
 art and happy care with which it is formed, points 
 out every fecond as it; paffes. He, therefore, who 
 feels the leaft inclination to ftudy either men or 
 books, can derive pleafure only froni the company 
 
 * and 
 
114 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 and convcrfation of learned and enlightened minds ; 
 and if, unfortunately, in his courfe through life, 
 be ihould not meet with agreeable characters of 
 this defcription, the charms of Solitude will re- 
 compenfe his difappointment. 
 
 A very great character, the Younger PLINY, 
 felt no fatisfaclion from any fpecies of public enter- 
 tainment, general feftival, or national folemnity, 
 bccaufe he had cultivated a tale for thofe pleafures 
 which a contemplative IULK! affords. He wrote to 
 . one of his friends, " I have, for fome days pafl, read 
 " and written in the mod agreeable tranquillity. 
 " You will alk, How this could pofiibly happen 
 <f in the middle of Rome ? I will fatisfy you : 
 " It was during the celebration of the games of the 
 f( Circus, from the fight of which I do not feel ih * 
 " fmalleil plcafurc : to my mind they neither an. 
 " novelty nor variety ; and confift of nothing worth 
 feeing more than once. It is, therefore, in- 
 conceivable to me, how fo many millions of 
 people can prefs with fuch childifli curiofity 
 merely to fee horfes gallop and flaves feated on 
 " chariots. When I reflccl: on the intereft, anxiety, 
 (t and avidity with which men purfue fights fo vain, 
 " frivolous, and reiterated, I feel a fecret fatisfaclion 
 " in acknowledging that to me they afford no 
 f s amufement, and that I enjoy a fuperior delight 
 *' in confecrating to the fludy of the belles httres 
 
 " that 
 
 t( 
 
 " 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 115 
 
 <( that time which they To miferably facrifice to 
 tf the entertainments of the Circus." 
 
 But if, from (imilar motives, A MAN OF THE 
 IVORLD were to ftcal from the plcafures of good 
 cowpjny, would he not by that means degrade his 
 character ? Would he not in the recefs of Solitude 
 forget the BON-TON, and, of courfc, lofe all thofe 
 qualities which externally conflitute the fole diffe- 
 rence between THE NOBLEMAN and his SLAVE ? 
 
 The BON-TON, which confifts entirely in a fa- 
 cility of expreflion, in reprefenting our ideas in the 
 molt agreeable manner, prevails in every country, 
 and is poffefled in general by all men of fenfe and 
 education, whatever their rank or condition in life 
 may be. The nobleman and the clown, therefore, 
 may alike acquire a knowledge of the BON-TON. 
 The folitary character may perhaps appear in fo- 
 ciety with manners rather out of date ; but a certain 
 propriety of behaviour will accompany him, which 
 a man of true reflection will prefer, however fo- 
 reign his ftyle may be to the fafhion of the world. 
 He may perhaps venture to appear in company 
 with a coat, the colour of which was in famion the 
 preceding year ; perhaps in his modes of thinking 
 and manner of behaviour femething may be dif- 
 cerniblc offenfive to the eyes of a man of the 
 world, who upon thefe important fubjects follows 
 invariably the reigning opinion of the day ; but 
 by his eafy, open, honeft air, by that natural po- 
 
 I 2 litcncf* 
 
ii6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 litenefs which good fenfe and virtue infpire, a man, 
 although he be rather out of the faihion, will 
 never difpleafe a rational and refined obferver, 
 even in the brilliant circles of a court, when he 
 is found to poflefs a decent demeanour and a 
 mind flored with ufeful information. The moft 
 accomplilhed courtier, with all his ftudied manners 
 and agreeable addrefs, frequently difcovers that 
 he poUcfTes few ideas, and that his mind has only 
 been employed on low and trifling objects. Among 
 men of difiipated minds, who confider groflhefs of 
 converfation and audacity of manner as the only 
 criterion of good fenfe and polimed behaviour, a 
 folitary man does not always meet with a favourable 
 reception. The ftyle and fentiments which bed 
 pleafe fuch characters are impoflible to be learned 
 in Solitude ; for he who moft contributes to the 
 amufement of men of the world, can fcldom boaffc 
 any other merit than that of attempting to ridicule 
 every thing that is true, noble, great, and good ; 
 or any other fuccefs than proving himfelf to be a 
 foolifh character, without judgement, principle, 
 or good manners. 
 
 IN what I have hitherto confidered in this 
 Chapter, noqueftion has been raifed of the internal 
 and immediate advantages which Solitude confer 
 upon the mind. 
 
 THE MIND, without doubt, gains confiderable 
 advantage by having been accultomed to Solitude 
 
 during 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 117 
 
 during the earlieft years of infancy, if inftructed 
 in a judicious ufe of time. The circumftance alfo, 
 that even in fmali towns the mind may be im- ' 
 prcfled with a deep difguft of all thofe vices and 
 irregularities which are common to fuch places, 
 is by no means unimportant ; for it is highly ad- 
 vantageous, that without leflening the refpect 
 which is juftly due to the talents and virtues of men 
 of quality, the mind fhould be taught to remark 
 alfo their foibles and defects, in order to detach 
 it from its fondnefs for the world, and connect it 
 more clofely in connection with itfelf ; to make it 
 feel how dearly its future happinefs is interefted 
 in exciting every faculty to acquire thofe original, 
 great, and ufeful ideas, which are fo feldom cir- 
 culated in what is called GOOD COMPANY. 
 
 But the firft and moft inconteftible advantage 
 
 o 
 
 which Solitude confers, is, that it accuftoms the 
 mind to think. The imagination becomes more 
 lively, the memory more faithful, while the fenfes 
 remain undiftracted, and no external object dif- 
 gufls the foul. Withdrawn from the fatiguing 
 toils of the world, where a thoufand adventitious 
 objects, a thoufand incoherent ideas dance in,- 
 ceflantly before our eyes, SOLITUDE prefents one 
 fmgle object only to- our view, and we ftcal- 
 ourfelves away from every thing but that on 
 which the heart has fondly fixed its purfuit. An 
 
 I 3 author, 
 
nS THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 author *, whofe works I could read with plea- 
 fure every hour of my life, fays, " It is the power of 
 " attention which in a great meafure dillinguifhes 
 '* the wife and the great from the vulgar and 
 " trifling herd of men. The latter are accuftomed 
 " to think, or rather to dream, without knowing 
 c the fubject of their thoughts. In their im- 
 " connected rovings, they purluc no end ; they 
 " follow no track. Every thing floats loofe and 
 " disjointed on the furface of their mind ; like 
 " leaves fcattered and blown about on the face of 
 ." the waters." 
 
 The mind eafily acquires the habit of thinking, 
 when it is withdrawn from that variety of objects 
 by which its attention is diftracted ; when it turns 
 from the obfervation of external objects, and find* 
 itfelf in a fituation where the courfe of daily oc- 
 currences is no longer fubject to continual change. 
 IDLENESS, however, would foon deftroy all the ad- 
 vantages which Solitude is capable of affording 
 us ; for idlenefs excites the mofl dangerous fer- 
 mentation of the paffions, and produces in the 
 mind of a foliiary man a croud of extravagant 
 ideas and irregular deiires. To lead the mind to 
 think, it is neceflary, therefore, to retire from the 
 
 * Dr. BLAIR, the author of the much- admired Sermons, and 
 of an excellent work intitled, " Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles 
 * Lcttres," printed in London, for the firft time, in the year 
 1783; and indifpenfibly neceflary to be ftudied by every perfon 
 who vvidiCS to fpcak and write with accuracy and elegance. 
 
 multitude, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 119 
 
 multitude, and to raife our thoughts above the 
 mean confidcration of fenfual objects. The mind 
 then eafily recollects all that information with 
 which it has been enriched by reading, obfervation, 
 experience, or difcourle ; every reflection produces 
 new ideas, and brings the purcft pleafures to the 
 foul. We caft our eyes on the fcencs we have 
 pafled, and think on what is yet to come, until the 
 memory of the pad and future die away in the 
 actual enjoyment of the prcfcnt moment : but to 
 preferve the powers of reafon, we muft, even in 
 Solitude, direct our attention actively towards fome 
 noble, interefting end. 
 
 It might perhaps excite a fmile, were I to af- 
 fert, that Solitude is the only fchool in which we 
 can (ludy the characters of men ; but it muft be 
 recollected, that, although materials are only to be 
 amafled in fociety, it is in Solitude alone we can 
 convert them into ufe. The world is the great 
 fcene of our obfervations ; but to comment on and 
 arrange them with propriety, is the work of So* 
 litude. Under this view of the fubject, therefore, 
 I do not perceive how it is poflible to call thofc 
 characters envious and mifanthropic, who, while 
 they continue in the world, endeavour to difcovef 
 even the hidden foibles, to expofeall the latent faults 
 and imperfections of mankind. A knowledge of the 
 nature of man is laudable and neceflary ; and this 
 knowledge can only be acquired by obfervation. 
 I cannot therefore think, that this finely is either 
 
 I 4 fa 
 
wo THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 fo dangerous or illufory as is in general fuppofed 
 that it tends to degrade the fpecies, to fink the 
 human character by opprobrium, to beget fooner 
 or later forrow and repentance, to deprive life of 
 a variety of pure and noble plcaiurcs, and in the 
 end to deftroy all the faculries of the foul. I only 
 perceive a very laudable fpirit of ufeful enquiry 
 and inftruftive obfervation. 
 
 Do 1 feel cither envy or hatred againft mankind 
 when I find y the nature, and explore thefecret caufes 
 of thofe \veaknefles and diibrdcrs which are incidental 
 to the human frame ; when I occasionally examine 
 the fubject with clofcr infpedion, and point out 
 for the general benefit of mankind, as well as for 
 my own fatisfacYion, all the frail and imperfect 
 parts in the anatomy of the body, and rejoice when 
 I difcover phenomena before unknown to others 
 as well as to myfelf ? I do not, upon thefe oc- 
 cafions, confine my knowledge to general ob- 
 fervations, that fuch and fuch appearances were 
 produced by fuch and fuch diforders ; but, unin- 
 fluenced by any fmiftcr confiderations, I difclofe, 
 when the neceffity of the cafe calls for in* 
 formation, all the knowledge I poflefs on the 
 fubje<ft, and explain every fymptom of th diibrder y 
 with all its changes and complications. 
 
 But a line of demarcation is drawn between the 
 obfcrvations which we are permitted to make upon 
 the anatomy of the human body, and thofe which 
 we aflurne refpedling the philofophy of the mind. 
 The phyfician, it is faid, fludies die diforders of 
 
 the 
 
ON tHE MIND ANfc THE HEART. izi 
 
 the body, to apply, if poffible, a remedy, as oo 
 cafion may require ; but it is contended, that the 
 moralift has a different end in view. How does 
 this appear? A icnfible and feeling mind mud 
 view the moral defects of his fellow-creatures 
 with the fame regret that he obferves their phy- 
 iical infirmities. Why do moralifts (hun mankind ? 
 Why do they comtantly retire from the corruptions 
 of the world to the purity of Solitude, if it be not 
 to avoid the contagion of vice ? But there are a 
 multiplicity of moral foibles and defects which arc 
 not perceived to be foibles or defects in thofc 
 places where they are every hour indulged. There 
 is, without contradiction, a great pleafure in 
 difcovering the imperfections of human nature; 
 and where that difcovery may prove beneficial to 
 mankind without doing an injury to any indi- 
 vidual, to publifh them to the world, to point out 
 their properties, to place them by a luminous 
 defcription before the eyes of men, is, in my ap- 
 prehenfion, a pleafure fo far from being mif- 
 chievous, that I rather think, and I truft I (hall 
 continue to think fo even in the hour of death, 
 it is the only true mean of difcovering the ma- 
 chinations of the devil, and deftroying the effect 
 of his works. 
 
 Solitude, therefore, is the fchool in which we 
 muft ftudy the moral nature of man : in retire- 
 ment, the principle of obfervatioti is awakened ; 
 the objects to which the attention will be moft 
 
tax THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 advantageoufly di reded, are pointed out by ma- 
 ture reflection, and all our remarks guided by 
 reafon to their proper ends ; while, on the con- 
 trary, courtiers, and men of the world, take up 
 their fentiments from the caprices of others, and 
 give their opinions without digeding the fubject 
 on which they are formed. 
 
 BONNET, in a very affeding paffage of the Pre- 
 face to his work on the Nature of THE SOUL, 
 defcribes the advantages which, under the lofs 
 of his fight, he derived from Solitude. " So- 
 *' litude naturally leads the mind to meditation : 
 " that in which I have in Tome meafure hitherto 
 " lived, joined to the unfortunate circumftances 
 '* which have for fome years afflicted me, and 
 *' from which I am not yet releafed, induced me 
 ' to feck in the excrcile of my mind thofe re- 
 " fources which my diftraded ftate rendered fo 
 " necefl'ary. My mind now affords me a happy 
 " retreat, where I tafte all the pleafures which 
 " have charmed my affliction." At this period, 
 the virtuous BONNET was almoft blind. 
 
 An excellent man, of another defcription, who de- 
 voted his time to the inftrudion of youth, PFEFFEL, 
 at Colmar, fupported himtelf under the affliction 
 of a total blindnefs in a manner equally noble 
 and affecting, by a life lefs folitary indeed, but 
 by the opportunities of frequent leifure which he 
 devoted to the ftudy of philofophy, the recreation 
 of poetry, and the exercife of humanity. 
 
 At 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 113 
 
 In Japan there was formerly an academy of 
 blind perfons, who perhaps were much more ca- 
 pable of difcernment than the members of fome 
 other academies. Thefe fightlefs academicians 
 confecrated their hours to the hiftory of thefr 
 country, to poetry, and to mufic ; and the mofl 
 celebrated traits in the annals of Japan were chofen 
 as the fubjedis of their miife, which they afterwards 
 adapted to mufic. In reflecting upon the irregular 
 lives and ufelefs employments which a great number 
 of folitary perfons lead, we contemplate the con- 
 duct of thefe blind Japancfe with the higheft plea- 
 fure. The " mind's eye'* opened to compenfate their 
 unhappy fate in being deprived of the enjoyment 
 of their corporeal organ. Light, life, and joy 
 iflued from the (hades of furrounding darknefs, 
 and bleiTed them with tranquil reflection and fa- 
 lutary employments. 
 
 Let us then devote our lives to Solitude and 
 freedom ; let us frequently refign ourfclves to the 
 fame happy tranquillity which prevails in the 
 Englifli garden of my immortal friend M. 
 HINUBER, at Marienwerder, where every object 
 folicits the mind to the enjoyment of pious, peace- 
 ful fentiment, and infpires it with the mod elevated 
 conceptions : or, if difpofed profoundly to examine 
 the more aweful beauties of ^nature, and thereby 
 prevent the foul from finking, through the void 
 which fociety has occafioned, let us roam beneath 
 
 the 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 the antique pines of the towering and majeftic 
 HAPSBURG *. 
 
 Solitude induces the mind to think ; and thought 
 is the firft fpring of human actions : for it is truly 
 obferved, that the actions of men are nothing more 
 than their thoughts brought into fubftance and 
 being. The mind, therefore, has only to ex- 
 amine with honed impartiality the ideas which ic 
 feels the greateft inclination to follow, in order to- 
 dive into and unravel the whole myflery of the 
 human character ; and he who has not before 
 been accuftomed to interrogate himfeif will, upon 
 fuch an enquiry, often difcover truths the moft 
 important to his happinefs, but which the difguifes 
 of the world had concealed from his view. 
 
 To a man difpofed to activity, the only qua- 
 lities for which he can have any occafion in 
 Solitude are LIBERTY and LEISURE. The in- 
 ftant he finds himfeif alone, all the faculties of 
 his foul are fet in motion. Give him liberty and 
 leifure, and he will foar incomparably higher than 
 if he had continued to drag on a flavith and op- 
 prefled life among the fons of men. Authors 
 who never think for themfelves, who only en- 
 deavour to recoiled the thoughts of others, and 
 aim not at originality, here compile their works 
 with eafy labour, and are happy. But what fu- 
 perior pleafure does the mind of an author feel 
 
 * An elevated mountain, from the fummit of which may be 
 feen the ruins of an ancient cattle, from whence illucd the ce- 
 lebrated Houfe of Aullria. 
 
 IB 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 12$ 
 
 in the advantages of Solitude, where they contri- 
 bute to bring forth the fruits of genius from the 
 tree f virtue, notwjthftanding fuch productions 
 may perhaps irritate fools, and confound the 
 wicked. The (hades of Solitude, and an unin- 
 terrupted tranquillity, moderate the exuberance 
 of a lively mind, bring its diverging rays of 
 thought to a fingle point, and give it, wherever 
 it is inclined to ftrike, a po\ver which nothing can 
 refift. A whole legion of adverfr.ries cannot in- 
 fpire the bofom of fuch a character with the fmalleft 
 fear ; he is confcious of his fuperior powers, and . 
 his fole defire is, that, fooner or later, each of them 
 (hould receive the juftice that is due. He muft 
 undoubtedly feel the keeneft regret and morti- 
 fication in oltferving the difpenfations of the 
 world ; where vice fo frequently is raifed to gran- 
 deur, hypocrify fo generally honoured by the fuf- 
 frage$ of a mifguided populace, and where the dic- 
 tates of powerful prejudice are obeyed in preference 
 to the voice of truth. Cafting, however, his eyei 
 upon this fcene, he will fometimes fay, " This is as 
 " it ought to be ; " but, " this is not to be en- 
 c dured : " and by a happy ftroke of fatire from 
 his pen, the bloom of vice fliall wither, the arts 
 of hypocrify be overthrown, and prejudice extin- 
 guimed. 
 
 To the eye of the bold fatirift, to the mind 
 of the profound philofopher, and the feelings 
 of the man of genius, the charms of TRUTH 
 difclofe themfelves with fuperior luftre in the 
 
 bowers 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 bowers of Solitude. A great and good man, 
 Dr. BLAIR of Edinburgh, fays, " The great and 
 " the worthy, the pious and the virtuous, have 
 " ever been addicted to ferious retirement. It is 
 " the characteriftic of little and frivolous minds, 
 " to be wholly occupied with the vulgar objects 
 " of life. Thefe fill up their defi res, and fupply 
 *' all the entertainment which their coarfe ap- 
 " prehenfions can reliih. But a more refined and 
 ." enlarged mind leaves the world behind it, feels 
 " a call for higher pleafures, and feeks them in 
 " retfeat. The man of public fpirit has recourfc 
 " to it, in order to form plans for general good ; 
 c the man of genius, in order to dwell on his 
 " favourite themes ; the philofopher, to purfue 
 " his difcoveries; the faint, to improve himfelf 
 " in grace." 
 
 NUMA, the legiflator of Rome, while he was only 
 a private Sabine, retired, on the death of TATIA, 
 his beloved wife, into the forcft of Aricia> where he 
 palled his 'time in wandering about alone in the 
 facred groves and lawns, in the mod retired and 
 folitury places. Hence a report arofc, that it was 
 not from any imV'ard forrow or melancholy difpo- 
 iition that he avoided human converfation, but from 
 his being admitted, in thefe retreats, to a fociety 
 more venerable and excellent: the goddefsEcERi A ! 
 it was faid, had become enamoured of his charms, 
 had married him, and, by enlightening his mind, 
 
 and 
 
''ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 127 
 
 and floring it with fuperior wifdom, had led him 
 to divine felicity. THE DRUIDS, alfo, who con- 
 ftantly inhabited caverns, rocks, and the moft 
 folitary woods, were fliid to have inftruded the 
 nobility of their nation in wifdom and eloquence, 
 in all the various phenomena of nature, the courfc 
 of the ftars, the myfteries of religion, and the eflences 
 of eternity. The high idea entertained of the 
 wifdom of THE DRUIDS, although, like the flory 
 of NUMA, it is only an agreeable fiction, ftill 
 fliews with what enthufiafm every age and nation, 
 have fpoken of thofe venerable characters who, in the 
 filence of woods and the tranquillity, of Solitude, 
 have devoted their time to the ftudy of wifdom. 
 
 It is in Solitude alone that genius is excited by 
 its, own internal powers, unsupported by THE 
 GREAT, without the expectation of encouragement, 
 without even a profped of the moft trifling re- 
 compencc. CORREGIO, at a time when FLANDERS, 
 torn by civil difcord, was filled with painters as 
 indigent in wealth as they were rich in fame, 
 had been fo poorly rewarded during his life, that 
 a payment of fix piftoles of German coin, which he 
 was obliged to travel to PARMA to receive, created 
 in his mind fuch an extravagance of joy as to 
 prove the occafion of his death *. The fecret ap- 
 probation 
 
 The paymrnt was made to him in quadrini, a fpecies of 
 copper coin. The joy which the mind of CORREGIO felt in 
 the bearer of fo large a quantity of money to his wife, 
 
 prevented 
 
1*8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 probation which judgement will ever pay to the? 
 works of thefe divine artifts, is the only recom* 
 pence they expect for their merit : they paint in 
 hope of being rewarded by immortal fame. 
 
 The practice of profound meditation in folitary 
 places frcquently.'raifes the mind above its natural 
 tone, warms the imagination, and gives birth to 
 fentiments of the higheft fublimity. The feuj 
 feels the moft pure, unbroken, permanent, and 
 genial pleafures of which it is capable. In So-, 
 litude, to live and to think are fynonymous ; on 
 every emotion the mind darts into infinity ; and, 
 wrapt in its enthufiafm, is confirmed by this free-; 
 dom of enjoyment in the habitude of thinking 
 on fublime fubje&s, and of adopting the moft 
 heroic purfuits. In a deep Solitude, at the 
 fix of a high mountain near PYRMONT, one 
 of the moft remarkable atchievements of the 
 prefent age was firft conceived. The King of 
 Pruffia having vifited the Spa at PYRMONT, 
 to drink the waters, withdrew from the com- 
 pany who frequented the place, and wandered 
 alone upon this beautiful mountain, which was 
 then uncultivated, and which to this day is called 
 THE ROYAL MOUNTAIN *. It was on this defbrr^ 
 
 prevented him from thinking either of the length of his journey 
 or the exceffive heat of the day. He walked twelve miles ; and 
 his hade to reach his home brought on the pleurify, f which he 
 died. 
 
 Koenig(berg; 
 
 fince 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. tip 
 
 fmce become the feat of coquetry and diflipation, 
 that the young monarch, as it is confidently re- 
 ported, formed his projc^V of the firft war againfl 
 SILESIA. 
 
 flic ineftirhable value of time, of which the in- 
 dolent, having no conception, can form no cfti- 
 mate, is much better learned in the regularity of 
 Solitude, than in the light and airy rounds of life. 
 Me who employs himfelf with ardour, and is un- 
 willing to live entirely in vain, contemplates with 
 trembling apprehenfion the rapid movement of a 
 flop-watch ; the true image of human life, the 
 moft ftriking emblem of the rapid courfe of time. 
 
 The time which we employ in focial intercourfe, 
 when it improves the faculties of the mind, raifes 
 
 the feelings of the heart to a certain degree of. 
 
 30* 
 elevation, extends the fphere of kno vledge, and 
 
 banimes our cares, is far from being mif- 
 fpent. But if an intercourfe even thus happily 
 formed, become our fole delight $ and change into the 
 paflion of love ; if it transform hours into minutes, 
 And exclude from the mind every idea except thofe 
 which the object of affeftion infpires, even LOVE 
 itfelf, alas! will abforb our time, and years will 
 pafs unperceived away. 
 
 Time }s never too long ; on the contrary, it ap- 
 pears too fliort to him who, to the extent of his 
 capacity^ employ* it ufefully, in the difcharge of 
 
 K the 
 
THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITl/JDB 
 
 the refpe&ive duties which his particular fituatlo'ii 
 calls upon him to perform. To fuch a difpofition 
 time, in Head of being burthenfome, flies too 
 haftily away. I am acquainted with a young prince 
 who, by the affiftancc of fix domeftics, does 
 not employ more than two minutes in dreffing. 
 Of his carriage, it would be incorreft to fay that 
 he goes in it, for it files. At his hofpkable table, 
 every courfe is finiflied in a moment ; and I am 
 informed, that this is the ufual fafhion of princes; 
 who feem difpofed to make every thing pafs with 
 rapidity. I have, however, feen the royal youth 
 to whom I allude, exercife the moft brilliant ta- 
 lents, fupport the higheft ftyle of character, attend 
 in his own perfon to every application, and I 
 know that he has afforded fatisfa&ion and delight 
 in every interview. I know that the affairs of his 
 domeilic eftablithmenx engage his moft fcrupulous 
 attention fix hours every day ; and that in every 
 day of the year he employs, without exception, 
 feven hours in reading the beft Englifh, Italian, 
 French, and German authors. This prince know* 
 the value of time. 
 
 The time which the man of the wxxrld throw* 
 *\vay is treafured up by the man of Solitude, and 
 indeed by every one who wifhes to make his exift. 
 ence ufeful to himfelf or beneficial to mankind; and 
 certainly there is not in this world any fpecies of en- 
 joyment more permanent. Men have many duties to 
 
 perform. ; 
 
6N THE MIND AND THE fcEART. 1st 
 
 )>6Vform ; and, therefore, he who wifhes to difcharge 
 them honourably, will vigilantly feize the earlieft 
 opportunity > if he does not with that any part of his 
 time,ltke a ufelefs page, {hould be torn frOm the 
 book of life. We flop the cGurfe of time by em- 
 ployment ; We prolong the duration of life by 
 thought, by wife counfel, and ufeiul actions. 
 Exiftente, to him who wifhes not to live in vain, 
 is to think-, and to aft. OUT ideas never flow more 
 rapidly, more copioufly, or with more gaiety, than 
 In thofe moments which we fave from an unpleafant 
 and fafhionable vifit. 
 
 We fhall always employ time with more rigid 
 ceconomy, when we reflect on the many hours 
 which efcape contrary to our inclination. A ce- 
 lebrated Englifh author fays, " When we have 
 " deducted all that is abforbed in deep, all 
 rt that is inevitably appropriated to the demands 
 " of nature, or irrefiflibly engrofled by the ty- 
 *' ranny of cuflom ; all. that pafTes in regula- 
 ting the fuperficial decorations of life, or is 
 given up in the reciprocations of civility to the 
 " difpofal of others ; all that is torn from us by 
 g * the violence of difeafe, or ftolen imperceptibly 
 " away by laflltude and languor; we fhall find 
 * that part of oilr duration very fmall of which 
 " we can truly call ourfelves mailers, or which 
 r we can fpend wholly at our own choice. Many 
 K z g f 
 
 cc 
 cc 
 
tjx THE INFLUENCE OF SOUTUDB 
 
 " of our hours are loft in a rotation of petty cares, 
 " in a conftant recurrence of the fame employ 
 " mcnts ; many of our provifions for cafe or hap- 
 " pinefs are always exhaufted by the prefent day j 
 " and a great part of our exiftence ferves no other 
 " purpofe than that of enabling us to enjoy 
 " the reft." 
 
 Time is nevermore mif-fpent than while we vent 
 complaints againft the want of it. All our action? 
 are then tinctured by peevimnefs. The yoke of 
 life moft certainly feels left oppreffive when we 
 carry it with good-humour. But when the imperious 
 voice of Fafhion commands, we rrruft, without a 
 murmur, boldly refift her bondage, and karn to 
 reduce the number of ceremonious vifits which 
 employ the week. The accomplishment of this 
 victory, a door well-bolted againft thofe frequent 
 vifitors whofe talk conveys no meaning to our 
 minds, our mornings pafled in rational employ- 
 ments, and the evening kept facred to the fevereft 
 fcrutiny into our daily conduct, will at leaft double 
 the time we have to live. MELANCTHOW, when 
 any vifitor was announced, noted down not only 
 the hour, but the very minute of his arrival and 
 departure, in order that the day might not flip 
 unheedeuly away. 
 
 The forrowful lamentations on the fubjcct of 
 time mif-fpeiit and bufmefs neglected, no longer 
 recur to torture the mind, when, under the free- 
 dom of a retired and rural life, we have once learnt 
 
 TO 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. ijj 
 
 to ufe the pafling hours with oeconomy. We 
 have then no more fatiguing vifits to make ; we 
 arc no longer forced, in fpite of our avcrfion, to 
 accept of invitations ; we are no longer mor- 
 tified by the affluence of rival ftrangers ; we are 
 releafed from thofe innumerable duties which 
 the manners of the world exact, and which alto- 
 gether are not equal to a fingle virtue ; importunate 
 vifitors cannot then call and fteal away thofe hours 
 which we hope to employ more ufefully. 
 
 But it has alfo been obferved with great truth, 
 that very few of the hours which we pafs in Solitude 
 are diftinguimed by any ufeful or permanent 
 effect ; that many of them pafs lightly away in 
 dreams and chimeras, or are employed in dif- 
 contented unquiet reflections, on the indulgence 
 of dangerous paffions, or of irregular and criminal 
 defires. 
 
 To retire into Solitude is not always a proof 
 that the mind is devoted to ferious thought, or 
 that it has relinquiflied the amufement of low and 
 trifling purfuits. Solitude, indeed, may prove more 
 dangerous than all the diffipations of the world. 
 How frequently, in a moment of the happieft 
 leifurc, does indifpofition render the mind inca- 
 pable of ftudy, or of employing its powers to 
 any ufeful end. The moft forrowful condition 
 of Solitude is that of the hypochondriac, whofe 
 mind is only occupied by reflecting on his pains. 
 The moft diflipated man does not more miffpend 
 
 K 3 his 
 
'34 
 
 his time in purfuing the fleeting pleafures of the 
 world, than a melancholy pining mind, even 
 when at the greateft diftance, an<J under the moft 
 abfolute reparation frorn the reft of mankind. 
 Pcevimnefs and ill-hurnour occafion as great lofs. 
 of time as melancholy, and are certainly the greateft 
 obflacles to the attainment of mental felicity. 
 Melancholy is an enemy whofe hoftilidcs alarm 
 our fears, and we therefore endeavour to refill its 
 attack; but peevimnefs and ill-humour take us 
 by furprize, and we become the victims of their 
 power even before we think ourfelves in danger. 
 
 Let us, however, only refleft, that by peevifhnefs 
 and illih.umour we not only lofe a fingle day, but 
 weeks a.nd months together, and we (hall en- 
 deavour to. efcape from their influence, or, at Jeaft, 
 to prevent their accefs. One unpleafant thought, if 
 we ufelefsly fuffer it to difquiet and torment our 
 minds, will deprive us, for a length of time, pf 
 the capacity to perform a.ny thing beyopd the 
 circle of our daily occupations, We fbould, 
 'therefore, mod anxioufly endeavour to prevent 
 any of the untoward accidents of life from gaining 
 too great an influence over the activity of our 
 minds. While the attention is emplqyec}, the re- 
 membrance of forrow dies away. Thus, while the 
 mind is engaged in literary compofitio.n, if the 
 ideas flow with activity and fuccefs, peevifhnefs 
 and i'.l-humour difappcar in a moment ; a.nd \vc 
 frequently obferve the pen taken up with the 
 
 frown 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 135 
 
 frown of difcontent, and quitted with the fmile 
 of happinefs and the face of joy. 
 
 Life would afford abundant leifure amidft the 
 greateft multiplicity of affairs, did we not only 
 fuffer time to pafs ufelefsly away, but even wafte 
 it of our own accord. He who in his earlieft 
 youth has learned the art of devoting every 
 hour to the attainment of fome ufeful end, 
 has already made confiderable advances, and 
 is qualified to manage very extenfive concerns. 
 But, whether it proceeds from ill-humour or 
 want of activity, we are always inclined, before 
 we undertake the tafk we intend to perform, to 
 indulge our eafe, to make conditions, to perfuade 
 ourfclves that it is not yet the proper time to com- 
 mence the work. Indolence mud ever be carefled, 
 before it can be induced to act. Let our firft 
 care, therefore, be, to fix our minds invariably 
 upon fomt object; and to purfue it in fuch a 
 manner as to place attainment beyond the reach of 
 accident. Firmnefs and decifion, as well as good- 
 nature and flexibility, mu(l be joined to form the 
 character of a man of bufinefs. Surely no man 
 ever knevr better how to employ life than that 
 monarch of whom it was faid, " He is like marble, 
 '* equally firm and polifhed." 
 
 The purfuit of fome particular object is the beft 
 preventive againft the lofs of time, and a fort of 
 counter-poifon to the languors of life. Every 
 
 K 4 man, 
 
I 3 6 THE INFLUENCE OP SOUTUDE 
 
 man, from the monarch on the throne to the i* ? 
 bourer in the cottage, mould have a daily tafk $ 
 and that which it is his daily duty to perform, 
 mould be done without procraftination or delay. 
 Every thought and every a&ion of man, therefore, 
 ought to be directed towards the legend where it is 
 written, " It is to do this that you are placed 
 * here." The great monarch who is an example 
 to the age in which he lives, and whofe conduct 
 will become a model to future kings, rifes every 
 morning in fummer at four o'clock, and \n winter 
 at five. The petitions of his fubje&s, the dif- 
 patches from foreign powers, the public docu- 
 ments of the ftate, which were, prefented the prcr 
 ceding evening, or have arrived during the night, 
 are placed before him on a table. He opens and 
 pcrufes the contents of every paper j and then 
 diflributes them into three heaps, One, which 
 requires difpatch, he anfwers immediately ; the 
 other he prepares, by remarks written in the margin 
 with his own hand, for the mjniftert and other 
 officers of the crown ; the third, which contains 
 neither amufement nor bufmels, he throws into the 
 fire. The fecretarjes of ftate, who attend in rca* 
 dincfs, afterwards enter to receive hit Majefty's 
 commands; and the bufinefs of the day is de- 
 livered by the monarch into the hands of his fcr- 
 vants, to be performed without delay. He then 
 mounts his horfc to review his troops, and receives 
 
 in 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. ' 137 
 
 N 
 
 m the field thofe foreigners who are dcfirous of 
 being introduced to him. This fqe'ne is fucceeded 
 by the hofpitality of bis table, tq which he fits 
 down with gaiety and prefence of mind, and en* 
 Jivens the converfation with fentiments and apo* 
 fhegms which ftrike the mind by thetr truth and 
 wifdom. The fecretarjes re-enter >vhen the repaft 
 is finimed, bringing with them, properly and 
 neatly prepared for the royal approbation, thofe 
 documents of which they had received the rough 
 draughts in the morning. Between the hours 
 of four and five in the afternoon, the daily bufi- 
 nefs of the nation being concluded, the monarch 
 thinks himfelf at liberty to repofe ; and this in- 
 dulgence confifts in reading to himfelf, or having 
 read to him, the beft compofitions, ancient or 
 modern, until the hour of fupper arrives. A fo- 
 vereign who thus employs his hours, may fairly 
 expeft that the time of his minifters, his generals, 
 Jiis officers of ftate, mail not be mif-fpent. 
 
 Many rnen will never exert themfelves except 
 in matters of high importance ; never employ their 
 talents but upon great objects ; and becaufe they 
 Jofe this opportunity, will do nothing. Others do 
 jiothing, becaufe they do not know how to di- 
 ftribute their time. They might be able to perform, 
 fome great and ufeful aftion, if they would only 
 feize all the idle half-hours, and employ them to the 
 attainment of any end they might propofe ; for there 
 
 are 
 
i 3 t THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 arc many important events which can only be 
 produced by (low degrees. But thofe who are 
 not only fubjeft to, but are pleafed with and folicit 
 continual interruption ; who wait for the return of 
 good-humour, and remain idle until they feel an 
 inclination to be induflrious, which can only be 
 acquired by habit ; who look profpe&ively for that 
 feafon of complete leifure which no man ever 
 finds ; will foon fallaciously conclude, that they 
 have neither opportunity nor power to exert their 
 talents ; and to kill that time which adds a burthen 
 to their lives, will faunter about, and ride from 
 place to place morning, noon, and night. 
 
 One of the greateft and moft worthy men that 
 ever adorned SWISSERLAND, my dcceafed friend 
 JSELIN, compofed his Ephemeride$ during the de- 
 bates in the Senate of BASIL * ; a work which all 
 the nobility of Germany ought to ftudy, and many 
 of them have read. Our own celebrated MJESER, 
 who now refides at Ofnaburg^ is equally honoured 
 and beloved by his king, the prince, and all our 
 minifters, as a man of bufmefs and a true patriot, 
 and in Ofnaburg by the nobility, clergy, citizens, 
 and peafants, railed himfelf, by the eafy exercife of 
 
 Mr. IIEI.IV was a Regifter : while he was compofing hi* 
 Efbemerities t the Senators of Bafil conceived that he \vai regiftering 
 their debates, in the fame -manner as the Councilors of Zurich 
 thought that the immortal GESSNER was collefling their pro- 
 ceeding upon his tablets, while he was in faft taking the por- 
 traits ut chuff worthievJu caricature. 
 
 fportive 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 439 
 
 fportive fancy, to a pinnacle of fame which fev 
 German writers have been able to reach *. 
 
 *' Carpe ditm" fays HORACE ; and this recom- 
 mendation will extend with equal propriety to 
 every hour of our lives. The voluptuous of every 
 defcription, the votaries of Bacchus, and the fons 
 of Anacreon, exhort us to drive away corroding 
 care, to promote inceflant gaiety, to enjoy the 
 fleeting moments as they pafs ; and there is found 
 reafon in thefe precepts, though not in the fenfe in 
 which they underftand them. To enjoy the pre- 
 fent moments, they muft not be conlumed in 
 drinking and debauchery, but employed in ad- 
 vancing fteadily towards that end we have pro- 
 pofed to attain. We may be folitary even amidft 
 the jpys of public life. Morning vifits may be 
 paid at noqn, ca.rds of ceremony may be cir- 
 culated through half the town, perfonal ap- 
 pearances may be recorded in every fafhionablc 
 aflfembly, and the morning and the evening ftili 
 kept facred to ourfelvqs. It is only neceflary to 
 adopt fome regular plan of life, tq encourage a 
 fondnefs for home, and an inclination to continue 
 the purfuit of our defign. It is the man of labour 
 and application alone who has, during the day, 
 
 * M. M^SER dilated te his daugher daring the exhibition! 
 of the theatre almoft the whole of hit fugitive pieces, which 
 have fo juflly given immortality to his fame. 
 
 afforded 
 
P40 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 afforded benefit to his neighbour, or fervice to 
 die (late, that can, in confcience, fix himfelf a 
 whole night to the gaming-table, without hearing 
 or faying one intcrefting word, and without, on 
 his return home, being able to recollect any other 
 expreffion than, " I have won or loft fo much 
 ." money." '"'' 
 
 The higheft advantage which we derive from 
 time, and the fole end to which I would direct 
 ihefe reflections, PETRARCH has already taught 
 us. w If," fays PETRARCH, " you feel any in- 
 " cljnation to ferve God, in which confifts the 
 " higheft felicities of our nature ; if you are dif- 
 *' pofcd to elevate the mind by the ftudy of Ict- 
 M ters, which, next to religion, procures us the 
 *' trueft pleafures; if, by your fentiments and 
 " writings, you are anxious to leave behind you 
 ** fomething that will memorife your names with 
 f( pofterity, ftop the rapid progrefs of our days, 
 ' and prolong the courfe of this moft uncertain 
 M life ; if you feel the lead inclination to acquire 
 ** thefe advantages, fly, ah ! fly, I befcech you, 
 *' from the enjoyments of the world, and pafs the 
 *' few remaining days you have to live in So- 
 ** litudc." 
 
 It is not in the power of every man to follow 
 this advice.; but there are many who are, in a 
 greater or lefs degree, maftcrs of their time, and who 
 may, as their inclinations lead them, cither prcfcrve 
 
 or 
 
ON THE MIND ANfi Tfltfi HEART. 14* 
 
 or fclinquiflx tlicir connections with the worltL 
 It is, therefore, for the benefit of fuch character* 
 that I (hall continue to confider the advantage* 
 which Solitude affords. 
 
 Solitude infpires the mind with exquifite tafte> 
 extends the boundaries of thought, enlarges the 
 fphere of action, and difpenfes a fuperior kind of 
 pleafure, which neither time nor accident can re- 
 move. 
 
 Tafte is refined in Solitude by a more careful 
 Selection of thofe beauties which become the fub- 
 jects of our contemplation. It depends entirely 1 
 upon ourfelves to make choice of thofe objects- 
 from which we may derive the pureft pleafure; 
 to read thofe writings, to encourage thofe reflec- 
 tions which moft tend to purify the mind, and (lore 
 it with the richeft variety of images. Repofmg with 
 fecurity upon the eftabHlhed wifdom of others rather 
 than upon our own judgement, the mind efcape* 
 the contagion of thofe falfe notions which are fo 
 cafily adopted by the world. To be obliged con- 
 tinually to tell onefelf, " This is the fentiment 
 " which you muft entertain," is infupportablc. 
 Why, alas ! will not men ftrive, by free choice, 
 and reflection, according to the nature of the 
 fubject, to gain opinions of their own, rather thai* 
 fubmit to be guided by the arbitrary dictates of 
 others ? Of what importance is it to mei that the 
 b<au*mwde approves of a writing that pleafes me ? 
 In what do you inftru& me, ye cold and miferable 
 
 critics? 
 
*THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUD 
 
 critics ? Does your judgment make me feet that 
 Which is truly fine, noble, goodj and excellent* 
 with higher relilh ? How can I fubmit to the de* 
 cifionof that partial tribunal which decides upon tha 
 merit of works by arbitrary agreements, examines 
 all irregularly, and generally determines wrong ? 
 What opinion muft I entertain of the multitude* 
 who only repeat what you direct them to fay, and 
 who fpeak your fentiments through the channel of 
 the public ? What reliance can be placed in tho 
 rectitude of your judgments, when, in reviewing 
 the moft deteftable publications, you can pronounce 
 that the whole is excellent, becaufe a certain perfon 
 of literary renown, upon whofe word you would 
 condemn the chafteft work, has thought proper 
 to praife it ? 
 
 It is impoflible ever to difcover or feel the en- 
 chanting beauties of truth, unlefs we entirely re- 
 linquim the fociety of this clafs of readers ; for 
 they infect the judgement before we fufpect them* 
 But enlightened minds, whofe correct tafle imme- 
 diately diilinguifhcs beauties from defects; who 
 become enthufiaftic and impaffioned admirers of 
 all that is excellent, while they feel a natural 
 difguft at that which is bad ; who enjoy the 
 works of true genius, and fuffer the fcvereft pain 
 from dulnefs, abfurdity, and bombaft, willingly 
 retire from the crowd, and alone, or with a few 
 chofen friends, refign themfelves to the pleafure 
 of a tranquil intercourfe with all that antiquity 
 
 or 
 
ON THE: MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 ^r modern ages have produced of diftinguUhed 
 excellence. 
 
 It is then we learn how much we are capable of 
 contributing to the perfection and happinefs of our 
 nature, and experience the moft agreeable fert- 
 fations of our exiftence ; it is then that we con~ 
 gratulate ourselves on the poflefiion of our mental 
 powers in the fubjects on which they are em- 
 ployed , it is then we feel, thut with fuch characters 
 we exert our faculties to the advantage of our- 
 felves, to the pleafure of our friends, and per- 
 haps alfo, at fome future period, to the happinefs 
 of fympathetic minds, to whom we are yet un- 
 known, and to whom, indeed, the pen of trutk 
 can never be difpleafmg. 
 
 Solitude gives new vigour to the activity of the 
 mind, multiplies the number of its ideas, and 
 extend* its fources of information by rendering 
 our curiofity more lively, our application more 
 indefatigable, our perfeverance more firm. 
 
 A man who was well acquainted with all thefb 
 advantages, has faid, that " by filent folitary re- 
 * flection, we exercife and ftrengthen all the 
 
 F powers of the mind : the many obfcurities 
 " which render ft difficult to purfue our path, 
 
 f difperfe and retire, and we return to a bufy 
 " focial life with more cheerfulnefs and content. 
 ** The fphere of our underftanding becomes en- 
 
 ' larged by reflection ; we have learned to furvey 
 
 c more objects, and to bind them intellectually 
 
 " together; 
 
6F SOLITUDE 
 
 ** together; we carry a clearer fight, a jufte'P 
 " judgement, and firmer principles, with us intd 
 ** the* world in which we are to live and aft ; 
 " and are then more able^ even in the midft of' 
 " all its diffractions, to preferve our attention* 
 ** to think with accuracy, to determine with judg- 
 " ment, in a degree proportioned to the prepa-a 
 " rations we have made in the hour of retirement/" 
 
 The curiofity of a rational mind is, in the or- 
 dinary tranfactions of the World, very foon fa- 
 tisfied ; but in Solitude it augments daily. The?, 
 human mind, in its refearc'ries after truth, can- 
 not immediately difcover the end it wilhes tcr 
 attain : it links proof to obfervation, joins expe- 
 rience to conclufion, and by one truth developed 
 another. The aftronomers who firft obferved the 
 courfe of the planets, did not forefee the extenfive- 
 influence which their difcoveries would one day 
 produce upon the happinefs and intcrefts of man- 
 kind. Delighted to view the flate of the fir- 
 mament during the progrefs of the night, and 
 perceiving that the ftars changed their fituations,- 
 their curiofity induced them to explore the caufes 
 of that which excited their admiration, and de- 
 termined them to purfue the road of fcience. It 
 is thus, by filent activity, that the foul augments- 
 its powers ; and a contemplative mind will always- 
 gain advantage in proportion as' it reflecls upon 
 the immediate caufes, the effects, and the poffible 
 confequences, of an eflablifhed truth. 
 
 The 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 145 
 
 The mind, when the imagination is regulated 
 by the level of rcafon, proceeds with much Icfs ra- 
 pidity ; but it never takes the fame fleps after- 
 wards that it did before. Men who permit them- 
 fdves to be drawn afide by the charms of fancy, 
 conftrud worlds, which immediately burft like 
 airy bubbles of foap and water; while rational minds 
 examine the materials of their projected fabric, 
 and ufe thofe only which are good. " The great 
 " art to learn much," fays LOCKE, (f is to un- 
 " dertake a little at a time." 
 
 Dr. JOHNSON, the celebrated Englifli writer, 
 has very happily faid, " All the performances of 
 " human art, at which we look with praife or 
 " wonder, are inftances of the refiftlefs force of 
 " perfeverance : it is by this, that the quarry be- 
 " comes a pyramid, and that diftant countries arc 
 11 united by canals. If a man was to compare the 
 " effect of a fm gle flroke of the pick-axe, or of 
 <c one impreffion of a fpade, with the general 
 " defign and laft refultr, he would be overwhelmed 
 tc by the fenfe of their difproportion ; yet thofe 
 <c petty operations, inceflantly continued, in timq 
 " furmount the greatcft difficulties, and mountains 
 " arc levelled, and oceans bounded, by the (lender 
 " force of human beings. It is therefore of the 
 " utmoft importance that thofe who have any 
 *' intention of deviating from the beaten roads of 
 <f life, and acquiring a reputation fuperior tq 
 
 U ' 
 
146 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " names hourly fwept away by time among the 
 " ref ufe of fame, ihould add to their reafon, and 
 " their fpirit, the power of perfifting in their pur-r 
 *' pofes; acquire the art of Tapping what they 
 " cannot batter; and the habit of vanquishing 
 '* obflinate rcliitance by obilinate attacks." 
 
 Activity animates the mod favage defert, con- 
 verts the dreary cell into a lively world, gives 
 immortal glory to the genius who meditates in the 
 filencc of retirement, and crowns the ingenious 
 artift who produces his chef-iTauvres from a folitary 
 workfhop with unfading fame. The mind, in 
 proportion to the difficulties it meets with, and the 
 rcfiftance it has to furmount, exercifes its powers 
 with higher pleafure, and raifes its efforts wit!* 
 greater zeal, to attain fuccefs. APELLES being 
 reproached with the fmall number of pictures he 
 had painted, and the incefTant attention with 
 which he re-touched his works, contented himfelf 
 with making this reply : / paint for pojierity" 
 
 To recommend monadic notions of Solitude 
 and the fterile tranquillity of the cloifter, to men 
 who, after a ferious preparation in retirement, and 
 an afliduous jntercourfe with their own minds, are 
 capable of performing great and good actions in 
 the world, would be extravagant and abfurd. 
 Princes cannot live the life of monks ; minifters of 
 ftate are no longer fought in the filence of the con- 
 vent; generals are no longer chofen from the members 
 
 of 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 147 
 
 of the church. PETRARCH therefore aptly fays, 
 " I condemn the Solitude which encourages floth, 
 " and the leifure which is idly and unprofitable 
 " employed : Solitude mud be rendered ufeful 
 c to many purpofes of life. A man who is in- 
 " dolent, flothful, and detached from the world* 
 " mud inevitably become melancholy and mifc- 
 " rable. Such a character can never do any good ; 
 " he cannot refign himfelf to any ufeful fcience, 
 f< or purfue any object worthy the attention of 
 " a great man." 
 
 He may, however, procure to himfelf the plea- 
 fures of the mind ; thofe precious pleafures, fa 
 cafily acquired, fo open to the accefs of all man- 
 kind : for it is only in thofe pleafures which arc 
 fold for money, wherein the mind has no partici- 
 pation, and which only tend to afford a momentary 
 relief to languor, or to drown the fenfes in for- 
 getfulnefs, that THE GREAT claim an exclufive 
 right ; but in thofe delights which the mind is 
 capable of procuring for its peculiar enjoyment, they 
 have no privilege ; delights, which are reared by 
 our own indudry, by ferious reflexion, profound 
 thought, deep refearch, and which produce the 
 more hidden fruits of knowledge, the love of truth, 
 and a contemplation of the perfection of our moral 
 and phyfical nature. 
 
 A preacher from SWISSERLAND has in a German 
 
 pulpit faid, *' The dreams of mental pleafures, 
 
 " thofe which, of courfe, all men of whatever 
 
 ' condition may equally partake, flow from on* 
 
 Li ' 10 
 
I 4 t THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 '* to the other : the dream of which we have moft 
 * f frequently tafted, lofes neither its flavour nor 
 " its virtue, but frequently acquires new charms, 
 " and conveys additional pleafure the oftener it 
 " is tafted. The fubjedts of thefe pleafures arc as 
 " unbounded as the reign of truth, as extenfivc 
 " as the world, as unlimited as the divine per- 
 ** fe&ion. The incorporeal pleafures, therefore^ 
 " are much more durable than all others. They 
 " neither difappear with the light of the day, nor 
 " change with the external forms of things, nor 
 <f defcend with our bodies to the tomb ; but con- 
 " tinue while we exifl ; accompany us un,der all 
 " the viciffitudes, not only of our mortal life, but 
 '* of that which is to come; fecure us in the 
 *' darknefs of the night ; and compenfate fo^ a\\ 
 " the miferies we are doomed to fuffer.' 1 
 
 Men of exalted minds therefore have always^ 
 amidft the buftle of the gay world, and even in 
 the brilliant career of heroifm, preferved a taftc 
 for mental pleafiires. Engaged in affairs of the 
 moft important confequence, notwithftanding tlic 
 variety of objects by which their attention was 
 diftrafted, they were (till faithful to THE MUSES, 
 and fondly devoted their minds to the perufal of 
 the works of genius. They gave no credit to the 
 idea, that reading and knowledge are ufclefs ta 
 great m.en j and frequently condefcended, without 
 
 a 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 149 
 
 * bliifh, to become writers themfelves. When 
 PHILIP king of Macedon invited DIONYSIUS the 
 Younger to dine with him at Corinth, he felt an 
 inclination to deride the father of his royal gueft, 
 becaufe he had blended the characters of fovereign 
 and poet, and had employed his leifure in writing 
 odes and tragedies. " How could the king find 
 " leifure," faid PHILIP, " to write thefe trifles ?" 
 " In thofe hours," anfweredDioNYsius, " which 
 " you and I fpend in drunkennefs and de- 
 ** bauchery*'* 
 
 ALEXANDER was remarkably fond of reading* 
 Whilft he was filling the world with the fame of 
 his victories, marking his progrefs by blood and 
 /laughter, dragging captive monarchs at his chariot 
 wheels, marching over fmoking towns and ravaged 
 provinces, and led on with increafing ardour to 
 new victories, he felt many intervals of time hang 
 heavy on his hands, and lamented that AJia afforded 
 him no books to amufe his leifure* He wrote 
 therefore to HARPALUS, to fend him the works 
 of Phil'tftus, the tragedies of Euripides, Sopkodes, 
 Efchyhu, and the dithyrambics of Tbalejles* 
 
 BRUTUS, the avenger of the violated liberty of 
 ROME, while ferving in the army under POMPEY, 
 employed among books all the moments he could 
 fparefrom the duties of his ftation. The hours which 
 were 'allotted to the repofe of the army, he devoted 
 to reading and writing ; and he was even thus em- 
 
 L 3 ployed 
 
ty* THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 ployed in the evening preceding the battle of 
 PHARSALIA; the celebrated battle by which the 
 empire of the univerfe was decided. The army was 
 encamped in a marfliy plain ; it was the middle of 
 fummer, and the heat of the feafon excefiive. 
 The fervants who bore the tent of Brutus did 
 not arrive until a late hour. Being much fa- 
 tigued, he bathed, and towards noon caufed his 
 body to be rubbed with oil, while he waited their 
 arrival. Taking fome little refreihment, he re- 
 tired to his tent, and while others were locked in 
 the arms of fleep, or contemplating the probable 
 event of the enfuing day, he employed himfelf, 
 during the night, in drawing a plan from the- 
 Hiftory of Polybius. 
 
 CICERO, who was more fenfible of mental plea- 
 fures than any other character, fays in his oration 
 for the poet Archias, " Why mould I be alhamed 
 " to acknowledge pleafures like thefe, fmce, for 
 " fo many years, the enjoyment of them has 
 " never prevented me from relieving the wants 
 *' of others, or deprived me of the courage to 
 " attack vice and defend virtue ? Who can 
 " juftly blame, who can cenfure me if, while 
 " others are purfuing the views of interefl, gazing 
 " at feftal (hows and idle ceremonies, exploring 
 " new pleafures, engaged in midnight-revels, in 
 " the diilraction of gaming, the madnefs of in- 
 ** temperance, neither repofing the body nor rc- 
 
 " creating 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 15 
 
 <c creating the mind, I fpend the recolle&ive 
 *' hours in a pleafing review of my pad life, in 
 tc dedicating my time to learning and the mufes." 
 
 PLINY the Elder, full of the fame fpirit, de- 
 voted every moment of his life to learning. Some 
 perfon always read to him during his meals ; and 
 he never travelled without a book and portable 
 \vriting-defk by his fide. He made extracts from 
 every work he read ; and, fcarcely conceiving 
 himfelf alone while his faculties were abforbed in 
 fleep, he endeavoured by this diligence to double 
 the duration of his exiftence. 
 
 PLINY the Younger read wherever it was pof- 
 fible, whether riding, walking, fitting, or whenever 
 the fubject of his employment afforded him the 
 opportunity ; for he made it, indeed, an invariable 
 rule to prefer the difcharge of his duty to thofc oc- 
 cupations which he followed only as an amufement. 
 It was this difpofition which fo ftrongly inclined 
 him to Solitude and retirement. " Shall I never 
 c< break," faid lie, " the chains by which I am 
 r< withheld ? Are they indifibluble ? No ! I 
 * f dare not hope for fuch an event ! Every day 
 " adds new torments to the former. Scarcely is 
 " one duty performed, than another is impofed ; 
 *' and the chain of bufmefs becomes every day 
 " more heavy and oppreffive." 
 
 PETRARCH was always gloomy and low-fpirited, 
 except while he was reading or writing, efpecialty 
 
 L 4 when 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 when he was prevented from refigning himfelf 
 in Solitude to the fine phrenfies of poetry ort 
 the banks of fome infpiring dream, among the 
 romantic rocks and mountains, or the flower- 
 enamelled vallies, of the Alps. To avoid the lofs of 
 time during his travels, he conftantly wrote at every 
 inn where he flopped for refreftiment. One of his 
 friends, THE BISHOP OF CAVILLON, being alarmed, 
 left the intenfe application with which he read and 
 wrote when at Vauclufe^ ihould entirely deftroy his 
 health, which was already greatly impaired, de- 
 fired him one day to give him the key of his li- 
 brary. PETRARCH gave it to him immediately, 
 without fufpedirig the motive of his requeft ; when 
 the good bifhop inftamly locking up his books and 
 writing-deflc, faid, " I intcrdid you from pen, 
 " ink, paper, and books, for the fpace of ten 
 " days." PETRARCH felt the feverity of the 
 fcntencc, but conquered the violence of his feelings, 
 and obeyed. The firft day appeared longer to 
 him than a year; on the fecond, he was afflicted 
 with the head-ach from morning till night; and 
 on the third, he was attacked by a fever. The 
 bifhop, attested by the condition to which he was 
 reduced, returned him the key, and reftored him 
 to health. 
 
 The late EARL OF CHATHAM, as I have been 
 informed by his own nephew, my intimate friend, 
 was, in his youth, cornet in a regiment of dra- 
 goons, which was quartered in a fmall town in 
 
 England. 
 
ON THE MIND AND 'THE HEART. ijf 
 
 England. He difchargcd his duty, upon ail oc- 
 cafions, with fcnipulous attention ; but the moment 
 his duty was performed, he retired to Solitude during 
 the remainder of the day, and employed his hours 
 alone, without vifiting or being vifited, in reading 
 the moft celebrated authors of Rome arid Athens. 
 Attacked at an early period of his life by an 
 hereditary gout, which he wiflied to eradicate, his 
 mode of living was extremely frugal and abftc- 
 mious. The feeble ftate of his health perhaps 
 made him fond of retirement; but it was cer- 
 tainly in Solitude that he laid the foundation o 
 that glory which he afterwards acquired. 
 
 Characters like this, it will perhaps be faid, are 
 not now to be found ; but, in my opinion, both the 
 aflertion and the idea would be erroneous. Was 
 the EARL OF CHATHAM inferior in greatnefs to a 
 Roman ? and will HIS SON, who, while yet a youth, 
 thundered forth his eloquence in the fenate like 
 DEMOSTHENES, and, like PERICLES, captivated the 
 hearts of all who heard him ; who now, when little 
 more than thirty years of age, makes himfelf feared 
 and refpected as the Prime-Minifter of the Britifh 
 empire, ever think craft, under any circumftances, 
 with lefs greatnefs than his illuftrious father > 
 "What men have once been, they may always be. 
 Europe now produces men as great as ever fwayed 
 the fceptre, or commanded the armies of Greece 
 or Rome. , Wifdom and virtue, where an in- 
 clination to attain them prevails, may cncrcafe as 
 
 much 
 
INFLUENCE O? SOLiTUDi 
 
 much in public as in private life, as well in f 
 palaces of kings asunder thereof of the humble 
 cottage; Wife Solitude is nowhere more re- 
 fpedable than in the. palace. The ftatefman may 
 there, in profound tranquillity, plan the moft im- 
 portant enterprizes, and live with calmnefs and 
 content, provided he difcharges his duty without 
 oftentation, and avoids the contagion of weak and 
 frivolous minds. Inftruction may be acquired at 
 all times, and in every place; and although it may 
 be difficult to return from the path which a man has 
 once trod, and commence a new career, he may 
 wifely employ the remainder of his days, unlefs^ 
 while he has the power to diiplay the Heady light 
 of truth, he contents himfelf with emitting the 
 occafional twinkling of the glow-worm. 
 
 Solitude will ultimately render the mind fu-* 
 perior to all the viciflitudes and miferics of life* 
 The man to whofe bofom neither riches, nor 
 pleafure, nor grandeur, can convey felicity, may, 
 with a book in his hand, learn to forget his cares 
 under the friendly lhade of every tree. He taftcs 
 the pleafures which Solitude affords with exquifite 
 delight ; pleafures, lively and varied, pure and for 
 ever new. At his defk, he feels his mind exert 
 itfelf with frelh vigour ; the exercife of his faculties 
 then affords him the moft pleafing fenfation of his 
 exiftence, and infpires an idea of the character 
 which he may in future, if he pleafes, attain. 
 If his views are great, and his inclinations pure, 
 
 the 
 
ON THE MIND AND Tim HEART. tjj 
 
 the pleafures of Solitude become proportionally 
 great and good; he fears in a greater degree 
 the pernicious poifon of flattery, and rejects with 
 higher difdain the purfuit of idle and frivolous 
 amufements. 
 
 He who fhuns the fociety of men in order to 
 obtain their love and efteem, who rifes with the fun 
 to hold converfe with the dead, is, without doubt, 
 not booted at the break of day. The horfes of 
 fuch a man repofe quietly in their flails, and his 
 doors remain carefully bolted againft the intrufion 
 of idle loungers. He ftudies, however, both men 
 and manners ; never lofes fight of the tranfactioni 
 of the world ; cafts a retrofpedive eye upon the 
 knowledge which his fludy and experience have 
 gained ; and every obfervation which he makes on 
 life, confirms a truth or refutes a prejudice : for 
 in Solitude, the whole fyftem of life is unveiled, 
 ftripped of its falfe glare, and reprefented in its 
 natural ftate to our view : truth, which in the 
 common intercourfe of men always lies concealed, 
 here exhibits itfelf in naked fimplicity. Ah ! how 
 happy is that man who has attained to a fituation 
 where he is not under the necefiity of difguifing 
 truth ! 
 
 But thefe pleafures of Solitude are not incom- 
 patible with our duty to the public, fince they 
 are the nobleft exercifes in which we can employ 
 our faculties for the good of mankind. Can it,, 
 in any fituation, be a crime to honour, to adore, 
 
 and 
 
TtiE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 and facredly to fpeak THE TRUTH? Can it be 4 
 crime boldly and publicly to announce, as the 
 occafion may require, that which an ordinary in- 
 dividual would tremble to think of ; and to prefer a 
 generous freedom to a continual reflraint ? Is not the 
 liberty of theprefs the channel through which writers 
 diffufe the light of TRUTH among THE PEOPLE, and 
 difplay its radiance to the eyes of THE GREAT? 
 Good writers infpire the mind with courage to think; 
 and is not the free communication of fentiment a 
 Caufe of the progrefs and improvement of human 
 reafon ? It is precifcly this love of liberty which leach 
 men intoSolitude,that they may throw oft" the chains 
 by which they are confined in the world : it is from 
 this difpofition to be free, that he who thinks in 
 Solitude boldly fpeaks a language which perhaps in 
 fociety he would not have dared to hazard without 
 precaution. Timidity never finds its way into 
 Solitude. The man who has courage to retire 
 under peaceful lonely (hades, difdains to exercifc 
 a bafe fubmiflion to the pride and infolence of THE 
 GREAT, and boldly teajrs from the face of dcfpotifm 
 the mafk by which it is concealed. 
 
 Solitude conveys the mod fublime and lilting 
 pleafures to the foul, unlefs the body which it in- 
 habits be entirely decayed; pleafures which infpire 
 ferenity in every fituation of life, afford confolatiort 
 under all its misfortunes, continue for ever un- 
 cxhaufted, and, at length, become as neceiFary td 
 
 our 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 our happinefs, as it is to the debauched mind of a 
 man of the world to be for ever trifling, ina&ive, or 
 running from door to door in fearch of contemptible 
 joys that are never to be found. CICERO, fpeaking 
 of the pleafures of the mind, fays, " They employ 
 " us in youth, and amufe us in old age ; in pro- 
 *' fperity they grace and embcllifli,ih adverfity they 
 c afford us (helter and fupport ; delightful at home, 
 <f and eafy abroad, they foften flumber, fhorten 
 t( fatigue, and enliven retirement." " The Belles 
 *' Lettrcs," fays PLINY the Younger, "are my 
 w delight and confolation. I know o.f no fludy 
 ff more agreeable : there is no misfortune which 
 ** they cannot alleviate. |n the afflictions I feel 
 " for the fufierings of my wife, thq ficjtnefs of my 
 " fervants, the death of my friends, I find no 
 " relief but in my (Indies; for, although I am 
 ** then made fenfible of the magnitude of my 
 " evils, they neverthelefs become more fup- 
 4 f portable." 
 
 Philofophy, a love of letters, all that affords 
 pleafure or* adds dignity to retirement, can only 
 be learned in Solitude. Fine tafte cannot bq 
 either cultivated or preferved among thofc vain 
 pretenders who, while you difcourfe with them 
 upon fubjeds of fcience, fpeak of learning with 
 contempt, and frequently tell you with a iheer, 
 f * Qh ! I never enquire into fuch vulgar things." 
 
 The 
 
I 5 8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 The habit of thinking, of making new dif* 
 coveries, of acquiring new ideas, is a never-failing 
 refource to him who feels his mind enriched by 
 obfervation, and knows how to apply the know- 
 ledge which he gains. When DEMETRIUS had 
 captured the city of Megani, the ibldicrs prepared 
 to plunder it; the Athenians, however, interceding 
 (Irongly for its inhabitants, prevailed : DEMK-T 
 TRIUS was fatisfied with expelling the garriibn, 
 and declared the city free. Amidft thefe tranf- 
 actions, he recollected STILPO, a philofopher of 
 great reputation, who fought only the retirement 
 and tranquillity of a fludious life. Having fent 
 for him, DEMETRIUS aflted, " if they had taken 
 " any thing from him?" " No," replied STILPO, 
 41 I found none that wanted to Jleal any knowledge. 9 * 
 
 Solitude is the channel through which all thofo 
 things flow which men conceal in the ordinary 
 commerce of life. The wounded feelings of a man 
 who is able and difpofed to write, may, in Solitude, 
 derive the grcateft comforts from literary com- 
 polltion. The pen, indeed, is not al\vays taken 
 up becaufe we are alone ; but if we are inclined 
 to write, it is indifpenfibly neceiTary that we 
 ihould enjoy undifturbcd quietude. The mind 
 difpofed to cultivate philofophy, or to court the 
 mufe, muft be free from all embarraflment. He 
 muft not hear his children crying every moment 
 at his door, nor mud his fcrvants inceflfantly in- 
 trude 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 trude with meffages of ceremony and cards of 
 compliment. In fliort, he mud be alone. Whe- 
 ther walking in the open air or feated in his clofet, 
 reclined, under the (hade of a fpreading tree or 
 ftretched.upon his fopha, he mud follow all the 
 impulfes of his mind, and be at liberty to change 
 his fituation when and where he pleafes. To write 
 with fuccefs, he mud feel an irrefiftible inclination, 
 find be able to obey the dilates of his tafte and 
 genius without impediment or restraint. Unlefs 
 all thefe advantages be united, the progrefs of the 
 work mud be interrupted, and the efforts of the 
 mind fufpended, until it feels that divine infpi- 
 ration which is capable of fubduing every dif- 
 ficulty, and furmounting every obdaclc. An 
 author can never write well, unlefs he feels a fecret 
 call within his bread, unlefs he watches for thofe 
 propitious moments when the mind pours forth 
 its ideas, and the heart warms with the fubjecV.. 
 Revived by cheerful profpe&s, animated by the 
 nobled fentiments, urged by contempt of diffi- 
 culties, the mind will make a powerful effort, and 
 line thoughts, in fuitable expreffions, will flow 
 fpontaneoufly from his pen. The quedion, whe- 
 ther he ought or ought not to write, will then be 
 refolved. The inclination is irrefidible, and will 
 be indulged, even at the expence of fortune, fa- 
 mily, friends, patrons, and all that we poflcfs. 
 
 PETRARCH felt this fecret impulfe when he tore 
 hi'mfelf from Avignon, the mod vicious and cor- 
 rupted 
 
iria THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 rupted city of his time, to which the Pope had 
 transferred the papal chair. Although honoured 
 with the prote<5tion of the Holy Father* of princes, 
 and of cardinals, ftill young and full of noblo 
 ardour, he exiled himfelf from that brilliant court, 
 anil retired to the famous Solitude of Vaudufe^ at^ 
 the diil.ince of fix leagues from Avignon* where he 
 luul only one fervant to attend him, and all his 
 poiieflions conilfted of a fmall houie and little 
 garden. Charmed with the natural beauty which 
 lurroim Ic-d this humble retreat, he removed his 
 libr< ; y 10 it; and, during his refidence there, 
 completed all his works, of which before he had 
 only Sketched the outlines. PETRARCH wrote 
 more at Vaudufe than at any other place where 
 he refided ; but, although he was continually em- 
 ployed in poli(hing his writings, he hclitated 
 long before he could refolve to make them public, 
 VIRGIL calls the leifure which he enjoyed at 
 Naples ignoble and obfcure ; but it was during 
 this leifure that he wrote his GEORGICS, the mo!l 
 perfect of all his works, and which (hews in almpft 
 every line that he v;rotc for immortality. 
 
 Lvery great and excellent writer has this noble- 
 view, and looks with emhufiafm towards the 
 fufirages of poilerity. An inferior writer a(ks a 
 mre moderate recompencc, and fomctimes ob- 
 tains the defired reward. Both, however, muil 
 v,ithdravv from tlie diilinaions of the world, feek 
 
ON THfe TVilND AND THE HEART. 161 
 
 trie filence of the foreft* and the fremnefs of the 
 made* and retire as it were into their own minds; 
 To produce a work capable of reaching future 
 generations, or worthy of the attention of con- 
 temporary fages, the loVe of Solitude muft entirely 
 occupy the foul ; for* to the advantages refulting 
 from Solitudej every thing they perform, all that 
 they obtain muft be attributed. Every advantage 
 n writer gains by profound thinking is due to So- 
 litude j he there reviews and arranges whatever in 
 the world has made an imprefiion on his mind, 
 Jmd fharperts the dart of fatire againft the inve- 
 teracy of prejudice and the obftinacy of opinion* 
 The faults of mankind ftrike the moral writer, and 
 the delh'e of correcting them agitates his foul ai 
 much as the deiire of pleafing actuates that of 
 others* The defire of immortality, however, is 
 the laft in which a writer ought to indulge, No 
 tone need attempt it, unlefs he poffefs the genius 
 of a BACON ; can think with the aciitenefs of a 
 VOLTAIRE | compofe with the eafe and elegance 
 of a ROUSSEAU ; and, like them, is able to pro- 
 dr.ce mafter-pieces worthy of being tranfmitted 
 to pofterity* Characters like thefe alone can fay, 
 " Our minds are animated by the fweet confo- 
 " latory reflection, that our names will be re- 
 " membered when we are no more ; by the plea- 
 " fmg whifper of flattery, which we hear from 
 " fome of our contemporaries, of the approbation 
 
 M " we 
 
i6* THE INfLUEtfCE OP SOL!TUI>S 
 
 " we (hall hereafter receive from thofe who ire 
 *' yet unborn, to \vhofe inftruction and happinefs 
 * we have, with all the ardour of efleem and love, 
 " devoted our labours. We feel within us thofe 
 " feeds of emulation which incite us to refcue 
 " from death our better part, and which prevent 
 " the happieft moments of our lives from being 
 " buried in oblivion/' 
 
 The love of fame, as well by the feeble light 
 of the lamp as on the throne or in the field of 
 battle, produces actions, the memory of which is 
 not extinguifhed by mortality, nor buried with us 
 in the tomb. The meridian of life becomes then 
 as brilliant as its morning. " The praifes," fays 
 PLUTARCH, " bellowed upon great and exalted 
 " minds only fpur on and roufe their emulation. 
 " Like a rapid torrent, the glory which they have 
 " already acquired hurries them irrefiftibly on to 
 '* every thfng that is great and noble. They never 
 " confider themfeives fufficiemly rewarded. Their 
 " preient actions are only a pledge of what may be 
 " expected from them, and they would blufh not 
 ?' to live faithful to their glory, and to render it 
 " flill more illuflrious by the nobleft actions.** 
 
 The man to whofe ear idle adulation and infipid 
 compliment is difgufling, will feel his heart warm 
 when he hears with what enthuiiafra CICERO fays* 
 <{ Why Ihould we diiVemble what it is impoiTiUle 
 *' for us to conceal ? Why mould we not be 
 
 " proud 
 
cc 
 
 " 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 163 
 
 * f proud of confeffing candidly that we all afpire 
 (t to fame ? The loVe of praife influences all 
 " mankind, and the greateft minds are moft fuf- 
 *' ceptible of it. The philofophers who moft 
 *' preach up a contempt for fame, prefix their 
 c< names to their works; and the very perform- 
 " ances in which they decry oftentation are evi- 
 <c dent proofs of their vanity and love of praife. 
 " Virtue requires no other reward for all the toils 
 and dangers to which (he expofes herfelf, than 
 that of fame and glory. Take away this 
 flattering reward, and what would remain in the 
 " narrow career of life to prompt her exertions ? 
 ** If the mind could not launch into the profpect 
 " of futurity, were the operations of the foul to 
 cc be limited to the fpace that bounds thofe of the 
 " body, fhe would not weaken herfelf by conftant 
 fatigues, nor weary herfelf with continued watch- 
 ings and anxieties ; fhe would not think even life 
 itfelf worthy of a ftruggle : but there lives in the 
 " bread of every good man a certain principle 
 c which unceafmgly prompts and infpirits him to 
 1 the purfuit of a fame beyond the prefent hour ; a 
 " fame not commenfurate to our mortal cxiftence, 
 " but co-extenfive with the lateft pofterity. Can 
 *' we, who every day expofe ourfclves to dangeis 
 " for our country, and have never pafied one 
 " moment of our lives without anxiety and trouble, 
 " meanly think, that all confcioufnefs (hall be 
 
 M 2 " buried 
 
164 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " buried with us in the grave? If the greatefl 
 M raen have been careful to preferve their buftoes 
 " and their flatties, thole images not of their 
 " minds but of their bodies, ought we not rather 
 " to tranfmit to poftcrity the refemblance of our 
 " wifdom and virtue ? For my part, at lead, I 
 " acknowledge, that in all my actions I conceived 
 " that I was difleminating and tranfmitting my 
 " fame to the remoteft corners and the latell 
 " ages of the world. Whether, therefore, my 
 " confcioufnefs of this fliall ceafe in the grave, 
 " or, as fome have thought, (hall furvive as a 
 " property of the foul, is of little importance; 
 '" for of one thing I am certain, that at this inflanc 
 " 1 feel from the reflection a flattering hope and 
 " delightful fenfation." 
 
 This is the true enthufiafm with which we, 
 ought to infpire the bofoms of the young nobility. 
 Were any one happy enough to light up this 
 generous flame within their hearts, and thereby 
 inure them to a conftant application to their ftu- 
 dies, we mould lee them fhuri the pernicious 
 pleafurcs of their age, and enter with dignity on 
 the career of heroes : we might then expect them 
 to perform the noblefl actions, to add new luflre 
 to fcience, and brighter rays to glory. To exalt 
 the minds of noble youths, it is only neceflary to 
 infpire them with an averfion from every thing that 
 is mean'; to excite a difguft for every thing that 
 
 enervates 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 165 
 
 enervates the body or weakens the faculties of the 
 mind ; to remove from their company thofe vile 
 and contemptible flatterers who are continually 
 defcanting on the pleafures of fenfe, and who feek 
 to acquire intereft and fortune only by leading 
 them into crimes ; decrying every thing that is 
 great, and rendering them fufpicious of every 
 thing that is good. The defire of extending ouf 
 fame by noble deeds, and of increafmg our credit 
 by internal dignity and greatnefs of foul, pofieffes 
 advantages which neither high rank nor illuftrious 
 birth can .bellow ; and which, even on the throne, 
 cannot be acquired without the aid of virtue, and 
 a fixed attention to the fuffrages of poftcrity. 
 
 The feeds of future fame are in no inftance more 
 plentifully fown than by the bold fatirift, who 
 dares to condemn the follies of the multitude, to 
 paint their prejudices, and expofe their vices in 
 glowing and unfading colours ; and whofe writings, 
 jf they fail to reform the people of that age, may 
 operate upon fucceedjng generations, extend their 
 influence to their children's children, and perhaps 
 render them more wife. Judicious precepts, great 
 examples, merited glory, produce their cftefls, 
 when the man of merit, whom envy has purfucd,has 
 defcended to his grave. O L.AVATER ! thofe bafc 
 corrupted fouls who only flu'ne a moment and arc 
 for ever extingujmed, will be forgotten, while 
 thy merit is honoured and beloved. Thy foibles, 
 for without them thou wouldcft not in effcft have 
 
 M 3 been 
 
i66 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 been fo great, will no longer be remembered, and 
 thofe qualitieswhich diftinguifh thee fromothcrswill 
 alone be feen ! The rich variety of thy language, 
 the judgement with which thou hall boldly invented 
 and created new exprefiions, the nervous brevity of 
 thy ftylc, and thy Unking picture of human man,? 
 ners and defects, will, as the author of " The Cha-r 
 " racers of German Poets and ^rofe Writers" has 
 predjcled, extend the fame of thy " FRAGMENTS 
 " UPON PHYSIOGNOMY" to the remotcft pofterity, 
 as one of the fmall number of German originals 
 which do honour to the genius of the age. NQ 
 perfon will then think that LAVATER, a genius 
 who has developed new truths, and created for 
 himfelf fo rich a language, believed in the juggles 
 of GESNER. 
 
 Such is the glory which attends the works of great 
 and excellent writers. The life after death which 
 CicERofeemedto hope for with fo much enthufiafm, 
 \vill arrive. The approbation which LAVATER pre- 
 dicted, his work on PHYSIOGNOMY will receive, 
 notwithftanding all thofe injuries that have been 
 heaped upon it both in Swijferland and in Germany. 
 But if CICERO had been only a Couful and LA- 
 VATER only a Thaumaturgus t, little of either the 
 one or the other would be recorded in the archives 
 of Time, which ("wallows up the common characters 
 pf life, and only prefcrves thofe names for eternity 
 which are worthy of everlafting fame. 
 
 THAVMATURCUS- one who works miracles ; a title given 
 by {he papifts |o thofe of their faints who were foppofcd to work 
 ihiracles.- T a A s SL A TOR , 
 
 TUp 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 167 
 
 The invectives of thevulgar,the.indignation of the 
 critics, are wreaked in vain againft thefe celebrated 
 names, and againft all thofc who may be tempted 
 to imitate them. 4f Why/' fay each of them to the 
 laughing blockhead, * 4 would you expound the 
 " meaning of all that I write, fmce my fined ftrokes, 
 *' glancing through your mind, produce only fuch 
 " frigid ideas ? Who are you ? By what title do 
 " you claim to be keeper of the archives of folly, 
 " and arbiter of the public tafte ? Where are the 
 " works by which you are diilinguiflied ? When. 
 ** and where have you been announced to the 
 " world ? How many fuperior characters do 
 " you reckon among the number of your 
 " friends > What diftant country is confcious that 
 " fuch a man exifts? Why do you continually 
 " preach your ml admit ari? Why do you ftrive 
 *' to depreciate every thing that is good, great, and 
 4< fublime, unlefs it be from a fenfe of your own 
 " littlenefs and poverty > Do you feek the ap- 
 " probation of the weak and giddy multitude, 
 * c becaufe no one elfe efteems you? If you 
 *' defpife a fair and lading fame, becaufe you 
 *' can do nothing that is worthy of honed praife, 
 <f the name you endeavour to ridicule (hall be 
 *' remembered when yours will be forgot." 
 
 The defire of glory is equally natural apd al- 
 lowable in men even of little fenfe and judgement ; 
 but it is not from the opinions of fuch characters 
 that writer? expec~t fame. It is from reflecting 
 and impartial minds \ from the approbation of thofc 
 virtuous and private characters for whom alone 
 
 M 4 they 
 
168 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 they withdraw from the multitude, and whofe bq- 
 fpms open willingly to a writer, when they obferve 
 the confidence with which he defires to difclole his 
 fentiments ; it is to obtain the approbation of fuch, 
 pcribns alone that writers feek the (hades of Solitude. 
 
 After thofe who fcribble their names on walls 
 and on panes of glafs, no character appears to me 
 lefs formed for glory than the man who writes 
 folely for the place in which he dwells. He who, 
 without being a member of any academy, or 
 literary club, fecks for fame among his fellow-? 
 citizens, is a fool who fows his feed upon a 
 rock. They may perhaps pardon fomething that 
 is good, but nothing that is fevere, great, or free. 
 To the prejudiced multitude, therefore, he muft 
 learn to be difcreetly filent ; for openly to avo\y 
 fentiments that would do honour to his character, 
 or by which he might acquire the praifes of other 
 men, is only to exafperate againft himfelf all thofe 
 among whom he lives. 
 
 But a writer of true taftc and found judgement 
 is confcjous that impartial and rational minds,, 
 throughout the uniyerfe, adopt other principles, 
 in appreciating the merit of a good work, than, 
 thofe which influence the judgment of his fellow- 
 citizens. True critics enquire, " Does the work 
 " relate to the intcrefls of mankind ? Is its objeft 
 f* ufeful, and its end moral ? Will it inform the 
 f< underftanding and amend the heart ? Is it 
 " written with freedom and impartiality ? Docs 
 f '.it bear the marks of honefty and fincerity ? 
 
 " Does 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. i6f 
 
 f e Does it attempt to ridicule any thing that i$ 
 f( good or great ? Does a manly ftyle of thinking, 
 t* predominate ? Does reafon, wit, humour, atid 
 f ( pleafantry prevail in it ? Does it contain neT 
 *' and ufefui truths ? If it infpires noble fen- 
 f f timents and generous refolutions, our judgement 
 " is fixed : the work is good, and the author 4 
 *' matter of the fcience." 
 
 In the ordinary commerce of the world, In that 
 intercourfe of flattery and falfehood where every 
 one deceives and is deceived; where all appear 
 under a borrowed form, profefs fricndfhips which 
 they dp not feel, and beftow praifes only that they 
 may receive them back in return ; men bow the 
 lowed to him whom they defpife the moft, and 
 diftinguifli every filly woman whom they meet by 
 the title of " Tour Grace*. 1 ' But he who lives retired 
 from the circle <*f illufion expects no compliment* 
 from others, nor beftows them but where they are . 
 deferred. A thoufand of the infidious grimaces 
 \yith which we are honoured in public life, arc 
 nothing to the f\veet converfe of private friendfhip, 
 which infpires us with a noble boldnefs, renders us 
 jnfenfible to all the oppreflions pf the world, pointf 
 out the road to true honour, and accompanies us 
 on our way to attain -it. 
 
 Of what value are all the babblings and vaia 
 boaftings of fociety to that domeftic felicity which 
 yt experience in the company and converfatiba 
 
 A title given in Germany to perfons of quality. 
 
 9f 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 of an amiable woman, whofe charms awaken all 
 the dormant faculties of the foul, and infpirc the 
 mind with finer energies than all our own exertions 
 coujd attain; who in the execution of our enterprize$ 
 prompts us by her afliftance, and encourages us by 
 her approbation, to furmount every difficulty ; who 
 jmpreflTes us with the greatnefs of her ideas and 
 the fublimity of her fentiments ; who weighs and 
 examines with judicious penetration our thoughts, 
 our actions, our whole character ; who obferves all 
 our foibles, warns us with fmcerity of their con- 
 fequences, and reforms us with gentlenefs and 
 affection j who by a tender communication of all 
 her thoughts and obfervations, conveys new in- 
 jflrudtion to our minds, and by pouring all the 
 warm and generous feelings of her Jieart into our 
 bofoms, animates us inceflantly to the exerciie of 
 every virtue, and completes the pojiflied perfection 
 of our character by the foft allurements of love and 
 the delightful concord of her femimems, 
 
 In fuch an jntercourfe, all that is virtuous an<J 
 noble in human nature is preferved within the 
 bread, and every evil propenlity die* away. The 
 multitude fee us as we ought to be in public, 
 and not as we are in SolitiKle ; for in the world 
 we always turn the fmooth farface outwards, and 
 carefully conceal all the fharp angles of our 
 Characters ; by which means we contrive to pals 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 171 
 
 without doing hurt to any pcrfon, and men find 
 pleafure in our company *. 
 
 But we are viewed with different eyes by our fel 
 low-citizens and by contemporary writers. By the 
 latter, our defects as well as our good qualities are 
 eafilydifcernible in ourwritings, which, if weexprefs 
 onefentiment with fincerity,often become the flrong- 
 cft evidences againft us. This idea, however, is con* 
 folatory to the feelings of our dear countrymen, to 
 whofe ears perhaps the praifes we receive may reach, 
 and who are obliged to admit the mortifying idea, 
 that there are people in the world who hold us in 
 fome efteem. The human character, it is true, fre* 
 quently exhibits a fingular mixture of virtue and 
 vice, of flrength and weaknefs 5 and why (hould 
 we conceal it ? Our foibles follow all that is 
 tcrreftrial in our nature to the tomb, and lie buried 
 with the body by which they were produced. 
 The nobler part, if we have performed any work 
 \yorthy of exiftence, furvives ; and our writings arc 
 the beft wealth we leave behind us when we die. 
 
 But, exclufive of this enthufiafm, Solitude affords 
 a pleafure to an author of which no one can deprive 
 ^ and which far exceeds all the honours of the 
 
 " Lf materiel conftitutei the higheft degree of merit ; and 
 " to live in peace, we ought to take great care that the other fide 
 ' of our characters (hould be perceived," faid a great man to 
 me ; one of the deareft and mod rcfpe&aUle among my friend*. 
 ;n Germany. 
 
 world* 
 
I 7 THE INFLUENCE OF SOUTODE 
 
 world. He not only anticipates the effect his work 
 will produce, but while it advances towards com- 
 pletion, feels the delicious enjoyment of thofc 
 hours of fercnity and compofure which his labours 
 procure. 
 
 What pleafure flows through the mind of an 
 eftablifhed writer, from the uninterrupted attention 
 and the glowing enthufiafm which accompanies it ! 
 Sorrows fly from this elegant occupation, and mif- 
 fortunes are forgot. Oh ! I would not exchange one 
 fingle hour of fuch perfect tranquillity for all thofc 
 flattering illufions of eternal fame with which the 
 mind of TULLY was fo incclfantly intoxicated. 
 Solitude, in the midlt of continual fufferings, is 
 an enjoyment which not only rationally cpnnectv 
 the fouj with the preterit moment, but renders 
 it fufceptible of every good impreffiqn, and raifcs 
 it to felicity, The fecret pjeafvite of haying pro- 
 duced at leaft fomcthing, is unknown to men 
 of vigorous conftitutions ; for they confide in the 
 ftrength of their powers. But to a writer afflicte4. 
 by ill health, a difficulty furmounted, a happy 
 moment feized, a propofition elucidated, a fentencc 
 neatly and elegantly furqed, ai> harmonjous period, 
 or a happy expreflion, are falutary and healing 
 Bairns, counter- poifons to melancholy, the mod 
 precious advantages of Solitude, and infinitely 
 fuperior to thofe dreams, thofe prefentiments of 
 honour and glory after death. Oh ! who would 
 
 not 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 not willingly renounce, for one of thcfe enjoyments, 
 that cnthufiafm againft which reafon oppofes fo 
 many powerful objections, and which to me doei 
 not appear quite fatisfactory, except when we do 
 not altogether enjoy our ufual prefence of mind. 
 
 To enjoy himfelf without being dependent on 
 the aid of others, to devote to employments not 
 perhaps altogether ufelefs thofe hours which forrow 
 and chagrin would otherwife fteal from the fum 
 of life, is the great advantage of AN AUTHOR ; and 
 with this advantage alone I am perfectly content. 
 And who is there that does not derive pi eafu re from 
 Solitude, when he perceives the progrefs he is 
 capable of making during a few hours, while the 
 multitude roll in their carriages through the ftreet, 
 and make every wall of the houfe tremble to its 
 foundation ? 
 
 : The Angularities of fome writers are oftentimes 
 the effects, and frequently the real advantages, of 
 Solitude. Long abfent from all commerce with 
 the world, their difpofitions become lefs flexible and 
 compliant. Even he, however, who has preferred 
 the manners of fociety, is not fond of being obliged 
 fo (hew himfelf in company differently from what 
 he is ; and he feizes the pen from fport, if it be 
 only to afford a (ingle confolation to his feelings. 
 
 But in this, perhaps, the world may fay, that 
 a writer acts improperly ; and that this eafy man* 
 ner of entertaining the reader neither contri- 
 butes 
 
174 THE INFLUENCE O* SOLlTUDfc 
 
 butes to his pleafure nor his information. This 
 ftyle of writing, however, has its merit ; literature 
 acquires by it a greater degree of freedom ; it 
 teaches the mind to rife above a creeping fervile 
 train of thought, and is more appropriated to the 
 neceffities of the time. If a nation is not yet pof* 
 fefied of all that its greateft men could with, (he may 
 attain it, if they are capable of extirpating ancient 
 prejudices, if freedom of fentimcnt be encouraged, 
 and if, in each province, fome philofophical writers 
 ihould be found who will boldly exprefs their 
 opinions. To entertain readers is, in my opi- 
 nion, only to deliver freely in writing that 
 which in the general intercourfes of fociety it is 
 impofiible to fay either with fafety or politenefs. 
 This is what I call Liberty; an ineftimable treafure ! 
 which, under a wife and moderate adminiftration, 
 every one enjoys who lives in Solitude. 
 
 In a treatife upon STYLE, printed at H^eywar^ a 
 gentleman appears very (Irongly to oppofe this new 
 manner of writing. In honour of the SOLITUDE 
 and LIBERTY by which it was produced, I mould 
 have' many things to fay to him, although I per- 
 fectly coincide with him upon many points. He 
 withes one general rule to be adopted with refpe<5t 
 to STYLE, and I contend for that freedom in 
 literary competitions which will allow of (lyle ac- 
 cording to every man's fancy and humour. He 
 thinks that a writer ftiould always have a model 
 
 before 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 17 j 
 
 before him; I think that every writer is his 
 own model. He wifhes writers to follow the flyle 
 of others ; I think that writers fhould, as much as 
 it is poflible, let every thing be their own ; not 
 the ftyle alone, but every other property belonging 
 to compofition. He is unwilling that the writer 
 fhould be difcoverable in the work ; tho f it appears 
 to me, that he may be permitted publicly to dt- 
 (ompoft the ftate of his mind, and to make obfer- 
 vations on his own character, for the benefit of 
 other men, rather than to leave his body by will 
 to a profeflbr of anatomy. He recommends au- 
 thors to proceed by regular fteps; I hate to 
 be taught by others how I ought to walk. He 
 fays, that it is the prefent famion with authors to 
 difclofc what were the feelings of their fouls when 
 they wrote; I cannot altogether conceal how I 
 find myfelf when I converfe with my readers. 
 He appears not inclined that they mould conceive 
 themfelves alone when they are writing ; while 
 very frequently I write, only that I may have the 
 opportunity of exprefling one word alone. 
 
 This treatife upon the fubjeft of STYLE, how- 
 ever, contains in general a true and judicious cri- 
 ticifm; and efpecially towards the conclufion, 
 which is filled with obfervations equally accurate 
 and profound. This was the only pafTage through 
 the work of which I difapproved ; for although 
 the ramblings, extravagances, and digrefllons of 
 our beaux efprits difpleafe me as much as they do 
 
 this 
 
176 THE INFLUENCE 6f SbtlftJDfi \ 
 
 this gendeman, I think, neverthclefs, that thi$ 
 free and eafy flyle of writing, which can only bd 
 acquired in Solitude, has already produced a 
 greater degree- of LIBERTY than was heretofore 
 enjoyed; and that this LIBERTY, employed with 
 tafte and difcretion, will promote the circulation 
 of a greater number of ufeful truths than there dill 
 cxifts of dangerous prejudices. 
 
 The light of philofophy has been prevented 
 from penetrating into many recefies, folely becaufe 
 the manners of focieties, the voice of the people, 
 and the opinion of the public, follow one uniform 
 ftep. Every man liflens and looks np to the fen-* 
 timents of his neighbour, and no one dares to 
 deviate from the ordinary mode of judgment* 
 Men of the world, who beft know the art of ap- 
 propriating to themfelves the neweft and mod 
 refined ideas of others, are obliged to conceal 
 them, and to follow die general manners of the 
 age. But when authors begin, from the retreats of 
 Solitude, to appear before the public without 
 difmay; when they ftudy the characters of every 
 defcription of people, with their manners of acting, 
 and their modes of thinking ; when they once dare* 
 with boldncfs and confidence, to defciibe things 
 by their true names, and difclofe by their writings 
 all thofe truths which every free and liberal miixl 
 ought to be permitted to difclofe; their INSTRUC- 
 TION will circulate gradually among the people, 
 the philofophy of human life will fpread itfelf 
 
 abroad 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 abroad, every man will dare to think for himfelf, 
 and difdain to be guided by the public opinion. 
 To cffe& this revolution, however, it is necefiary 
 that our writers fliould be acquainted with d, diffe- 
 rent region than merely that of the Univcrfity, or 
 even of their own provincial town : their minds muft 
 be formed by an intercourfe with men of every ftate 
 and every nation : they muft neither fear the great, 
 nordefpife the inferior claffes of mankind ; and they 
 muft learn to retire occafionally from this inter- 
 courfe with the world to long and uninterrupted 
 Solitude; to renounce the fedudlionu of pleafure, to 
 free themfelves from the ties of Society, and above 
 all, to become deaf to the praifeor cenfure of thofe 
 among whom they live, when employed as in- 
 ducements to the propagation of FALSEHOOD or 
 the fuppreflion of TRUTH. 
 
 The Germans felt an Helvetic feverity inthe taftc 
 and ftyle of thofe works which I formerly wrote, 
 and this feverity was without doubt the confe- 
 quence of my folitary life. THE SPECTATOR of 
 I'buringia for four years fucceffively defended me 
 with equal vivacity and (kill againft the very 
 heavy reproaches, that I was a peevifh hypocri- 
 tical philofopher, who was never pleafed with 
 any production, and always viewed the worft 
 Tide of things ; that nothing was facred from the 
 keeanefs of my criticifm, and the feverity of my fa- 
 lire ; but that the nation was too moUcft, too decent, 
 
 N to* 
 
i;8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 too delicate, and too virtuous to be entertai ned by fuch 
 compofitions ; inlhort, that ENGLISH Writers were 
 infufferable to GERMAN delicacy, and of confe- 
 quence it was impoflible to endure the Swiss. 
 
 But it appears to me, that they confound the 
 manners of the world with the ftyle of books. 
 Harlhnefs is without doubt excluded from Socie- 
 ty ; whilft, on the other hand, the naked truths 
 which well-written works or letters from time to 
 time difclofe, frequently ftrike the mind, and 
 produce an effect. "I am myfelf extremely 
 *' chafte," faid a Poet, '* but I acknowledge that 
 * my works are not." A writer, therefore, may be 
 civil and polite in his perfonal intercourfe with man- 
 kind, and flill properly fevere in his works. Why 
 fhould authors write as they fpeak, if they neve r 
 fpeak as they think ? Is it not enough that when 
 they mix in Society they endeavour to pleafe every 
 one; that when they have once entered into So- 
 ciety, they fubmit without exception to whatever 
 the laws of politenefs exact ; give up whatever is in- 
 lifted on, maintain no opinions unneceflarily, always 
 yield the privilege of talking to others, and do every 
 thing as if they were only there to hear and learn? 
 Are there not, however, many beaux efprits who aro 
 infufferable in company, from a vain conceit that 
 their writings are the laft beft models of elegance and 
 urbanity ? Would not fuch a character act more wife- 
 ly, to correct, in his commerce with the world, the 
 errors that may have efcaped fromhispen, than tore- 
 
 flrain 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 179 
 
 flrainhis pen and never check his tongue ? He, alas ! 
 who in the circles of Society is kind in his behaviour 
 and complaifant in his manners, may furely be 
 permitted once at leaft to hazard in his writings a 
 bold or even a harm expreflion and to infert 
 here and there a melancholy truth, when fo many 
 others are occupied in circulating fprightly falte- 
 hoods. 
 
 Energy of thought is bammed from the language 
 of converfation. But if the freedom with which 
 an author exprefles himfelf in his writings be infuf- 
 ferable in the intercourfe with the world, the fofc 
 and meretricious language of Society would be ri- 
 diculous in literary compofition. An author muft 
 fpeak in the language of TRUTH ; in Society a man 
 is in the conftant habit of feeling it only, for he muft 
 impofe a neceflary lilence upon his lips. The man- 
 ners of men are formed by intercourfe with the 
 world, and their characters by retiring into Soli- 
 tude. Here they will foon difcover whether they 
 have only learned complaifance, or have acquired 
 freedom of thought, firmnefs of expreflion, dig- 
 nity of fcntiment, and grandeur of ftyle. 
 
 Solitude raifes the mind to a high degree of 
 elevation and power. The man who has not cou- 
 rage enough to place himfelf above the prejudices 
 and fafhions of the world ; who dreads the reproach 
 of fingularity ; who forms and conducts himfelf 
 upon the example of others ; will certainly naver 
 acqu ire a fufficient degree of refolutioh to livealifeof 
 voluntary Solitude. It has been well obferved, 
 
 N a that 
 
i8o THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 thatSoLiTUDEisas indifpenfablyneceflary to give a 
 juft, folid, firm, and forcible tone to our thoughts* 
 as a knowledge of the world is to give them rich- 
 nefs and brilliancy, and to teach us to make a wife 
 and happy application of them. 
 
 THE MIND, when employed in the purfuit of no- 
 ble interesting objects, is cleanfed from thofe im- 
 purities xvith which the habits of indolence ftain the 
 vacant bread. THE SOUL, enjoying freedom and 
 tranquillity, feels all its energies with fuperior force, 
 and difplays an extent of power which was before 
 unknown. THE WILL iharpens itfelfin Solitude; 
 for as the faculties are capable of greater exertions 
 in the leifure it affords, as we enjoy greater liberty 
 and tranquillity, as our ideas become more clear 
 luminous and extended, as we fee with greater cer- 
 tainty into the confequences of things, the mind 
 exacts much more from itfelf in Solitude than in 
 the world. The tranquillity of Solitude, however, 
 jnuft not degenerate into idle eafe, into a (late of 
 mental numbnefs or ftupefact ion. It is not fufficient 
 for this purpofe to be continually gazing out of a 
 window with a thoughtlefsmind, or gravely walking 
 up and down one's ftudy in a ragged robe dechambrc 
 and worn-out flippers. The exterior of tranquillity 
 gives no elevation to the foul, infpires no activity, 
 except when we are well perfuaded that Solitude is. 
 neceflary, or feel it to bo a defire of the foul. It is 
 then only that it becomes a precious liberty, ani. 
 mating, at the fame inftant, both the reafon and the 
 
 imagination. 
 
 One 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 181 
 
 One of my illuftrious friench has frequently af- 
 fured me, that he never felt fo ftrong an inclination 
 to write as during a review, when forty thoufand 
 perfonsleft their houfes, and travelled on foot, in car- 
 riages, and on horfeback,to obfervethe manoeuvres 
 of a (ingle battalion. This friend has publiflied 
 many excellent treatifes upon the fciences, but he 
 never wrote a trifle full of wit and gaiety until the 
 day of the review. In early youth, I never felt fo 
 ilrong a difpofition to employ my mind on ferious 
 fubje&s as on Sunday mornings, when, far retired 
 in the country, I heard the (harp and tinkling found 
 of the village bells, while all my fellow-citizens, 
 occupied in their devotions, frizzed and powdered 
 Iheir heads to go to church. 
 
 Continual interruption deftroys all the good ef- 
 fefts of Solitude. Difturbance prevents the mind 
 from collecting its ideas. This is the reafon why 
 an eflablifhment frequently takes away more ad- 
 vantages than it brings. In the world, every 
 perfon is obliged to attend to the duties of his 
 particular ftation, and muft perform what they 
 exact from him ; but in Solitude, a man may be juft 
 what he wilhes and what he is. If, therefore, a 
 judicious philofopher or a man of genius do not 
 exactly follow the received ufages of his ftation, 
 they fay of him, " This is a fool ; he only knows 
 *' how to write books :" or perhaps, " His writings 
 <c are good, but as for himfelf, he is an afs." 
 
 V 3 The 
 
jS THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 The mind of a folitary man attacks prejudice and 
 error with as much vigour and courage as an ath- 
 letic champion meets his adverfary. Repeated ex- 
 aminations bring the objects of our attention more 
 near ; we behold their properties with greater cer- 
 tainty, and feel more ftrongly that which we have 
 feen. If the foul enter entirely into itfelf, it then 
 becomes more eafy to work with efficacy on exter- 
 nal objects. A man of a reflecting and intrepid 
 mind who retires within his own bofom,feizes TRUTH 
 wherever he difcovers her, and regards with the 
 tranquil fmile of pity thofe who think themfelves 
 authorifcd to fpeak of her with contempt ; he hears, 
 without being difconcerte,d, the invectives which en- 
 vy and prejudice throw out againft him ; for he per-., 
 ceives a weak multitude making HUE AND CRY the 
 moment he opens his hand and unloofes one of the 
 truths which it contains. 
 
 SOLITUDE affords us an opportunity to diminilh 
 the number of our paflions ; for out of a multipli- 
 city of trifling inclinations flie forms one great 
 clefire. It is certainly poflible that Solitude may 
 produce dangerous effects upon the paflions, bur, 
 Providence be thanked ! it may alfo produce the 
 mod falufary effects. If it be capable of difordering 
 the mind, it is alfo capable of effecting the cure. It 
 draws out and feparates all the various propenfities of 
 the human heart j but it collects and re-unites them 
 all into ONE. Yes ? in Solitude we feel and learn not 
 *>nly the nature but the extent and influence of all 
 fhe pjuTions, which rife up againft us like angry 
 
ON THE- MIND AND THfi HEART. 183 
 
 waves, and'endeavour to overwhelm us in the abyfs, 
 until PHILOSOPHY flies to our aid and divides their 
 force. If we do not yield an eafy vi&ory, by neg- 
 lecting all oppofition to their attacks, Virtue and 
 Self-denial bring gigantic powers to our afliftancc 
 that will " melt the rocks and bend the knotted 
 " oak." In (hort, every thing is pofiible to 
 VIRTUE and RISOLUTION, the inftant we learn 
 that one paflion is only to be conquered by an- 
 other. 
 
 The mind feels itfelf proudly dignified by that 
 greatnefs of foul which we acquire by a commerce 
 withourfelves, and, difdaining every ignoble object, 
 withdraws itfelf on every fide from corrupt Society. 
 A virtuous mind obferves the fons of worldly 
 pleafure precipitate themfelves into fcenes of riot 
 and debauchery without being feduced. In vain is it 
 circulated on every fide, that debauchery is theear- 
 lieft propenfity of man, efpecially of a young man 
 whowimes to know life ; in vain is it reprefented as 
 necefiaryto form connexions with girls of the ten- 
 dered youth, as it is to eat and fleep : no, the noble 
 mind feels and fees that debauchery renders youth, 
 unmanly, infenfible to the charms of virtue, and cal- 
 lous to the principles of honefty ; that it deftroys all 
 refolution, infpires timidity and pufillanimity in the 
 hour of danger, and prevents them from un- 
 dertaking any great and glorious enterprize ; 
 . that by the indulgence of libcrtinifm, the generous 
 warmth and fine cnthufiafm of the foul, its noble 
 
 N 4 fondnefs 
 
1*4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 fondnefs for the fublime and beautiful, all its 
 
 - powers, are loft. He, therefore, who retains a wifh 
 
 to appear great and honourable in the world, muft 
 
 renounce forever the habits of indolence and luxury, 
 
 The moment he ceafes to injure his faculties by dc- 
 
 / bauchery, and difcontinues his attempts to renovate 
 
 them by an excefs of wine and luxurious living, he 
 
 will no longer feel it neceffary frequently to take the 
 
 air, nor to confume the whole day on horfeback. 
 
 All men without exception have fomething contN 
 nually to learn. Whatever may be the diftinguiihed 
 rank which they hold in Society, they can never 
 t>e truly great but by their perfonal merit. The 
 more the faculties of the mind are exercifcd in the 
 . tranquillity of retirement, the more confpicuous they 
 appear ; and mould the pleafures of debauchery 
 be the ruling paflion, O young man ! learn that no* 
 thing will fo eafily fubdue it as an increafing emu- 
 lation in great and virtuous actions, a hatred of 
 idlenefs and frivolity, the ftudy of the fciences, a 
 frequent communion with thy own heart, and that 
 high and dignified fpirit which views with difdain 
 every thing that is vile and contemptible. 
 
 This generous pride difcovers itfelf with dignity 
 and greatnefs in the retreats of Solitude, where the 
 pafiion for every fublime object op crates with greater 
 freedom than jn any other fituation. The fame 
 paflion which carried ALEXANDER into Afia, con- 
 
 fjhcd DIOGENES to his tub. HERACLITUS quitte4 
 
 ' - i 
 
 the 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 185 
 
 the throne to devote himfelf to the fearch of truth. 
 He who wilhes to render his (ludies ufeful to man- 
 kind, mutt firfthave made his obfervations in the 
 world, without dwelling in it too long or quitting 
 it with regret. The world enervates the mind and 
 deftroys its vigour, CAESAR in the courfe of a few- 
 days tore himfelf from CLEOPATRA, and became 
 the mafter of th empire ; but ANTONY took her 
 as his miflrefs, was forever in her arms, and by his 
 effeminacy loft both his life and the WORLD. 
 
 SOLITUDE, it is true, infpires the foul with high 
 and exalted notions, which are incompatible with 
 the tranfactions of common life. But a lively ar- 
 dent paflion for whatever is great, points out to the 
 folitary man the poflible means of fupporting him- 
 felf on heights which would turn the heads of world- 
 ly-minded men. The circumftances which accom- 
 pany Solitude extend the faculties of the mind, in- 
 fluence the feelings of the heart, and place the man 
 fo much above the level of humanity, that he feels 
 himfelf immortal. To obferve upon the life of a 
 man of the world, we fliould fay, that each day 
 ought to be the laft of his exiftence. The pleafures 
 of Solitude make ample compenfation for every 
 privation, while the worldly-minded man thinks 
 that all happinefs is at an end if he happen to mifs 
 a favourite diverfion, to be deprived of attending 
 his club, or is difappojnted in/eeing the celebrated 
 conjurer, the new boxer, or the wild beafts juft ar-? 
 rived from a ftrange land, which the hand-bills of 
 the (day have announced* 
 
 I never 
 
,86 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 I never recollect without feeling the warmeft 
 emotions that paflfage where PLUTARCH fays, " I 
 " live entirely upon HISTORY, and while I con- 
 " template the pictures it prefents to my view, my 
 *' mind enjoys a rich repaft from the reprefenta- 
 " tion of great and virtuous characters. If the 
 " actions of men, which I muft neceflarily look 
 " into, produce fome inftances of vice, corruption, 
 " and difhonefty, I endeavour, neverthelefs, to 
 " remove the imprefiion, or to defeat its effect. My 
 " mind withdraws itfelf from the fcene, and, free 
 " from every ignoble paflion^ I attach myfclf to 
 " thofe high examples of virtue which are fp 
 " agreeable and fatisfa<flory, and which accord fo 
 " completely with the genuine feelings of our na- 
 turc." 
 
 The foul, attached by Solitude to thefe fublime 
 images, forgets every object that would attract it 
 toward the earth, mounts as it proceeds, and cafls 
 the eye of difdain on thofe links which would chain 
 it to the world, and tend to intercept or weaken 
 its flight. At this height the faculties and in- 
 clinations develope themfelves. Every man is 
 perhaps capable of doing much more than he per- 
 forms ; and for this reafon it is wife and glorious 
 to attempt every achievement which does not ap- 
 pear phyfically impoflible. How many dormant 
 ideas may be awakened ! and then, what a variety 
 of early imprefTions, which were Teeming] y forgot, 
 revive, and prcfent thcmielves to our pens ! We 
 
 may 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 187 
 
 may always accomplish much more than we con- 
 ceive, provided we do not relax in the proper exer> 
 ife of the mind , provided paflion fans the fire 
 which imagination has lighted ; for life only appears 
 i ifuppoftable, when it is no longer animated by the 
 Toft affections of the heart. 
 
 A (late of exiftence without paflion is, in Solitude 
 as well as in every other fituation of life, the death of 
 the foul. Difeafe and long-fuffering, after I ceafed 
 to breathe my native air, occafionally reduced me f 
 duringmany years, tothishorrible condition. While 
 thofe amongft whom I lived, and who were igno- 
 rant of my real fituation, thought that I was 
 .ingry, and expeftcd every moment that I mould 
 
 ize the lance and ihield, I pafied quietly on my 
 way, and refigned myfelf with care and cordiality to 
 the beneficent employments of my profeffion. While 
 the rage againft me was general, I remained per- 
 teftly infcnfible, and preferved an inviolable filence. 
 The languors of ficknefs, the tortures of a wounded 
 heart, the oppreflion of domeftic misfortunes, had 
 vanquished my mind, and rendered it infenfible to 
 every other concern. My brain continued during fe- 
 vcral years as obdurate as marble ; I pafled many hours 
 
 * " The force of the paflions," fays a great philofopher, 
 " can alone counterbalance in the human mind the effefts of 
 indolence and inactivity, (leal us from that repofe and Rapidity 
 ' towards which we inccflantly gravitate, and at length endow 
 " the mind with that continuity of attention to which fuperioritf 
 " of talent is attached," 
 
 clay 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 day after day without a thought ; I frequently ut- 
 tered the direct contrary to what I meant ; I could 
 fcarcely take any nourimment ; I could derive no 
 fupport from that which flrengthens others ; I ex- 
 peded every ftep I took to fall to the ground i 
 and I luffered all the punifhments of Hell, when- 
 ever I fat down with an intention to write. The 
 world contained nothing that could interefl me, 
 except only the fecret object of my chagrin, which 
 I kept clofely locked within my bleeding heart. 
 
 The paffions have no exiftence until the mo- 
 ment the corporeal organs become capable of in- 
 dulging thofc difpofitions which are previoufly 
 implanted in the breaft. The foul therefore, which 
 ought to be kept in a (late of conftant exercife, 
 acting only by means of thefe organs, it is neceflary 
 that their operations mould not be obftructed ; for 
 the foul, both in the tranquillity of Solitude and 
 in the hurry of the world, can never become active 
 or enterprizing, while it is impeded by thefe fub- 
 altern agents. Why is it not always in our power 
 to live in Solitude, and according to our incli- 
 nations, fmce it is certain that Solitude affords hap- 
 pinefs to the heart in every period of our lives, 
 and leads the mind to the fertile fources of every 
 great conception ? How pafiionately fond of So- 
 litude would every noble-minded youth become, 
 if he were capable of perceiving the variety of 
 
 grand 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 18, 
 
 md ideas, fublime fentiments, and profound 
 lowledgc, which he might there acquire in the ear- 
 ll periods of his infancy ! A wife old-age finds 
 happieft days in the retreats of Solitude. The 
 ind there thinks with greater dignity than in 
 world. In the tranquillity of retirement, we 
 how every thing ought to be conducted ; while 
 fociety, we only fee how things are carried on. 
 linterrupted reflection and profound thought 
 fpire the greatcft works which the human mind is 
 le of producing; while in fociety, the in- 
 Icctual fpirit evaporates by its continual at- 
 [ion to trifling objects. Solitude, on the con- 
 ry, mud poflfefs a very powerful charm, fince 
 many men forget in retirement all the cares of 
 , and learn to defpife every thing that belongs to 
 th; they fuflfer their lands to lie fallow, aban- 
 their crops to weeds, or leave them a prey 
 the beads of the field. 
 
 When the mind is filled with an enthufiafm for 
 cat atchievements, it lofes, in general, all con- 
 leration for trifling objects. This is the reafon 
 iy ,inconductinglittleconcerns, COMMON-SENSE 
 
 * " A man of Common-fenfe," fays HELVETIC i, " It atnaniri 
 vhofe charafter indolence predominates. He is not endowed 
 >ith that a&ivity of foul which, in high Rations, leads great 
 minds to difcorer new fprings by which they may fet the 
 vorid in motion* or to (bw thofe feeds from the growth of 
 bich they are enabled to produce future events," 
 
 u 
 
190 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 is much more ufeful than GENIUS. The ordinary 
 occupations of life deftroy the cnthufiafm of ge- 
 nius, which nothing will fo effectually reftore 
 as Solitude, leifure, and liberty. The philofophic 
 obferver and profound writer, therefore, have no 
 other refource, when they are furrounded and 
 encumbered by a multiplicity of affairs. Mif- 
 underftood and ridiculed, their fouls ficken un- 
 der the general preliure, and become almoft 
 extinct; for what inducement can there be to 
 write a great and diftinguimed work, when the 
 author is previoufly convinced that every one will 
 endeavour to turn it into ridicule the moment they 
 learn from whofe pen it was produced ? The defife 
 of fame dies, where merit is no longer rewarded 
 by praife. But remove fuch a writer or phi- 
 lofopher from the multitude ; give them liberty, 
 leifure, pens, ink, and paper, and they are 
 revenged ; for they will then produce writings 
 which whole nations will be eager to read. A 
 great variety of men, who poflefs extraordinary 
 talents, remain undiftinguiflied, only becaufe their 
 minds languid* under employments which do not 
 require the aid of thought, and which, for that 
 reafon, are much better fuited to the ignorant 
 vulgar than the refined philofopher. 
 
 Solitude reftores every thing to its proper place. 
 There the mind rejoices in being able to think, 
 in being enabled to derive pleafures from purfuits 
 
 which 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. lyi 
 
 which other men diflike, and, of courfe, in being 
 able to appropriate fo much time to itfelf. The 
 hatred which is generally entertained againft folitary 
 men, frequently proves a fource of enviable happi- 
 nefs. Indeed it would be a great misfortune to him 
 who is meditating in tranquillity the execution of 
 fome excellent work, if he were univerfally be- 
 loved ; for every one would then be anxious to 
 vifit him ; he would be peftered with invitations 
 to dinner ; and the firft queftion in all companies 
 would be, " Will he come ?" Happily, however, 
 Philofophers are not the characters mod diftinguifhed 
 and beloved by the world ; and they have the plea- 
 fure of reflecting, that the public hatred is never uni- 
 verfally excited againft an ordinary man. Ac- 
 knowledge, then, that there is fomething great in 
 that man againft whom all exclaim, at whom every 
 one throws a ftone, to whofe conduct all impute 
 a, thoufand abfurdities, and on whofe character 
 all attempt to affix a thoufand crimes without 
 being able to prove one. The fate of a man 
 of genius who lives retired and unknown, is 
 dill more enviable : he may then remain quiet 
 and alone ; and as it will appear natural to him 
 that his fentiments fliould not be underftood, 
 he will not be furprifed if the vulgar fliould 
 condemn whatever he writes and all he fays, 
 or that the efforts of bis friends to correct the 
 
 judgment 
 
191 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 judgment of the public with refpeft to his merit* 
 ihould prove ufelefs. 
 
 Such was, with refpeft to the multitude, the fate 
 of the Count SCHAUMBOURG-LIPPE, better known 
 by the title of the COUNT DE BUCKEBOURO. 
 Of all the German authors, I never knew one 
 whofe writings were more ridiculed or fo little un- 
 derflood; and yet his name was worthy of being 
 ranked among the greateft characters which his 
 country produced. I became acquainted with 
 him at a time when he lived almoft continually in 
 Solitude and retired from the world, managing 
 Jiis fmall eftate with great difcretion. There was 
 indeed, it muft be confefled, fomething in his man- 
 ner and appearance which, at firft fight, created 
 difgufl, and prevented you from paying a proper 
 attention to the excellent qualities of his mind. 
 
 The COUNT DE LACY, formerly Ambafla- 
 dor from Spain to Ptterflurgb, informed me at 
 Hanover, that he led theSpanim army againft the 
 Portugucfq at the time they were commanded by 
 the COUNT DE BUCKEBOURG ; the fingularity of 
 whofe pcrfon and manners fo forcibly ftruck the 
 minds of all the Spanifli generals, while they were 
 reconnoitring the enemy with rheir telefcopes, 
 that they exclaimed with one voice, Arc the For- 
 " tuguefe commanded by DON QUIXOTE ?" The 
 ambaflador, however, who pofleffed a very liberal 
 -mind, fpoke with enthufiaftic rapture of the good 
 
 conduct 
 
conduct of BUCKEBOURG in Portugal, and praifed 
 in the warmeft terms the excellence of his mind 
 and the greatnefs of his character. His heroic 
 countenance, his flowing hair, his tall and meagre 
 figure, and above all, the extraordinary length 
 of his vifage, might, in truth, bring back the 
 recollection of the Knight of LA MANCHA; 
 for certain it is> that at a diftance he made a 
 moil romantic appearance : on a nearer ap- 
 proach, however, a clofer view immediately con-* 
 vinced you of the contrary. The fire and ani- 
 mation of his features announced the elevation, 
 fagacity, penetration, kindnefs, virtue, and fe 
 rc-nity of his foul. Sublime fentiments and he* 
 roic thoughts were as familiar and natural to his 
 mind, as they were to the nobleft characters of 
 GREECE and ROME. 
 
 The Count was born In LONDON, and his conduct 
 was without doubt whimfical and extraordinary* 
 The anecdotes related tome by a GERMAN PRINCE 
 (a relationof COUNT GUILLAUME) concerning him,, 
 are perhaps not generally known. He was fond of 
 contending with the ENGLISH in every thing. For 
 inflance, he laid a wager, that he would ride a horfe 
 from LONDON to EDINBURGH backwards, that 
 is, with the horfe's head turned towards EDIN- 
 BURGH, and the Count's face cowards LONDON * 
 and in this manner he actually rode through 
 *v era! counties in ENGLAND. He not only tra* 
 
 O verfed 
 
, 74 Tl!B INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 verfcd the greateft part of that kingdom on foof, 
 but travelled in company with a German prince 
 through fevcral of the counties in the character of 
 a beggar. Being informed that part of the cur- 
 rent of the DANUBE, above REGENSBERG, was 
 fo ftrong and rapid that no one had ever dared to 
 fwim acrofs it, he made the attempt, and fwam 
 fo far, that it was with difficulty he faved his 
 life. A great flatefman and profound philofopher 
 related to me at HANOVER, that, during the war 
 in which the Count commanded the artillery in the 
 army of PRINCE FERDINAND of Brunfwick againft 
 the French, he one day invited fevcral Hanoverian 
 officers to dine with him in his tent. When the 
 company were in high fpirits and full of gaiety, 
 feveral cannon-balls flew in different directions about 
 the tent. " The French," exclaimed the officers, 
 " cannot be far off."'* No, no," replied the 
 Count, " the enemy, 1 allure you, arc at a great 
 " diftance;" and he delired them to keep their 
 feats. The firing foon afterwards re-commenced ; 
 when one of the balls carrying away the top of the 
 tent, the officers rofe fuddcnly from their chairs, 
 exclaiming, " The French are here."" No," 
 replied the Count, " the French are not here; 
 *' and therefore, Gentlemen, I defire you will 
 " again lit down, and rely upon my word." The 
 balls continued to fly about ; the officers, however, 
 continued to eat and drink without apprehenfion, 
 
 though 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 195 
 
 though not without whifpcring their conjectures to 
 each other upon the fingularityoftheir entertainment* 
 The Count at length rofe from the table, and, ad- 
 drefling himfelf to the company, faid, " Ge"n- 
 " tlemen, I was willing to convince you how well 
 " I can rely upon the officers of my artillery ; for 
 c< I ordered them to fire, during the time we con- 
 " tinucd at dinner, at the pinnacle of the tent ; 
 " and they have executed my orders with great 
 " punctuality." 
 
 Reflecting minds will not be unthankful for 
 thefe traits of the character of a man anxious to 
 exercife himfelf and thofe under his command in 
 every thing that appeared difficult or enterprizing. 
 Being one day in company with the Count by the 
 fide of a magazine of gunpowder which he had 
 made under his bed-chamber in FORT WIL- 
 HELMSTEIN, I obferved to him, that " I (hould not 
 " fleep vtry contentedly there during fome of the 
 " hot nights of fummen" The Count, however^ 
 convinced me, tho* I do not now recoiled how, that 
 the greateft danger and no danger is one and the fame 
 thing* WhenTfirft faw this extraordinary man,which 
 was in the company of an Englilh and a Portuguefe 
 officer, he entertained me for two hours with a 
 difcourfe upon the phyfiology of HALLER, whofe 
 Works he knew by heart* The enfuing morning, 
 he infifted on my accompanying him in a little 
 boat, which he rowed himfelf, to FORT WIL- 
 which, from plans he (hewed me of 
 O * his 
 
106 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 his own drawing, he had conftrudted in the miildfc 
 of the water, where not a foot of land was to btf 
 fecn. One Sunday, upon the great parade at 
 PTRMONT, furrounded by many thoufand men who 
 were occupied in drefs, dancing, and making love, 
 he entertained me on the very fpot during the courfe 
 of two hours, and with as much tranquillity as if 
 we had been alone, by detailing all the arguments 
 that have been ufed to prove the exiftence of God, 
 pointing out their defective parts, and convincing 
 me that he could furpafs them all. To prevent 
 my efcape from this leflbn, he held me fad all 
 the time by the button of my coat. He mewed 
 me, at his feat at BUCKEBOURG, a large folio vo- 
 lume in his own hand-writing, " On the Art of 
 " defending a fmall Town againfl a great Power." 
 The work was completely finimed, and defigned 
 as a prefent to the King of Portugal; but he did 
 me the favour to read many paiTages refpec"ling 
 the fecurity of SWISSERLAND. The Count con- 
 fidered the Swifs invincible ; and pointed out to me 
 not only all the important parts which they might 
 occupy againft an enemy, but (hewed me roadg 
 which a CAT would fcarcely be able to crawl 
 through. I do not believe that any thing was 
 ever written of higher importance to the intcrefls 
 of any country than this work ; for the manufcript 
 contains ftriking anfwers to all the objections that 
 a Swifs himfelf could make. My friend M. 
 MOYSE MENDELSOHM, to whom the Count had 
 
 read 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 197 
 
 read the Preface to this work at PYRMONT, con- 
 fidered it as a mafter-picce, both for its correct 
 language and fine philofophy ; for the Count 
 could write the French language with almoft the 
 fame cafe, elegance, and purity as VOLTAIRE; 
 while in the German he was laboured, perplexed, 
 and diffufe. What adds to his praile is, that upon 
 his return to PORTUGAL, he had with him, for 
 many years, two of the mod acute matters of 
 Germany, firft ABET, and afterwards HERDER. 
 Thofe who fee with more penetrating eyes than 
 mine, and have had more opportunities to make 
 obfervations, are able to relate a variety of re- 
 markable anecdotes concerning this truly great 
 and extraordinary man. I (hall only add one ob- 
 fervation more refpecting his character, availing 
 myfelf of the words of SHAKESPEARE : the Count 
 GUILHAUME DE SCHAUMBERC LiPPE carries no 
 
 ' He has a lean and hungry look" 
 " i i but he's not dangerous; 
 
 * . . he reads much ; 
 
 " He is a great obferver ; and he looks 
 
 ' Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays i 
 
 ** ..... " . . i . .he hears no muficj 
 
 ' Seldom he (miles, and fmiles in fuch a fort, 
 
 " As if he rnock'd hirnfelf, and fcorn'd his fpirit 
 
 ' That could be mov'd to fmile at any thing. 
 
 JULIUS CJESAR, Aft\, Scent 4. 
 
 Such was the character, always mifunderftood, 
 of this folitary man. A character of this defcrip- 
 tion may well imilc, when he perceives himfelf 
 
 O 3 
 
103 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 fcoffed at by the world ; but what muft be th 
 (hamc and confufion of thofe partial judges, when 
 they fhall behold the monument which the great 
 MENDELSOHM has erected to his memory ; or the 
 judicious hiftory of his life which a young author 
 is about to publilri at HANOVER; the profound 
 fentinicnts, the noble ftyle, the truth and fmcerity 
 of which \vill be discovered and acknowledged by 
 impartial pofterity. 
 
 The men who laugh, as I have feen them 
 laugh a thoufand times, at BUCKEBOURG, on 
 account of his long vifage, his fiowjng hair, his 
 great hat, and little fword, may very well indulge 
 their frniles of (corn, if, like the Count, they 
 are philofophers and heroes. The COUNT DE 
 BUCKEBOURG, however, never fmiled at the world 
 prupon men but with Uindnefs. Without hatred, 
 without mifanthropy, he enjoyed the tranquillity 
 of his country-houfe, fl mated in the bofom of a 
 thick foreft, frequently alone, or with the virtuous 
 woman whom he had chofen for his wife ; and 
 for whom, while living, he did not appear to en- 
 tertain any extraordinary fondnefs,; but when fhe 
 tlied, his aflTeftion for her was fo great, that the 
 lofs cf her brought him almoft to the graye. 
 
 It was thus that the people laughed at THE- 
 MISTOCLES., in Athens. They reviled him openly a^ 
 he paired along the flreets,becaufc he did not poffefs 
 ^hc manners of the world, the TON of good company ^ 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 199 
 
 ind was ignorant of that accomplishment which 
 was called genteel breeding : one day, however, he 
 jetorted upon thefe railcrs with the keeneft afperity. 
 " It is true," faid he, " I never learned how to 
 
 tune a lyre, or play upon a lute ; but I know 
 
 how to raife a fmall and inconfiderable city to 
 
 glory and greatnefs." 
 
 Solitude and philofophy therefore, although 
 they may infpire fentiments at which the world will 
 laugh, banifh every mean and fordid idea from the 
 mind, and prepare the way for the grandeft and 
 moil fublime conceptions. He who is accuftomed 
 to ftudy the characters of great men, and to admire 
 elevated fentiments, will almoil imperceptibly 
 adopt a romantic ftyle of thinking, which may fre- 
 quently afford an ample fubject to laughter. The 
 romantic mind always views things differently from 
 what they are or ever can be ; and a conftant 
 habit of contemplating the fublime and beautiful, 
 renders fuch characters in the eyes of the weak 
 and wicked ridiculous and infupportable. Men 
 of this tiirn of mind always difcover a noble- 
 nefs of foul which frequently offends the fa- 
 (hionable world ; but it is not on that account lefs 
 noble. The philofophers of India annually quitted 
 their folitude to vifit the palace of the king, when 
 each of them, in his turn, delivered his advice upon 
 the government of the (late, and upon the changes 
 and limitations which might be made in the laws. 
 He who three fucceffive times communicated falfe 
 
 O 4. or 
 
seo THE INFLUENCE 6F SOLITUDE 
 
 or unimportant obfervations, loft, for one year, thd 
 privilege of fpeaking in the prefence of the fo- 
 vereign. There are many other romantic philofo* 
 phers, who would require much mfcre, but would 
 do nothing. PLOTINUS requefted the Emperor 
 G ALIEN us to confer upon him the fovereignty of a 
 fmall City in CAMPANIA, and the lands appendant 
 to it. The city was to be called PLATONOPOLIS; 
 for PLOTINUS had promifed to refide there with 
 his friends and followers, and realize the republic 
 of PLATO, But it happened then, as it frequently 
 happens now in many courts to philofophers much 
 
 lefs chimerical than PLOTINUS the courtiers 
 
 laughed at the propofal, and told the emperor thai 
 the philofopher was a fool, whofe mind experience 
 could not reform. 
 
 The picture of the grcatnefs and virtue of the 
 ancients produces, in Solitude, the happieft in- 
 fluence upon minds fufceptible of thofe ideas and 
 fcntimcnts. Sparks of that bright flame which 
 y/armed the boforos of the great and good, fome- 
 times operate the mod unexpected effech. TQ 
 cheer the drooping fpirits of a lady in the country 
 whofe health was impaired by a nervous affection, 
 1 advifed her to read very frequently the hiilory of 
 the Greek and Roman Empires. At the expiration 
 of three months (he wrote to me, 4< With what 
 ** veneration for antiquity have you infpircd my 
 " mind ! What are the buzzing race of the prefent; 
 ** a.ge, when compared with thott noble charac- 
 
" 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 201 
 
 ters ! Hiftory heretofore was not my favourite 
 ftudy ; now 1 live only on its pages. I feel 
 " during the progrefs of my ftudy, the ftrongeft 
 " inclination to become acquainted with all the 
 " tranfactions of GREECE and ROME. Ithasopen- 
 " ed tome an inexhauftible fource of pleafure and 
 " health. I could not have believed that my H- 
 " brary contained fo ineftimable a treafure ; it will 
 <{ become dearer to me than any thing I inherit. 
 " In the courfe of fix months you will no longer 
 " be troubled with my complaints. My PLU- 
 
 f TARCH has already become more valuable to me 
 " than all the triumphs of coquetry, or all that 
 " fentimental writing addrefled to ladies in the 
 " country who are inclined to be all heart, and 
 " with whom SATAN plays tricks of love with the 
 " fame addrefs as a dilletante plays tricks of mufic 
 
 1 on the violin." This lady who, I confefs, is 
 learned, gives me further information refpecting 
 the conduct of her kitchen, and the management 
 of her poultry yard; but (lie has recovered her 
 health, and I think (he will hereafter find as much 
 pleafure in houfe-keeping and feeding her chickens 
 AS (he did formerly from the pages of PLUTARCH. 
 
 The hiftory of the grandeur and virtue of the an- 
 cients cannot operate for any length of time except 
 in the tranquillity of retirement, or among a fmall 
 circle of men ; but it may produce in the event the 
 happieft effefts. The mind of a man of genius is 
 during his folitary walks filled with a crowd of ideas 
 
 which 
 
30* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 which appear ridiculous to his fellow-citizens ; but 
 the. period will arrive, when they will lead millions 
 to perform actions worthy of immortality. The 
 ,. Swifs Songs compofed by LAVATER appeared at a 
 lime unfavourable to their reception, and when the 
 Republic was in a declining flate. The Swifs Society 
 of SCHINTZUACH, who had prevailed upon that 
 ardent genius to compofe thofe fongs, offended the 
 French Ambaflador, and from that time the So- 
 ciety was exclaimed againll from every corner of 
 the kingdom. The great HALLER himfelf pointed 
 his epigrams againft the Members in every letter 
 which I received from him; for they had long 
 refufed to admit him into the Society. He confi- 
 dercd us as enemies to orthodoxy, and as difciples 
 of JEAN JACQJJES ROUSSEAU, a man hateful to 
 his eyes. The Prefident of the Committee for the 
 Reformation of Literature dcfendcdat ZURICH the 
 Swifs fongs of LAVATER, from the excellent mo- 
 tive, That it was not proper to ftir up the old dung- 
 hill* No poet of GREECE, however, wrote with 
 more fire and force in favour of his country than LA- 
 VATER did for the interefls of SwifTerland. I have 
 heard children chaunt thefe fongs with patriotic en- 
 ihufiafm, and feen the fineft eyes filled with tears while 
 fheir ears liftened to the finger. Rapture glowed 
 in the breads of the Swifs peaiants to whom they 
 were fung, their mufclesfwelled, the blood inflame^ 
 jheir cheeks. Fathers with wham I am acquainted 
 
 have 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. OJ 
 
 have carried their infant children to the chapel of 
 WILLIAM TELL, to fing in full chorus the fong 
 which LAVATER wrote upon the merits of that 
 great man. I have made the rocks re-echo to my 
 voice, by Tinging thefe fongs to the muiic which 
 my heart compofed for them in the fields and upon 
 *hofe celebrated mountains where thefe heroes, the 
 anceftors of our race, fignalized themfelves by their 
 immortal valour. I thought myfelf encompaifed 
 by their venerable (hades. I fancied that I fa\r 
 them flill armed with their knotted clubs breaking 
 to pieces the crowned helmets of Germany, and, 
 although inferior in numbers, forcing the proud 
 nobility to feek their fafety by a precipitate and 
 ignominious flight. 
 
 This, I ihall perhaps be told, is romantic ! for 
 romantic ideas can only pleafe folitary and reclufe 
 men, who always fee objects in a different point 
 of view from the multitude around them.. Great 
 jdeas, however, fometimes penetrate in fpite of 
 the moft obftinate refinance. In republics they 
 pperate infenfibly, and infpire elevated fentiments, 
 which may become extenfively ufeful in times of 
 frouble and commotion. 
 
 Every thing unites in. Solitude to raife the foul 
 and fortify the human character, becaufe the mind 
 jhere habituates itfelf,m\jch better than in the world, 
 to noble fentiments and heroic refolutions. The 
 folitary man poflefles a char<n againft all the (hafts 
 
 of 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 offtupidity, envy and wickednefs. Rcfolved to 
 think and to act upon every occafion in oppofition 
 to the fentiments of narrow minds, he attends to all 
 the contrarieties he meets with, but is aftonilhed at 
 none. Entertaining a juft and rational cfteem for 
 friends, but fenfible alfo that they, like enemies, 
 generally indulge their feelings to excefs, that 
 all of them are partial, and inclined to form too 
 favourable a judgment, he appeals therefore to 
 the judgment of the public; not, indeed, to the 
 public of his own city, who always confider the 
 perfon and not the thing in controverfy, who never 
 decide until they have heard the opinions of two 
 or three beaux efprits; but he appeals to the world 
 at large, at whofe impartial tribunal he appears, 
 and, with his works in his hand, demands the 
 jufticc that is due. 
 
 But it is commonly thought that Solitude, by 
 elevating the fentiments, renders the mind unfit for 
 bullnefs: this, however,! do not believe. It mutt ever 
 be highly beneficial to raife the foul by the ad vantages 
 of retirement, and to exercife the mind in Solitude 
 in fuch a manner as will prevent our tottering fo 
 frequently in the world, and give us full pofleflion 
 of it in all the events of public life. The love of 
 truth is preferved by Solitude, and virtue there ac- 
 quires a greater firmnefs; although I acknowledge, 
 that in buiincfs it is not needful always to tell the 
 truth, and that a rigid virtue frequently mifcarrics 
 i:i the affairs of life. 
 
 The 
 
ON THB MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 The virtue and limplicity of manners which 
 Solitude produces, are revered by the GREAT and 
 OOOD of every clime. It was thefe ineftimable 
 qualities which, during the highefl fury of the 
 war between ENGLAND and FRANCE, obtained 
 the philofophic JEAN ANDRE I>E Luc the re- 
 ception he met with at the court of Verfailles, and 
 infpired the breaft of the virtuous, the immortal 
 DE VERGENNES with the defire to reform, by 
 means of a philofopher, the heads of the citizens 
 of Geneva, which he, with all the power of the 
 Prime-Minifter of France, had not been able to 
 effeft. DE Luc, at the requeft of the minifter, 
 made the attempt, but failed of fuccefs; and 
 France, as it is well known, was obliged to fend 
 an army to reclaim the GENEVESE. It was upon 
 his favourite mountains that the philofopher JEAN 
 ANDRE DE Luc acquired that fmiplicity of man- 
 ners which he dill preferves amidft all the luxury 
 of LONDON, where he endures with firmncfs all 
 the wants, refufes all the indulgences, and fubdues 
 all the defires of focial life. At HANOVER, I 
 could only remark one fingle inftance of luxury 
 in which he indulged himfelf : when any thing 
 Vexed his mind, he chewed a little morfel of fugar, 
 and, of courfe, always carried a (mall fupply of it 
 in his pocket. 
 
 Solitude not only creates fimplicity of manners, 
 but prepares and ftrengthens the faculties for the 
 
 toils 
 
tc THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 toils of bufy life. Foftered in the bofom of re- 
 tirement, the mind feels a greater degree of ao 
 tivity -when it engages in the tranfactions of the 
 world, and retires again into tranquillity to repofc 
 itfelf, and prepare for a new conflict . PERICLES, 
 PHOCION, EPAMINONDAS, laid the foundation of 
 all their greatnefs in Solitude : they there acquired 
 that ftylc which is not to be learned in the forum 
 of the imiverfity the ftyle of their future lived 
 and actions. When the mind of PERICLES was 
 occupied by important objects, he never appeared 
 in the ftrcets except to tranfact his bufmefs, and 
 inftantly renounced feallings, public aflemblies, 
 and every other pleafure of the kind. While the 
 adminiilration of the affairs of the republic wa* 
 in his hands, he only went once to fup with a 
 friend, and came away very foon. PHOCION im- 
 mediately refigned himfelf to the ftudy of phi- 
 lofophy, not from the oftentatious motive of being 
 called a wife man, but to place himfelf in a con- 
 dition to conduct the bufmefs of the State with 
 greater rcfolution and efftft *, The people were 
 aftonimed, and enquired of each other when and 
 by what means EPAMINONDAS, after having, pafied 
 his whole life in ftudy, had not only learned, but 
 
 Thus TACITIM fpeaks of HILVIDIUS PRISCXM: " Inge- 
 " nlum illuftri altioribut Jlnaiit juvenis admodum t/tdit, non ut 
 ' magnifito nomint f titan wlartt, ftj yud frmior tdwrfa fortuity 
 
 as 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. so; 
 
 it were all at once exercifed the military art in 
 its higheft perfection. He was frugal of his time,, 
 levoted his mind entirely to the delights of lite- 
 rature, and, defining nothing fo much as to be 
 L'xempt from bufmefs, withdrew himfelf from every 
 public employment. His country forced him from 
 the retreats of Solitude, gave him the command of 
 the army, and he faved the republic. 
 
 A character upon which I never reflect but with 
 the higheft tranfports, the character of PETRARCH, 
 was formed entirely in Solitude, and was by that 
 means rendered capable of tranfacting the mod 
 complicated political affairs. PETRARCH was 
 without doubt, fometimes, what perfons very fre- 
 quently become in Solitude, choleric, fatirical, and 
 petulant. He has been reproached with great 
 feverity for the lively pictures he has drawn of 
 the manners of his age, and particularly for his- 
 portrait of thefcenes of infamy which were tranfacted 
 at AVIGNON under the reign of Pope CLEMENT 
 THE SIXTH. But PETRARCH was perfectly ac- 
 quainted with the human heart, knew how to> 
 manage the paflions with uncommon dexterity, 
 and to conduct them diredVly to his purpofe. 
 The ABBE DE SADES, the belt hiftorian of his 
 life, fays, IC PETRARCH was fcarcely known ex- 
 " cept as a tender and elegant poet, who loved 
 " with unextinguimable ardour, and fung in all 
 " the harmony of verfe the graces of his miftrefs ; 
 " and nothing more is known .of his character." 
 
 They 
 
68 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 They knew not all the obligations that literature 7 * 
 which he reclaimed from the barbarity under which 
 it had been fo long buried, owes to his pen* 
 They knew not jthat he faved the works of the beft 
 writers of antiquity from duft and rottcnncfs ; 
 that all thcfc precious trcafures would have* Jccn 
 loft to us, if he had not dug them from the grave, 
 and procured correct copies of them to be made. 
 They were ignorant, perhaps, that he was the firft 
 reftorer of the belln Itttrts in Europe; that he 
 purified the tafte of the age; that he himfelf 
 thought and wrote like an ancient citizen of Rome 
 before its fall ; that he extirpated a multitude of 
 prejudices, nrefervcd his courage and his firmncfs 
 until the hour of his death, and that his lad work 
 furpafled all thofe which had preceded it. Still 
 lefs were they informed, that PETRAIICH was an 
 able ftatefman, to whom the mod celebrated fo- 
 vereigns of his age confided every difficult ne- 
 gociation, and confulted in their mod important- 
 concerns ; that in the fourteenth century he pof* 
 fefled a degree of fame, credit, and influence, 
 which no man of learning of the prefent day has 
 ever acquired ; that three popes, an emperor, a 
 fovereign of France, a king of Naples, a crowd 
 of cardinals, the greateft princes, the moft illuf- 
 trious nobility of Italy, cultivated his friendlhip, 
 and folicited his correfpondence ; that, as a ftatef- 
 man, a minifter, an ambafifador, he wa's employed 
 in tranfading fome of the greateft affairs of the 
 
 age; 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 209 
 
 age ; that he was thereby placed in a fituation to 
 inftrucl them in the moft ufeful and importanttruths; 
 that to Solitude alone he owed all this power; 
 that no perfon was better ' acquainted with its 
 advantages, cherifhed it with greater fondnefs, or 
 refoui'.ed its praifes with higher energy; and 
 that he at length preferred LIBERTY and LEISURE 
 to all the enjoyments of the world. He appeared 
 a long-time enervated by LOVE, to which he had 
 confecrated the prime of his life; but he fud. 
 denly abandoned the foft and effeminate tone 
 with which he fighed at LAURA'S feet; addreffcd 
 himfelf with manly boldnefs to kings, to emperors, 
 to popes ; and ever afterwards maintained that con- 
 fidence which fine talents and a great character 
 always infpire. With an eloquence worthy of 
 DEMOSTHENES and CICERO, he exhorted the 
 princes of Italy to make peace among them- 
 fclves, and to unite their powers againft the 
 common enemies, the barbarians, \vho tore to 
 pieces the very bofom of their country. He en- 
 couraged, guided, and fupported RIENZI, who 
 appeared like a guardian -an gel fent from Heaven 
 to re-eftablifti the original fplendour of the city 
 of ROME. He incited a pufillanimous emperor 
 to penetrate into the heart of Italy, and to 
 feize, as the fucceflbr of the C^SARS, the go 
 Vernment of the empire. He conjured the 
 popes to replace the holy chair, which they had 
 tranfported to the borders of the RHINE, once 
 more upon the banks of the TIBER. At a time 
 
 P even 
 
aio THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 even when he acknowledges, in one of his writings, 
 that his mind was filled with vexation, his bofom 
 tormented by a tender paffion which he was in- 
 ceflantly endeavouring to conquer, difgufted with 
 the condu.fl of men, and tired with public life, 
 Pope CLEMENT THE SIXTH, who, without doubt, 
 was ignorant of what was parting in his heart, 
 intruded him with anegociation of great difficulty 
 to the court of NAPLES. PETRARCH undertook 
 the charge. He confefles, that the life of a 
 court had rendered him ambitious, bufy, and 
 enterprising; and that it was laughable to behold 
 a hermit, accuftomed to live in woods, and traverfe 
 the plains, now running through the magnificent 
 palaces of cardinals, with a crowd of courtiers in 
 his fuite. When JOHN VISCONTI, Archbiihop 
 and Prince of MILAN, and fovereign of all LOM- 
 BARDY, a man who united the fined talents with 
 an ambition fo infatiable that it threatened 
 to fwallow up all ITALY, had the happinefs to fix 
 PKTRARCII in his intereits, and by inducing him 
 to undertake the office of private Secretary, to gain 
 every thing that could accompany fuch an ac- 
 quifition, a philofopher and man of learning, 
 who efteemed Solitude above any other iitua- 
 tion ; the friends of PETRARCH exclaimed, 
 " How ! this bold republican, who breathed 
 " no femiments but thofe of liberty and inde- 
 pendence ; this untamed bull, who fpurned ' 
 at the iluidow of the yoke ; who difdained 
 
 ta 
 
 ' 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. aif 
 
 *' to wear any other fetters than thofe of LOVE^ 
 " and who frequently found even thefe too heavy } 
 " who refufed fo many advantageous offers front 
 " the court of ROME, and preferred his liberty to 
 " all the enflaving charms of gold, now voluntarily 
 " fubmits tothe (hackles of the tyrant of Italy ; this 
 " mifanthrope, who could no longer exift but in rural 
 c< tranquillity; this grtat apoftle of Solitude,. has 
 " at length quietly taken his habitation amidft 
 " the tumults of MILAN !" " My friends," 
 replied PETRARCH, " you are perfectly right; 
 " man has not a greater enemy than himfelf. I 
 *' have acted contrary to my inclination, and againft 
 " my own fentiments. Alas ! in all the tranf- 
 " actions of our lives, we do thofe things that wtf 
 '* ought not to do, and leave undone thofe things 
 <c to which we are rrioft inclined." But PETRARCH 
 might have told his friends, " I was inclined to 
 " give you an example of what a man is able to do 
 " in the affairs of the world, when he has fuf- 
 " ficiently exercifed the powers of his mind in 
 " Solitude, and to convince you, that a previous 
 " retirement confers liberty, firmnefs, expreflioft^ 
 '* folidity, dignity, and nobility, upon all the tranf- 
 " actions of public life/' 
 
 Averfion from the commerce of the world, 
 and the frivolous employments of the Metropolis, 
 inlpires the mind with a fufficiem degree of courage 
 
 Pa to 
 
iU THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 *o defpife the prejudices of the age, and the opinions 
 of the multitude ; a courage which is therefore fel- 
 ' dom found except among folitary men. The com- 
 merce of the world, far from fortifying the foul, 
 only weakens it, in the fame" manner that enjoyment, 
 too frequently repeated, blunts the edge of every 
 pleafure. Oh I how frequently the beft plans fail 
 of fuccefs from difficulties of execution, notwith- 
 Itanding the accuracy and excellence with which 
 they are formed. How many happy thoughts 
 have been ftifled at the moment of their birth, 
 becaufe they then appeared rather too bold ! 
 When a literary work appears, no enquiry is 
 made concerning the excellence of the matter or 
 the elegance of its compofition. The reader feck- 
 only to divine the intention of theauthor; conftrue-. 
 every exprefiion contrary to its import ; perceive 
 a vein of fatire where in fact no fatire exifts, where 
 it would be impofliblc tUt there mould be any ; 
 and disfigures even thofe rcfpcdtable truths whu: 
 the author difcloles in the fmccrity of his hear: 
 and for which every juft and honeft mind vii. 
 filently thank him. 
 
 The Prefident MONTE SQJI IE ir experienced tl, 
 treatment at Paris in the meridian of his fpU L 
 dour; and for this reafon he has obferved, in tl. 
 defence of his immortal work, " The Spirit , 
 " Laws" " Nothing ftifles knowledge mci 
 ' than covering every thing with a doctor's robe 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 213 
 
 * c for the men who arc continually teaching, are great 
 " hindrances to learning. There is no genius that 
 " is not contracted, when it is enveloped by a 
 " million of vain fcruples. Although you have the 
 " beft intentions that were ever formed, they will 
 " even force the mind to doubt its own integrity. 
 " You can no longer employ your endeavours to 
 fpeak or to write with propriety, when you are 
 perplexed with the fear of exprefling yourfelf 
 ill, and when, iuftead of purfuing your thoughts, 
 you are only bufy in fele&ing fuch terms as 
 " may efcape the fubtlety of the critics. They 
 *' feem inclined to place a biggin on our heads, 
 " and to warn us at every word, '* Take care 
 " you do not fall. Ton would fpeak like yourfelf \ 
 ft but I would bave you fpeak like me" If you 
 " attempt to foar, they pull you by the fleeve, 
 c< and impede your flight. If you write with 
 " life and fpirit, they inftantly deprive you of 
 <* it. If you rife to fome height, they take 
 " out their rule or their compafs, and, lifting 
 " up their heads, defire you to come down, that they 
 " may meafure you : and in running your courfe, 
 " they advife you to take notice of all the impedi- 
 c mcnts which the ants have raifed in your way." 
 MONTESQJJIEU fays, " that no fcience nor li-. 
 " terature is proof againft this pedantry." But, 
 Pid he not himfelf refifl it ? Does not his work 
 continue to be reprinted ? Is it not read with 
 univcrfal applaufe ? 
 
 P 3 The 
 
THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 The writer who knows and dares to paint the 
 chara&ers of men, mud, without doubt, wear a 
 triple fhield upon his bread ; but, on the other 
 hand, there is no book worth reading without this 
 flyle of painting. There are certainly truths in 
 every good work, againfl which the indignation 
 of thofe who arc intereiled will naturally arifc. 
 Why do the Englifh fo iar furpafs us in then 
 fpeculations upon mankind ? Why do we appear 
 fo puerile, wfccn compared with then), or with the 
 Greek and Roman writers, on every fuhjcct tbat 
 rcfpects the dcfcription of human manners ? It 
 proceeds from the clamours which are raifed againfl 
 every author who hazards any opinions upon the 
 philofophy of life for the general benefit of man- 
 kind. We who honour in fo high a degree the 
 courage of the warrior, why, like effeminate SY? 
 BARITES, do the foldings of a rofc-bud trouble 
 pur repofe ? Why do we vomit forth injuries 
 againfl that civil courage, the courage without 
 arms, the domejlicas fortijudvies of CICERO ? 
 
 It is falfe, that there is nejther heart nor fpirit 
 except in REPUBLICS; that under the democratic 
 form of government alone people may fpeak the 
 TRUTH with freedom and fafcty, and he who 
 thinks well may think freely. In ARISTOCRACIES 
 efpccially, and even under a conflitution much 
 more free, but where a fingle demagogue poflefies 
 the fovcreign power, unhappily, alas ! they 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 215 
 
 too frequently confider common-fenfe as a crime* 
 This abfurdity renders the mind timid, and, of 
 courfe, deprives the people of all their liberty. In a 
 MONARCHY, punimment is, in almoft every inftance, 
 prcfcribed by the laws of juftice ; but in REPUB- 
 LICS it is inflicted by prejudice, paflion, and ftate- 
 necefiity. Under a republican fornuof govern- 
 ment, the firft maxim parents inculcate into the 
 minds of their children is, not to make themfclves 
 enemies. To this fage counfel I remember re- 
 plying, when I was very young, " My dear 
 ' mother, do you not know, that he who has no 
 " enemies is a poor man?" The citizen is, in 
 many republics, under the authority and vigilant 
 eyes of more than a hundred princes ; but a mo- 
 narch is the fole prince on whom his fubjects are 
 dependent. The number of mafters in a republic 
 crufhes the fpirit; but in a monarchy, love and 
 confidence in ONE alone, raifes the fpirtts of the 
 happy people. In every country, however, 
 the rational man, who renounces all the ufelefs 
 converfations of the world, who lives a life of 
 Solitude, and who, fupcrior to every thing that he 
 fees, to all that he hears, forms the integrity of 
 bis mind in the tranquillity of retirement, by an 
 intcrcourfe with the heroes of GREECE, of ROME, 
 and of GREAT BRITAIN, lays a permanent found- 
 ation for his future character, and acquires a noble 
 
 P4 
 
* ,6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ftyle of thinking, independent of the caprices of 
 the vulgar. 
 
 THESE are the obfervations I had to make 
 refpe&ing the Influence of Solitude upon the 
 Mind. Many of them are perhaps undigefted, 
 and many more are certainly not well exprcfled. 
 
 Dear and virtuous young man, into whofe hands 
 this book perchance may fall, receive with kind- 
 nefs and 'affection the good which it contains, and 
 rcjeft 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 blcfs me, if 
 you acknowledge that I have enlightened your 
 mind, corrected your manners, and tranquillifed 
 your heart, I fhall congratulate myfelf on the fin- 
 cerity of my intentions, and think my labours richly 
 rewarded. If, in perufing it, you find yourfelf able 
 to juflify your inclination for a wife and active Soli- 
 tude, your averfion from thofe focieties which only 
 ferve to deftroy time, and your repugnance to em- 
 ploy vile and mameful means in the acquifition of 
 riches, I (hall afk no other benediction for my 
 work. If you are fearful of opening your lips ; 
 if you labour under the continual apprehenfion of 
 faying fomething that may be confidered ridi- 
 culous, in the underftandings of thofe who have 
 granted to themfelves the monopoly of WIT and 
 TASTE, and who, by virtue of this ufurpation, 
 go about uttering the greateft abfurdities ah ! 
 
 then. 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 then THINK, that in fuch company I fliould be 
 confidercd an equal blockhead with yourfelf. 
 
 The fentiments of my mind and the feelings of 
 my heart have guided me in every thing that I 
 have written upon the fubject of Solitude. It was 
 this which occafioned a lady of great wit to ob- 
 ferve, on reading the two firfl parts of this work f 
 that I fliould unbofom myfelf upon every thing 
 that I felt, and fliould lay down my pen the mo- 
 ment thofe feelings were cxprcfled. This method 
 of writing has certainly produced faults which a 
 fyftematic philofopher would not have committed. 
 But I (hall confole myfelf for thefe errors, if this 
 Chapter affords only a glimpfe of the advantage of 
 Solitude upon the minds, the understandings, and 
 the characters of men ; and that which follows 
 fliall excite a lively fenfation of the true, noble, and 
 fublime pleafures which Solitude produces by a 
 tranquil and affectionate contemplation of nature, 
 and by an exquifite fenfibility for every thing that 
 is GOOD and FAIR* 
 
CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE UPON THE HEART. 
 
 PEACE OF MIND is, upon earth, the fuprcme 
 good. Simplicity of heart will procure this 
 invaluable bleflfmg to the wife mortal who, re- 
 nouncing the noify pleafures of the world, lets 
 bounds to his defires and inclinations, cheerfully 
 fubmits himfelf to the decrees of Heaven, and f 
 viewing thofe around him with the eye of cha- 
 ritable indulc,ence,feels no pleafures more delight- 
 ful than thofe which the foft murmur of a ftream 
 falling in cafcades from the fummit of rocks, 
 the refrefhing breezes of the young zephyrs, and 
 the fweet accents of the woodland chaunters, arc 
 capable of affording. 
 
 How refined our fentiments become when the 
 tempefts of life have fubfided; when thofe mif 
 fortunes which caufed our afflictions have vanimed j 
 when we fee ourfelves furrounded by friend(hip f 
 peace, iimplicity, innocence, repofe, and libeity. 
 
 The heart, to tafte the charms of retirement, 
 need not \>c without emotion. Oh ! who would 
 
 not 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 not prefer to every other enjoyment the foft me* 
 lancholy which Solitude infpircs ? Who would 
 not renounce the univcrfe for one fmgle tear of 
 LOVE? The heart is fufceptible of this felicity, 
 when it has learned to admire with equal pleafure 
 KATURE in itsfublimeft beauties, and in the modeft 
 flower which decorates the valley ; when it has 
 learned to enjoy, at the fame time, that infinite 
 fyftern, that uniform fuccemon of parts, which 
 expands the foul, and thofe delicious details which 
 prefent foft and pleafant images to the rnind, 
 Thefc pleafurcs are not exclufively refervcd for 
 ftrong encrgic minds, whofe fenfations are as 
 lively as they are delicate, and upon whom, for 
 that reafon, GOOD and BAD make an equal im- 
 prefiion. The pureft happincfs, the mod en- 
 chanting tranquillity, are alfo within the reach of 
 men whofe temperament is cold ; who, endowed 
 \vith imaginations lefs bold and lively, always 
 perceive fomething extravagant in the enere;ic 
 exprefiion of a (till more energic fenfation : in the 
 pictures, therefore, which are prefentcd to the eye 
 of fuch characters, the colouring muft not be high, 
 nor the teints too (harp; for, as the bad flrikes 
 them lefs, fo alfo they are lefs fufceptible of the 
 livelier enjoyments. 
 
 The heart owes the mod agreeable enjoyments 
 which it derives from Solitude to the IMAGI- 
 NATION. The touching afpect of delightful na- 
 ture; 
 
ON THE MIND AN*D THE HEART. 211 
 
 lure ; the variegated verdure of the forefts ; the 
 noife of an impetuous torrent ; the quivering mo- 
 tion of the foliage ; the harmony of the groves, and 
 an extenfive profpect, ravifh the foul fo entirely, 
 and abforb in fuch a manner all our faculties, 
 that the thoughts of the mind are inftantly'con- 
 verted into fenfations of the heart. The view of 
 an agreeable landfcape excites the fofteft emotions, 
 and gives birth to pleating and virtuous fenti- 
 ments : all this is produced by the charms of 
 imagination. 
 
 The imagination fpreads a touching and fe- 
 dudljve charm over every object, provided we are 
 furrounded by freedom and tranquillity. Oh ! 
 how eafy it is to renounce noify pleafures and 
 tumultuous aflemblies for the enjoyment of that 
 philofophic melancholy which Solitude infpires. 
 A religious horror and foft raptures arc alternately 
 excited by the deep gloom of forefts, by the tre- 
 mendous height of broken rocks, and by the mul- 
 tiplicity of fublime and majeftic objects which 
 prefent themfelves to our view on the delightful 
 fcite of a fmiling landfcape. There are no fenfa- 
 tions, however painful, which are not vanquilhedby 
 thefe fcrious but agreeable emotions, and by thbfe 
 foft reveries to which the furrounding tranquillity 
 invites the mind. The Solitude of retirement and 
 the^ awful ftlence of all nature imprcfs an idea 
 of the happy contraft between fimplicity and 
 grandeur. Our feelings become more cxquifite, 
 
 and 
 
*is THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 and our admiration more lively, in proportion to 
 the pleafures we receive. 
 
 I had been, during the courfe of many years, 
 familiar with the fublimeft appearances of nature, 
 when I faw, for the firfl time, a garden cultivated 
 in the Englifli tafte near HANOVER ; and foon 
 afterwards I beheld one in the fame ftyle, buc 
 on a much larger fcale, at MARIENVERDER, about 
 the diftance of ^ league from the former. I was 
 not then apprifed of the extent of that art which 
 (ports with the mod ungrateful foil, and, by a new 
 fpecies of creation, converts even barren fandy 
 mountains into fertile and fmiling landfcapes. 
 This magic art makes an ailoniming imprclfion 
 on the mind ; it excites in every heart, not yet in- 
 fenfible to the delightful charms of cultivated 
 nature, all the pleafures which Solitude, rural 
 repofe, and a feclufion from the haunts of men, 
 can procure. I cannot recollect a fingle day 
 during the early part of my refidencc at HANOVER, 
 without tears of gratitude and joy. Torn from 
 the bofom of my country, from the embraces of 
 my family, and driven from every thing that I 
 held dear in life, my mind was not fufceptible of 
 any other fentiments than thofcof the deeped melan- 
 choly. But when I entered into the little garden of 
 my late friend M. DE HINUBER, near HANOVER, 
 I forgot, 'for the moment, both my country and 
 my erief. 
 
 The 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. t*$ 
 
 The charm was pew to my mind. I was not 
 then apprifed that it was poflible upon fo fmall a 
 fcale, to imitate the enchanting variety and the 
 noble fimplicity of nature. I was not till then 
 convinced that her afpeft alone was fufficient, at 
 the firft view, to obliterate all the oppreffion of the 
 world, to excite in our breads the pureft luxury, to 
 fill our mincls with every fentiment that can create 
 a fondnefs for life. I ftill blefs the hour when I 
 firft learned this fecret. 
 
 This new re-union of ART and NATURE, which 
 was invented not in China but in England, is found- 
 ed upon a refined tafte for the beauties of nature, 
 confirmed by experience, and by the fentiments 
 which a chafte fancy refle&s upon a feeling heart. 
 HIRCHFELD, the great painter of nature, an 
 amiable and fenfible philofopher, the firft Ger* 
 man who by his admirable theories introduced 
 among us a knowledge (if gardening, is become, 
 by conferring this knowledge, one of the greateft 
 benefa&ors to his country. 
 
 There arc, without doubt, many GERMAN-BIT- 
 CLISH gardens fo whimfically and ridiculoufly laid 
 out, that they only excite emotions of pity and 
 contempt. Who can forbear laughing to fee forefts 
 of poplar-trees fcarcely large enough to warm a 
 chamber-ftoye for a week; mole-hills which 
 they call mountains; menageries of tame and fa- 
 
 vage 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 V age animals, birds and amphibioustreaturcs, grirt^ 
 ning in native grandeur upon tin ; bridges with- 
 out number acrofs a river which a couple of ducks 
 would drink dry; wooden filhes fwimming in 
 canals which the pump every morning fupplies with 
 water? All this is certainly ftill lefs natural than the 
 pitiful tafte of our anceftors. But if on the contra- 
 ry, in the garden of M. HINUBER at Marie*verJkr 9 
 every look elevates my foul towards God, if every 
 point of view affords to the eye fublime repofe, if 
 on every bank I difcovcr fcenes ever fmiling and 
 ever new, if my heart feels relief from the afped: of 
 this enchanting place, (hall I amufe myfelf by dif- 
 cufling, whether what I fee might have been 
 done in a different way, and permit the infipid 
 pleafantries of cold and taftelefs matters to diminifli 
 my plcafurcs ? Scenes of ferenity, whether created 
 by tafleful art or the hand of nature, always 
 convey tranquillity to the heart ; a kinclnefs which 
 it owes to the imagination. If a foft filcnce 
 breathes around, and every object is pleafantto my 
 view ; if rural fcenes abforb all my attention, and 
 diflipate the grief that lies heavy on my heart ; 
 if the lovelinefs of Solitude enchants me, and, gra- 
 dually fubduing my foul, leaves it full of benevo- 
 lence, love, and content ; I ought to thank God for 
 thofe powers of imagination which, although it has 
 indeed frequently caufed the trouble of my life, 
 has always led me, in retirement, to fome friendly 
 
 rock 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 rock, upon which I could hang while I contemplated 
 \vith greater compofure the tempeftsl had efcaped *. 
 A celebrated Englim writer has faid, that " SOLI- 
 : TUDE, on the firft view of it, infpires the mind 
 ' with terror, becaufe every thing that brings with 
 ' it the idea of privation is terrific, and therefore 
 16 fublime, like fpace, darknefs, and filence." In 
 S:vi]Jtrland t and efpeciallynear the Canton of BERNE^ 
 the Alps have at a diftance an aftonifliing gran- 
 deur of appearance ; but viewed nearer, they infpire 
 images terrific and fublime. That fpecies of gran- 
 deur which accompanies the idea of infinity', charms 
 the eye when feen at a proper diftance. The heart 
 feels nothing but raviflirricnt, while the eye obferves 
 from afar the uninterrupted chain of thefe immenfe 
 mountains, thefe enormous mafles rifmg one above 
 the other. The fucceflion of foft and lively lhades 
 
 * A French writer has embellifhed this idea with all the riches 
 of eloquence. * There is no mind of fenfibility which has not 
 " tafted in the retreats of SOLITUDE thofe delicious momenta 
 " when MAW, flying from the delufions of falfehood, enters into 
 * his own heart to feek the fparks of truth 1 What plcafure, 
 " after having been tofled during many years on the fea of life, 
 " to climb fome friendly rock, and reflect in peace and fafety 
 " on the temped and fhipwrecks which enfucd! Happy the 
 " man who can then forget the idle prejudices which occupy the 
 *' mind : the miferics of humanity vaniih from his fight ; auguft 
 *' TRUTH fills his bofom with the pureft joys. It is only in 
 '' thefe moments, and in thofe which precede the difTolutibn of 
 ** our mortal frame, that MAN can learn what he is upon thu 
 " earth, and what thii earth is to him.'* 
 
 temper 
 
2*0 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 temper the impreflion, and give to this prodigious 
 wall of rocks, more of the agreeable than the fub 
 lime. On the contrary, a mind of fenfibility cannot 
 take a near view of thefe mountains, without feeling 
 an involuntary trembling. The eye looks with fear 
 on their eternal fnows, their fieep defcents, their 
 obfcure caverns, the torrents which precipitate 
 themfelves withrefounding noiie over their fummits 
 forming innumerable cafcades, the dark forefts of 
 fir with which their fides are overcharged* and the 
 enormous fragments of rocks which the tempefts 
 have detached from their foundations during the 
 courfe of time. How my heart beat, when, for the 
 firft time, I climbed through a deep and narrovr 
 path upon thofe fublime defarts, continually dif- 
 covering new mountains rifing over my head, while 
 upon the lead ftumble death menaced me in a. 
 thoufand different fhapes below ! But imagination 
 ibon begins to kindle, when you perceive yourfelf 
 alone in the midll of all this grandeur of nature, 
 and refled from ihefe heights on the nothingnefs 
 of human power, and the weaknefs of the greateft 
 Monarchs ? 
 
 The Hiftory of the Swiss evinces that the inha- 
 bitants of thefe mountains are not men of a dege- 
 nerated cad, but that their fentiments are elevated, 
 and their feelings warm. Their boldn'efs and in- 
 trepidity is innate; thefpirit of liberty gives wings 
 to their fouls ; and they trample tyranny and tyrants- 
 
 undex 
 
bN THfe MIND AND THE HfeART. 
 
 \irtdcr their feet. But the fpirit of liberty is only to 
 be found in its genuine refinement among the 
 Alps ; for all the Swiss are not in reality free, al- 
 though they have notions of liberty, love their coun- 
 try, and return their thanks to the Almighty for 
 that happy pdate which permits each individual to 
 live quietly under his vinej and to enjoy the (hade 
 of his fig-tree* 
 
 The Alps in Swiffcriautl&re inhabited by a race of 
 
 men, fometimes unfociable, but always good and 
 
 generous* The feverity of their climate renders 
 
 therrt hardy and robuft, while their paftbral life 
 
 adds foftnefs to their chara&ers. An Englilhman 
 
 I'.as faid, that he who never heard thunder in the 
 
 Alps, cannot conceive any idea of the continuity 
 
 ef the lightning) the rolling and the burft of the 
 
 ihunder which roars round th horizon of thefe im- 
 
 meYife mountains. The inhabitants of the Alps 
 
 rherefort, who have never feen better houfes than 
 
 their own cabins, or any other country than their 
 
 itive rocks, conceive every {>art of the univcrfe to 
 
 e formed of the fame rough materials j andafeene 
 
 t imceafing tempefls. 
 
 But Heaven is not always threatening ; the light- 
 ing does not continually flam upon their eyes; 
 n mediately after the mod dreadful tempefts, the he- 
 iifphere clears itfelf by flow degrees, and becomes 
 rehe. The heads and heart* of THE Swiss arc of a 
 milar nature ; kindnefs fucceeds to anger ; and ge- 
 
 nerofitr 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 nerofity to the mod brutal fury ; which might Stf 
 cafily proved, not only from the records of hiftory 
 but from recent facts. One of the inhabitants of 
 thefe ftupendous mountains, QEKERAL DE RE DIN, 
 born in the Canton of Scbwitz, was enrolled very 
 early in life in the Swifs guards, and had attained 
 the Ration of Lieutenant General ; but his long re- 
 fulcncc at Ptiris and Verfaltte* had not in any degree 
 altered his character ; and he continued through 
 life a Swifs. The orders ilTued by the Court of 
 Verfailles in the year 1764, for the regulation of the 
 Swifs who were in the fervice of that Court, occa- 
 fioned great difcoments in the Canton of Sckvitz. 
 The citizens confidered this innovation as extreme- 
 ly prejudicial to their ancient privileges, and they 
 threw the blame of this meafure upon GENERAL 
 RED i N. At this crifis the wife of the General, who 
 refided on his eftate, was exerting all her intercil 
 to raife recruits ; but the found of the French drum 
 was become difgullmg to the ears of the citizens of 
 the Canton, and they faw with indignation the- 
 white cockade placed in the hats of the deluded 
 peafants. The Magiftrate, apprehenfive that th' 
 fermentation might ultimately caufe fome infurrec- 
 tion among the people, thought it his duty to pro- 
 hibit MADAME DE REDiNfromcontinuing to raife 
 her levies. The lady required him to give a certi- 
 ficate in writing of this prohibition ; but the Ma- 
 giftrate was not at that moment inclined to act with 
 t tms fpirit againil the intereft of FRANCE ; and tlu 
 
 wii 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 329 
 
 \vife of the General continued to raife her recruits. 
 This bold meafure irritated the inhabitants of the 
 Canton; they fummoned a General Diet, and MA- 
 DAME DE REDIN appeared before the FOUR 
 THOUSAND. <f The drum," faid flic, " (hall ne- 
 " ver ceafe to beat, until you give me a certifi- 
 " cate, which may juftify my hufband to the Court 
 " of France for not completing the number of his 
 " men." They granted her the certificate flic de- 
 manded, and the General was at the fame time en- 
 joined to ufe his intereft at the Court of France for 
 the fervice of his country. Thcfe meafures being 
 adopted, the Canton waited in anxious expectation 
 of receiving fatisfaclory accounts from PAR i s ; but 
 unhappily very difiatisfaftory accounts arrived. The 
 feelings of the inhabitants were irritated beyond 
 rcftraint ; and thofe who were polfefTed of credit and 
 authority publicly maintained that the new regulation 
 endangered both their liberties and their religion. 
 The general difcontent was inftantly converted into 
 univerfal fury. The Diet was again afiembled, and 
 it was publicly refolved not to furnifli the King of 
 France with any troops hereafter. The treaty of 
 alliance in 1713 was torn from the archives of the 
 country, and GENERAL REDIN was ordered to re- 
 turn immediately with the foldiers under his com- 
 mand, upon pain of perpetual exile. REDIN ob- 
 tained the King's leave of abfence for himfelf and 
 his regiment ; and they returned to their own coun- 
 
a jo THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 try. The General entered Schwitz, the metropolis 
 of the Canton, at the head of his troops, with drum* 
 beating and colours flying. They marched to- 
 wards the church; RED IN placed the colours 
 by the fide of the great altar, fell upon his knees, 
 and offered up his thanks to God. He then dif- 
 charged to his foldiers the arrears of their pay, 
 gave them their accoutrements and clothes, and 
 with tears in his eyes, while they wept around him, 
 took his leave. The fury of the populace feem- 
 ed to increafe, when they found thcmfclves in pofi 
 feffion of a man whom they confidered as a perfi- 
 dious wretch, a traitor who had favoured the new 
 regulations at the Court of Pirfailks, and who had 
 confpired to give a mortal blow to the interefts of 
 his country. The General Diet aflcmblcd, and 
 RKDIN was fummoned to difclofc the manner in 
 which thefe new regulations had paffed, in order 
 that they might know the terms on which they ftood 
 with FRANCE, and learn the degree of offence 
 the traitor had committed, fothat they might after* 
 tcrwards grant him a pardon or apportion his pu- 
 nilhment. RE PIN, perfectly aware that under the 
 real circumflances of the cafe eloquence would be 
 vainly exerted againft minds heated in the caufe, 
 contented himfelf with faying; roughly, and in few 
 words, that all the world knew the manner in which 
 things had patted, and that he was as innocent with 
 jegard to the new regulation as he was of his dif- 
 miffion, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 231 
 
 roiflion. The traitor then will not confefs !" ex* 
 claimed the moft furious of the Members ; " hang 
 " him on the next tree cut him to pieces." Thefc 
 menaces were inftantly repeated by the whole Af- 
 fembly; REDIN, however, continued perfectly 
 tranquiK A troop of furious peafants mounted THE 
 ROSTRUM, while REDIN Hood by the fide of the 
 Magiftrates. It was at this time raining. A young 
 man, the godfon of REDIN, held a paraplttie over 
 his head. One of the enraged multitude with a 
 blow of his (lick broke the parapluie to pieces, ex- 
 claiming, " Let the villain be uncovered." Rage 
 fwelled the boOm of the youth. *' Ah ! ah !" laid 
 he, " J did not know that my god-father had be- 
 " trayed his country ; but fince it is ib, bring me a 
 " cord this moment, that I may (Irangle him.*' 
 The Members of the Council formed a circle round 
 the General, and entreated him with uplifted hands 
 to think of his danger ; to confefs that he had not 
 perhaps oppofed the regulation with proper vehe- 
 mence ; and to offer the facrifice of his whole for- 
 t une as a reparation for the offence he had commit- 
 red, on condition that they would fparc his life. 
 REDIN walked out of the circle with a grave and 
 anquil air, and made the fign of filence with his 
 ind. The whole Afiembly waited with im- 
 itience to hear the General confefs \ and the 
 t eater number of the Members flattered him with 
 he hopes ofpardont " My dear countrymen, 1 * 
 
 0.4 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 faid the General, " you are not ignorant that } 
 " have ferved the King of France two and forty 
 " years. You know, and many among you who 
 t( were with me in the fervice can bear witnefs of 
 " its truth, how frequently I have appeared in the 
 " face of the enemy, and the manner in which 
 " I have conducted myfelf in feveral battles. 
 * I confidercd every engagement as the laft day of 
 " my life. But 1 here proteft, in the prefence of 
 " Almighty God, who knows all hearts, who 
 " litlens to my words, who is to judge us all, that 
 " I never appeared before the enemy with a con- 
 " fcience fo tranquil, pure, and innocent ; and am 
 " ready at this inflant to yield up my life, if you 
 " think proper to condemn me for not confeffing 
 " an infidelity of which I have not been guilty.*' 
 
 The dignity with which the General delivered 
 this declaration, and the rays of truth which beamed 
 upon his countenance, calmed the fury of the af- 
 femlly, and he was faved. But R EDI N and his wife 
 foon afterwards quitted the canton. She entered 
 into a religious convent at URI, and he retired 
 into a deep cavern among the rocks, where he 
 lived two years in Solitude. The fury of his 
 countrymen, however, at length fubfided ; he re- 
 turned to the canton, and rewarded their ingratitude 
 by the moft fignal fervices. Every individual then 
 recollected the integrity and magnanimity of the 
 
 General $ 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 95* 
 
 General ; and to compcnfate the injuries and }rK 
 juftice he had received, they eleded him BAILLT, 
 or firfl officer of the canton : nay, what very rarely 
 Jiappens* they afterwards elected him three times, 
 fucceflively to this important dignity. 
 
 This is the charafteriftic difpofition of the people 
 who inhabit the Alps of S\vi(Terland ; alternately 
 mild and violent; following in the extreme the 
 dictates of a bold and lively imagination. Their 
 pafiions and affections experience the fame vi- 
 chTitudes as their climate. But I candidly ac- 
 knowledge, that I would rather live in Solitude 
 among the rocks of URI, than be perpetual BAILLI 
 of the canton of SCHWITZ. 
 
 The continual view of the fublime defarts of 
 the Alps niay perhaps contribute to render THE 
 Swiss rude and unpolilhtd; but, as in every 
 fimilar fituation, their hearts are improved in' 
 kindncfs and good nature by the tranquillity of\ 
 fheir fields, and the fmiling beauty of the fcenery , 
 by which they are furrounded. The Englifli ' 
 artifts acknowledge, that the face of nature in 
 SVVISSERLAND is too fublime and too majeftic for 
 the pencil to render a faithful reprefentation of it. 
 But what exquifite enjoyments muft they not ex- t 
 periencc upon thofe romantic hills, in thofe agree- 
 able vallies, upon the happy borders of thofe ftill' 
 
 and 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 and tranfparent LAKES* ! Ah! it is there that 
 nature may be clofely examined : it is there that 
 (he appears in her higheft pomp and fplendour. 
 If the view of the oak, the elm, the dark firs which 
 people thefe immenfe forefts, convey no plea- 
 fures ; if the fight of thofe majeflic trees ex- 
 cites no pleafing emotion in your mind, there ftill 
 remain the myrtle of Venus, the almond-tree, the 
 jeflamine, the pomegranate, and thofe eminences 
 
 * How I love to read in the Letters upon SWISSERLANB 
 by the ProfefTor MSINERS, with what amiable fenfibility that 
 philofopher feated himfrlf upon the banks of the L-ikeof KIEL, 
 and quietly refjgned himfelf to all the emotions of his foul ! 
 ' When I am fatigued," fays M. M EINERS to one of his friends 
 at GOTTINGEN, " and it pleafes my fancy to confider more at- 
 tentively the feveral objcfts which furround me, I feat myieff 
 " upon the firft bank, or the wall of a vine under which people 
 continually pafs. I never indulge this difpofition, without 
 " experiencing an inexprefTtble tranquillity. The Inft time, it 
 * was aboot fix o'clock, while the fun was finking behind the 
 " ridge of JURA. The dark green firs which grow almoft alone 
 ' to a certain height on the mountain ; the oaks of a brighter 
 ' verdure which fuccecd therm ^ the vines, flill livelier In their 
 " teints, in the middle of which I ivas fcated ; 4nd a confiderable 
 portion of the Lake, which by that nrjeans appeared more ex- 
 tcnfive, WAS in the ftiade ; while the other part of the Lake, the 
 ' ppofite fhore, BrEL, and NIUAW, and the topsofthe GLA- 
 CIERS were ftill brightened by the laft rays of the fun. 
 * Below, the bleating of the flocks tranfportcd me in idea to the 
 foiling plains of ARCADIA: above, I heard the hum of pea- 
 ' fants, and of filhermen, whofe boats I could fcarce difcover; 
 *' with the affeding murmur of THE LAKE, gently rolling }u 
 waves againft the rocks which over.hang its banks." 
 
 covered 
 
OH THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 covered with luxurious vines. Reflect, that in 
 no country of the globe nature is more rich and 
 variegated in her appearances than in SWISSERV 
 LAND, and that it was the landfcape and the lake 
 of ZURICH which infpired the IDYLLS of the , 
 immortal GESSNER, the moft agreeable of all the 
 ppets of nature. 
 
 Thcfe fublime beauties raife and fire the heart ; 
 and operate upon the imagination in a much mores 
 lively manner than even more agreeable fcenes ; as 
 a fine night affords a more auguftand folcmn fpe&a- 
 cle than the fined day. In coming from FRESCATI, 
 by the fide of the fmall lake of NEMI, which lies 
 in a deep valley fo enclofed by mountains and 
 forefts that the winds never agitate its quiet 
 furface, it is impoflible not to exclaim with the 
 nglifli poet, that here?-* 
 
 ' Black fliel;inholy fits, and round her throwi 
 ' A death-like ftlence, and a dread repofc : 
 ' Her gloomy prefcace iaidens all the fcene, 
 c Shades every Rower, and darkens every green, 
 Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, 
 f nd breathes a browner horror on the woods." 
 
 Port, Eloifa to Abelard, ver. 165. 
 
 While the foul expands, and the mind becomes 
 fcrcne and free, you fuddenly difcover from the 
 garden of the Capuchins near ALBANO, the 
 little melancholy lake with all the moun- 
 tains and forefts which furround it, the cattle. of 
 
*j6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 GANDOLPHo,with FRESCATI and all its rural villa* 
 on one fide ; on the other, the handforne city of 
 ALBANO, the village and caftle of RICCIA and 
 GEUSANO, with their hills decked with vine-leaves ; 
 below, the extenfive plains of CAMPANIA, in the 
 middle of which ROME, formerly the miftrefs of 
 the univerfe, raifes its majeftic head ; and laftly, 
 beyond all thefe obje&s, the hills of TIVOLI, the 
 APPENNINES, and the Mediterranean fea* f 
 
 Thus the view of fublime or beautiful objects 
 differently affect the heart : the SUBLIME excite 
 fear and terror; the BEAUTIFUL create only fort 
 and agreeable fenfations. But both of them en- 
 large and aggrandize the fphercof the imagination, 
 and enable us more fatisfactorily to feek enjoyments 
 within ourfelves. 
 
 To experience thcfc pleafures, however, it 15 
 not necciFary to feek the folitary retirements of 
 SWISSEBLAND and ITALY, There is no perfon 
 who may not, by quietly travelling the mountains 
 with his gun, and without running after poetic 
 images, like KLEIST -j-, learn to feel how much the 
 
 * A German Lady, who poflcfTes a very lively imagination, 
 undertook a voyage to Italy for 'the re-eftab!i:hment of her 
 health. Her ftfength increafed day after day. When me 
 found herfclf on the /cite of ALB A NO, above defcribed, ihe en- 
 deavoured to exprefs to her companions the emotions which the 
 view of this fccnc had occafioncd ; but her feelings were fo ex- 
 quifijie, that they deprived her of the power of utterance, and 
 (lie actually remained fcveral days without being able to fpeak. 
 
 f M. KLEIST, a celebrated poet of Germany, dillinguifhed 
 t>y his Focm upon STRING. 
 
 great 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 great fcenc of nature will influence the heart, when 
 aflifted by the powers of imagination. The fight 
 of an agreeable landfcape, the various points of 
 view which the fpacious plains afford, the freflmefj 
 ?f the zephyrs, the beauty of the fky, and the ap- 
 petite whicha longchace procures, will give feelings 
 of health, and make every ftep feem too mort. The 
 privation of every object that can recal the idea of 
 tlependance, accompanied by domeftic comfort, 
 healthful exercife, and ufeful occupations, will add 
 vigour to thought, give warmth to imagination, 
 prefcnt the moil agreeable and fmiling images to 
 the mind, and inebriate the heart with the moft 
 delicious fenfations. A man with a fine imagi- 
 nation would be more happy in a dark prifon 
 than, without imagination, amidft the mod magni- 
 ficent fcenery. But even to a mind deprived of 
 this happy faculty, the tranquillity of rural life, 
 and the view of harvcft, will alone perform mi- 
 racles upon the heart. Who among us, alas ! 
 has not experienced, in the hours of languor and 
 difguft, the powerful effects which a view of the 
 enchanting pleafurcs enjoyed by the village ruftic 
 is capable of affording ? How fondly the heart 
 partakes of all his joys ! With what freedom, 
 cordiality, and kindnefs, we take him by the hand, 
 and liften to his plain unletteied tales ! How fud- 
 tlenlydo we feel ourbofoms interefted in every object 
 that furrounds us 1 How foon all the fecret incli- 
 nations 
 
*jt THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 nations of our fouls arc difplayed, refined, ana 
 meliorated ! Rural fcenes have a variety of plea- 
 fures for thofe who, buried in the fink, of cities, 
 have fcarcely any knowledge what pleafure is. 
 
 A French officer, on his return to his native 
 country after a long abfence, exclaimed, " It i 
 '* only in rural life that a man can truly enjoy the 
 " treafures of -the heart, himfelf, his wife, his 
 " children, and his friends. The country has, 
 *' in every refpelt, the greater advantage over 
 " the town. The air is pure, the profpe&s (mi- 
 ' ling, the walks pleafant, the living comfortable, 
 " the manners fimple, and the mind virtuous* 
 *' The paflions unfold themfefves without injury 
 " to any perfon. The bolbm, infpired by the 
 " love of liberty, feels itfelf dependent on Heaven 
 " alone. Avaricious minds are continually grati- 
 fied by the endlcfs gifts of nature ; the warrior 
 may follow the chacc ; the voluptuary may cul- 
 tivate the rich fruits of the earth ; and the phi- 
 lofopher indulge his contemplation at eafe." 
 Oh! how ftrongly this writer moves and in- 
 terefts my heart, when he tells me, by this affedting 
 pafiage of his work, " I fhould prefer a refidence; 
 " in my native fields to all others; not becaufe 
 ' they are more beautiful, but becaufe I was 
 1 brought up there. The fpot on which we pafs 
 " our earliefl days poflcflei a fecret charm,an inex- 
 
 " preffible 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 <c preflible inchantment, fuperior to any other en- 
 " joymcnt the world affords i andthelofsof which 
 " no other country can compenfate : the fpot 
 " where the gambols of my infant days werd 
 " played; thofe happy days which patted without 
 " inquietude or cares. The finding of a bird'* 
 " neft then filled my bofom with the higheft joy^ 
 " What delight have I felt from the carefles of a 
 " partridge, in making it peck at me, in feeling 
 
 1 its little heart beat againft my hand! Happy 
 ** he who returns to the place of his firft attach* 
 
 ( ment ; that place wher$ he fondly fixed his lova 
 " on all around him ; where every object ap- 
 " peared amiable to his eyes; the fertile field* 
 <r in which he ufed to run and exercife himfelf ; 
 " the orchards which he ufed to pillage ." 
 
 Thefe delightful fentiments engrave indelibly 
 on our hearts the remembrance of our infant re- 
 fidence in the country, of thofe happy times which 
 we paffed with fo much pleafure in the charm- 
 ing Solitudes of our native country. Thus, at 
 every period of our exiftence, and in every place, 
 the freedom and tranquillity of a country 
 life will induce us to exclaim with the fa- 
 
 cred orator, " How happy is the wife and vir* 
 
 / 
 / 
 
 * To this pnflagr, in the French tranflation of this work, it 
 fubjoined the following note :---" Not knowing the traveller who 
 " if here alluded to, we beg his excufe for having ventured t 
 " tranflate it into Frtmb from the text in &/VKM." 
 
 " tuout 
 
S4* THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 *.' tuous man, who knows how to enjoy tranquillity 
 *' with true dignity and perfect eafe, indepen- 
 * c dent of every thing around him ! JHow pre- 
 44 ferable is the happy calm he there taftes to the 
 " deafening clamour, to the falfe joys and daz- 
 ** zling fplendour of thefalhionable world ! What 
 " refined, noble, generous fentiments rife and 
 " unfold themfelves in retirement, which, during 
 " the din of bufmefs and the diflipations of 
 " pleafure, lie concealed at the bottom of the 
 * foul, fearful of the contemptuous fneer of 
 " wicked and unthinking minds." 
 
 O ! my beloved ZOLLIXOFER *, I- have felt irt 
 jhe pleafures of a retired domeftic life the truth of 
 thofe doctrines which you announced to us at 
 LEIPSICK; thofe -ufeful doctrines which do not 
 inculcate into the mind a cold and flerile theology, 
 but wife and virtuous precepts which warm and 
 animate the heart. I have feen, as you defcribed, 
 that in the bowers of retirement a man of bufmefs 
 may forget his bickerings and painful altercations j 
 that if he cannot banifh them from his mind, he may 
 drown his cares in the bofom of friendfhip; that 
 his heart will dilate to the charms of confolation 
 and hope ; that his countenance will brighten, and 
 all his pains and difquietudes fufpend their rage 
 until he has gained fumcient ftrength to fupporr. 
 them, or prepared proper remedies to drive them 
 cjuite away. I have obferved the man of learning 
 
 .^ A celebrated preacher of Germany. 
 
 in 
 
ON TH6 MIND AND THE HEART. 241 
 
 ia retirement abandon the thread of his laborious 
 refearches, retreat from the labyrinths of ftudy, 
 and find in the enjoyments of innocence, and 
 the noble fimplicity of his domeftics, more truth 
 and tranquillity, more aliment for the heart and 
 information for the mind, than in all the pre- 
 cepts of art and erudition. I have obferved every- 
 one there to obtain the portion of praife and ap- 
 probation which he merits, and that he obtains them 
 from perfons whofe praife and approbation it is his 
 utmoft ambition to acquire. I have feen the un- 
 fortunate relieved, the wretched made happy, the 
 \vanderer put into his right way ; I have fcen, in 
 fliort, everybody thus find by degrees fatisfa&ion 
 and content. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, the calm of rural life, and the 
 view of nature's charms, infpires a fpecies of foft and 
 tranquil melancholy. The noify pleafures of the 
 world then appear infipid, and we tafte the charms of 
 Solitude and repofe with increafed delight. The 
 happy indolence peculiar to Italians, who, under the 
 pleafures of a clear unclouded flcy, are always poor 
 but never miferable, contributes greatly to improve 
 the heart. The mildnefs of their climate, the 
 fertility of their foil, their religious peaceful and 
 contented difpofitions compenfate for every thing. 
 DOCTOR MOORE, an Englifti traveller, of whofe 
 works I am extremely fond, fays, that " the 
 " Italians are the greateft loungers in the 
 " world; and while walking in the fields, or 
 
 R ' ftretched 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITU0B 
 
 " ftretchcd in the (hade, feem to enjoy the fe- 
 " renity and genial warmth of their climate with 
 '* a degree of luxurious indulgence peculiar to 
 ' themfelves. Without ever running into the 
 " daring excefies of 'THE ENGLISH, or difplaying 
 " the frilky vivacity of THE FRENCH, or the in- 
 " vincible phlegm of THE GERMANS, the Italian 
 " populace difcover a fpecies of fedate fcnfibility 
 " to every fource of enjoyment, from which, 
 " perhaps, they derive a greater degree of hap- 
 " pincfs than any of the other." 
 
 Under this pleafing privation of thofe objeds 
 which afflict and torment the heart, it is in truth 
 almofl impofiiblc for the mind to avoid an oc- ' 
 cafional indulgence of agreeable chimeras and ro- 
 mantic fentiments ; but, notwhhflanding all thefe 
 difadvantages, this condition has its fair fide. 
 Romantic fpeculation may lead the mind into 
 extravagant refolutions and erroneous fyftems, 
 may frequently foment bafe and contemptible 
 paflions, habituate the mind to a light and un- 
 fubftantial mode of thinking, prevent it from 
 exerting its faculties with adivity and ardour to ra- 
 tional ends, and obfcure that profped of happinefa 
 which a life of fimplicity and moderation prefents 
 to our view. The foul alfo may quit with regret the 
 ideal world on which it dwells with fuch fond delight; 
 and perhaps thefe illufions alfo may not only im- 
 pede the difcharge of the ordinary duties of life, but 
 
 prevent 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 prevent the mind from taflirtg any of its pleafuresi 
 It is certain, however, that romantic fentiments do 
 not always render the mind unhappy. Who, alas ! 
 has ever realized thehappinefs hehas frequently beeri 
 enabled to enjoy by the pleafures of imagination ? 
 
 ROUSSEAU, in his youth, was a great reader of 
 romances ; and being foon hurried away by the love* 
 of thofe imaginary objects, with which this fpecies 
 of reading and the fertility of his own imagination 
 filled his mind, he difregarded every thing by 
 which he was furrounded. This was the fource of 
 that tafte for Solitude which he preferved to the 
 mod advanced period of his life ; a tafte in ap* 
 pearance dictated by melancholy and mifanthropy, 
 but which he attributed to the irrefiflible impulfes 
 of a heart too kind, too tender, too affectionate; and 
 not being able elfcwhere to gratify his feelings by 
 fentiments fufficiently warm and animated^ he was 
 conftrained to live on nftion. 
 
 There are wanderings of the imagination which 
 may be indulged in Solitude to gratify the feelings 
 of the heart, without doing any injury either to 
 our fentiments or fenfationst In every fituation 
 of my life I have always found fome individual to 
 whom my heart has fondly attached itfelf* Oh I 
 if my friends, whom I have left in SWISSERLAHD, 
 knew how frequently, during the filence of the 
 night, I pafs with them thofe hours which fhould 
 
 R a be 
 
THE INFLUENCE OP SOLlTUDfi 
 
 be facred to fleep ; if they knew, that neithef 
 time nor abfence can efface from my mind the 
 remembrance how dear they have been to me 
 from my earlieft youth to the prefent moment ; 
 if they knew how fpeedily the foft remembrance 
 difiipates my forrows, and makes me forget mif- 
 fortune, they would perhaps rejoice to find that 
 I dill live among them in imagination, although 
 I may be dead to them in reality. 
 
 Oh! let not a folitary man, whofe heart it 
 warmed by fentiments noble and refined, ever 
 be thought unhappy ! He, of whom the ftupid 
 vulgar fo freely complain ; he, whom they 
 conclude to be the victim of every melancholy 
 idea, of every fombrous reflection, frequently taftes 
 of inexpreflible pleafures. The French conceived 
 the good ROUSSEAU to be of a gloomy difpofition. 
 He certainly was not fo during a great portion of 
 his life; he certainly was not fo when he wrote to 
 M. DE MALHERBE, the chancellor's fon, " I cannot 
 " exprefs to you, Sir, how much I have been af- 
 *' fected by perceiving that you efteem me the 
 " mod unhappy of mankind. The public will, 
 " without doubt, judge of me as you do, and 
 " this is the caufe of my affliction. 'Oh ! that the 
 " fate which I have experienced were but known 
 " to the whole univerfe ! that every man would 
 44 endeavour to follow my example : peace would 
 '* then reign throughout the world ; men would no 
 " longer dream of calumniating each other ; and 
 
 " thera 
 
" 
 
 " 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 245 
 
 " there would no longer be wicked men, when no 
 ** one would find it their imereft to be wicked. 
 " But in what could I, in fhort, find enjoyment when 
 " I was alone r In myfelf, in the whole univerfe, 
 " in every thing that does, in every thing that can 
 " exift therein ; in all that the eye finds beautiful 
 in the real world, or the imagination in the in- 
 tellectual. I collected about me every thing that 
 is flattering to the heart ; my defires were the rule 
 <c of my pleafures. No! the mod voluptuous have 
 tf never experienced equal delights; and I have 
 <s always enjoyed my chimeras much more than 
 " if they had been realifed." 
 
 There is undoubtedly a high degree of rhapfbdy 
 in thefe expreflions ; but, oh ! ye ftupid vulgar, 
 who would not prefer the warm wanderings of 
 ROUSSEAU'S mind to your cold understandings ? 
 who would not voluntarily renounce your empty dif- 
 courfes, all your felicities, urbanities, noify affem- 
 blies,paftimes,and prejudices ? whowould not prefer 
 a quiet and contented life in the bofom of a happy 
 family ? who would not more willingly feek in the 
 filence of the woods, upon the delightful borders 
 of a ftill lake, thofe pleafures of fimple nature 
 which lea.ve fq delightful an impreflion, thofe 
 joys fo pure, fo affe&ing, fo different from your 
 own ? 
 
 ECLOGUES are fictions, but they are fictions of the 
 moft natural and agreeable kind, the pureft and 
 mod fu bli m e defcri ption s of rural happincfs . If you 
 
 R 3 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 are inclined to tafle of real pleafurcs, you muft 
 feck them in retirement, where the foul feels itfelf 
 Altogether difengaged from the torments and op 
 preflion of the world ; where me no longer feels 
 thofe artificial wants which only contribute to 
 render her more unhappy, whether (he is capable 
 of gratifying them, or feeks hopelefsly to indulge 
 them ; where alone (he preferves her refinement 
 and fimplicity. The man who neither fees nor 
 hears thofe things which may affect the heart, 
 who content with little is fatisfied with all, 
 breathes nothing but love and innocence, and 
 perceives the golden age of the poets revived, 
 of- which the worldly-minded man fo unjuftly 
 regrets the lofs. Serenity, love, and a tafte 
 for the beauties of nature, were not adyan-s 
 fages peculiar to the woods of ARCADIA ; we 
 .may all live in ARCADIA if we pleafe. The 
 .feelings of the heart, the innocent pleafure we 
 . derive from admiring a meadow covered with 
 flowers, a cryflal fpring, and a pjeafant (rude, 
 afford univerfal enjoyment, 
 
 POPE afcribes the origin of poetry to the age 
 that immediately fucceeded the creation, The firft 
 employment of mankind was the care of flocks, and 
 - therefore the moft ancient fort of poetry was pro- 
 bably pafloral. It is natural to imagine that anciently 
 fhepherds mud have endeavoured to divert the 
 happy leifure of their folitary and fedentary lifej 
 and in fych. a fituatjon, what diverfion could be 
 
ON THE MIND AND TH HEART. 247 
 
 more agreeable than fmging ? and in their fongs 
 what could be more natural than to celebrate their 
 own felicity ? Such was probably, in the opinion of 
 POPE, the origin of pajlorals ; defcriptions of the 
 calmnefs and tranquillity with which the life of a 
 ihepherd was attended, and defigncd to create in 
 our bofoms a loye and efteem for tht virtues of a 
 former age. 
 
 GOODNESS communicates itfelf by means of 
 thefe happy fictions, and we blefs the poet, 
 who, in the ecftacy of his own felicity, endea- 
 vours to render others as happy as himfelf. 
 SICILY and ZURICH have produced two of thefe 
 benefactors to mankind. The mind never beholds 
 nature under a more beautiful afpedt, we never 
 breathe apurer air, the heart never beats fo tenderly, 
 the bofom never feels more refined delight, than 
 when we read the Idylls of THEOCRITUS and GESS 
 JJER * ; and it is my peculiar gratification, my dear 
 
 GESSNER, 
 
 * Perhaps no writer throughout Europe has more judicieufly 
 critic! fed the .IDYLLS of GESSNBR than the incomparable BLAIR 
 in his " Ledlures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres," where he 
 (ays, " Of all the moderns M. GESN ER,a Poet of Swjflerland, has 
 " been the mod fuccefsfui in his paftoral competitions. He has 
 " introduced into his Idylls (as he entitles them) many new 
 " ideas. His rural fcenery is often itriking, and his defcriptions 
 " are lively. He prefents paftoral life to us with all the embel- 
 ** Hfliments of which it is fufceptible ; but without any excefs of 
 " refinement. What forms the chief merit of this poet* is, that he 
 " writes to the heart ; and has enriched the fubjcd of his Idylls 
 " with incidents, which give rife to much tender fcntiment, 
 ' Scenes of domeftic felicity are bcawtifully painted. The mutual 
 
 R 4 .V afFeaioa 
 
GESSNER, when I recal to mind the pleafures'I 
 have received in your correfpondencc. 
 
 It is by thefe eafy and flmple modes that the 
 beauties of nature operate upon the heart in aid of 
 the imagination, that rural life infpires the foul with 
 the mlldcft fentiments, and that Solitude leads us 
 to happinefs. The mind, indeed, drawn away by 
 thefe agreeable images, often refigns itfelf too eafily 
 to romantic ideas ; but they frequently give birth 
 to fancies which amend the heart without doing any 
 injury to the underftanding, while the happy fic- 
 tions and moft agreeable remembrances fpread their 
 flowers along the thorny paths of life. 
 
 The heart frequently feels no repofe, the higheft 
 happinefs on earth, except in Solitude : but the term 
 " repofe" does not always fignify floth and indo- 
 lence. The transition from that which is painful 
 to that which is pleafant, from the reftraints of bu- 
 fmefs to the freedom of philofophy, may alfo be 
 called repofe. It was from this idea that P. Sc'i PIO 
 faid, that he was never lefs idle than in the hours 
 of leifure, and never lefs alone than when 
 alone. To flrong ene;-gic minds leifure and Soli- 
 tude are not a flat e of torpidity, but a new in- 
 
 * affcftion of huflands and wives, of parents and children, of bro- 
 " thers and filters, as well as of lovers, are difplaycd in a pleafing 
 " and touching manner. From not underflanding the language 
 ' in which M. G ESN ER writes, I can be no judge of the poetry of 
 his ftyle : but, in the fubjeft and conduft cf his paftorals, he 
 7 appears to ir.e tc have outdone all the Moderns." 
 
 Centivc 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 249 
 
 centive to thought and a<5Uon ; and, when they re- 
 joice that the happy completion of one labour 
 enables them immediately to commence another, 
 it is for the heart and not for the mind that they 
 afk repofe. 
 
 It is but too true, alas ! that he who fecks for a 
 fituation exempt from all inquietude follows a chi- 
 mera. He who is inclined to enjoy life, muft not 
 afpire to repofe as an end, but only as a means of re- 
 animating his activity. He muft therefore prefer 
 fuch employments as are beft fuited to the extent 
 and nature of his capacity, and not thofe which pro- 
 mife compenfation and enjoyment without pain and 
 labour, which leave one portion of the ifaculties 
 inert, fteep the fenfes in forgetfulnefs, and promife 
 pleafures and advantages which require no exer- 
 tion to attain. 
 
 Repofe is not to be found in indolence, but by 
 taking immediate advantage of the firft impulfe to 
 action. If the misfortunes of thofe we love always 
 make us unhappy j if the grief of thofe whom we 
 obferve under fuflferings tear our hearts ; if the 
 acute feelings of compaffion for the unfortunate 
 poifon all our pleafures, envelope the appear- 
 ances of the world in {hades of the darkeft melan- 
 choly, render our exiftence painful, our faculties in- 
 capable of exertion, and deprive us even of abi- 
 15 1/ to practife the virtues which we feel ; if we 
 for months and years vainly, endeavour to deli- 
 ver pvufelves from the rnoft cruel fufferings, we 
 
 muft 
 
S 5 o THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 muft then abfolutely fly to SOLITUDE, But oh ! 
 may the Beauty which accompanies our retreat be an 
 Angel of Virtue, who in our defcent to the vale of 
 death will conduct and fupport us by her wifdom 
 in a noble and fublime tranquillity. 
 
 Amidft the concatenation of paflions and misfor- 
 tunes of which I was the fport and victim, I knew 
 no hours more happy than thofe in which I forgot 
 the world and was forgotten by it. Thofc happy 
 hours I always found in the filence of the groves. 
 All that opprelTed my heart in public life, all that 
 in the vortex of the world only infpired me with 
 difguft, fear or conftraint, then fled far away. I 
 Admired the filence of furrounding nature, and 
 while I enjoyed the fcene, the fofteft and moft 
 delicious fenfations filled my bread. 
 
 How often in the inebriety of pure and ineffable 
 delight have I, on the approach of fpring, admired 
 the magnificent valley where the ruins of the reli* 
 'dence of RODOLPHO DE HAPSBURO rifes upon the 
 fide of a hill crowned with woods, whofe variegated 
 foliage prefents all the hues which verdure can 
 produce. There I beheld the AAR .defcend in a 
 torrent from the lofty mountains, fometimes form- 
 ,ing itfclf into a vaft bafon enclofed by fteep banks, 
 fometimes precipitating itfelf through narrow paf- 
 fages acrofs the rocks, then windingitscourfe quietly 
 and majtrflically through the middle of fmilingancj 
 fertile plains, whilfton theother fidcthe Ru FFS> and, 
 
 lo\ver 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. *?i 
 
 lower down, theLiMMAT bring the tribute of their 
 ftreams, and peaceably unite with the waters of the 
 Aar. ' In the middle of this rich and verdant car- 
 pet I beheld the Royal Solitude \vhere the remains 
 of the Emperor ALBERT THE FIRST repofe in 
 filcnce with thofe of many Princes of the Hoiife of 
 A- atria, Counts, Knights, and Gentlemen, killed 
 by the Swiss. At adiftance I difcovered the long 
 valley where lie the ruins of the celebrated city of 
 flfidonijja*, upon which I have frequently fat and 
 reflected on the vanity of human greatncfs. Be- 
 yond this magnificent country, ancient caftles raifc 
 their lofty heads upon the hills, and the far diftant 
 
 * Vi N BOXISS A was a very Urge and well-fortified Roman vil- 
 lage, which fcrved as a fortrcfs to the EMPERORS againft the ir- 
 ruptions of the Germans. In this place they continually kept a very 
 numerous garrifon to overawe thofe dangerous neighbours, 
 who frequently eftablifhed themfelves on the borders of the Rhine 
 and pillaged the plains of thp Aar t notwithftanding the fortrefles 
 the Romans had creeled on the banks of that river. The Emperor 
 CONSTAHTINB CH LOR. os defeated the Germans in the year 297 
 between the Rhine and the Aqr j but at the beginning of the fourth 
 century, the Romans loft all their power in that country, and 
 VINDOJMSSA was taken and deilroyed by the Germans. It ap- 
 pears, indeed, that it was rebuilt ; for the Epifcopal Chair was, 
 during the reigns of the French Emperors, eftablifhed in this city, 
 but, in confequence of being again dcftroyed, was towards the 
 year 579 removed to Qonflantia. It was among the remains of 
 this celebrated city that the Counts WI^DICH and ALTBM- 
 p ERG dwelt in the tenth century. Of all this grandeur, the 
 ruins only are now to be feen ; below which, near the caftlei of 
 WIN DIC H and ALTEMIERC, U the little village of r*{g, 
 where | qras born, 
 
 horizon 
 
5* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 horizon is terminated by the romantic and fublime 
 fummics of the Alp* In the midft of all this 
 grand fcenery, my eyes were involuntarily caft down 
 into the deep valley immediately below me, and 
 continued fixed upon the little village where I tirft 
 drew my breath. I traced all the houfes, and every 
 window of the houfe which I had inhabited. When 
 1 compared the fenfations I then felt with thofe 
 which I had before experienced,! exclaimed to my- 
 felf, " Why, alas ! does my foul thus contract 
 " itfelf, when furrounckd by fo many objects ca^- 
 " pable of infpiring the fublimefl fentiments ? 
 " Why does the feafon, fo lively and ferene, appear 
 *' to me fo turbulent and difmal ? Why do I feel, 
 " on cafting my eyes below, fo much uncafmefs 
 " and difguft, when but a moment ago, on view- 
 " ing thofe romantic objects, I felt my heart ex- 
 *' pand with tranquillity and love, pardoned 
 " all the errors of mifguided judgment, and 
 " forgot the injuries I have received ? Why arc 
 " that little knot of men who are afiembled under 
 " my feet fo fretful and difcordant ? Why is a 
 " virtuous character fo horrid to their fight ? Why 
 " is he who governs fo imperious, and he who is 
 *' governed fo abject ? Why is there in this place 
 *' fa little liberty and courage ? Why are there 
 '* fo few among them who know themfelves ? Why 
 " is one fo proud and haughty, another fo mean 
 " and grovelling ? Why, in fhort, among beings 
 <* who are .by nature equal, does pride and envy 
 
 fo 
 
' ON THE MlHD AND THE HEART* 
 
 * r fo egregioufly prevail, while they perceive the 3 
 t{ natives of thcfe groves perch without diftinctiori 
 " upon -the highed and the lowed boughs, and 
 f< unite their Tongs to celebrate the praifes of the 
 <e Creator ?" Having finimed my foliloquy, I dc- 
 fccndcd from my mountain fatisfied and peace- 
 able, made my mod profound reverences to MES- 
 SIEURS the Burgomasters, extended my hand with 
 cordiality to one of my inferiors, and preferved the 
 huppied tranquillity, until by mixing with the world 
 the fublimc mountain, the fmiling valley, and the 
 friendly birds, vaniihcd from my mind. 
 
 Thus rural Solitude difiipates all thofe ideas 
 which difpleafe us in the Society of men, changes 
 the bittercft feelings into the fweeteft plcafures, and 
 infpires an exftacy and content which the votaries 
 of the world can never experience. The tranquil- 
 lity of nature filences every criminal inclination in 
 the corrupted heart ; renders us blithe, amiable, 
 open, and confident ; and Strengthens our deps in 
 the paths of virtue, provided we direct the pafiions 
 to their proper end, and that a overheated imagi- 
 nation does not fabricate fancied woes. 
 
 The attainment of all thefe advantages is, with- 
 out doubt, a tafk rather too difficult to perform in 
 the Solitude of cities. It appears eafy indeed to re- 
 tire to our apartment, and raife our minds by filent 
 contemplation above the confideration of thofe ob- 
 jects by which we arc furrounded. But few perfons 
 enjoy fufficicnt opportunities to do this; for within 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 doors, a thoufand things may occur to interrupt tha 
 courfe of our reflections j in the ftreets, and in com- 
 pany, a thoufand crofs accidents may happen to 
 confound our vainwifdom; and pecvi(h painful 
 fcnfations will foon aggravate the heart and weaken 
 the mind, when not upheld by objedb fuflkiently 
 affecting. 
 
 ROUSSEAU was always extremely unhappy in 
 PARIS *. This extraordinary genius, indeed, wrote 
 his immortal wbrks while he refided in the Metro- 
 polis ; but the moment he quitted his houfe, his 
 mind was bewildered by a variety of oppofite fcnti- 
 ments, his ideas abandoned him, and the brilliant 
 writer, the profound philoibpher, he who was fo 
 intimately acquainted with all the labyrinths of the 
 human heart, became almoft a child. 
 
 In the country, we leave home with greater 
 fafety, cheerfulnefs, and fatisfaction. The folitary 
 man, if tired with meditating in his ftudy> 
 has only to open his door and walk abroad : 
 tranquillity of mind attends his fteps, and pleafure 
 preients herfelf to his view at every turn. He 
 extends his hand with cordiality to every man, 
 for he loves and is beloved by every man he meets* 
 Nothing ever occurs to irritate his pafllons ; he is 
 nder no dread of experiencing the difdain of an 
 imperious Countefs or a haughty Baron, proud of 
 their titles : no monied upflart drives over him 
 
 * I can truly fay, that all the time I lived at Parts, was onljr 
 employed in fceking th means ofbting abk to live out of it* 
 
 frith 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 255 
 
 with his coach. Frontlefs vice dares not venture 
 on the protection of mufty title-deeds, nor the 
 power of a weighty purfe to offer an indignity to 
 modeft virtue. 
 
 But in PARIS, as well as in every other city, 
 a man who withdraws himfelf from the bufy fcenes 
 of life will never feel fuch fentiments as thcfe, 
 while he lives in peacr with his own heart, and 
 his nerves are not weakened or unftrung : it is 
 thefe defeats that render us the fport of men's un- 
 worthy paflions ; for to a man of weak nerves 
 every object is irritating and difpleafmg. 
 
 Our days even under the languors of a weak 
 conftitution, and furrounded by the moft unplcafant 
 objects, pafs quietly away in the molt active fccp.es 
 of life, provided we are at peace with ourfelves. 
 Our paflions are the gales by the aid of which 
 man ought to (leer his courfe acrofs the ocean of 
 life, for it is the paffions alone which give motion 
 to the foul ; but when they become impetuous, 
 the veflel is in danger, and runs a-ground. Pain 
 and grief find no entrance into thole bofoms that 
 are free from remorfe. The virtuous forget the 
 pad, form no idle fpeculations on the future, and 
 do not refine away their happinefs, by thinking that' 
 what is good may ftill be better. Every thing is 
 much better than we imagine. The anxious wifties 
 of an ardent mind are feldom fatisfied ; for witli 
 fuch characters fruition is indeed frequently ac- 
 companied with difcontent. The ftream of con- 
 tent muft flow from ourfelves, taking its fourcc 
 
 from 
 
t 5 6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 from a deliberate difpofition to learn . what- 
 is good, and a determined refolution to feek 
 for and enjoy it, however fmall the portion 
 may be. 
 
 To acquire that happy tranquillity. which men ex- 
 pect to find in Solitude, it is not fufficient to regard 
 every object that prcfcnts itfelf to their view with fu- 
 pinenefs or furprifc. He who, without employ- 
 ment, without having a plan of conduct previoufly 
 digetted and arranged, hopes for happinefs in So- 
 litude, will rind himfclf to yawn at his cot- 
 tage in the country jutl as often as he did at his 
 manfion in town, and would do much better to 
 employ himfelf in hewing wood the whole day, 
 than to loiter about in boots and fpurs. But ho 
 who, living in the moft profound Solitude, keeps 
 himfelf continually employed, will acquire, by 
 means of labour, true tranquillity and happinefs. 
 
 PETRARCH would have found this tranquillity 
 in his Solitude at VAUCLUSE, but that his heart 
 fighed ib inceifantly for his beloved LAURA. He 
 was, however, perfectly acquainted with the art of 
 vanquishing himfclf. " I rife," faid he, "at mid- 
 " night ; I go out by break of day. I ftudy in 
 " the fields, as well as in my chamber. 1 read, 
 " I write, I think. I endeavour to conquer the 
 " lead difpofition to indolence, and diive away 
 " fleep, effeminacy, and fenluality. I traverfe, 
 " from morning till night, the barren mountains, 
 " the humid vallies, -and the deep caverns. 
 
 " I walk, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 257 
 
 u I walk, accompanied only by my cares, along 
 ** the banks of my river, I do not meet a man 
 '* to feduce me from my path ; men daily become 
 " lefs annoying to me ; for I place them either 
 " far before or much behind me. I moralize on 
 " the paft, and deliberate on the future. I have 
 " found an excellent expedient to induce a fe- 
 " paration from the world. I attach myfelf to 
 " the place of my refidence ; and I am perfuaded 
 " that I could form that attachment in any place 
 " except at AVIGNON. In my prefent refidence at 
 VAUCLUSBI I find ATHENS, ROME, or FLO- 
 " RENCE, according as the manners of the one or 
 ' of the other bed pleafes the difpofition of my 
 " mind. Here I enjoy all my friends, as well 
 ft thofe with whom I have lived, as thofe who 
 " have entered the vale of death before me, and 
 " whom I only know by their good works." 
 
 When we are thus refolved, and find refources 
 iikethefe within our minds, Solitude enables us to 
 .iccomplifh whatever we pleafe. PETRARCH, how- 
 ever, was not inclined to improve the opportunities 
 hich Solitude afforded, becaufe he was in love j 
 iis heart therefore was a ftranger to repofc ; and 
 epofe is certainly, as LAVATER has obferved, the 
 neans of being always happy, and of doing every 
 hing well. 
 
 Employment will produce content in the mofl 
 rightful deferts. The Dairo of Japan banifhes 
 
 S the 
 
a$8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 the grandees of the empire who incur his dif- 
 pleafure into the ifland FATSISIO. The (ho res of 
 this ifland, which was formerly inhabited, are of 
 a furprizing' height. It has no haven, is entirely 
 barren, and its acccfs to difficult, that the exiles 
 and their provifions are obliged to be landed by 
 means of cranes. The fole employment of 
 thcfe unhappy men in this melancholy refidence, 
 is to manufacture filk-ftuffs and gold-nifties, 
 which are fo highly beautiful, that they are not 
 differed to be purchafed by ilrangers. I confefs, 
 that I mould not like to fall under the difpleafure of 
 the Emperor of Japan , but I neverthelefs conceive, 
 that there is more internal tranquillity in the: 
 ifland of FATSISIO than in the bofoms of the 
 Emperor and his whole court. 
 
 Every thing which conveys afpark of comfort to 
 the foul of man, mould be anxioufly preserved; bur, 
 without feeking toraifc an eternal flame, it is only 
 neceflary to take care that the laft fpark be not 
 extinguished. It is by this means, that we acquire 
 in the country that quietude which flies the tumults 
 of the town, and thofe advantages of which the 
 worldly-minded have no idea. 
 
 What epicure ever enjoyed fo much fatisf.i&ion 
 in the midft of all his iplendid entertainments, as 
 ROUSSEAU experienced in his frugal repafts ! 4< I 
 " returned flowly home," fays he, " my mind in 
 " fome degree fatigued, but with a contented heart. 
 " I experience, on my return, the mofl agreeable 
 
 " relief, 
 
ON THE MIND AND TtiE HEART 4 * 259 
 
 " < relief, in refigning myfllf to the imprcfllon of 
 
 " objects, without exercifing my thoughts, in- 
 
 " dulging my imagination, or doing any thing 
 
 " but feeling the peace and happinefs of my 
 
 f fituation. I find my cloth ready fpread on my 
 
 4< table on my lawn. I eat my fupper with ap- 
 
 " petite in the company of my little family. 
 
 " No trace of fervitude or dependance interrupts 
 
 * f the love and kindnefs by which we are united : 
 
 " my dog himfelf is my friend, and not my fiave ; 
 
 " we have always the fame inclinations; but he 
 
 " has never obeyed me. My gaiety through the 
 
 : whole evening teftified that I had lived alone 
 
 ." all the day: I was very different when I had 
 
 ' feen company ; I was feldom contented with 
 
 c others, and never with myfelf ; and at night 
 
 ' fat either grumbling or lilent. This re 
 
 ' mark is my houfe-keepcr's ; and fince file men- 
 
 ' tioned it to me, I have found it invariably true 
 
 ' from my own obfervations. At length, after 
 
 having taken a few turns in my garden, or 
 
 fung fome air to the mufic of my fpinette,. I 
 
 experience upon my pillow a repofe both of 
 
 body and mind a hundred times more fweet 
 
 than fleep itfelf." 
 
 Nature and a tranquil heart are to the Di- 
 
 lity a more beautiful and magnificent temple 
 
 n the church of ST. PETER at ROME, or the 
 
 hedral of ST. PAUL in London. The moft 
 
 ige defart is filled with the immenfity of THE 
 
 S 2 ALMIGHTY, 
 
160 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ALMIGHTY, and his prefence fandifies the folitary* 
 hill upon which a pure and peaceful heart offers 
 up its facrifice to him. He reads the hearts of all 
 his creatures ; he everywhere hears the prayers of 
 thofe whofe invocations are fincere. Whether we 
 life, or whether we defcend, we do not find a 
 grain of duft that is not filled with his fpirit. 
 But there are no places which infpire ideas more 
 religious than thofe happy fcites which, uniting 
 the mod fublime and beautiful appearances of 
 nature, ravifh the heart, and imprefs it with thofe 
 voluptuous fenfations which excite in the mind 
 the fentiments of love, admiration, and repofe. 
 
 I never recal to my memory without feeling 
 the fofteft emotions, the fublime and magnificent 
 fcene which I enjoyed in the year 1775, when, 
 during a fine day, accompanied by my friend 
 LAVATER, I afcended the terrace of the houfe he 
 then inhabited, the houfe in which he was bora 
 and educated. In whatever direction I turned my 
 eyes, whether walking or fitting, 1 experienced 
 nearly the fame fenfation which BRYDONE defcribes 
 himfelf to have felt upon the top of J&TNA*. 
 I included in one view the city of ZURICH, the 
 
 * BRYDONE fays, '* In proportion as we are railed abme 
 " the habitations of men, all low and vulgar fentiments are left 
 behind ; and the foul, in approaching the aetherial region*, 
 ' Ihakes off its earthly affeflions, and already contra&s fymsthing' 
 " of their invariable purity.'* 
 
 fmiling 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 261 
 
 fmiling country which furrounds it, its tranquil 
 and expanded lake, the high mountains, covered 
 with frofl and fnow, lifting their majeflic heads 
 to Heaven. A divine tranquillity furrounded me 
 while I beheld this fcene. 
 
 Upon this terrace I difcovered the myftery, which 
 enabled LA VAT ER, while he enjoyed fo delicious 
 a fenfation of his exiftence and his powers, to walk 
 calmly through the ftrects of ZURICH, expofed 
 to the obfervations of the critics of that city, who 
 were in the daily practice of venting their abufe 
 againft him, and of whom he fo humbly afked par- 
 don for the innocence of his life, which at leaft, 
 according to the laws, they were unable to de- 
 ftroy. 
 
 Upon this terrace I difcovered the caufe of his 
 ftill cheriming with fuch unfeigned tendernefs 
 his implacable enemies, thofe learned critics of 
 ZURICH whofe rage the found of his name was fuffi- 
 cient to excite, who felt with thcgreateft repugnance 
 every thing that was praife-worthy in his character, 
 and expofed with the highefl feelings of joy thofe 
 foibles and defects from which no man is entirely 
 free ; who could not liften without fury when 
 thofe merits which he evidently poflefied were 
 praifed, or the demerits which they were unable 
 to prove xvere extenuated ; who rejected with 
 averfion all the truths -which appeared to be in 
 his favour, and eagerly liftened, with an air of 
 
 8 3 triumph, 
 
*6t THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 triumph, to all the calumnies which tended to his 
 dimonour ; who are humbled by his glory, as much 
 as they can poflibly be degraded by their own 
 infamy ; and who have the accomplifhment of 
 his difgrace as much at heart as their own perfonal 
 advantage ; in whofe breads LAVATER'S happinefs 
 becomes a fource of miiery, and his misfortunes 
 a fountain of joy ; who affect filence on the virtues 
 they are confcious he poffefTes, and loudly aggra- 
 vate defefts which they induftrioufly circulate by 
 every poflible means, rather indeed to their own in- 
 jury, than to his difgrace, for by thefe means they 
 frequently increafe the glory which they feek to ex- 
 tinguifh ; who infidioufly clefire the impartial 
 ftranger to fee the man, and judge for himfelf ; and 
 have almoft uniformly the mortification of perceiving 
 that LAVATER is found to poffefs a character 
 diametrically oppofite to that which the enve^ 
 nomed tongues and pens of his enemies at ZURICH 
 have reprefented. 
 
 At the village of RICHTERSWYL, a few leagues 
 from ZURICH, in a fituation full more delicious 
 and ferene than even that of LAVATER, fur- 
 rounded by every objedt the mod fmiling, beautiful, 
 and fublime that Swiflerland prefents, dwells a 
 celebrated phyfician. His foul is as tranquil an4 
 fublime as the fcene of nature which furrounds 
 him. His habitation is the temple of health, 
 
 friend/hip. 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 263 
 
 friendship, and every peaceful viitue. The village 
 is fituated on the borders of the Lake, at a place 
 where two projecting points of land form a natural 
 bay of nearly half a league. On the oppofitc 
 fliores, the Lake, which is not quite a league in 
 extent, is inclofed from the north to the eaft by 
 pleafant hills, covered with vine-leaves, intermixed 
 with fertile meadows, orchards, fields, groves, and 
 thickets, with little villages, churches, villas, and 
 cottages, fcattered up and down* the fcene. 
 
 A wide and magnificent amphitheatre, which no 
 nrtift has yet ventured to paint except in de- 
 tached fccnes, opens itfclf from the eaft to the 
 fouth. The view towards the higher part of the 
 Lake, which on this fide is four leagues long, 
 prcfents to the eye points of land, diftant iflands, 
 the little town of RAPPERSWIL built on the fide of 
 ,i hill, the bridge of which extends itfelf from one 
 Tide of the Lake to the other. Beyond the town, the 
 inexhauflible valley rifes in a half-circle to the fight. 
 Upon the firft ground-plot is a peak'ofland, with 
 
 ; 11s about half a league diftant from each other; 
 
 nd behind thefe rife a range of mountains, co- 
 vered with trees and verdure, and interfperfed with 
 villages and detached hovifes. In the back-ground 
 
 re difcovercd the fertile and majeftic ALPS, 
 iftei one among the other, and exhibiting al- 
 rnate (hadows of the lighted and darkeft azure. 
 
 '.hind thefe ALPS, rocks, covered with eternal 
 
 5 4 fnows, 
 
264 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 fnows, rear their heads to the clouds. Towards 
 the fouth, the opening of the amphitheatre is con- 
 tinued by a new chain of mountains. A fcene 
 thus enriched always appears new, romantic, and 
 incomparable. 
 
 The mountains extend themfelves from the 
 fouth to the weft : the village of RTCHTERSWYL 
 is fituatcd at their feet upon the banks of the Lake : 
 deep forefls of firs cover the fummit, and the 
 middle is filled with fruit-trees, imerfperfed 
 with rich fallows and fertile paftures, among 
 which, at certain diftances, a few houfes are feat- 
 tered. The village itfelf is neat, the ftreets are 
 paved, and the houfes, built of ftone, are paint- 
 ed on the outfides. Around the village are walks 
 formed on the banks of the Lake, or cut through 
 fhady forefts to the hills ; and on every (ide 
 fcenes, beautiful or iliblime, ftrike the eye while 
 they ravifh the heart of the admiring traveller. 
 He ftops, and contemplates with eager joy thefe 
 accumulated beauties ; his bofom fwells with ex- 
 cefs of pleafure ; and his breath continues for 
 a time fufpended, as if fearful of interrupting 
 the fulnefs of his delight. Every acre of this 
 charming country is in the higheft degree of cul- 
 tivation and improvement. No part of it isfuffered 
 to lie untilled ; every hand is at work ; and men, 
 women, and children, from infancy to age, are all 
 ufefully employed. 
 
 The 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 6$ 
 
 The two houfes of the phyfician are each of 
 them furroundcd by a garden ; and, although 
 fituated in the middle of the village, are as rural and 
 fequeftered as 5f they had been built in the heart of 
 the country. Through the gardens, and in view of the 
 chamber of my dear friend, flows a limpid ftream, 
 on the oppofite fide of which is the great road, 
 where, during a fucceflion of ages, a crowd of 
 pilgrims have almoft daily pafled in their way to the 
 convent of THE HERMITAGE* From thefe houfes 
 and gardens, at about the diftance of a league, you 
 behold, towards the fouth, the majeftic EZEBERG 
 rear its head : black forefts conceal its top ; while 
 below, on the declivity of the hill, hangs a village 
 with a beautiful church, on the fteeple of which 
 the fun fufpends its departing rays every evening be- 
 fore his courfe is finifhed. In the front is the Lake 
 ot ZURICH, whofe unruffled waters are fecured from 
 the violence of tempefts, and whofe tranfparcnt fur- 
 face reflects the beauties of its delightful banks. 
 
 During the filence of night, if you repair to the 
 chamber-window, or indulge in a lonely walk 
 through the gardens, to tafte the refrefliing fcents 
 which .exhale from the furrounding flowers, while 
 the moon, rifing above the mountains, reflects 
 on the expanfe of the Lake a broad beam of 
 light; you hear, during this awful fieep of na- 
 ture, the found of the village-clocks echoing 
 
 fronv 
 
66 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDt 
 
 from the oppofite mores ; and on the Rickterfzvyl fide 
 the (hrill proclamations of the watchmen blended 
 with the barkings of the faithful dog. At a dif- 
 tarice, you hear the little boats foftly gliding down 
 the dream, dividing the water with their oars ; 
 you perceivethem crofs themoon's tranflucentbeam, 
 and play among the fparkiing waves. On viewing 
 the Lake of GENEVA in its full extent, the majefty 
 of fuchafublime picture ftrikes the fpectator dumb ; 
 he thinks that he has discovered the ctef ifoeuvrt of 
 creation; but here, near the Lake of ZURICH at 
 RICHTERSWYL, the objects, being upon a fmail 
 fcale, are more foft, agreeable, and touching. 
 
 Riches and luxury are no where to be feen in 
 the habitation of this philanthropift. You are 
 there feated upon matted chairs. He writes upon 
 tables\rorkcd from the wood of the country ; and he 
 and his friends eat on earthen plates. Neatnefn 
 and convenience reign throughout. Large col- 
 lections of drawings, paintings, and engravings, 
 are his fole expence. The firft beams of Aurora 
 light the little chamber where this philofophic 
 fage fleeps in peaceful repofe, and open his eyes 
 to every new day. Rifmg from his bed, he is fainted 
 by the cooings of the turtle-doves, and the morning 
 Cong of birds who ileep with him in an adjoining 
 chamber. 
 
 The firft hour of the morning, and the laft at 
 night, are facred to himfelf; but he devotes all 
 
 the 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 467 
 
 the intermediate hours of the day to the affiftance 
 of a difeafed and affli&ed multitude, who daily at- 
 tend him for advice and affiftance. The benevo- 
 lent exercife of his profeflion engrofles every mo- 
 ment of his life, but it alfo conftitutes his happinefs 
 and joy. All the inhabitants of the mountains 
 of SWISSERLAND, as well as of the Vallics of the 
 ALPS, rcfort to his houfe, and vainly feek for 
 language to exprefs the grateful feelings of their 
 hearts. They are perfuaded that the Doctor 
 fees and knows every thing ; they anfwer his 
 queftions with franknefs and fidelity; they liften 
 to his words, treafure up his advice like grains of 
 gold, and leave him with more regret, confolation, 
 hope, and virtuous refolution, than they quit their 
 confeflbrs at THE HERMITAGE. After a day fpcnt 
 in this manner, can it be imagined that any thing 
 is wanting to complete the happinefs of this friend 
 of mankind ? Yes ; when a fimple and ingenuous 
 female, who had trembled with fear for the fafety 
 of her beloved hufband, enters his chamber, and, 
 fcizing him fondly by the hand, exclaims, " My 
 " hufband, Sir, was very ill when I firft came to 
 " you; but in the fpace of two days he quite 
 " recovered. Oh, my dear Sir, I am under the 
 " greateft obligations to you." This philanthropic 
 character feels that which ought to fill the bofom 
 of a monarch in the moment when he confers 
 happinefs on his people. 
 
 Of 
 
369 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 Of this dcfcription is the country of SWISSER* 
 LAND where DOCTOR HOTZE, the ableft phy 
 fician of the prefcnt age, refides; a phyfician and 
 philofopher, whofe pervading genius, profound 
 judgment, and great experience, have placed him 
 withTissoT and HIXZEL, the deareft friends of my 
 heart. It is in this manner he pafles the hours 
 of his life ; all uniform, and all of them happy : 
 he referves, indeed, only two hours of each day 
 to himfelf, and devotes the reft to the relief of 
 the unfortunate, who daily vifithim in this cclcftial 
 region. His mind, active, and full of vigour, 
 never feeks reppfe ; but there is a divine quietude 
 dwells within his heart. Alas ! there are no fuch 
 characters to be found in a Court. Individuals, how* 
 ever, of every dcfcription have it in their power to 
 tafte an equal degree of happincfs, although they 
 may not have the opportunity of refiding amiclft 
 fcencs fo delightful as thofe which the fituation of 
 mybeloved HOTZE atRiciiTERswYL, the Convent 
 of Capuchins near ALBANO, or the manfion of my 
 fovereign at WINDSOR, affords. 
 
 The man who does not afk for more enjoyments 
 than he poflefles is completely happy, Such a fe- 
 licity is eafily found at RICHTERSWYL, upon the 
 banks of the Lake of ZURICH ; but it may be alfo, 
 more eafily found than is in general imagined, 
 even in fuch a chamber as that in which I am 
 now writing this Treatife upon Solitude, where, 
 Curing feven years, I had nothing to look at but 
 
 fomc 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. t6 f 
 
 fome broken tiles, and a vane upon the fpire of 
 an old church. 
 
 CONTENT muft always derive its fource from the 
 heart ; and in Solitude the bofom dilates more 
 eafily to receive it, with all the virtues by which 
 it is accompanied. How good how affedlionate 
 does the heart become on the border of a clear fpring, 
 or in the enjoyment of a calm rcpofe under the 
 (hades of a branching pine ! In Solitude the tranquil- 
 lity of nature glides into the heart ; but in fociety 
 we find much more occafion to fly from ourfelves 
 than from others. To be at peace with ourfelves, 
 we muft be in concord with all mankind. While 
 the heart is tranquil, the mind confiders men and 
 things in the moft favourable and pleafing point 
 of view. In rural retirements, where it is open only 
 to agreeable fen^ations ; we learn to love our fel- 
 low-creatures. While all nature fmiles around 
 us, and our fouls overflow with benevolence, we 
 \vifh for more hearts than one to participate in our 
 happinefs. 
 
 By mild and peaceful difpofuions, therefore, the 
 felicities of domeftic life are relimed in a much 
 higher degree in rural retirement, than in any 
 other fituation whatever. The moft fplendid courts 
 in Europe afford no joys to equal thefe ; and their 
 vain pleasures can never affnage the juftifiable grief 
 of him who, contrary to his inclination, feels him- 
 felf torn from fuch a felicity, dragged into the 
 palaces of kings, and obliged to conform to the 
 
 frivolous 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 frivolous life pradifcd there, where people do rid-* 
 thing but game and yawn, and among whom tho 
 reciprocal communication of languors, hatred, 
 envy, flattery and calumny alone prevails *. 
 
 It is in rural life alone that true plcafures, the 
 love, the honour, and the chaile manners of ancient 
 days arc revived. ROUSSEAU, therefore, fays with 
 great truth tothe inhabiumsof cities, that the coun- 
 try affords pleafures which they do not even lufpect ; 
 that thefe pleafures are lefs infipid, lefs unpoliihcd 
 than they conceive; that talle, variety, and deli- 
 cacy may be enjoyed there ; that a man of merit, 
 who retires with his family into the country, and 
 turns fanner, will find his days pafs as pleafantly 
 as in the mod brilliant allemblies ; that a good 
 houfewife in the country may alfo be a charming 
 woman, a woman adorned with every agreeable 
 qualification, and pollefs graces much more 
 captivating than all thofe prim and affected females 
 whom, we fee in towns. 
 
 The mind under refrelhing fhades, in agreeable 
 vallies, and delightful retreats, forgets all the un- 
 pleaiant circumftances it encountered in the world- 
 The moil profligate and wicked characters are no 
 longer remembered in fociety, when they are no 
 
 * MADAME DE MAINTENON wrote from Marli to MADAMI 
 BE CAYLUS, " We pafs our live* here in a very fmgular man- 
 * ner. Wit, gallantry, and checrfulncfs (hould prevail ; but 
 " of all thcfe qualities we are totally deftitute : we game, yawn, 
 ' fatigue ourfelves, reciprocally receive and communicate vexa- 
 " tions, hate, envy, carefs, and calumniate each other." 
 
 longer 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEAR?. 
 
 longer fcen. It is only in the tumultuous fcenes 
 of civil life, and under the heavy yoke of fub- 
 ordination, that the continual (hock of reafon and 
 good-fenfe, againd the ftupidity of thofe who 
 govern, fpreads a torrent of miferies over human, 
 life. Fools in power render the lives of their in- 
 feriors bitter, poifon their pleafures, overturn all 
 focial order, fpread thorns in the path of thofe 
 who have more underftanding than themfelves, 
 and make this world a vale of difcouragement, 
 indignation, and tears. Oh ! that men of honour 
 at court, brave and ikilful generals, able agents, 
 mould have a right to exclaim with the philofopher, 
 " Had I but the wings of a dove, that I might 
 " fly where my inclination leads me, and fix my 
 " dwelling as chance might direft, I would take 
 " a diftant flight, and continue in the defert ! 
 " I would haften to efcape from the temped ; for 
 : I perceive hypocrify, malice, faltehood, and 
 " difcafe prevail at court, in the army, and in 
 " the city." 
 
 Stupidity when it has gained credit and authority 
 becomes more dangerous and hurtful than any other 
 quality; it always inclines to render every thing as 
 little as itfclf, gives to every thing a falfe name, and 
 miftakes every character for the oppofite to what it 
 really is; in aword,ftupidityalwayscallswhiteblack, 
 and black white. Men of frank, honed, liberal dif- 
 pofitions, therefore, if they would efcape from his 
 
 pcrfe- 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 perfccution, muft learn. all his tricks and all his 
 turnings, as well as the fox of SAADI the Indian 
 fabulift. 
 
 A perfon one day obferving a fox running with 
 great fpeed towards his hole, called out to him, 
 " Reynard, where are you running in fo great a 
 " hurry ? Have you done any mifchief for which 
 * ' you arefearfulof being punifhed ?" " No, Sir," 
 replied the fox, " my confcience is clear, and 
 " does not reproach me with any thing; but I 
 " have juft over-heard the hunters wifli that they 
 " had a camel to hunt this morning." Well, 
 * 4 but how does that concern you ? You are not 
 a camel." " Oh ! Sir," replied the fox, ' fa- 
 " gacious heads always have enemies. If any one 
 < (hould point me out to the huntfmen, and 
 " fay, " There runs a CAMEL," thofe gentlemen 
 * would immediately feize me, and load me with 
 " chains, without once enquiring whether I was 
 *' in fact the kind of animal the informer had 
 *' defcribed me to be." 
 
 REYNARD was perfectly right in his obfervation : 
 but it is lamentable that men {hould be wicked in 
 proportion as they are ftupid, or that they ihould be 
 wicked only becaufe they are envious. If I fhould 
 ever become the object of their wrath, becaufe they 
 conceived that I enjoyed more happinefs than them- 
 felves, and it were impoflible for me to efcape 
 from their perfecutions, I would only revenge 
 
 myfelf 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. *?j 
 
 .iyfelf by letting them perceive that no man living 
 5 to me an object of fcandal. 
 
 Nothing can wound the felf-love of that bread 
 
 hich feels no defire for more than it poffefles. 
 
 ) he calm temper which refults from a life fimple, 
 
 .gular, and ferene, guards the heart againft the 
 
 cccfs of defire. By living in continual commu- 
 
 ion with ourfelves, we unavoidably perceive how 
 
 .ftcient we are in many of thofe qualifications, 
 
 . liich, in the opinions of others, we are fuppofed 
 
 poflefs j the advantages we gain, as well as all 
 
 happinefs we feel, appear in confequence to be 
 lie effect of favours conferred on us. This reafon 
 
 *ne renders it impoflible that we (hould repine at 
 he happinefs of another ; for candour will force a 
 
 in who lives continually by himfelf, and ads with 
 icerity of heart, to reflect upon his own defects, 
 :ul to do jufticetothe fuperior merit of other men. 
 " I fliould- with to end my days in the delightful 
 Solitudes of LA us ANNE," fays a French hiftorian 
 : that province, " far retired from the tumultuous 
 fcenes of the world, from avarice, and from de. 
 ceit ; in thofe Solitudes, where a thoufand inno- 
 cent pleafures are enjoyed and renewed without 
 end : there we efcape from profligate difcourfe, 
 from unmeaning chatter, from envy, detraction, 
 
 andjealoufy. Upon thofe fmiling plains^ the 
 extent of which the aftonimed eye is in- 
 capable of meafuring, it is impodiblc to 
 
 T . fee, 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLltubt 
 
 C fee without admiring the goodnefs of 
 Divine Creator ; fo many different animals wan- 
 " dcring peaceably among each other; fo many 
 " birds making the woods re-echo to their fongs ; 
 " fo many wonders of nature which invite the 
 u mind to filent contemplation." 
 
 It appears to me, that to whatever place In Ger- 
 many you turn your eyes, you find in every peace- 
 ful family, as in the Solitudes of LAUSANNE, 
 more pure and genuine pleafures than are ever 
 feen in faihionable life. The induftrious citizen 
 Avho returns in the evening to his wife and chil- 
 dren, after having honourably performed the la- 
 bours of the day, is without doubt as contented 
 as any courtier. If the voice of the public and his 
 fellow-citizens do not render to a man of bufinefs 
 the juftice, efteem, and honour, which his cha- 
 ra&er merits; if his zeal and good works meet 
 with negleft, and are treated with ingratitude 
 and contempt ; his mind will foon forget the 
 injuftice, when he returns to the bofom of his happy 
 family, fees their arms open ready to receive him, 
 and obtains from them the praife and appro- 
 bation which he truly merits. With what de- 
 light his heart feels the value of their fondnefs and 
 affection ! If the eclat of fafhionable life, the 
 fplendour of courts, the triumph of power and 
 grandeur, have left his bofom cold and comfortlefs ; 
 if the bafc practices of fraud, falfehood, hypocrify, 
 and puerile vanities, have irritated and foured his 
 
 mind 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 275 
 
 mind ; he no fooner mixes in the circle of thofe whom 
 
 ie cherifhes, than a genial warmth re-animates his 
 
 dejected heart, the tendered fentiments infpire his 
 
 loul with courage, and the truth, freedom, probity f 
 
 .ind innocence by which he is furrounded, reconcile 
 
 him to the lot of humanity. If, on the contrary, he 
 
 K>uld enjoy a more brilliant fituation, be the fa- 
 
 ourite of a minifter, the companion of the great, 
 
 -vcd by the women, and admired in every public 
 
 lace as the leader of the fafliion ; mould his ftatioii 
 
 ehigh, and his fortunes rich, but his dwelling prove 
 
 ic feat of difcord and jealoufy, and the bofom of his 
 
 miily a ftranger to that peace which the wife and 
 
 iituous tafle under a roof of thatch, would all 
 
 liefe dazzling pleafures compenfate for this ir- 
 
 .parable lofs ? 
 
 Thefe are my fentiments on the advantages which 
 litude poflefles to reconcile us to the lot of 
 nnanity and the practices of the world ; but I 
 .Sail here only cite the words of another; the 
 jrds of a Doctor of Divinity of the fame tenets 
 ith myfelfj a judicious theologian, who does not 
 culcate imperious do&rines, or propagate a 
 ligion which offends the heart. They are the 
 jrdsof his fermon upon Domeftic Happinefs, of 
 .at incomparable difcourfe which men of every 
 fcripuon ought to read, as well as all the other 
 
 of ZOLLIKOFER. 
 
tHE INPLtJENCfc OF SOLlf UDfc 
 
 '* Solitude," fays this divine, '"" fecures us from 
 
 *' the afperfions of light and frivolous minds, from 
 
 " the unjuft contempt and harfh judgments of the 
 
 <c envious; preferves us from the afflicting fpe&acle 
 
 f of follies, crimes, and mifery, which fo fre- 
 
 ' quently difgraces the theatre of active and focial 
 
 : life ; extinguimes the fire of thofe paflfions 
 
 " v/hich are too lively and ardent ; and edabliflics 
 
 " peace in our hearts." 
 
 Thefe are the fentiments of my beloved ZOL- 
 LIKOFER ; the truth of whichl have experienced. 
 When my enemies conceived that accidents however 
 trifling would trouble my repofe ; when I was told 
 with what fatisfaftion the Coteries would hear of my 
 diftrefs, that les belles dames would leap for joy, 
 and form a cinder round the man who detailed the 
 Injuries I had received, and thofe which were 
 yet in ilore for me, I faid to myfelf, " Although 
 *' my enemies fliould have fworn to afflift me 
 * c with a thoufand deaths, what harm can they 
 " really do me? What can epigrams and 
 " pleafantries prove ? What fling do thole 
 " fatirical engravings carry, which they have 
 '* taken the pains to circulate through every part 
 " of SWISSERLAND and GERMANY ?" 
 
 The thorns over which the fleady foot walks 
 unhurt, or kicks from beneath it with con- 
 tempt, inflict wounds and ulcers only upon 
 effeminate minds, who feel that as a ferious in- 
 jury 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. * 77 
 
 jury which others think nothing of. Chara&ers 
 of this defcription require to be treated, like the 
 flowers of young plants, with delicacy and attention, 
 and cannot bear the touch of rude and violent hands. 
 But he who has exercifed his powers in the greateft 
 clangers, and has combated with adverfity, who 
 ieels his foul fupcrior to the falfe opinions and 
 prejudices of the world, neither fees nor feels the 
 blow, he refigns trifles to the narrow minds 
 which they occupy, and looks down with courage 
 and contempt upon the vain boaftings of fuch 
 miferable infers. 
 
 To forget the fury of our enemies, the afliftance of 
 Toft zephyrs, clear fprings, wcll-ftored rivers, thick 
 forefts, refrefhing grottos, verdant banks, or fields 
 Adorned with flowers, is not always neceflary. Oh! 
 how foon, in the tranquillity of retirement, every 
 antipathy is obliterated ! All the little crofles of 
 life, all the obloquies, every injuftice, every lo\y 
 and trifling care, vanifh like fmoke before him 
 who has courage to live according to his own tafte 
 and inclination. That which we do voluntarily is 
 Always more agreeable than that which we do by 
 compulfion. The reftraints of the world, and the 
 flavery of fociety, alone can poifon the pleafures of 
 tree minds, deprive them of every fatisfaction, 
 content and power, even when placed in afphere of 
 rlegance, eafyin fortune, and furrouhded by abun- 
 aan.cc, 
 
 T 3 Solitude, 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 Solitude, therefore, not only brings quietude to 
 the heart, renders it kind and virtuous, and raifes 
 it above the malevolence of envy, wickednefs, 
 and ftupidity, but affords advantages flill more 
 valuable. Liberty, true liberty, is no where fo 
 eafily found as in a diftant retirement from the 
 tumults of men and every forced connexion with 
 the world. It has been truly faid, that in Solitude 
 MAN recovers from that diftraction which had torn 
 him from himfelf ; that he feels in his mind a clear 
 and intimate knowledge of what he was, and of 
 what he had been ; that he lives more within 
 himfelf and for himfelf than in external objects ; 
 that, he enters into ^he (late of nature and freedom ; 
 no longer plays an artificial part, no longer repre- 
 fents a different perfonage, but thinks, fpeaks, and 
 ads according to his proper character and fentU 
 ments ; that he difcovers the whole extent of his 
 nature, and does not act beyond it ; that he no 
 longer dreads a fevere mafter, an imperious tyrant ; 
 that he ridicules no one,and ishimfelf proof againit 
 the (hafts of calumny ; that neither the conftraintsof 
 bufmefs nor the ceremonies of fafhion difquiet his 
 mind, but, breaking through the (hackles of fervilc 
 habit and arbitrary cuflom, he thinks with con- 
 fidence and courage, and the fenfibilhies of his 
 heart refign the.mfeives to the fentiments of his 
 mind. 
 
 MADAME DE STAAJ, confidtred it as a great 
 and vulgar error to fuppofe that freedom and li- 
 berty 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 179 
 
 berty could be enjoyed at court ; where, even in 
 the mod minute actions of our lives, we are oblige4 
 to obferve fo many different things ; where it is 
 jmpoflible to think aloud ; where our fentiments 
 mud t>e regulated by the circumftances of thofe 
 around us ; where every perfon we approach feems 
 ;o poflefs the right of (crutinizing our characters ; 
 and where we never have the fmallefi enjoyment 
 of ourfelves. " The enjoyment of onefelf," fays 
 (lie, " can cmly b? found in Solitude. It was 
 " within ^he walls of the BASTILE that I fjrft 
 " became acquainted with myfelf." 
 
 Men of liberal minds are as ill qualified by 
 nature to be Chamberlains, and at the head of the 
 etiquette of a court, as women are to be veligienfes, 
 The courtier is fearful of every thing he fees, i$ 
 always upon, the watch, incefiaiitly tormented by 
 an, everlafting fufpicjqn ; yet, notwithftanding all 
 fhis, he mud preferve the face of ferenity and 
 fatisfaction ; and, like that old woman, he always 
 lights one taper to Michael the Archangel and 
 another fp the Devil, becanfe he does not know 
 for which of them ho may have moil occafion, 
 
 Such precautions and conftraints areinfupportable 
 to every man who is not formed by nature for 
 a courtier. In fituations therefore lefs connected 
 with the world, men of liberal minds, found un- 
 derftandings, and active difppfitions, break all 
 the chains by which they are withheld. To find 
 pkafure in the fumes of fafhion, it is neceflary 
 
 T ' > 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 to have been trained up in the habits of a court. Thei 
 defeat of judgment which reigns in courts, without 
 doubt, magnifies the mofl trifling details into matters 
 of high importance; and the long conftraint which 
 the foul there endures, makes many things appear 
 eafy to a courtier which, for want of habit, would 
 carry torment to the bofom of another. Who has 
 not experienced what it is to be forced to remain 
 fixed upon one's chair, and to talk a whole evening, 
 even in common ibciciy, without knowing on wriui 
 fubjedt to converfe, and of courfe without being able 
 to fay any thing ? Who has not occafionally found 
 himfelf in company with thofe who willingly liften to 
 fcnfible convcrfation, but never contribute a fin- 
 glc idea to the promotion of it themfelves ? Who 
 has not feen his thoughts fall upon a mind fo barren, 
 that they produce no return ; and Hide through 
 the cars of his auditors like water upon oil- 
 cloth ? 
 
 How many men of contemplative minds are the 
 flavcs of fools and madmen ! How many rational 
 beings pafs their lives in bondage, by being un* 
 fortunately attached to a worthlefs faction ! How 
 many men of excellent underftandings are con- 
 demned to perform a pitiful. part in many provin- 
 cial towns ! The company of a man who laughs at 
 every thingthat is honourable, and rejects thofcfcn- 
 timents which lead to love and eftecm, foon becomes 
 infupportable. There are no worfe tyrants than 
 
 the 
 
ON THE; MIND AND THE HEART. 281 
 
 the prejudices of mankind, and the fervitude of 
 liberal minds becomes more weighty in proper- 
 tioa to the public ignorance. To form a ferious 
 thought of plcafin,g in public life is vain; for to 
 fucceed in fuch an endeavour, we muft facrifice 
 all thought, give up every real fentiment of the 
 foul, defpife every thing which rational minds 
 efleem, and efleem every thing that a man of un- 
 derflanding and good-fenfe defpifes, or elfe, by' 
 blindly darning forward upon all occafions, hazard 
 content, tranquillity, and fortune, 
 
 A rural refidence, or a tranquil and domeftic life 
 jn town, will fecure us from thefe conflraints, and 
 js the only means of rendering us free and inde- 
 pendent of thofe fituations which arc hoftile to 
 the mind, and repugnant to good-fenfe. 3ut if 
 J5olitude ought to be free from conftraint, we 
 muft neither take the habit of monachifm, nor, 
 like the Doge of Venice, wear the diadem of fovc- 
 reignty. This abject Dave cannot vifit a friend, 
 nor receive a foreign ambaflador, without a fpecial 
 permiffion from the Senate for the purpofe. He 
 is indeed fo wretched, that every one is com- 
 pelled to acknowledge that Solitude and depen- 
 dence are the higheft prerogatives of his crown. 
 
 The foul, when neither clogged nor withheld 
 nor tormented by furrounding objects, becomes 
 fenfible,in Solitude, of its powers, and attains a clear 
 
 and 
 
*fs THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 And intimate knowledge of its prefent flate, and of 
 what it is able to perform. Liberty and leifure, 
 therefore, always render a rational and active 
 mind indifferent to every other kind qf happi- 
 nefs. 
 
 Solitude and the love of liberty rendered all the 
 pleafure$ of the world odious to the mind of 
 PETRARCH. In his old age he was ("elicited to 
 officiate as Secretary to Different Popes, at what- 
 ever falary he thought proper to fix ; and indeed 
 $very inducement that emolument could afford, 
 was infidioufly mad$ ufe of to turn his views that; 
 way. But PETRARCH replied, ." Riches acquire^ 
 *' at the cxpence of liberty are the caufe of real 
 M mifery : a yoke made of gold or filver, is 
 " not lefs opprefljve than if ma.de of wood 
 4< pr lead." He reprefented to his patrons and, 
 friends, tha.t he could not perfuade himfelf tq 
 give up his liberty and his leifure, becaufe, |n his, 
 opinion, the world afforded no wealth of equal 
 value; that he could not renounce the pleafurcs, 
 of fcience ; ^hat h$ h^d defpifed rjchcs a^ a time 
 when he was moil in need of them, and it would 
 be (hameful to feek them now, when it was more, 
 eafy for him to do without them ; that he mould 
 Apportion the provifion for his journey according 
 to the diftance he had to travel ^ and that 
 havjng almofl reached the end pf his cowrfe, 
 
 ho 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART, BJ 
 
 he ought to think more of his reception at tb 
 inn than of his expences on the road. 
 
 A diftafte of the manners of a Court led 
 PETRARCH into Solitude when he was only three 
 and twenty years of age, although in his outward 
 appearance, in his attention to drefs, and even ia 
 his conftitution, he poffeficd every thing that could 
 be expe&$4 from a complete courtier. He was in 
 every refpect formed to pleafe : the beauty of his 
 figure caufed people to flop in the ftreet, and 
 pointed him out as he walked along. His eye$ 
 were bright, and full of fire ; and his lively county- 
 nance proclaimed the vivacity of his mind. The 
 frelheft colour adorned his cheeks ; his featuce* 
 were diftinct and manly ; hislhape fin? and elegant ; 
 his perfon tall, and his prefence noble. The genial 
 climate of Avignon increafed the warmth of his con- 
 ftitution, The fire of youth, the beauty of fa ma- 
 ny women aflembled at the Court of the Pope 
 from every nation in Europe, and above all the 
 diflblute manners of the Court, led him, very early 
 in life, into connexions with women. A great por- 
 lion of the day was fpent at his toilette in the deco- 
 rations of drefs. His habit was always white t 
 and the lead fpot or an improper fold gave his 
 mind the greateft uneafinefs. Even in the fafhion 
 of his thoes he avoided every form that appeared to 
 him inelegant ; they were extremely tight, and 
 cramped his fee; to fuch a degree, that it would 
 
 in 
 
*S 4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITJJDE 
 
 in a fliort time have been impoflible for him to 
 walk, if he had not recollected that it was much 
 better to fliock the eyes of the ladies than to make 
 himfelf a cripple. In walking through the ftreets, 
 he endeavoured to avoid the rudenefs of the wind 
 by every poflible means ; not that he was afraid of 
 taking cold, but bccaufche was fearful that thedrefs. 
 of his hair might be deranged. A love, however, 
 much more elevated and ardent for virtue and the 
 falles kttres, always counterbalanced his devoiionto 
 the fair fex. In truth, to exprefs his paflion for the 
 fex, he wrote all his poetry in Italian, and only ufed 
 the learned languages upon ferious and important 
 fubje&s. But notwithstanding the warmth of 
 his conftitution, he was always chafte, He held all 
 debauchery in the utmoft deteftation ; repentance 
 and difguft immediately feized his mind upon the 
 flighted indulgence with the fex ; and he often re- 
 gretted the fenfibility of his feelings : " I fhoulcj 
 (< like," faid he, " to have a heart as hard as 
 f< adamant, rather than be fo continually tor- 
 *' mented by fuch feducing paflions," Among 
 the number of fine women, however, who adorn* 
 ed the Court at Avignon, there were fome who en- 
 deavoured to captivate the heart of PETRARCH, 
 Seduced by their charms, and drawn afide by the 
 facility with which he obtained the happinefs of 
 their company, he became upon clofer acquaint- 
 ance obedient to all their wi flies; but the inquie- 
 tudes and torments of LOVE fo much ajarmed his 
 
 mind, 
 
Ott TtiE MIND AND THE HEARf . 1*4 
 
 mind, that he endeavoured to flmn her tolls. Be- 
 fore his acquaintance with LAURA, he was wilder 
 than a ftag ; but, if tradition is to be believed, he 
 had not, at the age of thirty-five, any occafion 
 to reproach himfelf with mifcondud. The fear of 
 God, the idea of death, the love of virtue, the 
 principles of religion, the fruits of the education he 
 received from his mother, preferved him from the 
 numerous dangers by which he was furrounded. 
 The practice of the Civil Law was at this period 
 the only road to eminence at the Court of the Pope ; 
 but PETRARCH held the Law in deteftation, and 
 reprobated this venal trade. Previous to de- 
 Voting himfelf to the Church, he exercifed for fomc 
 time the profcfiion of an advocate, and gained 
 many caufes ; but he reproached himfelf with it 
 afterwards. " In my youth," fays he, " I devoted 
 *' myfelf to the trade of felling words, or rather of 
 " telling lies ; but that which we do againit our 
 " inclinations, is feldom attended with fuccef.^. 
 f< My fondnefs was for Solitude, and I therefore 
 " attended the practice of the bar with the greater 
 " deteftation.'' The fecret conicioufnefs which 
 PETRARCH entertained of his own merit, gave him, 
 it is true, all the vain confidence of youth; and 
 filled his mind with that lofty fpirit which begets 
 the prefqmption of being equal' to every thing j 
 but his inveterate hatred of the manners of the 
 Court impeded his exertions. " I have no hope, 
 faid he, in the thirty-fifth year of his age, " of 
 M making my fortune in the Court of the Vicar 
 
 " of 
 
*86 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " of JESUS CHRIST: to accomplifh that, I 
 u muft afliduoufly vifit the palaces of the great ; 
 " I muft flatter, lie* and deceive," PETRARCH 
 was not capable of doing this. He neither hated 
 men nor difliked advancement, but he detefted the 1 
 means that he muft neceffarily life to attain it. He 
 loved glory, and ardently fought it, tho* not by the 
 ways in which it is generally obtained. He de- 
 lighted to walk in the moft unfrequented paths, 
 and, in confequence, he renounced THE \VORLD* 
 
 The averfion which PETRARCH felt from the 
 manners which are peculiar to Courts was the par* 
 ticular occafion of his EfTay upon Solitude. In the 
 year 1346 he was, as ufual, during Lent at Vauclufr. 
 THE BISHOP OF CAVAILLON, anxious to enter in- 
 to converfation with him, and to tafte the fruits or 
 Solitude, fixed his refidence at his caftle, which is 
 fituated upon the fummit of a high rock, and ap- 
 pears to be conftru&ed more for the habitation of 
 birds than men ; at prefent the ruins of it only re- 
 main to be feen. All that the BISHOP and PE- 
 TRARCH had feen at Avignon and Naples had infpired 
 them with difguft of refidence in cities, and the 
 higheft contempt for the manners of a Court. 
 They weighed all the unpleafant circumftances they 
 had before experienced, and oppofed the lunations 
 which produced them to the advantages of Soli- 
 tude. This was the ufual fubjeft of their conver- 
 fation at the caftle, and that which gave birth in the 
 
 mind 
 
614 THE Mltib AKtf THE HEART. 4*1 
 
 rhind of PETRARCH to the refolution of exploring, 
 and uniting into one work, all his own ideas and 
 thofe of others upon this delightful fubjeft. This 
 work was begun in Lent and finiflied at Eajlcr, but 
 he revifed and corrected it afterwards* making ma- 
 ny alterations, and adding every thing which oc- 
 curred to his mind previous to the publication. It 
 was not till the year 1366, twenty years afterwards, 
 that he fent it to the BISHOP OF CAVAILLON, to 
 whom it was dedicated. 
 
 If all that I have faid of Pfcf R ARCH in the courfe of 
 thiswork> were tobe collected into one point of view, 
 it would be feen what very important facrifices he 
 made to Solitude. But his mind and his heart were 
 framed to enjoy the advantages it affords with a etc* 
 gree of delight fuperior to that in which any other 
 perfon could have enjoyed them, and all this hap- 
 pinefs he obtained from his difguft to a Court and 
 from his love of liberty. 
 
 The love of liberty was alfb the caufc of ROUS- 
 SEAU'S feeling fo violent a difguft for Society, and 
 in Solitude became the fource of all his pleafures. 
 His Letters to M. DE MALHERBE are as remark- 
 able for the information they afford of the true 
 genius of the writer, as are his CONFESSIONS ; which 
 have not been better underftood than his character. 
 He writes in one of them, " I mi (look for a 
 " great length of time the caufe of that invin- 
 " ciblc difguft which I have always felt in 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 *' the Commerce of the world* I attributed it ttf 
 " the mortification of not poflefling that quick and 
 " ready talent neceflary to difcover in converfation 
 " the little knowledge which I poflefled; and this 
 *' beat back an idea that I did not occupy thatftation 
 44 intheopinionof mankind which I conceived I me- 
 *' rited* But after having fcribbled a great quan- 
 '* tity of paper, I was perfectly convinced, that 
 " even in faying ridiculous things I was in no 
 " danger of being taken for a fool. When I 
 " perceived rhyfelf fought after by all the world, 
 " and honoured with much more confideration 
 " than even my own ridiculous vanity would have 
 " ventured to expect ; and that, notwithftanding 
 c * this, I felt the fame difguft rather augmented 
 " than diminilhed ; I concluded that it muft arife 
 *' from fome other caufe, and that thcfe were not 
 " the kind of enjoyments for which I muft look* 
 " What then, in fact, is the caufe of it > 
 ' It is no other than that invincible fpirit of 
 u liberty which nothing can overcome, and in 
 " comparifon with which honour, fortune, and 
 " even fame itfelf, are to me nothing. It is certain, 
 " that this fpirit of liberty is engendered lefs by 
 " pride than by indolence ; but this indolence is 
 " incredible ; it is alarmed at every thing; it ren- 
 " ders the mod trifling duties of civil life infup 
 portable: to be obliged to fpeak a word, 
 
 " to 
 
 " 
 
tC 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 389 
 
 to write a letter, or to pay a vifit, are to me, 
 from the moment the obligation arifes, the 
 fevereft punifhments. This is the reafon, 
 why, although the ordinary commerce of men 
 is odious to me, the pleafures of private friend- 
 fhip are fo dear to my heart ; for in the 
 indulgence of private friendships there are no 
 duties to perform, we have only to follow the 
 feelings of the heart, and all is done. This is 
 the reafon alfo why I have fo much dreaded to 
 accept of favours ; for every act of kind- 
 nefs demands an acknowledgement; and I feel 
 that my heart is ungrateful, only becaufe gra- 
 titude becomes a duty. The kind of happinefs, 
 in fhort, which pleafes me beft, does not con- 
 lift fo much in doing what I wifli, as in avoiding 
 that which is repugnant to my inclination. Aftive 
 life affords no temptations to me ; I would a 
 hundred times rather do nothing at all, than 
 that which I diflike ; and t have frequently 
 thought, that I mould not have lived very un- 
 happily even in THE BASTILE, provided I was 
 free from every other conftraint than that of 
 merely refiding within its walls." 
 
 The advantages of a tranquil lei fure were never 
 It with higher delight than by ROUSSEAU ; thefe 
 :ijoyments however are equally within the reach of 
 
 ery individual. " When my torments," fays this 
 
 U amiable 
 
tyo THE INFLUENCE OF SOL1TUDK 
 
 amiable philofopher, (( oblige me to count thtf 
 " long and forrowful progrefs of the night, and 
 " the violence of my fever prevents me from enjoy- 
 " irig one moment's ileep, I frequently forget my 
 " prefent condition in reflecting on the various 
 * events of my life, and recollection, repentance, 
 " regret, and pity divide thofe attentions in which 
 " I bury, for a few moments, all my fufferings. 
 " What foliations do you conceive, Sir, I moil 
 " frequently and mod cheerfully recall to my mind 
 et in thefe meditations ? Not the plcafures of my 
 " youth ; they were too few, too much blended 
 '* with bitternefs, and are now too diftant from 
 " my thoughts ; but the pleafures of my re- 
 Sf tircment, my folitary walks, the traniient tho* 
 " delicious days which I have patted entirely with 
 " myfelf, with my good old houfekeeper, my 
 " faithful well-beloved dog, my old cat, the birds 
 " of the fields, and the beafts of the forefts, fur- 
 <c rounded by all the charms of nature, and 
 * c filled with their divine and incomprchen- 
 ff fible Author. Repairing before it was light 
 *' to my garden, to fee and contemplate the 
 " rifing fun, when I difcovercd the fymptoms 
 " of a fine day, my firft prayer was, that neithci 
 " mefiagesnor viiitors might arrive todifturb the 
 *' charm. After having devoted the morning to 
 " various cares, which as I could put them off till 
 " another time I always attended to with plcafurc, 
 
 I haftcncd 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 291 
 
 * c I haftened to my dinner that I might avoid un- 
 " pleafant vifitors, and thereby procure a longer 
 " afternoon. Before one o'clock, even in the 
 " hotted days of fumrner, while the fun fhone m 
 " meridian fplendour, I vralked forih with my 
 " faithful ACHATES, hurrying along, fearful left 
 " fome one might feize hold of me before I was 
 '* fecure in my efcape ; but when I had once turned 
 " a Certain corner, and felt myfelf free from danger, 
 " with what palpitation of heart, with what live- 
 " ly joy I drew my breath, and exclaimed, 
 <c Now I am majler of tny time for the remainder 
 et of //* day! I then walked with tranquil Reps 
 c< in fearch of fome wild fequeftered fpot in the 
 " foreft, fome dcfart place, where no object, 
 " touched by the hands of men, announced fervi- 
 cc tude and domination; fome afylum, into which 
 IC I might fancy that I alone had firft entered, and 
 *' where no impertinent intruder might interpofe 
 " between nature and myfelf." 
 
 Who would not willingly renounce the diffipa- 
 tions of the world for thefe calm enjoyments 
 of the heart t the fplendid flavery of fociety for 
 this ineftimable liberty ! I am perfectly aware, 
 that mankind in general are not in a fituation 
 fo favourable to felf-enjoyment ; only let diem try, 
 however, the pure pleafures of the country, and 
 they will find that one day of liberty, one hour o* 
 quiet, will effectually cure them of their anxiety 
 
 U z for 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 for feafts, -mows, finery, and all the noify ren- 
 dezvous of fafliion and folly. 
 
 POPE CLEMENT the Sixth offered to PETRARCH, 
 befidc the office of Apoftolic Secretary, many 
 confiderabie bifhoprics. PETRARCH conftantly 
 refufed them. " You will not accept of any 
 " thing that I offer to you !" faid the Holy 
 Father : " Afk of me what you plcafe." Two 
 months afterwards PETRARCH wrote to one of 
 his friends, " Every degree of elevation creates 
 " new fulpicions iti my mind, becaufe I perceive 
 *' the misfortunes that attend it. Would they 
 " but grant me that happy mediocrity fo pre- 
 " ferable to gold, and which they have promifed 
 " me, I thould accept the gift with gratitude and 
 " cordiality ; but if they only intend to invefl me 
 " with fome important employment, I mall rcfufc 
 " it. I will (hake off the yoke ; for I had much 
 " rather live poor than become a flavc." 
 
 An Englifhman fomewhere afks, " Why are 
 if the inhabitants of the rich plains of LOMBARD Y, 
 " where nature pours her gifts in fuch profufion, 
 " Icfs opulent than thofe of the mountains of 
 
 " SWISSERLAND? Becaufe FREEDOM, whofc iil- 
 
 ** fiuence is more benign than funlhine and /e- 
 " phyrs, who covers the rugged rock with foil, 
 " drains the fickly fwamp, and cloatlis the brown 
 " heath in verdure; who drell'es the labourer'* 
 " face with fmilcs, and makes him behold hi* 
 t( cncreafmg family with delight and exultation ; 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 295 
 
 * c FREEDOM has abandoned the fertile fields of 
 ' LOMBARDY, and dwells among the mountains 
 
 " of SwiSSERLAND." 
 
 This is the warm enthufiafm of poetry ; but it 
 is literally true at Uri, Schwitz, Undevald, Zug, 
 (Claris, and Appenzel. For he who has more 
 than his wants require is RICH; and whoever is 
 enabled to think, to fpcak, and to employ himfelf 
 as his inclination may direct, is FREE. 
 Competency and liberty, therefore, are the true 
 vccteners of life. That ftate of mind, fo rarely 
 pofiefied, in which we can fmcerely fay, " I have 
 " enough," is the higheft attainment of philofophy. 
 Happinefs confifts not in having too much, but 
 nfficient. Kings and princes are unhappy, be- 
 au fe they -always defire more than they poffefs, 
 and are continually ftimulated to accomplim more 
 than it is within their power to attain. The greatefl 
 md the bed of kings are therefore not to blame, 
 f they fometimes fay, " My fon, I am deaf to-day oil 
 * y left ear" 
 
 Men are ordinarily inclined to appear much 
 uippier than in fad they are; and they confider 
 very thing which detracts from this appearance 
 s a real misfortune. But if you .are happy by 
 ny means whatfoever, conduit yourfelf fo thar 
 >body mail know it except your mod intimate 
 iends. Conceal all the feelings you ppfleis j % 
 ;ide all that you enjoy $ for ENVY is ever watchful 
 
 V 3 to 
 
294 -THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 to find its way into the bofom of tranquillity, and 
 vrill foon deftroy its ferenity, 
 
 He who only wants little has always enough. Cc I 
 '* am contented," fays PETRARCH, in a letter to 
 his friends, the Cardinals TALEYRAND and Bo-s 
 LOGNA, " I defire nothing more. I have placed 
 " limits to my defires. I enjoy every thing that 
 " is necefiary to life. CINCINNATI^, CURIUS, 
 fc FABRICIUS, and REGULUS, aftcn having con- 
 " quered nations, and led kings in triumph, were 
 " not fo rich as I am. But I mould always be 
 ** poor, if I were to open a door to my paffions, 
 " Luxury, ambition, avarice, know no bounds ; 
 " and defire is a fathomlefs abyfs. I have clothes 
 " to cover me ; victuals to fupport me ; horfes to 
 " carry me ; lands to lie down or walk upon while 
 " I am alive, and to receive my remains when 
 " dead. What more was any Roman Emperor pof- 
 " fcfTed of ? My body is healthy ; and the flefli 
 '* fubdued by labour is lefs rebellious againft the 
 " fpirit. I have books of every kind, which tome 
 " are an ineftimabletreafure ; they fill my foul with 
 " a voluptuous delight which is never tinctured 
 " with remorfe. I have friends, whom I confidcr 
 " more precious than any thing I poflcfs, provided 
 *' their counfcls do not tend to deprive me of my 
 " liberty. I know of no other enemies than thofe 
 '* which envy has raifed againft. me. 1 defpifc 
 *' them from the bottom of my heart ; and perhaps 
 
 it 
 
 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 295 
 
 ** it would be unhappy for me if they were 
 " not my enemies. I ftill reckon among my riches 
 " the love and kindnefs of all the good men who 
 '* are upon earth, even thofe whom 1 have never 
 " feen, and perhaps never mail fee." 
 
 From this paflage we difcover that envy followed 
 PETRARCH into the retreats of Solitude. He fre- 
 quently complains of it ; but in this letter he treats 
 it with propriety. He defpifes his envious ene- 
 mies, and would be forry if he were without 
 them. 
 
 SOLITUDE difcovers to mankind their real warns. 
 Where great fimplicity of manners prevails, men 
 always poflefs fufficient for the enjoyment of life. 
 If I neither fee nor know the things which you have 
 or defire to poflefs, Icannot entertain even an idea of 
 any good which they can poflibly produce. An old 
 Country Curate refiding upon a lofty mountain near 
 the Lake of THUN, in the Canton of BERN, was one 
 day prefented with a moor-cock. The good man was 
 ignorant of the rarity he had received, and confulted 
 with his cook what he mould do with it. The paftor 
 and the cook agreed to bury it in the ground* 
 Alas ! were we all as ignorant of moor-cocks, we 
 fliould all be as happy as.the Curate of the moun- 
 tain near the lake of THUN. 
 
 He who places limits to his real wants is more 
 wife, more rich, and more contented than us nil. 
 The fyftcm upon which he ads partakes of the 
 
 noble 
 
396 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 noble fimplicity of his mind. He finds felicity m 
 the moft obfcure life, in fit nations at the greateft 
 diftance from the world. Truth and fimplicity 
 are the only objects of his affection ; he follows that 
 philofophy which requires but little, has few wants, 
 and feeks his higheft happinefs in a contented mind. 
 POPE, when only twelve years of age, wrote 
 an affecting and agreeable little Ode upon the 
 fubject of Solitude, which comprehends the very 
 eilence of this philofophy. 
 
 ODE ON SOLITUDE. 
 
 HAPPY tbe man whofe wim and care 
 
 A few paternal acres bound, 
 Content to breathe his native air, 
 
 In his own ground. 
 
 Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread, 
 
 Whofe flocks fupply him with attire, 
 
 Whofe trees in fummer yield him (hade. 
 
 In winter, fire. 
 
 Bled, who can onconcern'dly find, 
 
 Hours, days, and years flide foft away, 
 In health of body, peace of mind. 
 
 Quiet by day. 
 
 Sound fleep by night ; ftudy and eafe, 
 
 Together mixed ; fwect recreation ! 
 
 And, innocence, which moft does pleafe 
 
 With meditatioa. 
 
 Thus let me live unfeen, unknown. 
 
 Thus unlamented let me die, 
 Steal from the world, and not a ftone 
 
 Tell where I lie. 
 
 To thofe who love a calm and tranquil life, the 
 fcenes of fenfuality become more fimple, peaceful, 
 
 and 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 29? 
 
 and lefs alarming ; to the worldly-minded this field 
 is full of barren dreary places ; of noife and 
 tumult ; vineyards and banqucting-houfes, wanton 
 dancings and infirmaries ; tombs upon which the 
 rofes fade, and dark (hades in which lovers meet. 
 But to the mind of him who fhuns fuch brutal joys, 
 Inch grofs voluptuoufnefs, the pleafures of fenfe 
 are of a more elevated kind ; as foft as they are 
 fublime ; as innocent as they are pure ; and as 
 permanent as they are tranquil. 
 
 The difguft which flows from opulence difap-. 
 pears in the fimplicity of rural life. The bo- 
 fom learns to enjoy fenfations very different from 
 thofe it experienced in the world- The fentiments 
 of the mind are rendered more free; the feelings 
 of the heart more pure; neither over- powered by 
 profufion, nor blunted by fatiety. 
 
 PETRARCH one day inviting his friend the 
 Cardinal COLON N A to vifit his retirement at VAU- 
 CLUSE, wrote to him, " If you prefer the tran- 
 ' quillity of the country to the tumults of the 
 f town, come here, and enjoy yourfelf : do not' 
 1 be alarmed at the fimplicity of my table, 
 " or the hardnefs of my beds. Kings themfelves 
 are fometimes difgufted with luxury, and enjoy 
 the pleafures of a more frugal repaft. They are 
 pleafed by the change of fcene ; and occafional 
 " interruption does not? render their pleafures lefs 
 " lively. But if youwifh only to enjoy you? accuf- 
 " totned luxury, what is to prevent your bringing 
 
 " with 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 *' with you the moft cxquifitc viands, the wines 
 " of Vefuvius, dithes of filver, and every thing 
 " that can delight the fenfcs. Leave the reft to 
 " me. I promife to provide you with a bed of 
 " the fined turf, a cooling (hade, a concert of 
 " nightingales, figs, raifms, water drawn from the 
 V frefheft fprings, and, in mort, every thing 
 1 ' that the hand of nature prefents to true plea- 
 < fure." 
 
 Who would not, alas ! willingly renounce thofe 
 things which only produce difquietude in the mind, 
 for thofe which render it contented ? The art of oc- 
 cafionally diverting the imagination, tafte, and paf- 
 fions, affords new and unknown enjoyments to the 
 mind, and confers pleafure without pain, and luxury 
 without repentance. The fenfes, deadened by fa- 
 tiety, revive to new enjoyments. The lively twitter 
 of the groves and the murmur of the brooks 
 j'ield a more delicious pleafure to the car than 
 the inufic of the opera, or the compofitions of the 
 ableft maflers. The eye repofes more agreeably on 
 the concave firmament, on an expanfp of waters, on 
 mountains covered with rocks, than it does at 
 baJIs, affemblies, and petits fottpers. The mind 
 enjoys in Solitude objects which were before in- 
 fupportable; and, reclining on the bofom of iin> 
 plicity, eahly renounces every vain delight, PE- 
 TRARCH wrote from VAUCLUSE to one of his 
 fricrKh, " I have made war agr.inft my corporeal 
 
 " powers, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. ft?* 
 
 ** powers, for I find they are my enemies. My 
 
 " eyes, which have occafioncd me to commit fo 
 
 " many follies, are now confined to the view of 
 
 *' a fmgle woman, old, black, and fun-burnt. If 
 
 *' HELEN and Luc RET i A had pofleflcd fuch a face, 
 
 9t TROY would never have been reduced to afhes, 
 
 " nor TAROJJIN driven from the empire of the 
 
 " world. But, to compcnfate thefe defects, (he it 
 
 " faithful, fubmiflive, and induftrious. ShcpafTes 
 
 " whole days in the fields; and hef flirivelled 
 
 " ikin defies the burning fun, even in the hottcft 
 
 " dog-days. My wardrobe ftill contains fine clothes, 
 
 " but I never wear them ; and you would take me 
 
 (e for a common labourer or a 11 tuple (hephcrd ; I 
 
 " who was formerly fo anxious about my drefs. 
 
 f But the reafons which then prevailed no longer 
 
 1 exift ; the fetters by which I was enflaved aro 
 
 1 broken ; the eyes which I was anxious to plcafo 
 
 ' are (hut; and if they were ftill open, they 
 
 1 would not perhaps now be able to maintain tho 
 
 (t fame empire over my heart." 
 
 SOLITUDE, by dripping worldly objects of tha{: 
 falfe fplendour with which the imagination arrays 
 them, deftroys the vain ambition of the mind. Ac- 
 cuflomed to rural pleafure, and indifferent to every 
 other, a wifa man no longer feels power and digni- 
 ties worthy of his defires. A Roman was over- 
 whelmed with tears by being obliged to accept the 
 Confujfliip, bec.iufe it would forone yeardcprive him 
 
 of 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 of the pleafure of cultivating his fields. CIN- 
 CINNATUS, who was called from the plough to the 
 command of the army of the empire, defeated the 
 enemy, poflerTed himfelf of the provinces, made 
 his triumphal entry into ROME, and at the ex- 
 piration of fixtcen days returned to his plough. 
 
 To be the inmate of an humble cottage or the 
 owner of a fpacious manfion, to have every thing 
 fumptuoufly provided, or to be obliged to earn the 
 means of fubfiflence, are not held in equal eflima- 
 tion by mankind. But let the man who has expe- 
 rienced both the one and the other of thefe (ituations 
 beaflted, Under which of thcmhehaspafled the mod 
 contented life ? who can recount the greater num- 
 ber of cares and inquietudes which are felt in the 
 palace than under the roof of the fimple cottager ? 
 who can deny that, in the former, difcomcnt poifons 
 every enjoyment, and makes eafc and fuperfluity a 
 difguifed mifery ? The Princes- of Germany cannot 
 digefl all the poifon which their cooks prepare, fo 
 well 'as a peafant upon the heaths of L.IMBOURG 
 digefls his buck-wheat pic ; and thofe who may dif- 
 fer from me in this opinion, willbe forced to acknow- 
 ledge, that there is great truth in the reply which 
 a pretty French country- girl made to a young and 
 amiable nolleman who folicitcd her to abandon her 
 iblitary rural fituarion and retire with him to 
 PARIS, " Ah! Af< 'Jleur le Marquis, the farther wt> 
 * remove from ourfclves, the greater is our dif- 
 " tince from h ippincfs." 
 
 A finglc 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 301 
 
 A fingle paflion which we are neither inclined 
 nor able to fatisfy, frequently embitters our lives. 
 There are moments in which the mind is difcon- 
 tented with itfelf, tired of its exiilence, difgufted 
 with every thing, incapable of relifhing either Soli- 
 tude or Diflipation, loft to all repofe, and alienated 
 from every pleafure. Time under fuch a fituation, 
 although unemployed, appears horribly tedious ; 
 an impenetrable chaos of fentiment and ideas pre- 
 vails ; the prefent affords no enjoyment ;. and we 
 wait with impatience for the future. The mind, 
 in truth, wants the true fait of life ; and without 
 that, exiftence is infipid. 
 
 But where is this precious fait to be found ? Is 
 it in the paflion of love ? Love, without doubt, fre- 
 quently preferves life, and fometimes gives it new 
 vigour and animation ; but a paflion which -under- 
 mines and confumes us, can neither afford perma- 
 nency nor tranquillity. The love capable of raifmg 
 itfelf to the flrsngth and power of being permanent, 
 muft defcend into a fmcere fnendfhip, or it will 
 dcftroy itfelf or its object, by adding fewel to a fubtlc 
 flame, which will reduce the lover and beloved to 
 a heap of cinders. The fait of life, therefore, mull 
 be extracted from a paflion which does not lequire 
 the aid of another to fupport it; which is capable of 
 feeding itfelf; which acquires new force thelonger it 
 continues; and which, free and independent, raifes. 
 the foul fuperior to every thing that furrounds it. 
 
 Solitude and limited defires afford a true happi- 
 
 nefs 
 
THE INFLUENCE OP SOLtTUI)^ 
 
 fcefsto the ftatcfman who is cafhiered from his officd 
 or exiled from the ftate. Every great Minified 
 does not, indeed, retire from his employments, 
 like NECKAR, through the portals of ever- 
 lafting fame. But every one without diftinclion 
 ought to raife their grateful hands to Heaven, on 
 finding themfelves fuddenly conveyed from the 
 troubled ocean of public life to the calm repofe 
 of their native fields, to the paftoral care of their 
 flocks and herds, under the made of thpfe trees 
 which their ancellors planted. In France, however, 
 if THE MINISTER incurs the difpleafure of his 
 Sovereign, he is ordered to retire ; that is, to 
 retire to the eftate which he has embellifhed and 
 made a mod agreeable retreat. But alas! this de- 
 lightful retreat is to him a place of exile; the fituation 
 becomes intolerable; he no longer taftes its beauties 
 with pleafure ; arid deep flies from his eyes, li nee he is 
 nolonger his own matter. The Icifure he pofleifes ren- 
 ders him an impatient hypochondriac, whofc mind 
 turns withaverlion from every object, and whole ill- 
 humour tindures every thing he fees. The diigracc 
 of a Miniiler in France is frequently fatal to his po- 
 litical exigence *. But this is not the cafe in 
 
 * " It is to this end,*' fays one of our writers, " tlutdifgrace* 
 ' of almoft every kind conduct men. The credit, authority, a;ul 
 ** confide] ut ion which they before enjoyed, are like thofe tranfient 
 fires which (hine during the night j and being fuddenly extin- 
 " guifhed, only render the darlcnefs and Solitude in which the 
 ** traveller u involved, more vifible." 
 
 land i 
 
ON THE MIND ANFJ 1 HE' HEART. 307 
 
 land i there they felicitate the Miniftef on his re- 
 tirement, as a man juft recovered from a dangerou* 
 diftemper. He ftill maintains many more and 
 better friends than he before pofleflcd ; for thcfc 
 are attached to him by fincerc eftecin, while th 
 former weie attached to him only by their intercfts 
 May the great Governor of the Univerfe recom- 
 pcnfc BRITONS for the examples they have given 
 to us of men fufliciently bold and independent to 
 \veigh every tranfaclion in the fcales of reafon, and 
 to guide themfelves by the intrinfic and real merit 
 of each cafe ! For, notwithftanding the rafhnef* 
 with which many Englilhmen have revolted againft 
 the Supreme Being, notwithftanding the laugh and 
 mockery with which they have ib frequently in- 
 fulted virtue, good-manners, and decorum, there 
 are many more among them, who, efpecially at an 
 advanced period of their lives, perfectly underftand 
 the art of living by themfelves ; who in their tran- 
 quil and delightful VILLAS think much more nobly, 
 and live with more freedom and dignity, than any 
 ignorant and prefumptive Peer of Parliament pof- 
 iclles. 
 
 It is faid, that of twenty Minifters who receive 
 the public thanks, or are forced by age to fefign 
 themfelves to retirement, there are always twelve or 
 fifteen who finith their career by becoming Garden- 
 ers and Country Gentlemen. So much the better 
 for thefe Ex-Minifters ; for they, like the excellent 
 Chancellor DE LA.&OCHE at Spire, certainly pofiefs 
 much more content with tbeftwittnd tktttkt than 
 
 thej 
 
jt>4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 they enjoyed in the moil profperous hours of theii* 
 
 adminiitra; ion. 
 
 Sentiments like thefe furnifh, it is faid, an ex- 
 cellent theme to thofe who, ignorant of the man- 
 ners of the world, and unacquainted with men, 
 are fond of moralizing, and of extolling a con- 
 tempt of human greatnefs. Rural innocence and 
 amufement, the pure and fimple pleafures of nature, 
 and the enjoyment of a calm content fo arduously 
 acquired, very feldom form, it is contended, any 
 portion of thofe boafted advantages which this Soli- 
 tude is faid to poilefs. It is added alfo/that a Mi- 
 nifter in office, though furrounded by endlefs diffi- 
 culties, fubjecl: to inceirant torment, obliged to rack 
 his brains, and to employ every a'rt and cun- 
 ning to attain his ends, begins by his fuccefs to 
 feel, that he has attained, what until this period he 
 had never before poireiTed, the character of MAS- 
 TER and SOVF. REIGN ; that he is then enabled to 
 create and to deftroy, to plant and to root up, to 
 make alterations when and where he pleafes; that he 
 may pull down a vineyard and erect an Englil)i 
 grove on its fcite ; make hills where hills were 
 never feen before; level eminences with the ground; 
 compel the ftrcum to flow as his inclination lhall 
 dire<5t ; force woods and mrubberics to grow where 
 he pleafes ; graft or lop as it (hall fcrike his idea ; 
 openvicwsand fhutout boundaries; conftrudruins 
 where ruins never happened; erect temples ofwhich 
 he alone is the high-pritft, and build hermitages 
 where he may feclude himielf at i Icafure ; that all 
 this is not a reward for the reilraints he for- 
 merly 
 
ON THE MIND AND TIlIv HEART. 305 
 
 "icrly experienced, but a natural inclination, fince 
 
 :o\v he may give orders without being himtelf 
 
 bilged to obey ; for A MINISTER mud be, from 
 
 he habits of his life, fond of command and fove- 
 
 .ignty to the end of his days, whether he continues 
 
 .t the head of an extenfive empire, or direds the 
 
 .lanagement of a poultry-yard. 
 
 To maintain that it is neccflary to renounce the 
 : uural paflions of the human mind in order toen- 
 
 n r the advantages of Solitude, would, without 
 ijubt, not only be moralizing very awkwardly, 
 
 nit difcover a great ignorance of the world, and of 
 he nature of MAN. That which is planted in the 
 
 read of man muft there remain. If therefore A 
 
 MINISTER be not fatiated with the exercife of power 
 
 and authority, if in his retirement he ftill retain 
 
 he wcaknefs to with for command let him require 
 
 bcdience from his chickens whenever he plcafes, 
 
 rovided fuch a gratification is eflential to his hap- 
 
 inefs, and tends to fnpprefs the defire of again 
 
 xpofmg himfelf to thofe tempefts and fliipwrecks 
 
 hich he can only avoid in the fafe harbour of rural 
 
 ife*. An EX-MINISTER muft fooncr or later 
 
 ,.irn to defpife the appearances of human gran- 
 
 vur ; for in his retirement he will perceive that 
 
 ue grcatnefs frequently begins at that period of 
 
 * " MARSHAL DB BOUFFLERS has retired to cultivate his 
 fields," faid MADAME MAINTENON: " I am of opinion that 
 tiisCiKClNNATUi would not be forry to be fetched from hif 
 plow. At his departure he charged us all to think ot him, if 
 any thing was wanted during his abfcncc, which may perhaps 
 continue fifteen days." 
 
 X life 
 
306 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 life which Statcfmen are apt to confider as a dreary 
 void ; he will difcover that the regret of being no 
 longer able to do more good, is only ambition in dif- 
 guife-; and feel that the inhabitants of the country, in 
 cultivating their cabbages and afparagus, are a hun- 
 dred times happier than the greateft MINISTER. 
 
 Under fuch circumflances it is only neceiTary to 
 be contented with one's felf, to forget the fuperrlui- 
 ties of life, and to render the little we poflefs as 
 palatable as pofiible. The firfl year which PE- 
 TRARCH panned at Vattclufe he was almoft always 
 alone, had no other company than his dog, no 
 other fervant than a neighbouring fifherman, who 
 ferved him with every thing he wanted. The do- 
 meftics who attended him at Avignon, not being able 
 to accuftom themfclves to this manner of living, 
 quitted hisfervice. Befide,hewas badly lodged, hav- 
 ing only a poor cottage for his refidence, which he 
 afterwards rebuilt without any art, merely to render it 
 tenantable, and even the traces of which no longer re- 
 main.His fare was coarfe and frugal; nothing that flat- 
 ters the fenfes was to be feen there. His bell friends 
 therefore called upon him very feldom, and when 
 they came, their vifits were very fiiort ; others 
 only vifited him from the fame charitable feelings 
 which lead men to the chamber of the lick, or the 
 dungeon of the prifoner. He wrote to his friend 
 PHILIP DE CARRABOLD, Bifliop of Cavillon, who 
 was then at Naples, " Let others run after riches 
 " and honours ; let them be Princes and Kings ;. I 
 " (hall never attempt to impede their career. I 
 
 " am 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 307 
 
 f am contented with the humble character of POET. 
 
 ' And why, my good BISHOP, will you continually 
 
 ' wander from place to place merely to difcover 
 
 ' the road to preferment ? You know the fnarea 
 
 1 which are laid in the Courtsof Princes, theanxic- 
 
 " .ties which corrode the heart, the rifques which are 
 
 1 run, and the florms to which life is expofed there. 
 
 f Return therefore to your diocefe, return to tran- 
 
 " quillity and repofe. You may do this with ho- 
 
 1 nour, while fortune fmiles upon you. You will 
 
 " there find every thing you can defire. Leave 
 
 l< fuperfluity to the avaricious. The rooms, al- 
 
 *' though not decorated with tapeftry, are commo- 
 
 " dioufly furnithed. If our table is not fumptuous, 
 
 " yet we have fomethingatleaft to fatisfy hunger. 
 
 ' Our beds are not covered with gold and purple, 
 
 1 but we do not deep in them with lefs comfort. 
 
 " The hour of death approaches, and warns me to 
 
 ** renounce all the extravagant vanities of life. To 
 
 1 cultivate my gardens is now the only pleafure I 
 
 11 purfue. I plant fruit-trees, in hope that while I 
 
 1 am filhing on my rocks, they will cover me with 
 
 1 their fliade. But my trees are old, and require to 
 
 1 be replaced; I muft therefore requeft that you 
 
 ' will defire your attendants tobring me fome plants 
 
 of the peach and pear tree from Naples. The enjoy- 
 
 ' ments of my old age are purchafed by labour; and 
 
 ' Hive in the expectation of future pleafures, which 
 
 : I intend to participate with you alone : this is 
 
 * what the Hermit on the banks of the SERGUE 
 
 ' writes to you from the middle of the forefl." 
 
 X a SOLITUDE, 
 
to* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 SOLITUDE, however, will not procure us all 
 thefe advantages, unlefs \ve renounce the mania ot 
 refining upon happinefs. By endeavouring to make 
 things better than they are, \ve forget all that is 
 good. He who always views things on the unfa- 
 vourable fide, who willies that all thofe things 
 which are wrong, and which ought to remain 
 wrong, were made right, voluntarily fur renders a 
 large portion of his pleat tires ; for without fo great 
 a number of H'rongbeads in the world, life would 
 not be half fo entertaining as it is. 
 
 To live happily, it is an excellent niaxim to take 
 things juft as they arc; or to admit, with a cele- 
 brated German philofopher, as the foundation of 
 all morality, that it is our duty to do as much good 
 as pofliblc, and to be contented with every thing as 
 we find it. This fpecics of morality is certainly 
 founded in toleration and good-nature ; but it is 
 apt to degenerate too eafily into a loofer kind of 
 philofophy *, which produces nothing good in daring 
 minds, and does not render the people free. It is 
 true, however, that there is no character in the 
 world fo unhappy as he who is continually finding 
 fault with every thing he fees. 
 
 My barber at Hanover t while he was preparing 
 to ihave me, exclaimed with a deep Ugh, " It if 
 
 . * " Let the world go as it pleafes," fays an inp/uious writer, 
 " to do one's duty tolerably well, and fpeak always in praife of 
 gt thegood I' RIOR," is an anck-nt maxim cf then onks; but it ma) 
 lead the dicipline of convents into a llatc of mediocrity, relax- 
 ation, a;.d contempt. 
 
 " terribly 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 309 
 
 terribly lot to-day" "You place Heaven," faid I 
 > him, " in great difficulties; for thefe nine 
 
 months lad pail you have regularly told me every 
 
 other day, // is terribly cold to-day" Cannot 
 
 ic Almighty, then, any longer govern the Uni- 
 
 _rfe without thefe gentlemen-barbers finding foine- 
 
 ing to be difcontented with? " Is it not," I 
 
 kcd him, " much better to take the fcafons as 
 
 ' they change, and to receive with equal gratitude 
 
 ' from the hands of God the winter's cold and 
 
 ' fummer's warmth ?" " Oh! certainly," replied 
 
 'lie barber. 
 
 I may therefore with certainty maintain, that 
 ompetency and content are, in general, highly 
 cneficial to mankind ; and that under many cir- 
 umftances Solitude favours both the one and the 
 
 iher. 
 
 One of the advantages we dill owe to Soli- 
 
 ;de is, that it enables us by habit to relinquifli the 
 
 tcicty of men. For as it is impoflTible always to 
 
 rocure agreeable and intereftingcompany, we foon 
 
 'fe the defire to attain it, and confoleourfclvcs with 
 
 ie idea, that it is incomparably more eafy to drive 
 
 vay languor and difcontent in retirement than in 
 
 lie world : bcfide, as it very rarely happens that 
 
 :i quitting a public aflembly we enter with great 
 
 ood-humour into the examination of ourfelves, 
 
 ; iis ought to be dill another reafon to induce us 
 
 , In- more eafily to renounce it. The lefs, therefore, 
 
3io THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 we form connections with other men, the more wo 
 are qualified for an intercourfe with ourfelves, in- 
 dependent of all acquaintance with the world. 
 
 It is frequently difficult to find an amiable and 
 fen fible character with whom we may form con- 
 nection, and to whom we can freely communicate 
 our thoughts, our pleaiures, and our pains. In 
 this cafe nothing but employment and activity can 
 divert our minds. The idle and unemployed not 
 being able to drive away latitude and difcontent 
 by yawning, expect that relief from the coming -on 
 of time, which the induftrious enjoy every mo- 
 ment of their lives. The coldnefs of indolence 
 freezes all the functions of the heart; and the 
 dread of labour poifons every pleafure. But the 
 mm who ferioufly adopts forrie ufeful courfe of 
 life, who immediately executes whatever his ftation 
 calls upon him to perform, always enjoys a con- 
 tented mind. To him the day appears too -fliort, 
 the night too long. Vexation and difquietude va- 
 nilh from the breaft of him who never leaves for 
 the performance of to-morrow that which may be 
 done to-day, who makes himfelf mafter of the 
 prefent moment, and does not indiicreetly rely 
 upon an uncertain futurity. 
 
 A fituation in a fmall village, or a country re- 
 tirement, is belt fuited to this fpecies of employ- 
 ment. The great world is a fcerte of agitation from 
 mo.rning to night, although, ftrictly fpeaking, no- 
 thing is done during the day. In a fmall village, 
 
 or 
 
ON TITS MIND AND THE HEART. 311 
 
 or more fequeftered fituation, the mind has time to 
 think ; we view every object with more intereft ; 
 and difcharge every duty with higher pleafure. 
 We do not read as the world reads, merely to fay 
 that we have read, but to enjoy and benefit by the 
 good which our reading affords. Every thing we 
 read in filence, in tranquillity, finks deep into the 
 mind,- unites itfclf more clofely with our thoughts, 
 and operates more forcibly on the heart. A judi- 
 cious ufe of time in fuch a fituation foon leflens our 
 inclination to fociety, and, at length, we efteem 
 ourfclves completely happy in finding it totally ex - 
 tinguimed. 
 
 For this reafon, the filence of the country proves 
 frequently, to the female mind, the fchool of true 
 philofophy. In ENGLAND, where the face of Na- 
 ture is fo beautiful, and where the inhabitants are 
 hourly adding new embellimments to her charms, 
 RURAL LIFE pofTefies in itfelf inexpreflible de- 
 lights: but among that active people, the love of 
 Solitude is perhaps, in general, much ftronger in the 
 women than the men. The nobleman who employs 
 the day in riding over his eftate, or in following the 
 hounds, does not enjoy the Solitude of rural life 
 with the fame pleafure as his lady, who cm- 
 ploys her time in needle-work, or in reading in 
 her romantic pleafure- grounds fome inftructive or 
 nffe&ing work. In ENGLAND, where ideas flosv 
 fo rapidly, where, in general, the people love fo 
 much to. tbink> the calm of retirement becomes 
 
 X 4 more. 
 
312 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 more valuable, and the enjoyments of the mlnc| 
 more intererting. The learning which has at 
 prefent fo confiderably increafed among the 
 ladies of GERMANY, certainly owes its origin 
 to rural life; for among thofe who pals much of 
 their time in the country, who lead a life of retire- 
 ment, and read only for their improvement, 
 we find in general incomparably "more true wit 
 and Icntimcnt than among the beaux efprits of the 
 metropolis. 
 
 How would thofe who occaflonally refide in the 
 country abridge the time ot their rcfidence in 
 town, if they weighed and felt the advantages of 
 a rural fituation ! The frivolous enjoyments of 
 the metropolis would then vex and difguil their 
 minds; they would foon be discontented to 
 ice men employ time with fo little improvement 
 to themfclves ; in running inceflamly after 
 every thing that is ftrange, devoting their 
 whole lives to drefs, gaming, paying vifits, 
 without ever refigning themfelves to thoi'e fub- 
 lime reflections which elevate and ennoble the 
 heart. PoffefTed of goodnds, liberality, and 
 Simplicity, a country life, after having lived in to\vn, 
 affords fo many opportunities of being happy, that 
 it is impofiible to be languid or difcontented, pro- 
 vided we are neither negligent, idle, fick, or in 
 love. 
 
 How fweet, how confoling it is in the tranquil- 
 lity of retirement to call to remembrance our ablent 
 
 friends i 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 friends! Ah, this remembrance alone makes us 
 tafle again in Solitude all the pleafures we have en- 
 joyed in their fociety. " You arc far removed, but 
 I am notwithftanding always near to you. There 
 is the place where you nfed to fit. I have the iden- 
 tical chair dill by me. You gave me that picture ; 
 that charming, tranquil, landfcape. With what 
 foft effufion, with what a natural overflow of 
 feeling and fentiment we enjoyed the vic\v 
 of that engraving, upon thofc lively images of a 
 happy tranquillity! Is ir pofliblc to be unhappy, 
 we may exclaim, when we never live with 
 higher joy, with greater activity, never feel the plea- 
 lures of hope and expectation with more rcfinrd de- 
 light than when we are only one day's journey from 
 each other!" By the aid of thcfe light artifices 
 of imagination, thcfe flattering illufions, which Soli- 
 tude fuggefts, two friends, feparated by the great- 
 clt diftance, may live i'n continual intercourfe with 
 each other, even when feparated by oceans; when 
 each no longer liftcns to the voice or diftinguifhes 
 the approaching flcps of the object he loves. 
 
 Friends whom deftiny has feparated from each 
 other, do not any where feel their fentiments fo 
 noble and refined as in thofe places where nothing 
 interrupts this foft intercourfe, and where the 
 pleafures of the world cannot interpofe between their 
 hearts. Mutual ill-humour, thofc mortifications 
 which a commerce with the world daily inflicts, and 
 
 a number 
 
$14 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 a number of little accidents, may fometimes leflcn 
 the delight which the company of the deareft friend 
 would otherwife afford. In thefe unhappy mo 
 ments the mind is only influenced by the tempo-, 
 rary feelings of the heart, and never once recurs to 
 thofe friendly . intercourfes which once prevailed 
 when engaged in the mod important affairs, and to 
 which it will foon again return for ever. He who 
 until this time had attracted my love, now repelt 
 it by ill-humour; and how many agreeable 
 fentiments, how many of the mod delightful plea- 
 fures of my life would be loft, if I were always to 
 forget the pad in the prcfcnt, and to anfwcr his 
 pcevifhnefs by my ill-humour! A Ihort vexation, 
 and that little fubacid humour which will fometimes 
 arife, only obfcures for one infant the flattering 
 image under which my friend is accuftomed to 
 appear before me, whofe prefence always raifes, 
 fuch delightful fenfations in my heart, diffufcs. 
 felicity and plcafure over my life, charms every 
 vexation from my bread, banifhes my ill-hu- 
 mour, and who, until the prefent moment, has 
 ever concealed his ill-humour from my view. 
 This mud be, without doubt, the privilege of 
 intimacy. But friends ought not to wreak their 
 difcontcnts on each other; friends who have 
 heretofore fhared together in all the misfortunes of 
 life, who have mutually fuffered for, and endea- 
 voured to relieve, the feelings of each other's 
 bread. Friendfhip dernano^ fmcerity, but fhe alfa 
 }n common benevolence demands a mutual indul- 
 
 gence 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 315 
 
 gcnce and accommodation ; and requires that; 
 mildnefs fhould be oppofed to anger, and patience 
 to ill humour. This, however, can never hap- 
 pen where each indulges the afperitjei of his 
 temper, and, croffed by the embarrafTments of 
 life, becomes peevifli, forgets every attention and 
 civility himfelf, and complains that they are not 
 obfervcd to him. But how quickly do all thefc 
 inconveniences difappear in Solitude! Solitude 
 fandifies the memory of thofe we love, and cancels 
 all recollection but that which contributes to the 
 enjoyments of Friendfhip! Conftancy, fecurity, 
 confidence, there appear again in all their bright- 
 nefs, and reaflume their empire in the heart. 
 Every pulfe of the foul beats in perfect harmony: 
 I liften with pleafure to my friend, he attends to 
 me in return ; although diftant, he is always 
 near to me; I communicate to him all my 
 thoughts and all my fenfations. I preierve, as fa- 
 cred to our friendmip, all the flowers that he 
 ftrews over the thorny path of my life; and all 
 thole which I can perceive I gather for him. 
 
 Solitude not only refines the enjoyments of 
 friendlhjp, but places us in a fituation to gain 
 friends whom neither time nor Accident can take 
 away, from whom nothing can alienate our fouls, 
 and to whofe arms we never fly in vain. 
 
 The friends of PETRARCH fometimes wrote to 
 him, apologizing for not having been to fee him. 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ts It is impoflible to live with you," fay they 5 
 " the life which you lead at Fauclttfe is repugnant 
 " to human nature. In winter you fit, like an 
 " owl, with your face over the fire; in the funr- 
 " mer you are incefiumly running about the fields : 
 " feldom docs one find you fcatcd under the (hade 
 " of a tree." PETRARCH fmiled at thefe 
 rcprefentations : " Thefe people," faid he, " con- 
 " fider the plcafures of the world as their fupremo 
 " good , and conceive that one ought not to rc- 
 *' nounce them. I poifels a number of friends 
 " whole focicty is extremely agreeable to me, 
 *' They are of all countries, and of all ages; they 
 " are diftinguilhed in war, in politics, and in the 
 ** fciences. It is very eafy to acquire them; they 
 '* are always at my fervice : 1 call for their com- 
 '* pany, and fend them away whenever I plcafe; 
 " they are never troublcfomc, and immediately 
 " anfwer all my queftions. Some relate to me the 
 4 * events of ages pad ; others reveal the fecrets of 
 *' nature: thefe teach me how to live with happi- 
 ' Hefs ; and thofe how to die in quiet ; thefe drive 
 " away every care by the enjoyment they afford 
 *' me, and increafe my guiety by the livclinefs of 
 *' their wit ; while there are others who harden my 
 *< heart againft fufferings, teach me to redrain my 
 '* dtfires, and to depend only on myfelf. In one 
 " word, they open to me an avenue to all the arts, 
 '* to all the fciences, and upon their information I 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 317 
 
 f< fafcly rely. In return for thcfe great fervices> 
 " they only require of me a chamber in one corner 
 " of my fmall manfion, where they may rcpofe 
 " in peace* In ihort, I carry them with me 
 " into the fields, with the tranquillity of which 
 " they are much better pleafcd than the tumults 
 " of the town." 
 
 LOVE! the nloft precious gift of heaven, that 
 happy fentibility tiom which arifes every emotion of 
 the heart, appears to merit a diftinguiihed rank 
 among the advantages of Solitude, provided we 
 manage this powerful pafiion in fuch a manner that 
 it may contribute to our happinefs. 
 
 LOVE afibciates itfelf willingly with the afpecl 
 of beautiful nature. The fentiments excited by 
 the view of a pleating profpect infpirc the tender 
 heart with love, and in a higher degree than any 
 other agreeable emotion of the mind. The female 
 
 \j 
 
 bofom becomes more fufceptible under the filent 
 fliades, upon the fummit of a lofty mountain, or, 
 more efpecially, during the (Ullncfs of a fine night ; 
 and as a violent emotion always operates more 
 forcibly upon the weakeft parts, cmhuilafm, iboner 
 or later, draws allde and lubjugatcs the heart. . 
 
 Women moft certainly feel with more exquifite 
 fentibility than men the pure and tranquil plea- 
 fines of rural life. They enjoy in a much 
 higher degree the beauties of a lonely walk, 
 the frefhncfs of a fliady foreii; and their 
 minds admire with higher cxtacy the charms and 
 
 gran- 
 
ji* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 grandeur of nature. There are many bofoms* 
 apparently infenfible in the atmofpherc of a me- 
 tropolis, which would, perhaps, open tliemfejves 
 with rapture in the country. This is the reafott 
 why the return of Spring fills every tender bread 
 with LOVE. " What can more refemble LOVE," 
 faid a celebrated German Philofopher, " than the 
 " feeling with which my foul is infpired at the 
 ic fight of this magnificent valley thus illumined 
 " by the fetting fun!" 
 
 ROUSSEAU feltaninexprefliblepleafureon viewing 
 the early bloffoms of the fpiing: the arrival of that 
 feafon gave new life to his mind. The tender in- 
 clinations of his foul increafed at the fight of a rich 
 carpet of verdure *, the charms of his miftrefs and 
 the beauties of the fpring were in his eyes the fame 
 thing. His opprcllcd heart was relieved by an ex- 
 tenfive and pleafing profpeft ; and his refpiration 
 was much eafier while he indulged himfelf among 
 the flowers of a garden or the fruits of the orchard* 
 
 LOVERS are bed pleaftrd with retired fituations j 
 they feek the quietude of folitary places to refign 
 tliemfelves to the contemplation of the only object 
 for whom they with to live. Of what importance 
 are all the traniadions of cities to them, or any 
 thing indeed that does not breathe or infpire the 
 pafiion of LOVE ? Obfcure chambers, black forefts- 
 of firs, or lonely Likes, where they may indulge their 
 favourite reflections, are the only confidants of 
 
 their 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 519 
 
 their fouls. Forefts filled with gloomy fhades, 
 and echoing to the tremendous eagle's cry, are the 
 fameto their minds as thelivelieftchampain country, 
 where a lovely (hepherdefs may be feen offering her 
 foftering bofom to the infant (lie is nurfmg, while at 
 her fide her well-beloved partner fits, dividing with 
 her his morfel of hard black bread, a hundred 
 times more happy than all the fops of the town. 
 A man of fenfe, when in love, feels in a higher 
 degree all that is elevated, pleafant, and affecting 
 in nature. Nothing in the world creates a finer 
 fenfibility, even when the mind is deftitute of it by 
 nature, than LOVE. 
 
 The fofteft images of love fpring up anew in 
 Solitude. Ah ! how indelible are the impreflions 
 made by the firft blulh of love, the firfl prcffure of 
 the hand, the firft feelings of anger againft 
 the impertinent intruder who Ihall interrupt 
 the tender intercourfe ! It has been frequently con- 
 ceived, that time extinguiihes the flame which 
 LOVE has once lighted in our breads j but LOVE 
 has agents in the foul that lie long concealed, who 
 wait only for a proper moment to difplay their 
 power. It is the fame with the whole courfe of 
 youthful feelings ; and efpecially with every re- 
 membrance of our firft affection ; delicious recol- 
 lection ! which we love fo fondly to trace back in 
 our minds. 
 
 The impreffion is indelible, the bofom forever 
 retains a fenfe of that higheft exftacy of love, 
 
 which 
 
jtp THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 which a connoifieur has faid, with as much truth as 
 energy, proclaims for the fird time that happy dif- 
 covery, that fortunate moment, when two lovers 
 perceive their mutual fondnefs*. 
 
 A mind fond of reflecting in retirement on the 
 pafiion of love, and which has experienced its 
 pleafures, feels again in thefe ever-recurring 
 thoughts the mod delicious enjoyments. HERDER. 
 lays, ** he does not know who the people in dfia 
 *' were, whoiemythology thusdivided the epochs of 
 " themodremoteamiquity : That men, once more 
 " become cclcdial fpirits, were immediately be- 
 *' loved during a thoufund years, fird by looks, then 
 " by a kifs, afterward by alliance." This was the 
 noble and fublime pafiion which WIEL AND felt 
 during the wanned moments of his youth for a lady 
 orZar/V/ 1 , handfome, amiable, and fenfible; for 
 that great genius well knew that the mydtry of love 
 begins in the fird ligh, and expires, in a certain de- 
 gree, with the fird kifs. 1 therefore one day aikctl 
 this young lady when \V'i ELAND had killed her 
 for the fird time. " Wi ELAND," replied the love- 
 ly girl, " killed my hand for the fird time four 
 " years after our acquaintance commenced." 
 
 No pcrfon has dcfcribed the recolL-clion of that precious 
 moment with To much harmony, fweetnef*, tcndernefs, and A:nu- 
 ment, as ROUSSEAU. Precious moments, fo much regretted! 
 ' Oh ! begin again . your delightful courfe ; flow on with longer 
 " duration in my remembrance, if it U; poffiule, than you did iu 
 * reality in your fugitive fucceflion. " 
 
 But 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. ? j| 
 
 But the minds of young perfons who live in re- 
 tirement, do not, like WIELAND, feize on the 
 myftic refinements of LOVE. Liflcning attentively 
 to all thofe fentiments which the paflions infpire, 
 lefs familiar with their abftraftions, their minds fel- 
 dom taken oft' by other ideas, they feel at a mucfy 
 earlier age, in the tranquillity of Solitude, that 
 irrefiftible impulfe to the union of the fexes which 
 nature infpircs. A lady of my acquaintance who 
 lived upon the banks of the Lake of Geneva in filent 
 Solitude, and feparated from all connexion with the 
 world, had three daughters, bnutesp'tquantfs,3\\ of them 
 extremely beautiful in theirperfons, and equallyami- 
 able in their manners. When the cldeft was about four- 
 teen years of age, and the youngeft about nine, they 
 were prefented with a tame bird, which hopped an4 
 flew about their chamber the whole day. The young 
 ladies required no other amufement, fought no other 
 employment, except that of placing thcmfelvcs on 
 theirknees, and withunwcaried delight offeringtheir 
 lovely little favorite a piece of bifcuit from their fin- 
 gers for hours together, in order to lure him to their 
 bofoms. The bird, however, the moment he had go; 
 the bifcuit, with cunning coynefs difappointed their 
 expectations, and hopped away.Thebird died. Ayear 
 after this event the yaungeft of the three fiftejsfak} to 
 hermother, " Oh, the dear little bird, mamma! if we 
 " could but procure fuch another !"'* No," replied 
 her eldeft filter, "what 1 ftiould like better than any 
 " thingelfe in the world, is a little dog. We may 
 " at leaft be able to touch, to hug, to take a lit* 
 
 Y " tic 
 
" tic dog upon one's knees ; but a bird is good for 
 '* nothing : he perches a little while on your finger, 
 " flies away, and there is no catching him again. 
 " But with a little dog, O what felicity !" 
 
 I (hall never forget the poor rellgleufe in whofe 
 apartment I found a breeding-cage of canary-birds ; 
 nor forgive myfelf for having burft into a fit of 
 laughter at the fighr of 'this aviary. Alas! it was 
 the fuggeftion of nature, and who can refift what 
 nature fuggefts? This myflic wandering of religious 
 minds, thisceleftial epilepfy of Lo v E, this premature 
 fruit of Solitude, is only the fond application of one 
 natural inclination raifed fuperior to all the others. 
 
 Abfence and tranquillity appear fo favourable to 
 the pcifiion of love, that lovers frequently chufe to 
 quit the beloved object, and to reflect in Solitude on 
 her charms. Who does not recollect to have read 
 in the Confefiions of ROUSSEAU the ftory related by 
 MADAME DE LUXEMBERG, of the man who 
 quitted the company of his miftrefs only that he 
 might have the pleafure of writing to her ! 
 * ROUSSEAU told MADAME LUXEMBERG that he 
 .wiihed he Jmd been that man; and he was right. 
 In fad, who has ever loved, and does not know, 
 that there are times when the pen exprefles 
 the feelings of the heart infinitely better than th e 
 voice with its miferable organ of fpeech, which 
 i nothing, and exprefles nothing? Who is ever 
 more eloquent than lovers in thofe moments ofex - 
 iicy-when- they- gaze on each other and are filent ? 
 
 LOVERS not only feel with higher cxta.cies, 
 
 but 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 323 
 
 but exprefs their fentiments with greater happinefs, 
 in Solitude than in any other fituation. What fa- 
 fhionable lover has ever painted his paflion for an 
 imperious miftrefs with the fame felicity as the cho- 
 rifter of a village in Hanover for a young and beau- 
 tiful country girl ? On her death, the chorifter 
 raifed in the cemetery of the cathedral a fepulchral 
 ftonc to her memory, and carving in an artlefs 
 manner the figure of a ROSE on its front, infcribed 
 thefe words underneath : " Ccjl alnfi qu'elltfut." 
 
 It was under the rocks of VAUCLUSE, or in de- 
 farts ftill more folitary, that PETRARCH compofed 
 his fineft fonnets, deploring the abfcnce, or com- 
 plaining of the cruelty, of his beloved LAURA. In 
 the opinion of the Italians, PETRARCH wrote better 
 upon the fubjeft of LOVE than all the other poets 
 in the world before or Cnce his time, whether in 
 the Greek, Latin, or Tufcan languages. "Ah! 
 " that pure and tender language of the heart !" 
 fay they; <c nobody pofieffed any knowledge of it 
 " but PETRARCH, who added to the three Graces 
 " a fourth, viz. the Grace of DELICACY." 
 
 But in lonely fituations, in old romantic caftles, 
 in the heated imagination of impetuous youth, 
 LOVE alfo frequently aflumes a more outrt and 
 extravagant character. To warm enthufiaftic minds 
 religion, love, and melancholy, make a fublime and 
 whimfical compound of the feelings of the heart. An 
 ardent young man, when he is inclined that his mif- 
 trefs Should be ferious, takes from the Apocalypfe the 
 
 Y z text 
 
THE INFLUENCE CJF 
 
 text of his firft declaration of love; for love, he ex- 
 claims, is but dn eterria 1 ! melancholy, and when 
 he Is inclined to fharpen the dart within his 
 bread, his exalted imagination views the beloved 
 object- as the faireft model of divine perfection. 
 
 Our two angels, in their ancient caftle, no longer 
 love like fouls lefs pure and noble; their fentiments 
 more refined, are alio more fubiime. Surrounded 
 by rocks, and impreficd by the filenccof a fine nighr, 
 the beloved youth is not only aman,kind, rational, and 
 honeft, he is a GOD*. The inipired mind of the fond 
 female fancies her bofom to be the ianctuary of love, 
 and conceives her affection for the youthful idol of 
 her heart to be an emanation from heaven, a ray 
 of the divinity itfelf. Ordinary lovers, without 
 doubt, in fpite of abfence, unite their fouls with 
 each other, write by every pod, feize all occafiorts 
 to converfe with each other, or to hear each other 
 fpeak ; but our female, more fubiime, more exalt- 
 ed, introduces into her romance all the butterflies 
 (he meets with,, .all the feathered fongflers of the 
 groves; and, except perhaps her hulband, (he no 
 longer fees any thing in the world iuch as h is. 
 The fenfes are nothing ; refinement directs all her 
 movements. She tears the world from its poles, 
 arid the fun from its axis, to prove that all (he 
 
 * "When the paflion of LOVE isatitsheight/'faysRoussiAV, 
 It arrays the beloved ebjeft in every poffible perfection; makes 
 ' it an idol, places it in heaven; and as the enthufiafm of de- 
 * votion borrows the language of love, the enthufiafin of love alfo 
 " borrows .the language of devotion. The lover beholds nothing 
 " but pa rail ill-, angels, the virtues of faints, and the felicities of 
 " heaven." 
 
 does, 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 325 
 
 does, all (he wifhes, is right. She eftablimes a 
 new gofpel and a new fyftem of morality for herfelf 
 and her lover. Thefe effects of LOVE cannot be 
 avoided by any of the advantages of Solitude. . 
 LOVE even of the moft tranquil kind, that fpecics 
 which lies filent in the breaft, which does not raife 
 chimeras in the mind, which does not refign itfelf 
 to the delirium of an ardent imagination, and which 
 is not carried into thefe exceffes, in time confumcs 
 the lover, and renders him miferable. Occupied 
 by the idea of one object, whom we adore beyond all 
 others, all the faculties of the foul become abforb- 
 cd, and we abandon a world which for us no longer 
 poffefles any charms. But when we find ourfelves 
 ieparated for ever from the lovely object who has 
 made even the higheft facrificc to us in her power; 
 who adminiitered confolation under all the af 
 dictions of our lives, afforded happinefs under the 
 greateft calamities, and fupported us when all 
 the powers of the foul had abandoned us ; who 
 continued a fincere friend when every other friend 
 had left us, when opprefied by domeftic for- 
 rows, when rendered incapable of either thought 
 or action ; then to languifh in a flothful Solitude 
 becomes our only pleafure. The night is paflcd in 
 fleepiefs agonies'; while a difguft of life, a defirc 
 of death, an abhorrence of ali.fociety, and a love of 
 the moft frightful defarts, prey upon the heart, and 
 drive us, day after day, wandering, as chance may 
 direft, through the mod folitary retirements, far from 
 ;he hateful traces of mankind- Were we, however, 
 
 Y 3 to 
 
3*6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 to wander from the ELBE to the Lake of GENEVA* 
 to feek relief from the north to the weft, even to, 
 the Ihores of the fea, we (hould ftill be like tie hind, 
 defcribed in VIRGIL, 
 
 " Stung with the Aroke, and madding with the pain, 
 " She wildly flies from wood to wood in vain ; 
 ' Shoots o'er the Cretan lawn* with many a bound* 
 '* The cleaving dart dill rankling in the wound !'* 
 
 VIRGIL, Book IV. line life. 
 
 PETRARCH experienced the accumulated tor- 
 ments of love in his new refidence at VAU- 
 CLUSE. Scarcely had he arrived there, when the 
 image of LAURA inceffantly haunted his mind. 
 He beheld her at all times, in every place, un- 
 der a thoufand different forms. " Three times,'* 
 fays he, " in the dead of night, when every door 
 " was clofed, (he appeared to me at the feet of 
 w my bed with a certain look which announced the 
 " power of her charms. Fear fpread a chilling dew 
 ** over all my limbs. My blood thrilled through my 
 " veins towards my heart. If any one had thenen- 
 ** tered my room with a candle, they would have be- 
 ** held me as pale as death, with every mark of tcr- 
 " roronmyface. Before day-break I rofe trembling 
 '* from my bed, and haftily leaving my houfe, 
 * c where every thing excited alarm, I climbed to 
 *' the jfummir of'the rocks* ran through the woods, 
 .^"cafting my eyes continually around to, fee if the 
 - : fqrm that had' difturbed my repofe ftill purfucd 
 *' nie. I could findnoafylumiinthemofl feqtieftered 
 
 " places 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 3*7 
 
 " places where I flattered myfelf that I (hould be 
 *' alone, I frequently faw her ifluing from thetrurik 
 " of a tree, from the head of a clear fpring, from 
 " the cavity of a rock. Fear rendered me infen- 
 * f fible, and I neither knew what I did nor where 
 " I went." 
 
 To an imagination fubject to fuch violent con- 
 vulfions, Solitude affords no remedy. Ov i D, there* 
 fore, has very juftly faid, 
 
 *f But Solitude mull never be allow'd ; 
 " A lover's ne'er fo fafe as in a crowd, 
 W For private places private grief increafe j 
 " What haunts you there in company will ceafe. 
 " If fo the gloomy defart you repair, 
 " Vour miftrefs' angry form will meet you there." , 
 
 Ov i p 's Rtmtdy of lovt; 
 
 PETRARCH learnt from the firft emotions of h;s 
 paflion, how ufelefs are all attempts tofly from LOVE; 
 and he fought the rocks and forefts in vain. There is . 
 no place, however favage and forlorn, where Love 
 will not force its way. The pure an4 limpid ftream 
 of VAUCLUSE, the fhady woods adorning the 
 little valley in which the ftream arofe, appeared 
 to him the only places to abate the fiercenefs of 
 thofe fires which confumed his heart, 'the moil: 
 frightful defartSj the deepeft forefts, mounta.in$ 
 almoft inaccefljble, were to him the moft agreeable 
 abodes. But LOVE purfued his fteps wherever he 
 went, and left him no place of refuge. His whole 
 fou} flew back to AVIGNON. 
 
 Y SOLI- 
 
Ji8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 SOLITUDE alfo affords no remedy for LoVU 
 when it is injurious to VIRTUE. To an honeft 
 mind the prefence of the beloved objeft is never 
 dangerous, although the paflion may have taken a 
 Criminal turn in the heart. On the contrary, while 
 abfcnce and Solitude foment all the fecret move- 
 ments, of the fcnfes and the imagination, the 
 fight of the beloved objeft deftroys, in a virtuous 
 bread, every forbidden defire ; for in abfence the lo- 
 Ver thinks himfelf fccure, and confequently indulges 
 his imagination without rcftraint. Solitude, more 
 than any other lituation, recals to the mind every 
 Voluptuous idea, every thingthat animates delire and 
 inflames the heart: no danger being apprehended, 
 the lover walks boldly on in the flattering paths of 
 an agreeable jllufion, until the paflion acquires a 
 dangerous empire in his bread. 
 
 The heart of PETRARCH \vasfrequentlyflimulated 
 by ideas of voluptuous pleafure, even among the 
 rocks of VAUCLUSE, where he fought an afyluni 
 from LOVE and LAURA*, But he foon banimed 
 
 fcnfualicy 
 
 * We read in a variety of books, now no longer known, that 
 FITKARCH lived at VAUCLUSB with LAV.*A, and that he had 
 formed a . fubterraneous juilage from her houfe to his own. 
 PntRAKCn was not lo happy. LAURA was married, and lived 
 with her hpiiund HU'GUES DE S.\or at Ayir. *ON, the place of 
 her nativity, and where flu- died, She \vas the mother of eleven 
 Children, which had fo debilitated her conftitution, that at hvc-and* 
 chir.y yean of age no xrac^ s pf her former beauty remained. She 
 experienced, alio, many donieflig forrpwj. Her hulbar.d was i;i- 
 Cl'^ablt v3f appl-eciatin^ the value of her virtues, and tfie propriety 
 pf he: conduct. H-J was jeuluut witHoilt caiiiV, ai.d oven without 
 j*GV> whi^h to woman wa$AUlmpre mortify ing. FtTRAR.cH, 
 
 on 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 fenfuality from his mind : the paffion of hU 
 foul then bgcame refined, and acquired that 
 vivacity and heavenly purity which breathe in 
 every line of thofe immortal lyricks he com* 
 pofed upon the rocks. The city of AVIGNOK> 
 where his LAURA refidcd, was, however, too neat 
 to him, and he vifited it too frequently'. A loVfi 
 like his never leaves the heart one moment of 
 tranquillity ; it is a fever of the foul, Which afflicii 
 the body with a complication of the moft painful 
 diforders. Let a lover therefore, while his mind 
 is yet able to controul the emotions of his heart, 
 feat himfelf on the banks of a rivulet, and think 
 that his paflion, like the dream which how precipi- 
 tates itfelf with noifedown the rocks, may in peace- 
 ful (hades and folitary bowers flow acrofs the mea- 
 dows and the plains in filence and tranquillity. 
 
 LOVE unites itfelf to tranquillity, when the mind 
 fubmits with humility to all the difpenfations of 
 heaven. If, when death bereaves a lover of the 
 object of his affection, he is unable to live except 
 
 bn the contrary, loved LAV ft A during the courfe of twenty years t 
 but he was never futfered to vifit her at her own houfe ; for Jicr 
 hufband fcidom, if ever, left her alone. He therefore had no 
 opportunity" of beholding his charming, his a nibble LAVRA,*- 
 ccpt at church, at aflcmblies, or upon the public walks, and then 
 never alone. Her hulband frequently forbid her to walk even with 
 her deareft friends, and his mind was rendered furious whenever 
 (he indulged in the flighted pleafure. LAURA wai born in the 
 year 1307 or 1308, and was two or three years younger than, 
 Ptr lARCHt hc died of the plague in the year 1348. Seven 
 years after her death her hufband married again, and P fe T R A K.C H 
 furvived her till about the ccnrttcnwmtnt of the year 1374, 
 
 in 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 in thofc places where (he was ufed to dwell, and 
 all the world belides looks dgfart and forlorn, 
 death alone can (lop the torrent of his tears. But 
 it is not by yielding himfelf to the preflure of his 
 affliction, that he can be faid to devote him* 
 felf to God. The lover, when opprefied by 
 forrow, conflantly attaches himfelf to the ob- 
 ject which is no more, and never can return. 
 He feeks for what he can never find ; he liftens, 
 but hears nothing ; he fancies that he beholds the 
 lovely form alive and breathing, when it is only 
 a phantom, a vifionary production of his heated ima- 
 gination. He gathers rofes from the tomb of her 
 en whom all the happinefs of his life depended ; 
 he waters them with his tears, cultivates them with 
 the tendered care, places them in his bofom, kiffes 
 them with rapture, and enjoys their foothing fra- 
 grance with melancholy tranfport ; but thefe plca- 
 furcs alfo vanifh ; the rofes droop their heads, and 
 die. It is not until the lover has long wreflled 
 with the rigours of fate, until the> arms have long 
 been in vain extended to embrace the beloved ob- 
 ject, until the eye has long fixed its view upon 
 the cherifhed (hade, until all hope of re-union is 
 gone, that the mind begins gradually to feel its re- 
 turning powers, aflumes an heroic courage againfl 
 its misfortune, endeavours to conquer the weak- 
 nefs of the heart, and perceives the return of its, 
 former tranquillity. Thefe cures, however, can only 
 Jie effected in vigorous minds, who alone crowi; 
 
 whatever 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 331 
 
 whatever they undertake with fucccfs: vigorous 
 minds alone find in Solitude that peace which the 
 whole univerfe, with all its pleafurts and diflipa* 
 tions, cannot procure. 
 
 The victory which the virtuous PETRARCH ac- 
 quired over the paflion which aflailed his heart, 
 mud afford pleafure to every mind. When he 
 fought refuge in Italy from LOVE and LAURA, his 
 friends in France ufed every endeavour to induce 
 him to return. One of them wrote to him : " What 
 " daemon poflefles you? How could you quit 
 f< a country where you have enjoyed all the de- 
 " lights of youth, and where that graceful perfon 
 '.' which you formerly adorned with fo much 
 <c care, procured you fo many pleafures? How 
 " can you live thus exiled from your LAURA, 
 *' whom you love with fo much tendernefs, and 
 <c whofe heart is fo deeply afflicted by your ab- 
 " fence?" 
 
 PETRARCH replied: "Your anxiety is vain; 
 * my resolution is to continue where I am. I am 
 " here at anchor ; and neither the impetuofity of 
 f< the RHONE, nor the charms of your eloquence, 
 " lhall ever drive me from it. To perfuade me to 
 ** change this refolution, you place before my 
 " eyes the deviations of my youth, which I ought 
 " to forget; a paflion which left me no other 
 " refource than a precipitate flight, and the con- 
 " temptible merit of a handfome perfon, which 
 " too long occupied my attention. The period 
 
 ia 
 
 " 
 
1 3 I THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 41 is arrived, when I muft no longer think 
 c< of thofe follies ; I have left them behind 
 *< me; and I rapidly approach to the end 
 f< of my career. My mind is now occu- 
 <c pied by more ferious and important objects. 
 44 God forbid, that, liftening to your flattering 
 *' cpunfcl, I (hould again throw myfclf into the 
 ** fnares of LOVE; again put on a yoke I have 
 *' already fo feverely felt ! It was confident with 
 *"* the age of youth, but I fliould now blufli to 
 * l he a, fubjecl; of conversion to the world, and to 
 4< fee myfclf pointed at as 1 walk along. I con- 
 ** fidcr all your felicitations, and, indeed, all you 
 " tell me, as a fcvere critique upon my conduct, 
 
 c< My love of Solitude takes root in this place ; I 
 
 i 
 
 " fly from town, and flrall at random about the 
 ** fields, without care, without inquietude. In 
 *' fuipmer I ftretch myfeU beneath the (hade upon 
 44 the verdant turf, or faunter on the borders of a 
 ** purling ftream, and defy thehea^s of Italy* Qn 
 41 the approach of a\itumn I feejt the woqds, and 
 *' iai.n. THE MUSES trajn. This mgdc of life 
 " Appears tq me pvefcrable to 'a, life a,t court j 
 u i\ Uf<? occupied only by ambition and envy. I 
 *' walk with plcafure on the plains of Italy; the 
 ^ air of the climate is to me fercn<? and pure. 
 <* When death (hall put a period to my labours, 
 *' I only afjw the cpnfolation of rcpofm^ my heacj 
 **' \I^QH the; bofom of a friend > whqfe eyes, \vhile h^ 
 ^ tlofes \in.e,; \viitdeptore m^ loCs> and whofe kinc} 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEAR?. 533 
 
 tc care will convey me to a tomb in th bofom Or 
 *' my colintry*" 
 
 Thcfe were the fcntiments, the philosophic feri 
 timents of PETRARCH; but he returned foori 
 afterward to AVIGNON, from whence he con*- 
 tinued from time to time to vitit VAUCLUSF.. 
 
 PETRARCH himfelf acknowledges* with that 
 frankncfs which was natural to his charader, hovV 
 much his unfcttlcd foul wavered between Lev Und 
 REASON. From his retirement atVAucLUsfc he 
 wrote to his friend PASTRENGO, tf Perceiving 
 " that there is no other way to effect my cure 
 " than to abandon AVIGNON, 1 have determined 
 18 to leave it, notwithstanding all the efforts of my 
 4< friends to detain me* Alas! their friericimii) 
 " only tends to render me unhappy ! I fought this 
 '* Solitude as an afylum againft the tempefts of 
 " life, and to live here yet a little while retired 
 *' and alone before 1 die. I already perceive that 
 4< I am near my end ; but I feel with infinite plea* 
 cc fure that my mind is much more free; and the 
 *' life which I lead here appears to me like that of* 
 ** the happy in heaven. Obferve, however^ the 
 ** prevalence of habit, and the force of paflion ; 
 <c for without having any bufmcfs I frequently 
 c< return to that hateful city. I run voluntarily 
 <c into the fame fnares by which I was firft caught, 
 " An adverfe wind drives me from the port which 
 " 1 have entered, upon that troubled ocean where 
 
 " I have 
 
'334 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 .. *' I have fo frequently been fliipwrecked. I am 
 M no fooner there than I feel myfelf in a veflel 
 44 toiled about by the temped* I perceive the 
 " heavens on fire, the fea raging, and dangers 
 " furrounding me on every fide. Death prefcnts 
 " itfelf to my eyes; but what is ilill worfe than 
 " death, I turn from my prefcnt life with averfion, 
 ' and dread that which is to come." 
 
 PASTRENGO replied as a friend who knew not 
 only what PETRARCH pradtifed, but the kind of 
 fentiments which would make him feel that which 
 he was delighted to perform : " It is with plea- 
 " fare I learn," fays he, " that you have burfl 
 " open the doors of your prifon, (haken off your 
 " chains, and let yourfelf free ; that after a violent 
 " temped you have at lad reached the port you 
 " wifhed to gain, and ride fafe in the harbour of 
 " a quiet life. I can at this didance difcovcr 
 * l every thing you do, day after day, in your re- 
 "treat at VAUCLUSE. At the earlied dawn of 
 *' day, awakened by the warblers of your groves, 
 " and the murmurs of your fpring, you climb the 
 " hills yet covered with the dew, and from thence 
 * view the fertile plains, the cultivated vallies, 
 " fmilingat your feet ; difcovering, now and then, 
 " the didant fea bearing the freighted veffels to 
 * their ports. The tablets are ready in your hand, 
 " to note down the thoughts which fill your mind. 
 4t When the fun rifes above the horizon, you feet 
 " your humble cot, partajce of a frugal repad, 
 
 * 4 and 
 
cc 
 
 Cf 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 335 
 
 * c and enjoy undifturbed rcpofe. To avoid the 
 " meridian heat of the day, you retire into the 
 vales, where your delightful fpring precipitating 
 over rocks with echoing founds, pours forth its 
 wandering ftreams, and forms the charming river 
 
 * which fertilizes the valley of VAUCLUSE. I fee 
 
 * the cavern through which the water, fometimes 
 : low and tranquil, enters, and where, even in the 
 1 hotted day of Cummer, there breathes Co freih an. 
 
 " air. Within the fliade of that grotto, whofe 
 *' arched and lofty roof hangs o'er the moving 
 1 cryflal of the dream, I perceive you fitting, en- 
 '* joying xvith ravifhed eyes the enchanting view 
 ' which lies before you : your imagination 
 <c warms, your foul takes its intellectual flight, 
 4< and then you produce your choiceft works. 
 u Thus retired, you confider all the vanities of this 
 " world as a light fhadow which has pafTed away, 
 ci and quietly renounce them to a more ufeful em- 
 *' ployment of your time. "When you quit the 
 ** grotto your tablets are full. Do not, however, 
 " flatter yourfelf that you alone enjoy thefc trea- 
 Cures of your foul; for mine, which never quits 
 ** you, participates with you in this ufeful and 
 " agreeable enjoyment." 
 
 Such was the felicity which PETRARCH tafled 
 at VAUCLUSE in the midft of Co many dangers; a 
 felicity which LOVE, too impatient for enjoyment, 
 can never confer: but Solitude, judicioufly employ- 
 cd, dillipates all the pangs with which this pafiion 
 tears the heart, and affords a compenfation for 
 
 thofo 
 
jj6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 (hofe pleafures which it takes away. Nor are 
 all the confolations of life loft in Solitude to 
 i he bolbm of an unhappy lover. Kc contem- 
 plates without regret the pad pleafures of love; 
 fhofefhort-lived pleafures which can no more return. 
 The time arrives when he c'cafes to weep and fuf- 
 fer, and on the bed of dtath he exclaims with a 
 tranquil llgh, *< Oh! lovely objccl of my foul! if 
 * you fhouid learn my fate, a love like mine may 
 *< well dcfcrve the tribute of a tear, and call one 
 ** gentle llgh from your relenting heart. Forget my 
 * 4 faults, and while my virtues live, let my follies 
 " die, within your bolbm!" 
 
 J|t \yas thus, in ftruggling againft the prevalence 
 t>f his pafilon, that PETRARCH role to that fub- 
 limity, and acquired that richneis of imagination, 
 which diflinguifhed his character. He acquired, 
 even at this period, an afcendancy over the 
 age in which he lived greater than any individual 
 has fince, in any country, been able ID obtain. 
 His mind palled with the happicft facility from 
 grave to gay fubjefts; and he was enabled, 
 when occaiion required it, to adopt the 
 boldeil resolutions, and perform the mod cou- 
 rageovt actions. PETRARCH, who at the feet 
 of women wept, fighed, and fobbed like a 
 child; who only wrote on LAURA the fofc 
 and laoguiOiing vcrfes which his paflion infpired ; 
 no fooner turned hi eyes towards ROME than 
 his ftyle aifurricd a bold and manly tone, and his 
 letters were written with all the ftrengch and fpitit 
 
 of 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 357 
 
 of the Auguflan age. Monarchs *, while they read 
 his lyric poetry, have forgot the calls of hunger and 
 the charms of fleep. At a more advanced period 
 of his life, however, he was no longer the fighing 
 Mufe of Love, who only chaunted amorous ver- 
 fes at the feet of his relentlcfs miftrefs; he 
 was no longer an effeminate flave, who kitted the 
 chains of an imperious female, from whom he 
 only received marks of contempt and averfion ; but 
 with a republican intrepidity PETRARCH rege- 
 nerated the love of liberty throughout Italy, and 
 founded the alarm againft. tyranny and tyrants. A 
 great ftatefman, a profound and judicious minifler^ 
 he was continually confulted upon the moft impor- 
 tant affairs then tranfading in Europe, and fre- 
 quently employed in the moft arduous negociation?. 
 A zealous friend to humanity, he endeavoured upon 
 all occafions to extinguiih the torch of difcord. Pof- 
 fefling an extraordinary genius, the greatcft Princes 
 folicited his company, endeavoured to form their 
 mfnds from his opinions, and ftuciied from his pre- 
 cepts the great art of rendenng their fubjccts happy. 
 By thefe traits we tiifcover that PETRARCH, not- 
 withftanding the violence of his paffion, enjoyed 
 all the advantages or* Solitude. His vifus to Pau~ 
 flufe were nor, as is generally conceived, tliat 
 he might be nearer to LAURA; for LAURA re- 
 
 * ROBERT King of Napltt frequently relinquifhed the moftfe 
 riotti aiFairs to read the worki of PETRARCH, without thinking 
 either of his meals or his bed. 
 
 Z fided 
 
33 3 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 fided altogether at Avignon; but that he might avoid 
 the frowns of his miftrcTs and the corruptions of 
 the Court. Seated in his little garden, which 
 was (ituatcd at the foot of a lofty mountain and 
 furrounded by a rapid ilrcam, his foul rofe fu- 
 perior to the advcrfities of his fate. He pofTelied 
 indeed, by nature, a relllefs and unquiet mind ; was 
 frequently difpleatcd becaufe he was not at fome 
 diftant place, to which it was impoflible he could 
 ever go ; frequently becaufe he could not attain 
 every thing he wilhcd ; and frequently becaufe he 
 looked in vain for fomething which it was impofli- 
 bic he mould find. PETRARCH, in (hort, policiTcd 
 all thole defects which generally accompany men 
 of genius. But in his moments of tranquillity, a 
 found judgment, joined to'un exquifite fenfibiluy, 
 enabled him to enjoy the delights of Solitude fu- 
 perior to any mortal that ever exifted, either be- 
 fore or fmce his time ; and in thcfe moments l r au- 
 clufj was, to his feelings, the Temple of Peace, the 
 refidcnce of calm repofe, a fafe harbour againft all 
 the tempefts of the foul. 
 
 SOLITUDE therefore, although it cannot always 
 conquer LOVE, refines and fandifies the moft ardent 
 flame. The pamons which the God of nature 
 originally planted in the heart of man, ought to 
 remain undellroyed within his bread, but he mould 
 learn to direct them to their proper ends. If, there- 
 fore, you are inclined to be happier than PETRARCH, 
 mare the pleafures of your retirement with fome 
 a-.niable charafter, who, better than the cold pre- 
 cepts 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 339 
 
 cepts of philofophy, will beguile or banilh 
 
 by the charms of converfation all the cares and 
 
 torments of life. A truly wife man has faid, that 
 
 the prefence of one thinking being like ourfelves, 
 
 v,'hofe bofom glows with fympathy and love, fo 
 
 far from deftroying the advantages of Solitude, 
 
 renders them more favourable. If, like me, you 
 
 owe your happinefs to the fond affection of a wife, 
 
 ihe will foon induce you to forget the fociety of 
 
 men, by a tender and unreferved communication 
 
 of every fentiment of her mind, of every fecret 
 
 feeling of her heart ; and the employments, the 
 
 bufinefs, the viciflltudcs of life will render, by theif 
 
 variety, the fubjects of confidential difcourfe 
 
 and fweet domeftic converfe proportionably di- 
 
 verfified. The orator who fpeaks upon this fub- 
 
 jcd with fo much truth and energy, mud have felt 
 
 with exquifite fenfibility the pleafures of domeftic 
 
 happinefs. <{ Here/' fays he, " every kind ex- 
 
 " preflion is remembered; the emotions of one 
 
 " heart reacts with correfpondent effects upon the 
 
 " other ; every thought is treafured up ; every tcfli- 
 
 " mony of affection returned; the happy pair enjoy 
 
 " in each other's company all the pleafures of the 
 
 " mind, and there is no feeling which does not 
 
 " communicate itfelf to their hearts. To beings 
 
 " thus united by the fmcereft affection and the 
 
 " clofeft friendship, everything that is faid or done, 
 
 " every wifli and every event becomes mutually 
 
 Z z " important* 
 
340 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " important. Beings thus united, and they alone, 
 " regard the advantages which they feverally pof- 
 " fefs, with a joy and fatisfaftion untindhircd by 
 " envy. It is only under fuch an union that faults 
 " are pointed out with cautious tendernefs, and 
 " without ill-nature ; that looks befpeak the in- 
 " clinations of the foul ; that the gratification of 
 " every with and defirc is anticipated; that every 
 " view and intention is aflimilated ; that the fenti- 
 " mentsof the one conform to thofe of the other ; 
 " and that each rejoices with cordiality at the 
 " fmalleft advantage which the other acquires." 
 
 Thus it is that the Solitude which we (harewithan 
 amiable object procures us tranquillity, fatisfa<5Uoix 
 heartfelt joy ; and the humbled cottage becomes the 
 dwelling-plarc of the pureft plcafure. Lov E in the 
 retreats of Solitude, while the mind and the heart 
 arc in harmony with each other, is capable of pre- 
 ferving the nobleft fentiments in the foul, of raifmg 
 the underftandingto the higheft degree of elevation, 
 of filling the bofom with new benevolence, of rooting 
 out all the feeds of vice, of ftrengthening and ex- 
 tending all the virtues. The attacks of ill-humour 
 are by this means fubdued, the violence of the paf- 
 fions moderated, and the bitter cup of affliction 
 fweetened. It is thus that a happy love renders 
 Solitude ferene, alleviates all the fufferings of the 
 world, and ftrews the fweeteft flowers along the 
 paths of life. 
 
 Solitude 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART 341 
 
 Solitude frequently converts the deep anguifli of 
 diftrefs into a Toothing melancholy. Every thing 
 vrhich operates with gentlcnefson the foul is a falu- 
 tary balm to a wounded heart. This is the reafon 
 why every malady of the body, every differing of 
 the mind, feels fuch fenfible effects from the confo- 
 latory expreflions, the kind affability , the interefting 
 anxieties of a virtuous wife. Difgufted, alas! by 
 the treatment of the world, and difpleafed with 
 every thing around me ; when faticty had weak- 
 ened all the vigour and deftroyed every energy of 
 my foul ; when I no longer hoped for relief; when 
 grief concealed all the beauties of nature from my 
 eyes, and rendered the whole univerfe a lifeiefs tomb, 
 the kind attentions of A WIFE conveyed a fecret 
 charm, a confolatory virtue to my mind. Oh ! no- 
 thing can fo fweetly ("often all our fufferings as 
 a conviction that WOMAN is not indiffefent to 
 
 our fate. 
 
 Rural fccnery, of a thoufand different kinds, 
 afford to the diftracted bofom the fame tran- 
 quillity which the attentions and converfation of an 
 amiable wife procure to afick and fuffering hulband, 
 and change all the afflictions of his foul, all the 
 opprefllons of his mind, into the foftefl forrow and 
 thp mildeft grief. 
 
 Solitude frequently infpires a fofi melancholy, 
 even in perfons of the tendered years. Young fe- 
 males from fifteen to eighteen years of age, who 
 poflefs fine fenfibilities and lively imaginations, ex- 
 perience this diipolition, when, in the retirement of 
 
 Z 3 rural 
 
34* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 rural life, they feel the firt defines of LOVE; when, 
 wandering every where in fearch of a beloved 
 object, t^iey figh for one alone, although their hearts 
 have not yet fixed on any pamcular object of affection. 
 I have frequently feen this fpecies of melancholy 
 without any other fymptom of malady. ROUSSEAU 
 was attacked with it at VEVAI upon the banks 
 of the Lake of GENEVA. " My heart," fays he, 
 " rulhed with ardour from my bofomintoathoufand 
 4t innocent felicities : meltingtotendernefs,llighed 
 " and wept like a child. How frequently, flopping 
 " to indulge my feelings, and feating myfelf on a 
 " piece of broken rock, did ! amule myfelf with 
 *' feeing my tears drop into the dream !" I can- 
 not myfelf tranlcribe thefe lines without fliedding 
 tears on recollecting, that in the feventecnth year 
 of my age I frequently feated myfelf with fimilar 
 agitation under the peaceful (hades of thole delight- 
 ful mores. Love relieved my pains; Love, fofwcetly 
 enjoyed among the groves which adorn the banks 
 of the Lake of GENEVA*; Love, the only difeafe 
 which Solitude cannot cure ; and which indeed we 
 
 f There is no native, or indeed any perfon pofTellmg fenfibility, 
 of whatever country he may be, who hns ever beheld without 
 feeling the tendereft emotion the delightful borJrrs of the Lake 
 of Geneva ; the enchanting fpcftacle which nature there exhibits j 
 and the vaft and majeftic horizon which that mafs of water pre- 
 fents to the view. Who has ever returned from this fcene without 
 turning back his eyes on this interefllng pifture, and experiencing 
 the fame affliction with which the heart feparatc* from a beloved 
 friend whom we have no expectation ever to fee again. 
 
 willingly 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 345 
 
 willingly endure without wifhing for relief. To 
 fufFcr withfo much foftnefs and tranquillity ; to in- 
 dulge in tender ibrrow without exactly knowing why, 
 and flill to prefer retirement; to love the lonely margin 
 of a limpid lake; to wander aloneupon broken rocks, 
 in deep caverns, in dreary forefts; to feel no plea- 
 fures but in the fublime and beautiful of nature, 
 in thofe beauties which the world defpife ; todcfire 
 thecompanyofonlyoneother being to whom we may 
 communicate the f enfations of the foul, who would 
 participate inallourpleafures,and forget every thing 
 elfe in the univcrfe ; this is a condition which every 
 young man ought to wilh for, who wifhes to fly from 
 the mercilefs approaches of a cold old age *. 
 
 ' It is not, however, to every fpecies of affliction 
 that Solitude will afford relief. Ch my beloved 
 HIRCHFELD! I can never reflrain my tears from flow- 
 ing with increafed abundance, whenever 1 read, in 
 thy immortal work upon the pleafures of a country 
 life, the following affecting pafiage, which always 
 finks deeply into my heart : " The tears of afflic- 
 " tion dry up under the fympathifing breath of 
 " Zephyrs: the heart expands, and only feels a 
 " tranquil forrow. The bloom of nature pre- 
 cc fcnts itfelf to our eyes on every fide; and in 
 " the enjoyment of its fragrance we feel relief 
 " from woe. Every fad and forrowful idea 
 
 * This reflexion of PETRARCH is very affefting and very jufU 
 " Ilios annot (gi tanta in refute, tanta<jue duiitdint, ut illud form) 
 " temjiui/olum mihi vita /u frit, reliqtmm emne/ufflicium." 
 
 1> 4 " gradually 
 
344 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " gradually difappears. The mind no longer re> 
 4< jects confolatory meditations ; and as the evening 
 " fun abforbs the damp vapours of a rainy day, a 
 " happy tranquillity diflipates the troubles of the 
 '< foul, and difpofes us to enjoy the peaceful charms 
 " of rural life." 
 
 There arc, however, bofoms fo alive to misfortune, 
 that the continual remembrance of thofe who were 
 once dear to their hearts, preys upon their vitals, and 
 by flow degrees confumes their lives. The reading 
 of a fingle line written by the hand they loved,, 
 freezes their blood : the very fight of the tomb 
 which has fwallowed up the remains of all their 
 foul held dear, is intolerable to their eyes. On fuch 
 beings, alas ! the Heavens fmile in vain. The early 
 violetand the twittering groves proclaiming, with the 
 approach of fprlng, the regeneration of all nature, 
 bring no charms to them. The garden's variega- 
 ted hues irritate their feelings, and they behold thofe 
 retreats to which they were kindly invited to footh 
 the violence of their diftrefs, with horror during the 
 remainder of their lives. They rcfulc to follow the 
 compafiionate hand extended to lead them from 
 their houfe of forrow to the verdant plains of 
 happinefc and peace. Such characters generally 
 poflefs warm and flrong paflions ; but the finenefs 
 of their feelings becomes a real malady ; and they 
 require to be treated with great attention and with 
 cpnftant kindncfs. . 
 
 On 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 345 
 
 On the contrary, Solitude conveys mod powerful 
 charms to fofter minds, although the lofs they have 
 experienced may not have been lefs. They feel 
 their misfortune^intheir full extent; buttheirfeelings 
 partake of the tranquillity of their nature : they 
 plant upon the fatal tomb the weeping willow and 
 the ephemeral rofe, as ftriking emblems of their 
 forrow and misfortune ; they erec\ maufoleums, and 
 compofe funeral dirges ; their hearts are continual- 
 ly occupied by the idea of thofe whom their eyes 
 deplore, and they exift, under the fenfations of the 
 trueft and mofb fi nee re forrow, in a kind of middle 
 ftate between earth and heaven. Such characters, I 
 am confcious, feel misfortunes to their full extent; 
 but their forrows, provided they are undifturbcd, 
 appear to me of the happieft kind. 1 do not pretend 
 to fay their forrows are inllncere, or that their grief is 
 lefs than that of thofe who give themfeivcs up to fits 
 of violence, and fink under the preruue of their mif- 
 fortunes ; this would be a fpecies of ftupidity ; aa 
 enormity, of the confequences of which I am fully 
 Cenfible: but I call them happy mourners, be- 
 caufe their conftitutions are fo framed, that their 
 grief and forrow do not decreafe the force and energy 
 of their minds. They find enjoyments in thofc things 
 from which minds of a different texture would feel 
 averfion. They feel cclcftial joys in the unceafing 
 recollection oftholeperfonswhofe lofs they deplore. 
 Every adverfity of li-'V is much more cafily over- 
 come in SOLITVDK than in THE \YoR*r,D, provided 
 
 the 
 
346 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 the foul will nobly bend its flight towards a diffe- 
 rent object. When a man thinks that he has no 
 refources but in DESPAIR or DEATH, he de- 
 ceives himfelf ; for defpair is no reiburce. Let 
 him retire to his ftudy, and there ferioufly tiace 
 out the confequences of fome fettled truth, and his 
 tears will no longer fall, the weight of his misfor- 
 tunes will grow light, and the pangs of forrow 
 fly from his breaft. 
 
 In Solitude the moft trifling emotions of the heart, 
 every appearance of domeftic felicity or rural plea- 
 fure, drives away impatience and ill- humour. ILL- 
 HUMOUR is an uneafy and infupportable condition, 
 which the foul frequently falls into when foured 
 by a number of thofe petty vexations which we dai- 
 ly experience in every ftcp of our progrcfs through 
 life ; but we need only to (hut the door in order to 
 avoid this fcourge of happinefs. IMPATIENCE is a 
 (lifted anger, which men filently manifeft by leeks 
 andgeftures, and weak minds ordinarily reveal by a 
 (hower of complaints. A grumbler is never farther 
 from his proper fphere ihan when he is in com- 
 pany ; Solitude is his only afylum. 
 
 Vexationshowevcr of almoft every kind aremueh 
 foonerheciledin the tranquillity of retirement than in 
 the noife of the world. When we have attained a cheer. 
 fui difpofition, and donot fuiTerany thing to thwart, 
 re drain or four the temper of our minds ; whta we have 
 I'.-arncd the art of vanquiming ourfelves, no worldly 
 
 vexations 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 347 
 
 vexations can then obftruct our happinefs. The 
 deeped melancholy and mod fettled wearinefs 
 of life have by thefe means been frequently bahilbed 
 from the bread. The progrefs to this end 
 is, in truth, much more rapid in women 
 than in men. The mind of a lively female flies 
 immediately to happinefs, while that of a melan- 
 choly man dill creeps on with pain. The foft 
 bofoms of the fair are eafily elevated or depreffed ; 
 but thefe effects mud be produced by means lefs 
 abdracled than Solitude; by fomething that will 
 drike their fenfes, and by their afbdance penetrate 
 to the heart. On the contrary, the mental difeafes 
 of men augment by flow degrees, take deeper root, 
 lay dronger hold of the bread, and to drive 
 them away, it is neceffary to apply the mod effica- 
 cious remedies with unlhaken conllancy ; for here 
 feeble prefcriptions are of no avail. The only 
 chance of fuccels is by exciting every endeavour to 
 place the body under the rtgimen of the mind. 
 Vigorous minds frequently banilli the mod invete- 
 rate evils, or form a powerful ihicld againdall the 
 darts of fate, and by braving every danger, drive 
 away thofe feelings by which other? are irritated 
 and dcdroycd. They boldly tvirn their eyes from 
 xvhat things are, to what they ought to be; and 
 with determined refutation fupport the bodies 
 they are defigned to animate, while weaker minds 
 furrender every thing committed to their care. 
 
 The foul, however, always yields to thofc cir- 
 cumdances which are mod agreeable to its peculiar 
 
 charade r. 
 
34* THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 character. The gaming-table, luxurious fcafts, 
 and biilliant aflcmblics, arc the mod palatable ali- 
 ments, the moft pleating comforts to thegenerality of 
 men; while the bofoms of thofe who figh for Solitude, 
 fromaconfcioufnefs of all the advantages it affords, 
 fcelnotranquillityorenjoymentbutinpeactfulmades. 
 
 Thcfc reflections upon the advantages which the 
 heart derives from Solitude bring me, at lad, 
 to this important qucilion : Whether it is cafier to 
 live VIRTUOUSLY in SOLITUDE or in THE WORLD? 
 
 In fociety, the virtues arc frequently praclifcd 
 from a mere fcnfe of duty. THK CLERGY feel it 
 their duty to afford inftruclion to the ignorant, and 
 confolation to the afflicted. TE JUDGES think it 
 their duty to render juftice to the injured or op. 
 prefled. THE PHYSICIAN pays his yifits to the 
 tick, and cures them, ill or well ; and all for the fake 
 'of HUMANITY, fay thefe gentlemen. But all this is 
 filfe; the clergy afford confolation, the lawyer 
 renders jiiflice, the phyfician cures, not always from 
 the decided inclination of the heart, but hccaufe he 
 mud, becaufe his duty requires it, bccaufe the one 
 mull do honour to his gown, the other is placed in the 
 feat of jufticc, and the third lias pledged his fkillon 
 fuch and fuch prognostics. The words " \oitr k>wu-n 
 /'#///uV;//v,"which always (hock my feelings, and arc- 
 introductory to the contents of a ihoufand letters I 
 have received, are nothing more than the flyle of 
 cudorn, a common flattery and falfchood. HUMA- 
 sl'f Y is a viitiic, a noblencfs of 'foul of the liighel^ 
 rank ; and ho\v c:m any one know whether I c!o fuch 
 
 and 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 349 
 
 and fuch things from the love of virtue, or becaufe 
 I am bound by duty to perform them ? 
 
 GOOD WORKS, therefore, are not always ads of 
 VIRTUE. The heart of that man who never de- 
 taches himfelf from the affairs of the world, is fre- 
 quently (hut againft every thing that is good. It is 
 poffible to do good, and not be virtuous ; for a man 
 may be great in his actions and little in his heart*. 
 Virtue is a quality much more rare than is gene- 
 rally imagined. It is therefore necefiary to be fru- 
 gal of the words humanity, virtue, patriot ifm, and 
 others of the fame import ; they ought only to be 
 mentioned upon great occafions ; for by too fre- 
 quent ufe their meaning is weakened, and the 
 qualities they defcribe- brought into contempt. 
 Who would not bluih to be called learned Q* humane , 
 when he hears the knowledge of lb many ignorant 
 perfons beaded of, and " the well- known bumanity" 
 of fo many villains praifed ? 
 
 The probability is, that men will do more good 
 in the retreats of Solitude than in the world. In 
 fad, a virtuous man, of whatever defcription he 
 may be, is not virtuous in confcquence of exam- 
 ple, for virtuous examples are unhappily too rare- 
 ly feen in the world, but becuufe in the filcnce of 
 reflection he feels that the plcafurcsofa good hearc 
 furpafs every other, and constitute the true happi- 
 
 ' * Piri fetrftrifat faMimrt,"' fay* Lord Chancellor B*fcOH, 
 " ipfi tibi igncti funi* Et dfim ntgctiit dyiraknntur, ttrr.fere car cut t 
 " fxp/am'teri avt corforit aut atirr.#ftne (uniilffnt." 
 
 ncfs 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 nefs of life. The greater part, therefore, of vir- 
 tuous actions arc exercifed in filence and obfcurity. 
 VIRTUOUS ACTIONS arc more eafily and more 
 freely performed in Solitude than in the world. In 
 Solitude no man blufhes at the light of Virtue, but 
 in the world Ihe drags on an obfcure exiftence, and 
 feems afraid to ftic\v her face in public. The in- 
 tcrcourfe of the world is the education of vice. 
 Men poflelfed of the bell inclinations are fur- 
 rounded by fo many fnares and dangers, that they 
 all commit fomc fault every day of their lives. 
 One man who plays a rirfb-rate character upon the 
 theatre of the world, is deficient in virtuous incli- 
 nations ; in another of the fame c la fs, his inclinations 
 are good while his actionsare vicious. In the cham- 
 ber, before we engage in the complicated bufmefs 
 of the day, we are, perhaps, kind, impartial, and 
 candid, for then the current of our tempers has re- 
 ceived no contradiction ; but with the greatcft at- 
 tention, with the molt fcrupulous vigilance, it is 
 impoflible to continue through the day completely 
 matters of ourfelves, opprcflcd as we are with 
 cares and vexations, obliged to conform to a fcrics 
 ot difgufling circumftancts, to give audience to a 
 multitude of men, and to endure a thoufand abfuixl 
 and. unexpcaed accidents which diftractthe mind. 
 The folly, therefore, of myilic minds was, in forget- 
 ting that their, fouls were fubjecled to a body, and 
 aiming, in confequence of that error, at the higheft 
 point of fpeculative virtue. The nature of human 
 
 beings 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 351 
 
 beings cannot be altered merely by living in a, 
 hermitage. The exercife of virtue is only eafy in 
 thofe foliations where it is not expofecl to danger, 
 and then it lofes all its merit. God created many 
 hermits too weak to fave themfelves when plunged 
 into the abyfs, becaufc he rendered them ftrong 
 enough not to fall into it. 
 
 I fliall here fubjoin an excellent obfervation of a 
 celebrated Scotch Philosopher " It is the pecu- 
 " liar efiecl of virtue to make a man's chief hap- 
 ". pinefs arile from himfelf and his own conduct. A 
 " bad man is wholly the creature of the world. He 
 " hangs upon its favour, lives by its (miles, and is 
 " happy or miferable in proportion to his fucccfs. 
 " But to a virtuous man, fuccefs in worldly under- 
 " takings is but a fccondary object. To difcharge 
 " his own part with integrity and honour, is his 
 " chief aim. It he has done properly what was 
 * c incumbent on him to do, his mind is at reft ; to 
 " Providence he leaves the event. His witncfs is in 
 " Heaven, and his record is on high. Satisfied with 
 the approbation of God, and ths teRimony of a 
 good confcicnce, he enjoys himfelf, and defpi-fes 
 the triumphs of guilt. In proportion as fuch 
 <c manly principles rule your heart, you will be- 
 " come independent of the world, and will for- 
 " bear complaining of its difcouragements." 
 
 To reco.T.rnend this inJependence of the world 
 is the firft aim and only end of the lictle philofo- 
 phy which may be found in this Treatife upon SO- 
 LI TUDE. It is not my dofltinc to lead men into 
 
 the 
 
THE INFLUENCE OP 8OJLITUDE 
 
 the defarts, or to place their residence, like that of 
 owls, in the hollow trunks of trees; but I woujd - 
 willingly remove from their minds the exceflivc 
 fear of men and of the world. I would, as far as it - 
 is practicable, render them independent ; I would 
 break their fetters, infpire them with a contempt of . 
 public fociety, and devote their minds to the love 
 of SOLITUDE, in order that they may be able to fay, 
 at leaft during the courfe ot two hours in a day, 
 
 Suchaftateof independence cannot be difpleafing 
 even to the greatcft enemies of LIBKRTY ; foi it fun- 
 ply carries the mind to arationalufeof Solitude. It is 
 by the recollection of the foul, by the mind's ftrength- 
 cning itfelf in theie pure and noble fentiments, that 
 we are rendered more able and more anxious 
 to fill our refpcftive ftations in life with propriety. 
 
 The true apoftles of Solitude have faid, " It' is 
 *' only by employing with propriety the hours of 
 " a happy leifure, that \ve adopt firm and folid 
 " tefolutions to govern our minds and guide our 
 " actions. It is there, only, that we can quietly 
 " refleft upon the tranf.ictions of life, upon the 
 " temptations to which we arc moll: expofed, upon 
 " thofe weaker fides of the heart which we ought 
 " to guard with the moft unceallng care, and pre* 
 " vioufly arm ourfelves againft whatever is dan- 
 " gerous in our commerce with mankind* 
 1 Perhaps though virtue may appear, at firft fight, 
 *' to contract the bounds of enjoyment, you will 
 
 " find 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 351 
 
 '* find upon reflection, that in truth it enlarges 
 " them ; if it reflrains the excefs of fome plea- 
 " fines, it favours and encreaies others; it prc- 
 " eludes you from none but fuch as are either fan- 
 " taftic and imaginary, or pernicious and de- 
 " ftruftivc." " The rich proprietary loves to 
 *' amuie-himfelf in a contemplation of his wealth, 
 " the voluptuary in his entertainments, the man of 
 " the world with his friends and his aflemblies; 
 " but the truly good man finds his pleafure in the 
 " fcrupulous difcharge of the auguft duties of life. 
 " He fees a new fun mining before him ; thinks 
 " himfelf furrounded by a more pure and lively 
 4< fplendor; every objed is embellimed, and he 
 ' * gaily purfues his career. He who penetrates into 
 *' the fecret caufes of things, who reads in the re- 
 " fpedable obfcurity of a wife Solitude, will return 
 " us public thanks. We immediately acquit our- 
 " felves more perfectly in bufinefs, we refift with 
 ** greater cafe the temptations of vice, and we owe 
 " all thefe advantages to the pious recolle^ion 
 " which Solitude infpires, to our feparation from 
 '* mankind, and to our independence of the 
 " world." 
 
 Liberty, leifure, a quiet confcience, and a retire- 
 ment from the world > are therefore the fureft and 
 moft infallible cieans.to arrive at virtue. Under 
 fuch circumftanccs, it is not neceflary to reftrain 
 the paffions merely to prevent them from difturbing 
 the public order, or to abate the fervor of ima- 
 
 A a gination; 
 
354 THE INFLUENCE O SOLITUDE, 
 
 , . i ' ' 
 
 gination ; for in our review of things we willingly 
 leave them as they are, becaufe we have learned 
 to laugh at their abfurdity. Domeftic life is no 
 longer, as in the gay world, a fcene of languor 
 and difguft, the field of batile to every bafe an4 
 brutal paffion, the dwelling of envy, vexation, 
 and ill-humour. PEACE and HAPPINESS inhabit 
 thofc bofoms that renounce the poifonous fpriogs 
 of pleafure; and the mind is thereby rendered 
 capable of communicating its pureft joys to all 
 around. He who {buns the contaminated circle? 
 of the vicious, who flies from the iniblent looks 
 of proud flupidity and the arrogance of fucceftful 
 villany ; who beholds the void which all the idle 
 entertainments and vain prctenfions of public life 
 leave within the breatl, is never difcontented or 
 diflurbcd at home. 
 
 The pleafurcs of the world lofe their charms on 
 every facrifice made in Solitude at the altar of 
 Virtue. " I love rather to (hed tears myfelf than 
 " to make others (hed them," faid a German lady 
 to me one day. She did not leem confcious that 
 it is aimed impomble either to fay or do any 
 thing more generous. Virtue like this affords 
 more real content to the heart than all the enjoy- 
 ments of the world, than all the amufements which 
 arc hourly fought to deilroy time, and fteai the 
 bofom from itfelf. The mind is always happy in 
 finding itfelf capable of exercifing faculties which it 
 was not before confciou* it poiiclkd. Solitude opens 
 
 the 
 
ON TOE MIND A> THE HEART. 355 
 the foul to every noble plcafure; fills it with intelii- ' 
 
 * ' ' ^ ' ** I 
 
 gence, ferehity, calmnefs, and content, when we 
 
 i > - ' . ' ' i O J 
 
 expected nothing btit tears of forrow; and repairs 
 every misfortune by a' thoufand new and unalter-' 
 able delights. 
 
 There is not a. villain in exigence whofe rhino, 
 dots 'not filentiy acknowledge that VIRTUE 8"* 
 the corner-done of all felicity in the world, as welt' 
 as in Solitude, VICE, however, is continually 
 fpreading her filken nets; enfnaring multitudes of 
 every rank and every ftation. To watch all the? 1 
 feductive inclinations of the heart, not only when 
 they are prefent but while they yet lie dormant in 
 the bread, to vanquifh every defire by employing the 
 mind in the purfuit of noble pleafures, has ever been ' 
 confidered the greateft conqueft which the foul is ca- 
 pable of gaining over the world and itfelf ; and in- 
 ward, pe^te has ever been the price of this victory. 
 
 Happy is the man who carries with him into ' 
 Solitude this inward peace of mind, and there 
 prcfcrves it unaltered. Of what fervice xvotild it be 
 to leave the town, and feek the calmnefs and tran- 
 quillity of retirement, if mifanthropy ftill lurks with- 
 in the heart, and we there continue our facrifices to ' 
 this fatal patfkm? Divine content, a cairn and 
 open -countenance, will, in fuch circumflances, be 
 as difficult to find in the flower- enamelled meadows 
 as inthe'ideepefl night of Solitude, or in the filcnt 
 (hades of -obfeure cells* To purify and protect the r 
 Jir-iit ; i$ the firit and laft duty which We have td** 
 
 A a a perform 
 
S|6 THE- INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDR 
 
 perform in Solitude : this talk once accomplished* 
 our happinefs is fecure, for we have then learned 
 the value of the tranquillity, the leifure, and the 
 liberty we enjoy. Hatred to mankind ought not 
 to be the cauie of our leaving the world ; we may 
 (hun their fociety, and ftill maintain our wilhes for 
 their felicity. 
 
 An effential portion of the happinefs which we 
 tafte in Solitude arifes from our ability to appreciate 
 things according to their true value, independently 
 of the public opinion. When ROME, after the con- 
 queft of the Pirates, removed LUCULLUS from the 
 head of the army, in order to give the command 
 of it to POMPEY, refigning by this ad the go- 
 vernment of the empire to the difcretion of a llnglc 
 man, that artful citizen beat his breafl, as a figa 
 of grief at being invefted with the honour, and ex- 
 claimed, " Alas ! is there no end to my conflicts? 
 "How much better would it have been to have 
 " remained . one of the undiftinguifhed . Many, 
 ** than to be perpetually engaged in war, and have 
 " my body continually locked in armour ! Shall 1 
 " never be able to fly from envy to a rural retreat. 
 /* to domeftic happinefs, and conjugal endear- 
 /*' ments?" POMPEY fpoke his true fentiments ir> 
 the language of difliraulation ; for he had not yet 
 ^earned really to eftecm that, which all men pot- 
 fefled of native ambition and the luft of power de- 
 fpifc ; nor did he yet contemn that which at th^ 
 period of the republic every Roman who was eager 
 "to command cfteemed more than all other thini^ ; 
 
 un- 
 
CM THE MIND AND THE HEART. 357 
 
 s, the greateft Roman of his 
 age, who, after having vanquifhed feveral warlike 
 nations, driven PYRH HITS out of Italy, and enjoyed 
 three times the honours of a Triumph *, retired 
 to his cottage in the country, and with his own vic- 
 torious hands cultivated his little farm. To this 
 fpot the AmbaiTadors of the Samnites came to offer 
 him a large prefent of gold, and found him feated 
 in the chimney corner drefling turnips -(-. 
 
 No king or prince was ever fo happy as was 
 MANIUS CURIUS in the humble employment of 
 dreffing his turnips. Princes know too well ; that 
 under many cifcumftances they are deprived of 
 friends; and this is the reafon why they afk the 
 advice of many, but confide in none. The honed 
 fubjefts of a nation, every man of reflection and 
 good fenfe, pities the condition of virtuous So- 
 vereigns : for even the beft of Sovereigns are 
 not altogether exempt from fears, jealoufies, and 
 torments. Their felicity never equals that of a la- 
 borious and contented hufbandmtn ; their pleafures 
 
 * MANIUS CURIUS DBNTATUS triumphed twice in his 
 fit-It Confulate in the 463d year of Rome ; fir ll over the Sattinifet, 
 and afterwards orer the Sabines ; and eight years afterwards, in 
 his third Confulate, he triumphed over PYRRHUS. After, this he 
 led up the.lcfi Triumph, called Ovation, for his victory over the 
 Lucanians. 
 
 f DENTATCS abfolutely refufed the prefent, and gave the 
 Amb.iffadors this anfwtff : * A man who can be fatisfied with fuch 
 " a fupper his no need, of gold ; and i think; it mere glorious to 
 " conquer the owners, p^ iuhan to poflefs it myfelf." 
 
 A ^ 3 ; ' 
 
1 >,THB INFLUENCE OF/SOLITUDE 
 
 arc not . fo permanent ; they never experience, die 
 .fame tranquillity and content. The provisions qf 
 ,a pealant are coarfe, but to his appetite they; arc 
 ^delicious : his bed is hard, but he goes to it fatigued 
 by the honell labours of the day, and fleeps founder 
 on his mat .of dr,a\v than moaarchs on their beds 01 
 
 The pjeafures of Solitude are enjoyed by every 
 description of men, without exception of rank or 
 fgitune. The freihnefs of the breeze, the mag- 
 nificence of the foreUs, the rich tints of the mea- 
 dows, the inexhauftible variety \vhichfum.nerfpreads 
 oyer the face of all nature, enchant not only philolb- 
 phe;^, kings, and heroes, but the beautiful picture 
 tavilhes the mind of the moil ignorant fpectator with 
 excHiifite delict. An Englilh author has very juflly 
 obierved, " It is.no: necefiary that he who looks. 
 1 with picafure on the colours of a flower thould 
 f ftudy the principles of vegetation, or that the 
 f Ptolctttalck and Copernican fyftem fliould be com- 
 1 pared, before the light of the fun can gladden, 
 " or its warnuh invigorate. Novelty is itfclf a 
 *' fource of gratification ; and Milton juftly obferves, 
 ft that to him who has been long pent up m 
 cities, no rural object can be prelented which 
 ** w ill not delight or rcfrefh fjme of his fcnfcs." 
 
 Exiles themfelves have frequently felt the ad- 
 "vamagi-s and -enjoyments of Solitude. To fupply 
 ^th'c'pluce of the ^ o:K! from which 'hey aic baialh- 
 
 f ;^-r tnc )' crcate ^ n retirement anew world for thcrn- 
 
 fclves ; 
 
Ott THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 fclvcs ; forget thofe factitious plcafures exclufitfely 
 attached to the condition of THE GREAT ; habituate 
 themfelves to others of a nobler kind, more worthy 
 the attention of a rational being*; and to pafs 
 their days in tranquillity, find out a thoufind little 
 felicities, which are only to be met with at a clif- 
 tance from all fociety, far removed from all confo- 
 lation, far from their country, their family, and 
 their friends. 
 
 But to procure happinefs, Exiles, like other 
 men, muft fix their minds upon fome one object; 
 they muft adopt fome particular purfuit capable of 
 creating future hopes or of affording immediate 
 pleafure. Exiles, alas! afpire to the attainment of 
 happinefs, and would ftill live for the fake of virtue. 
 
 MAURICE Prince of ISENBOURG diftinguifhed 
 himfelf by his courage, during a fervice of twenty 
 years, under FERDINAND Duke of BRUNSWICK 
 and Marfhal BROGLIO, in the wars between the 
 RUSSIANS and the TURKS. Health and repofe 
 were facrificed to the gratification of his ambiti9n 
 and love of glory. During his fervice in the Rujf- 
 fian army he fell under the difpleafurc of the Em- 
 prefs, and was fent into exile. The nature of exile 
 in Rufiia is well known ; but he contrived to render 
 even a Ruffian banimment agreeable. At firft, his 
 
 CICF.RO fays, " Malta pr<*c/arfDiQ* TSIUS PHALKRBUJ i* 
 ' ilia txiliajcripfet, tun in *fum aliquemfuum, quo trat orbatut ; fid 
 " ttnimi (ulltts ilif, trot ft quajt quidam humanitatit ct&iu." 
 
 A a 4 mind 
 
SOLITUDE 
 
 body.'Avere oppreflcd. by the. farrows 
 .jjandicli{Jquietudrs4)f:hislicuation; and his life became 
 cidamcrc ihadow.f The little work written by Lbiu> 
 j'ljBdLiXftBROKB upon EXILJ. fell accidentally into 
 ,M 4iis hands. He read it fcvcrat times ; aiul * in pro- 
 - )(J " portion to the number of* limes 1 read," fuid THE 
 PRINCE, in the preface of the elegant and ncr- 
 n/vous tranflation which he ma'ie of this work, 
 ><l)' I felt all my farrow* and dilquictudci vanifli,'* 
 
 ' This treatife of LORD BOLINGBROKK upon the 
 
 '"'fubjecl of EXILE is a mailer-piece of Stoic phi- 
 
 ;1 lofophy and fine writing. He there boldly exa- 
 
 ' ' mines ttll the adverfitics of his pud and prcfcnt 
 
 ' '' life. Inftead of llying from them, or enduring them 
 
 ' "with lingering and fhameful patience, he endeavours 
 
 "to cbmjuer them. Inftead of palliatives, he advilts 
 
 the knife and the cauftic ; he probes the wound to 
 
 ' the bottom to obtain a radical cure. 
 
 The mind, without doubt, ftrcngthens its powers 
 "under the circumftances of perpetual banifhmcnt in 
 the fame manner as in uninterrupted Solitude ; and 
 ' habit fupplies the neceflary power to fupport its 
 1 ! misfortune. To exiles who are inclined to indulge 
 ^ : 'all the pleafing emotions of the heart, Solitude, in- 
 deed, becomes an eafy fituation ; for they there ex- 
 - ; pericnee nleuix: res which were before unknown ; and 
 '' from that n.oment forget thole which they tailed in 
 " the happiei fixations of Lfe. When BRUTUS law 
 'MARCEI.LUL in exile at MYTELEM;, he found him 
 ^- furroundcd by the iiigheiV felicity of which human 
 >' nature 
 
ON THE MIND ANDITHE-^BTART. 
 
 nature is fufceptiblev and dcrvottidv iafe beforenhi* 
 banithment/ to , the ft\rdybf every -ufefill (bicnce. 
 Xhe fight made fo deep aft impreflion -on :Jiis 
 mind, that wheat he was again returning imuflthe 
 wpdd, hq felt that it was BRUTUS who was gofing 
 ; , into exile, and not MARCELLUS whom he. left*be- 
 hind, { 
 
 Some years before QUINTUS METELLUS NU.MI- 
 P,itts fuH'cred the fame fate, at the time when the 
 , people conducted . by MARIUS laid the foundation 
 of that tyranny which C;ESAR afterwards eredted, 
 !Mr,TELLUs fmgly, in the mid ft of an alarmed fe- 
 ^late, and furrounded by an enraged populace, re- 
 fufecl to take the oath impofed by the pernicious 
 laws of the Tribune SATURNINUS. His immove- 
 able firmnefs was confidered a crime, and exile 
 was its puniihrnqnt. A mad and furious party gain- 
 ed the afcendancy. The moft virtuous of the ,citi- 
 zcns, indeed, took up arms in his defence, refo- 
 lutely 'determined to perifli rather than live toffee 
 their country deprived of fo much virtue; but this 
 generous Roman, who had rcfifted all tr^e <Exnort- 
 ations of his friends not tQ expofe himfelf to xhe 
 
 .;-'' ' i ' - ' ' ' ^-T I I 
 
 , drcaclful penalties of his refufal, thought it a ^duty 
 which he owed to the laws not tp fuffer any fedition 
 
 .' ;,;,..! t 
 
 , to take place : he contented himfelf with lamenting 
 that frenzy which had feized the public mjnd as 
 PLATO had before lamented the madnefs of.fhe 
 Athenians: " Either matters," faid he, 4 'will^ke 
 " a bptter turjp r and the people repent and recall 
 
 " me. 
 
'TME'itorL l UENCC OF SOLITUDE 
 
 r, if they continue the fame, it will be bcil 
 ** l to be at a diftance from Rome." Without regret 
 therefore he rdigncd hirnfclf to baniihmcnt, fully 
 corrvinced of its advantages to a heart incapable 
 of finding repofe except on foreign fliores ; a heart 
 which, if he had continued at ROME, muft have 
 been inceflantly torn to pieces by the fight of 
 a miserable fenate and an expiring republic. 
 
 RUTILIITS alfo withdrew himfeif from the corrup- 
 ted city of ROME with equal contempt for the femi- 
 ments and the manners of the age. He had defended 
 Afia againfl the extortions of the Colledors. Tim 
 generofity irritated the Equeflrian Order, and mo- 
 tivesequally bafe exafperated MAR i us's party againfl 
 liini. The mod virtuous and innocent citizen of 
 the republic was accufcd of corruption, and dragged 
 to the bar of juftice by the vile and infamous API- 
 cius. The authors of this unfounded profecution 
 fat in judgment on Run LI us, who was of courfc 
 moft unjuftly condemned, for he fcarcely conde- 
 fcendcd to defend the, caufe. Seeking an afylum 
 in ASIA, this venerable Roman, whole ungrateful 
 country was ignorant of his merit, was received 
 there with every mark of affeftion and refpeift. 
 Before the term of his banifhment expired, he 
 (hewed ftiH greater contempt to ROME: for when 
 S v J.LA would have recalled him, he not only rcfufed 
 
 >< , > i ' 
 
 19 return, but removed the place of his refidence to 
 
 at greater dulance. 
 
 To 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE- HEAR?. fa 
 
 To all thefe inftances of happy and contented 
 exiles, CICERO is a memorable exception. ,He 
 poiTeffcd all the refources, all the fcntiments necefr 
 fary to draw the gi eateft advantages from Solitude j 
 but he had not fuiiicicnt ftrength of mind to fup r 
 port himfclf under the adverfity of baniihmcnt. 
 CICERO, the faviour of his country, during his 
 profperity was neither deterred by the menaces of a 
 dangerous faction, nor alarmed at the poignarcl 
 of the ailaflin : but his courage failed him when his 
 
 j 
 
 misfortunes commenced. He had before lamented 
 the weaknefs of his conflitution, but after exile 1 he 
 became quite dejected, and when that once happens 
 all power of mind is gene; the foul immediately lofes 
 all its energies, and becomes equally incapable of 
 fuggefling vigorous meafuresor of performing heroic 
 actions. CICERO and his melancholy have dif- 
 honoiired both Fxilcand Solitude. Not knowing 
 where to go or what to do, as timorous as a female, 
 as capricious as a child, he regretted the lofs of his 
 rank, his riches, and his power. He wept over the 
 ruins of his houfe, which the fury of CLODIUS had 
 levelled with the ground; and poured forth groans 
 for the abfcncc of TERENTIA, whom he foon after- 
 wards repudiated. Such are the fatal effects of a 
 melancholy mind: it deplores, with bitter lamen- 
 tation, the lofs of thofc things in the pofleflion o 
 which it places no value. The friends and ene- 
 mies of CICLRO united in believing that misfor- 
 tune had difordercd his brain. C/ESAR faw with 
 
 fccret 
 
364 THEIINFLKTENeE O? 8OUTUDE 
 
 fearcti fstisi&ibn;tfreri!nan who had refufcd to be his 
 cr>llfagMet'W.ecp Under; the fcoirgc of CLODIVS. . 
 JrHs***.fr I hoped tint bis ingratitude would be tf- 
 fiactjl i>y the contempt to which the friend he fo 
 y:abandonejd expofed himfelf* Even AT- 
 , whofe highcft gratification was ufury and 
 raagnifureiace, who without connecting himfelf to 
 any patty was intimate with all, bluflicd for the 
 conduct of CICF.RO, thought that he attached him- 
 illf too fervilcly to his former fortunes, and re- 
 proached him with the feverity of a CATO. Solitude 
 loft all its influence over CICLRO, becaufe weak and 
 melancholy fentiments continually depreffed his 
 mind, and turned the word fide of every ob- 
 ject to his view. He died, however, like a hero, 
 and not like a dejcftcd coward. " Approach, old 
 " ibldier," cried he from his litter to POMII- 
 Lies LOILNAS, his client and his murderer, *' and f 
 
 "V if you have the courage, take my life." 
 
 ^ 
 
 A man under the advoiTity of banithment cannot 
 hope to fee his days glide quietly away in rural dc- 
 lights'and philolbphic repofe, except he has ho- 
 noura'bly '"difchargcd thofe duties which he owed to 
 the world, and given that bright example to future 
 aes, which every character exhibits who is as 
 ^reat 'after his fall as he was at the moft brilliant 
 period 1 of his profperity. 
 
 i-SdnirruDE affords an unalterable felicity under 
 the -'preiVUres of old age, and in the decline of lifq. 
 'Iheiiie 'ofman is a voyage of (hort d\iratioo, and 
 .his.-oiJ agt a fleeting day. The mind is enabled 
 
 by 
 
ON'THE' MIND AND THR HEART. 
 
 by* Solitude to. forget the terrrpenVof which- ir 
 fo long the fport : OLD AGE therefore, if we c6n* 
 fider it as the time of repofe, as an interval becweeA 
 the affairs o this world and the -higher concertos of 
 death, an harbour from whence we quietly view 
 rocks on which we were in danger of being wreck- 
 ed, is, perhaps, the mod agreeable period of pur 
 lives. - / ..:/(.. 
 
 The human mind is in general anxious to draw 
 its knowledge from every diltant object, before ic 
 applies to its own refources. We therefore fre*- 
 quently begin our travels in other nations, before we 
 have feen whatever is interceding in our own. But 
 difcreet youth and experienced age conduct them- 
 Felves upon different principles. To both the one 
 
 and the other Solitude and fclf-examination arc the 
 
 . if. ir 
 
 beginning and the end of WISDOM. If Solitude 
 deprefles the fpirits of youth, and renders manhood 
 melancholy, it frequently drives away the de- 
 prefiion which accompanies old age. 
 
 ,. The hiftory of our firft entrance into life con- 
 fids of a continual fucccffion of hopes,,, wifyi^ 
 and illufions: the fucceeding years are an.age.of 
 vexation, and forrow. But the mind q,,a rnan 
 who has learnt wifdom from' experience caj: 
 either flukcn or furprized- - He who is ,no 
 ger obliged to labour for the mean> of fwfppl 
 life, and whd'h*"bcen long acquainted wujb*ty 
 practices ami fmiiUr dealings of the world, 
 - ntm ( i - .. ^.makes 
 
TtrtMtfFIiUBN'CE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 makci no complaint* of the ingratitude with which 
 hisJabours and anxiety have been rewarded : all 
 he.afks for is tranquillity and repofe; and if he has 
 made any advances in the knowledge of himfclf, if 
 he has been obliged at an rarly period of his life 
 to become wife, he reckons every thing elfe 01 
 no value, i.v 
 
 It is a very juft obfervation of a celebrated Ger- 
 man, that there are political as well as religious 
 Chart, -eux, and that both the one and the other Order 
 are frequently the bed and moll pious of men. " It 
 " is within the moll retired (hades of the forcft," 
 fays this writer, " that we nuvc with the peaceful 
 4< fage and tranquil oblcrver, the friend of truth, 
 " the lover of his country, who neither deifies nor 
 " calumniates. Mankind admire his wifdom, en- 
 " joy the beams of his knowledge, adore his love 
 " of truth, and his affection to his follow- creatures. 
 ** They are anxious to gain his confidence and his 
 " friendihip; and are as much aftonimedat the wif- 
 *' dom which proceeds from his lips, and the rec- 
 " titude which accompanies all his actions, as they 
 ** are at the obfcurity of his name, and the mode 
 " of his exiilence. They endeavour to draw him 
 " from his Solitude, and place him on the throne ; 
 " but chey immediately perceive infcribcd upon 
 ".his; forehead, beaming with fucred fire, " Odi 
 " profanttm vt'Jgusel>urMo 9 "an(\, initcad of bcirtg his 
 t they become his PROSELYTES." 
 
 ' But, 
 
ON- TB MIND AND/EHB HEART- 
 
 But, alas ! this political Cbortrtux is no 
 faw him formerly, in WETERAVI A His animated' 
 figure,: while it announced the highed degree of J 
 wifdona and the happied tranquillity, filled my bofont 
 with refpeft and filial love. There did not, per- 
 haps, at that time exift a character more profound 
 in any German Court j he was intimately acquaint- ' 
 edwith all, andcorrefponded perfonally with fomeof 
 the mod celebrated Sovereigns of Europe. I never 
 found, in any fituation, an obferver who penetrated 
 with fo much (kill and certainty into the thoughts 
 and actions of other men ; who had formed fuch true 
 opinions of the world in general, and of thole, who 
 played the mod important characters on its theatre : 
 never was a mind more free, more open, more ener- 
 getic, or more mild; an eye more lively and pene- 
 trating : I never, in fhort, knew a man in whofe 
 company 1 could have lived with higher pleafure, 
 or died with greater comfort. The place of his re- 
 tirement in th country was moded and fimple ; his 
 grounds without art, and his table frugal. The charm 
 wfeich.I felt in this retreat of WETERAVI A, the refi- 
 dence of the venerable BARON DE SCHAUTENBACH, 
 is incxpreftble. 
 
 Did youth ever pofTefs more energy and fire, 
 were the hours of Solitude ever better employed, 
 than by ROUSSEAU during the: latter years c-f-hls 
 Jifc? Ic was in his old age that he wrote the great,- 
 er atid the bed parts of ,HU Works. The poor .phi* 
 lofppher, when he felt himfelf verging to the period 
 of his evidence, endeavoured to find tranquillity of 
 
 heart 
 
3*8 tHE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 he&rt among the (hades of Solitude ; but his endea- 
 vours were in vain. ROUSSEAU had experienced 
 too frequently the fury of thofe who are enemies to 
 truth ; his feelings had been too frequently ex- 
 pofed to the fevered and mod unremitted perfe- 
 cutions. Before he difcovered the danger of his 
 fituation, he had fuffered, as well from his weak 
 conftitution as from the little care he had taken of 
 his health, a long and painful ficknefs. In the lad 
 years of his life the effects of melancholy and cha- 
 grin were more apparent than ever. He frequently 
 fainted, and talked wildly when he was ill. "All 
 " that ROUSSEAU wrote during his old age," fays 
 one of our refined critics, "was nonfenfe." " Yes,'* 
 replied his fair friend with greater truth, " but he 
 " wrote nonfenfe fo agreeably, that we fometimcs 
 " like to talk nonfenfe with him." 
 
 Old age appears to be the propereft feafon f me- 
 ditation. The ardent fire of youth is ftiiled, the me- 
 ridian heat of life's thortday is palled, and fuccecdcd 
 by the foft tranquillity and refrefhing quietude of 
 the evening. It is therefore ufeful to devote fome 
 lime to meditation before we leave the world, 
 whenever we can procure an interval of repofe. 
 The thought alone of the arrival of this happy 
 period recreates the mind ; it is the firft fine day of 
 Spring after a long and dreary Winter. 
 
 PETRARCH fcarcely perceived the approaches of 
 old age* By conftant activity he rendered his re- 
 tirement 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 369 
 
 tircment always happy, and every year pafled in 
 pleafure and tranquillity unperceived away. From 
 a little verdant harbour in the neighbourhood of a 
 Carthufian monaftery, he wrote to his friend SETTI- 
 MO \yith a nawett unknown to modern manners : 
 *' Like a wearied traveller, I increafe my pace in 
 
 r proportion as I draw nearer the end of my 
 " journey. I read and write night and day ; they 
 
 ' alternately relieve each other. Thefe are my 
 " only occupations, and the fource of all my plea- 
 " fures. I lie awake a great part of the night. I 
 Ms labour, I divert my mind, and make every effort 
 " in my power : the more difficulties I encounter, 
 " the more my ardour increafes : novelty incites ; 
 *' obftacles fharpen me : the labour is certain ; but 
 " the fuccefs precarious. My eyes are dimmed by 
 " watchings ; my hand tired of holding the pen. 
 " My wilh is, that pofterity may know me* If 
 " I do not fucceed in this wifh, the age in which 
 " I live, or at lead the friends who 'have known 
 " me, will do me juftice, and that is fufficient. 
 " My health is fo good, my conftitution fo robuft, 
 V my temperament fo warm, that neither the ma- 
 " turity of age, the moll lerious occupations, the 
 " habit of continency, nor the power of time, 
 *' can vanquifh the rebellious enemy which I am 
 " obliged inceflantly to attack. I rely upon Pro- 
 '* vidence, without which, as it has frequently hap- 
 " pened before, I mould certainly become its vie- 
 " tim. At the end of winter I frequently take up 
 " Arms againft the flclh ; and am even at this mo- 
 
 Bb lc ment 
 
37 
 
 " ment fighting for my liberty againft its mod 
 
 " dangerous enemy." 
 
 In old age, the moft obfcure retirement in the 
 country adds ftill greater glory to thofe ardent and 
 energetic minds who fly from the world to terminate 
 their career in Solitude. Though far removed from 
 the theatre of their fame, they (hine with higherluftrc 
 than in the days of their youth. " It is in Solitude, 
 " in exile, on the bed of death," fays POPE," that 
 " the nobleft characters of antiquity ftione with the 
 " grcateft fplcndour; it was then that they per- 
 "' formed the grcateft fervices ; for they then com- 
 " municatcd their knowledge to mankind." 
 
 ROUSSEAU may be included in this obfervation. 
 " It is certainly doing fome fervicc," fays he, "to 
 " give men an example of the life which they ought 
 " to lead. It is certainly ufcful, when all power of 
 " mind or ftrength of body is decayed, boldly to 
 " make men liften to the voice of truth from retire- 
 " ment. It is of fomc fervice to inform men of the 
 " abfurdity of thofc opinions which render them 
 " miferable. I fliould be much more ufclefs to my 
 " countrymen living amongft them, than I can be ' 
 " in the occafion of my retreat. Of what import - 
 *' ance is it where I live, if I act as I ought to act ?" 
 
 But a young lady of Germany did not under- 
 ftand things in this way. She maintained that 
 ROUSSEAU was a dangerous feducer of the youth- 
 ful mind ; and that he had acted extremely wrong 
 in difcovering in his ConfcJ/lons all his faults, his 
 vicious inclinations, and the worft fide of his heart. 
 
 Such 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 37! 
 
 , ' ; ' iT5 
 
 Such a work written by a man of virtue would be> 
 immediately decried; but ROUSSEAU, by whore ; 
 writings the wicked are fo captivated, in his ftory 
 of the Ruban vole evinces a heart of the blacked dye-! 
 There are a thoufand p xflages in that book from 
 which we may clearly lee that his pen was guided by 
 vanity alone, and others where we feel that he utters 
 fcntiments againft his own conviction. There is no- 
 thing, in mort, throughout the work which bears the 
 mark of truth : all that we learn from it is, that MA- ;j 
 
 DAMEDEWAR ENS was theoriginal from which Rous 
 SEAU copied his JULI A. TheConfiJfionsof ROUSSEAU, > 
 generally fpeaking, contain a great many fine words ' 
 with very few good thoughts. If, inftead of rejcA- , 
 ing every opportunity of advancing himfclf in life* 
 ROUSSEAU had engaged in any kind of trade, he, 
 would have been more ufeful to the world than he 
 has been by the publication of his dangerous writings. 
 
 This incomparable criticifm upon RousSEAtr 
 merits prefervation,beaufel believe it is the only one ; 
 of its kind. The Confeffions of ROUSSEAU are cer- 
 tainly 'not proper for the eye of youth ; but to me 
 they are works as replete with philofophy, and as 
 worthy of attention, as any the prefent age has pro-, 
 duced. Their inimitable ftyle and enchanting tints 
 are their lead merit. The remoteil pofterity will read 
 the Ccnfeffions of ROUSSEAU, without afking how old 
 the author was when he gave to the age in which he 
 lived thislaft mftance of the fincerity of his heart. 
 
 The days of a virtuous old man, who has attained 
 to the perfection of his pleafures, flow on with unin- 
 
 B b 2 terrupted 
 
37 i THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 terrupted gaiety ; he then receives the reward for 
 the good actions he has performed, and carries with 
 him the benedictions of all around him. The eye 
 is never afraid to review the tranfactions of an ho- 
 nourable and virtuous life. The energetic mind ne- 
 ver ihudders at the fight of the tomb. The Emprcfs 
 MARIA THERESA has caufed her own maufoleum to 
 be erected ; and frequently flops to view a monu- 
 ment, the dreadful thoughts of which fo few cau 
 bear : (he points it out to the obfervation of her 
 children, and fays, " Is it poflible for us to be ar- 
 " rogant, when we here behold what, in the 
 " courfeofa few years, will become the depofi- 
 " tory of Emperors ?" 
 
 There are few men who think with CQ much 
 fublimity. Every one, however, may retire from 
 the world, appreciate the pad by .its juft value, 
 and during the remainder of his days cultivate and 
 extend the knowledge he has acquired. , The 
 TOMB will then lofeits menacing afpect; and man 
 will look upon death like die clofmg even of a fine 
 day. 
 
 The pure enjoyments of the heart frequently en- 
 gender religious ideas, which reciprocally aug- 
 ment the pleafuresof Solitude. Afimple, innocent, 
 and tranquil life qualifies the heart to raife itfch 
 towards God. The contemplation of nature dii- 
 pofes the mind to religious devotion, and the 
 higheft effed of religion is tranquillity. 
 
 When 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 375 
 
 When the heart is penetrated with truefentiments 
 of religion, the world lofes all its charms, and the 
 bofom feels with lefs anguifli the miferies and tor- 
 ments attached to humanity. You live continually 
 in verdant meadows, and fee yourfelf furrounded 
 by the frefh fprings, upon the borders of which the 
 Shepherd of ISRAEL fed his flocks. The tumultuous 
 hurry of the world appears like thunder rolling at a 
 diftance ; like the murmuring noife of diftant wa- 
 tcrs, the courfe of which you perceive f and whofe 
 Craves break againft the rock upon which you are 
 fafely feated. When ADDISON perceived that hewas 
 given over by his phyficians, and felt his end ap- 
 proaching, he fent for a young man of a difpofition 
 naturally good, and who was extremely fenfible of 
 the lofs with which he was threatened. He arrived ; 
 but ADDISON, who was extremely feeble, and whofe 
 life at this moment hung quivering on his lips, ob- 
 ferved a profound filence. After a long paufe the 
 youth at length addrefled him, " Sir, you defired.to 
 44 fee me ; fignify your commands, and I will exe- 
 f * ciit them with religious punctuality*" ADDISOM 
 took him by the hand, and replied in his dying 
 voice, " Obfervo with what tranquillity a Chrif- 
 *' tian can die V 
 
 Such 
 
 * The pcrfon here alluded to wai LOUD WA^WICK, a yoong 
 rr.an of Very irregular life, and perhaps of loofe opinions; AD o IJOK, 
 for whom he did not want refpedt, had very diligently endeavoured 
 
 Bb| tV 
 
374 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 Such is the confolation and tranquillity which 
 religion atfbrds ; iuch is the peace of mind which 
 a life of fimplicity and innocence procures : a 
 condition rarely experienced in the world. Even 
 when it is not altogether in our own power to re- 
 move the obftacles to this inward peace ; to oppofe 
 upon all occafions the victory of the world; the 
 idea of facrificing to God, is very natural and affect- 
 ing to every warm and virtuous heart. Why, 
 therefore, are we fo continually difcontented and 
 miierable ? Why do we fo frequently complain of 
 the want of happinefs and enjoyment, if it be not 
 becaufe we permit the mind to be impofed upon 
 by the falie appearances of things ; becaufe fenfu- 
 ality frequently predominates over reufon ; becaufe 
 we prefer deceitful gifts and fleeting pleafures to 
 more eiFential and permanent enjoyments; if it be 
 not, in one word, becauie the boiom is not fenfiblc 
 . of the auguft precepts of our holy religion ? 
 
 But he who has ftudied the doctrines of the gof- 
 pel, who has meditated upon them in filence, has 
 nothing more to detire, provided he is at lad fen- 
 fibleor the kind of character which he forms in the 
 world, of that which he may acquire in Solitude, 
 
 to reclaim him ; but his arguments and cxpoftuhtions had no 
 efFeft; when he found hU life near it$ end, therefore, he direftcd 
 the young lord to be called, and made this lad experiment to re, 
 clai.r. him. What effefl this awful fcene had on the earl is un- 
 n ' : -known ; iic likewife died himfelf in a ihort time. TH E Tn A K s- 
 
 anil 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 37$ 
 
 and of that which it is his duty to attain. If he is 
 inclined to think like a philofopher, and live like 
 a chriftian, he will renounce the poifoned pleafures 
 of that world which enervate his mind, banilh every 
 ferious thought, and prevent the heart from rifmg 
 to its God. Difgufted with the frivolous chimeras 
 of vanity and folly, he retires to a diftance from, 
 tjiem to contemplate his own character, to elevate 
 his mind to virtuous refolutions, and torefign him-* 
 fclf more entirely and with greater permanency to 
 the emotions of his heart. If he continue to fail 
 upon thattempeftuous fea,ftill he will with prudence 
 avoid the rocks and fands of life ; will turn, during 
 the dorm, from thofe dangers by which he may be 
 wrecked; and feel lefs joy in thofe hours when he 
 fails in a fair wind and favourable fky, than in thofe 
 when he eludes the perils which furrounded him. 
 
 To the man who has accuftomcd his mind 
 filently to collect its thoughts, the hours which he 
 confecrates to GOD in Solitude are the happieft of 
 his life. Every time we filcntly raife our minds to 
 , God, we are carried back into ourfelves. We 
 become lefs fenfible of the abfence of thofe things 
 on which we placed our happinefs ; and experience 
 much lefs pain in retiring from the noife of the world 
 to the filcnce of Solitude. We acquire, by degrees, a 
 more intimate knowledge of ourfelves, and learn to 
 look into the human breaft with a more philofophic 
 eye. We fcrutinize our character with greater 
 feverity, feel with higher fenfibility the neceflity of 
 
 reforming 
 
37$ THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE ' 
 
 reforming our conduct, and reflect more maturely 
 on that which is the end of our lives. If we know 
 thofe things which render our actions more accept- 
 able in the fight of GOD, it ought to fatisfy the 
 minds of men that we do good for their fakes; but 
 every good work admits of fo many fecondary 
 views, that every motive muft neccfTarily depend 
 upon the directions of the heart. Every good 
 ad ion, without doubt, conveys quietude to the 
 bread, but is this quietude always pure ? Was 
 not the mind merely actuated by the confideration 
 of profane and worldly , r iews to gratify a tranfient 
 pailion; or influenced by felf-love rather than by 
 the feelings of brotherly affection ? We certainly 
 difcufs our thoughts and actions much better, and 
 probe the emotions of the heart with greater fince- 
 rity, when we felect for the examination of great 
 and important truths thofe hours when we arc alone 
 Ixfore GOD, 
 
 It is thus that in Solitude we renounce our intj- 
 
 . . ' > > i 
 
 mate connection wich men to look back upon the 
 tranlactions of life, to difcufs our conduit in the 
 world, to prepare for ourfelves a more rational em-* 
 ployment in future, and to render an account of 
 
 thofe actions we have yet to perform. It is thus 
 
 ; ' 
 fhaf ^he wounds which we have received in the 
 
 hoililities of life are healed, In the intervals of a 
 religious retirement, virtuous refolutions arc more 
 cafily acquired; the heart is more eafily appealed ;. 
 
 and 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 37? 
 
 and we difcover with greater certainty the fafe road 
 through all the formidable perils of life. It is thus 
 that we are never lefs alone than when no human 
 being is near us, becaufe we are then in the pre- 
 fence of Him whofe will it is of the higheft impor- 
 tance to our happinefs to obey. 
 
 SOLITUDE always calls us from weakncfs' to 
 power, from fedudtion to refiftance, from that 
 which is prefent to that which is to come. Al- 
 though men do not always enter into Solitude to 
 commune with God, it is neverthclefs true that they 
 willingly quit noify and tumultuous aflemblies to 
 enter into the quietude of his tranquil houfe, that 
 tfrey may not be for ever obliged to lend them- 
 felves to pleafures which poiTefs neither delicacy 
 nor morality. In every peaceful moment of our 
 evidence we are more immediately under the eye 
 of Him whom it isfo important to us to pleafe, and 
 who obferves the fage in his filent meditations! 
 
 The apoftles of fociety raife every where a con- 
 tinual clamour, as if they had matters of very high 
 importance to tranfadt in the world. Everyone 
 ought certainly to do more than the ftrict line df 
 duty calls upon him to perform ; but, unhappily, 
 we all do lefs than our duty, and leave the affairs of 
 the world to go on as they may. The energy necef* 
 fary to the performance of great actions, eleVatiori 
 of character, and (lability and firrhncfs ih Virtue*, 
 are no where Co eafily acquired as in Solitude, sind 
 
 never 
 
378 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 never fo efficacioufly as by RELIGION. Religion 
 difengages the heart from every vain defire, ren- 
 ders it tranquil under the preflure of misfortunes, 
 humble before GOD, bold before men, and teaches 
 k to rely with confidence upon the protection of 
 Providence. Solitude and religion refine all our 
 moral fentiments, while we remain uninfccled with 
 the leaven of fanaiicifm ; and at the conclubon of 
 a life pafTed in the practice of every virtue, we re- 
 ceive the reward for all the hours which we have 
 confecrated to God in lllence; of that condant and 
 religious zeal with which we have raifed towards him 
 pure hands and a chafte heart. 
 
 The defire for the things of this world difappears 
 whenever we acquire fuiHcient courage boldly to 
 refign ourfelves to the fentiment, that the actual 
 ftate of lafung content and conftant fatisfaction of 
 the foul has probably fome analogy to the joys of 
 eternity. A complete liberty to be and to do what- 
 ever we plcafe, becaule that in heaven, in thofe 
 regions of love and kindnefs, we cannot pofleis an, 
 unjuft or improper inclination ; a life of innocence;! 
 a juftification of the ways of Providence; an im- 
 plicit confidence in God ; an eternal communion 
 with thofe whom our fouls loved on earth; are, 
 at lead, ,the wifhes and the hopes which we may 
 be, I trull, permitted in our worldly apprehenfions 
 to indulge, and which fo agreeably flatter our 
 imagination. But thefe hopes and wifhes, whkb, , 
 
ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 379 
 
 at prefcnt, (bed a glimmering light, mud remain 
 like dreams and vifions of the mind, until the tomb, 
 thick clouds, and darknefs, no longer hide eter- 
 nity from human eyes, until the veil (hall be re- 
 moved, and THE ETERNAL reveals to us thofe 
 things which no eyes have ever feen, which no ear 
 has ever heard, which have never entered into the 
 heart of man; for with filent fubmiflion I acknow- 
 ledge, that eternity, to human forefight, is like that 
 which the colour of purple appeared to be in the 
 mind of a blind man, who compared it to the 
 found of a trumpet * 
 
 In this world, full of reftraints and embarrafT- ; 
 ments, of troubles and of pains, the enjoyments of 
 
 liberty, leifure, and tranquillity, are of ineftimable 
 
 1 1 ' 
 value ; every one fighs to obtain them, as the 
 
 failor fighs at fea for land, and fhouts with triumph 
 .when he fees it; but in order to be fenfible of 
 their worth, it is neceflary to have felt the want of .. 
 them. We refemble the inhabitant of Terra Firma, 
 
 Men, in general, fondly hope in eternity for all that is 
 flattering to their tafte, inclinations, defires, and paflions on , - 
 
 earth. I therefore entirely concur in opinion with a celebrated 
 German philofopher, M GARVE, that thofe perfons cannot 
 poflefs humility of heart who hope that God will hereafter reward 
 them with riches and honours. It was thefe fentiments which 
 occafioned a young lady of Germany, extremely handlome, to fay, j .,r 
 ihe hoped to carry with her into the next world a habit of fine fil- 
 ver tifluc, zoned with feathers, and to walk in heaven on carpets 
 of rofe-leaves fpread upon the firmament. This, alfo, was the < 
 
 reafon whjj in a fiiD affeinbly of women of fafhion, where thf 
 queftion was agitated, whether marriages were good to all e ter ' '- " 
 nity, they all unanimoufly exclaimed, God prcfrrvt tufrim it. 
 
 who 
 
f*o THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE, &c. 
 
 who cannot conceive an idea of the feelings which 
 fill the bofom of a navigator. For myfelf, I do 
 not know a more comfortable notion, than that 
 eternity promifes a conftant and uninterrupted tran- 
 quillity, although I perfectly feel that it is not pof- 
 fible to form any idea of the nature of that enjoy- 
 ment which is produced by a happinefs without 
 end. An eternal tranquillity is the higheft hap- 
 pinefs of my imagination, for 1 know of no feli- 
 city upon earth that can equal peace of mind. 
 
 Since therefore internal and external tranquillity 
 is upon earth an inconteftable commencement of 
 beatitude, it may be extremely ufeful to believe, 
 that in a rational and moderate abfence from the 
 tumults of focicty we may acquire faculties of the 
 foul which are elements of that happinefs we ex- 
 peel to enjoy in the world to come. 
 
 I now conclude my Reflections upon the Ad- 
 vantages of Solitude to the Heart. May they 
 give greater currency to ufeful fcntiments, to con- 
 iblatory truths, and contribute, in fome degree, to 
 diffufc the enjoyment of a happinefs which is ib 
 much within our reach ! All my defires will then 
 be fatisfied. As for the reft, let every one live 
 according to his inclination, exercife VIRTUE 
 where he pleafes, and procure at his option PLEA- 
 SURE, in the enjoyment of which he will be certain 
 of receiving, both here and hereafter, the appro- 
 bation of God and his own conscience* 
 
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