THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CONSIDERED, 
 
 WITH RESPECT TO ITS INFLUENCE 
 
 UPON 
 
 THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 WRITTEN ORIGINALLY IN GERMAN 
 
 BY M. ZIMMERMANN, 
 
 AULIC COUNSELLOR AND PHYSICIAN TO HIS 
 BRITANNIC MAJESTY AT HANOVER. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF J. B. MERCIER. 
 
 SOLITUDE ou je trouve une douceur fecrctc, 
 
 Licux quc j'aimai toujours> ne pourrai-je jamais, 
 
 Loin du monde et du bruit, gouter Pombre et le frals ! 
 
 Oh ! qui m'arretera fous vos fombres afyles ? 
 
 Quand pourront lefs Neuf Sceun, loin des cours et de villcij 
 
 M'occuper tout entire ? 
 
 LA FONTAINE, 
 Le Songe fun Habitant du Mogol, L, XI. Fallt IV 
 
 THE SIXTH EDITION. 
 
 & 3D .$ 3D 3> $ : 
 
 PRINTED FOR C. DILLY, IN THE POULTRY. 
 1796.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 INTRODUCTION, page I 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 
 THE GENERAL ADVANTAGES OF SOLITUDE, 9 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE UPON THE 
 
 MIND, ..-----..91 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE UPON THE 
 
 HEART, ..--".-.- 239
 
 PREFACE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FRENCH TRANSLATOR. 
 
 1HE Title of this work will perhaps 
 give fome alarm to delicate ears : the word 
 " SOLITUDE" may infpire melancholy and 
 unfavourable ideas : it is, however, only ne- 
 ceiTary to read a few pages to be undeceived. 
 .The author is not one of thofe extravagant 
 mifanthropes who would compel mankind, 
 born for fociety, 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 hearts ; he is a friend to hu- 
 manity, a fenfible and virtuous individual, 
 an honeil: citizen, honoured by the efteem of 
 A 3 bis
 
 IV 
 
 PREFACE OF THE 
 
 his prince, who endeavours to enlighten the 
 minds of his fellow Creatures upon a fubjecT: 
 the moft intending to them the attainment 
 of HAPPINESS. 
 
 No writer appears more completely fatisfied 
 that Man is born for Society, or feems to 
 have better ftudied all the focial duties of 
 life, than M. ZIMMERMAN N. But what is 
 Society ? What are the focial duties of life ? 
 Thefe are the queftions which the author ex- 
 amines. The important characters of Father, 
 Hufband, Son, and Citizen, impofe on MAN 
 certain indifpenfable obligations which are 
 ever dear to the virtuous heart; they eftablifh 
 between him, his country, and his family, 
 relations too neceflary and too agreeable to 
 be neglected. It is not however in tu- 
 multuous joys, in the noify pleafures of pub- 
 lic entertainments, in blindly following the 
 chimeras of ambition, the illufions of felf- 
 love, or the fpeculations of defire, that men 
 mull expect to feel the charms of thofe reci- 
 procal ties which unite them to Society; to 
 perceive the dignity of thofe duties which na- 
 ture made productive of fo many pleafures; 
 
 to
 
 FRENCH TRANSLATOR. v 
 
 to tafte that true felicity which is accompa- 
 nied by independence and content : a felicity 
 fo feldom delired only becaufe it is fo little 
 known, but which every man may find 
 within his own breaft. 
 
 ALAS! who has not frequently experi- 
 enced the neceffity of entering into that facred 
 jifylum as a refuge from the misfortunes of 
 life, or as a relief from the fatigues of fatiated 
 pleafures ? Yes, all men, from the fordid 
 ichemer who daily finks under the weight 
 of his labours, to the proud ftatefman intoxi- 
 cated by the incenfe of popular applaufe, ex- 
 perience the defire of terminating their preca- 
 rious career ; every bofom feels an anxiety for 
 repofe ; every mind fondly wiflies to fleai 
 from the vortex of a bufy and unquiet life, 
 to enjoy tranquillity in the Solitude of retire- 
 ment. Under the peaceful ihades of Solitude 
 the mind of man regenerates, and his facul- 
 ties acquire new force ; it is there alone that 
 the happy can enjoy the fulnefs of felicity, 
 or the miferable forget their woe ; it is there 
 that the bofom of fenfibility experiences its 
 moft delicious emotions ; it is there that crea- 
 tive
 
 ti PREFACE OF THE 
 
 tive genius frees itfelf from the thraldom of 
 Society, and darts forth the warmeft rays of 
 imagination : all the ideas of our minds, 
 every inclination of our hearts, lean toward 
 this defired goal. " There is indeed," fays 
 a fenfible Englifhman, " fcarcely any writer 
 " who has not celebrated the happinefs of 
 " rural privacy, and delighted himfelf and 
 " his readers with the melody of birds, the 
 " whifper of groves, and the murmur of ri- 
 " vulets; or any man eminent for extent of 
 ' capacity or greatnefs of exploits, that has 
 " not left behind him fome memorials of 
 44 lonely wifdom and filent dignity." 
 
 THE part of the work to which I am moil: 
 attached is particularly addreffed to the atten- 
 tion of YOUTH j it is to them that it will per- 
 haps be moil ufe ful, and I fondly flatter my- 
 felf that to their minds it will alfo afford the 
 higheft pleafure. Young myfelf, and fen- 
 fible of the truly beautiful, I felt myfelf led 
 on by the charms of a work which elevated 
 my mind, warmed my imagination, and 
 touched my heart. May it produce the fame 
 effects upon my young countrymen ! May it, 
 
 notwith-
 
 FRENCH TRANSLATOR. vii 
 
 notwithftanding the weaknefs of this tranfla- 
 tion, infpire them with the like enthufiafm ! 
 At leaft I may venture to exclaim, in the 
 words of M. ZIMMERMANN, " Dear and 
 " virtuous young man, into whofe hands this 
 " book perchance may fall, receive with af- 
 " fection the good which it contains, -and 
 " reject all that is cold and fpiritlefs; all that 
 " does not touch and penetrate the heart! 
 *' But, if you thank me for the performance, 
 " if you blefs me, if you acknowledge that 
 " I have enlightened your mind, corrected 
 " your manners, and tranquillized your heart, 
 " I fhall congratulate myfelf on the iincerity 
 " of my intentions, and think my labours 
 " richly rewarded. If the perufal of it ihall 
 <{ fortify your inclination for a wife and 
 " active Solitude, juftify your averfion from 
 '* thofe focieties which only ferve to deftroy 
 " time, and heighten your repugnance to 
 " employ vile and fhameful means in the 
 " acquifition of riches, I lliall afk no other 
 *' benediction for my work." 
 
 IT will perhaps appear furprifing that, en- 
 tertaining ib high a veneration for the writ-. 
 
 i ings
 
 *iii PREFACE OF THE 
 
 ings of M. ZIMMERMANN, I could pcrmk 
 myfclf, with profane hand, to retrench the 
 greater part of his work : permit me there- 
 fore to difclofe the reafons which influenced 
 my conduct. Four large volumes on the 
 fubject of SOLITUDE appeared to me to be 
 a work too arduous for the generality of 
 French readers, and particularly for French 
 bookfellers to undertake; for even this fhort 
 cffay, without the recommendation of M. LE 
 TOURNEUR, could not have attained the 
 honour of the prefs. Betide, although the 
 rays of genius beam throughout the work, 
 and the firft two volumes, which principally 
 treat of monaflic Solitude, contain many pro- 
 found reflections, yet they are, perhaps, rather 
 too long for the generality of readers, and arc 
 indeed capable of difpleafing many, w r hofc 
 narrow prejudices might be mocked by the 
 liberal fentiments of an author, who appeals 
 to the decifion of REASON alone upon the 
 fubjedt of certain abufes rendered facred by 
 the motives from which they proceeded. 
 Notwithftanding this, however, I could not 
 determine to retrench the work, before I 
 had confulted feveral men of letters, of 
 
 enlightened
 
 l 
 
 enlightened understandings, and in high fa- 
 vour with the public: No, I never could 
 have ventured, on my own judgment, to 
 have pruned any part of a work which 
 has acquired the univerfal approbation of 
 the German empire*, and obtained the fuf- 
 f rages of AN EMPRESS celebrated for the, 
 fuperior brilliancy of her mind, and who has; 
 fignified her approbation in the moil flatter- 
 ing manner. 
 
 ON the 26th January, 1785, a courier, 
 difpatched by the Ruffian envoy at Ham- 
 burg, prefented M. ZIMMERMANN with a 
 fmall cafket in the name of her majefry the 
 emprefs of Ruffia. The cafket contained 
 a ring, enriched with diamonds of an extra- 
 ordinary fize and luftre; and a gold medal, 
 bearing on one fide the portrait of the em- 
 prefs, and on the other the date of the happy 
 reformation of the Ruffian empire. This 
 prefent the emprefs accompanied with a 
 letter, written in her own hand, containing 
 
 * The author is already inferted in the colleftion of claffic 
 authors printed at CarlfrHbe. 
 
 thefe
 
 x PREFACE, &c. 
 
 thefe remarkable words: " To M. ZIM- 
 " MERMANN, counfellor of ftate and phy- 
 " fician to his Britannic majefty, to thank 
 *' him for the excellent precepts he has 
 " given to mankind in his treatife upon 
 ". SOLITUDE."
 
 SOLITUDE 
 
 CONSIDERED, 
 
 WITH RESPECT TO ITS INFLUENCE 
 
 UPON 
 
 THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I 
 
 N this unquiet and tumultuous fcene of 
 life, furrounded by the reftraints of ceremony, 
 the urgencies of bufmefs, the (hackles of fo- 
 ciety, and in the evening of my days, I feel 
 no delight in recollecting pleafures that pafs 
 fo tranfiently away : my foul dwells with higher 
 fatisfaclion on the memory of thofe happy days 
 of my youth, when SOLITUDE was my fole 
 amufement; when I knew no place more agree- 
 able than the fequcftcred cloifter and the filent 
 cell, the lonely mountain and the fublimely awful 
 
 B grove :
 
 2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 grove; or any pleafurc more lively than that I 
 experienced in converting with the dead. 
 
 I LOVE .to recal to my mind the cool and 
 filent fcenes of Solitude ; to oppofe them to the 
 heat and buttle of the world; to meditate on 
 thofe advantages \vhich 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 cor- 
 rodes the mind ; when difeafe afflils the body, 
 when the number of our years bends us to the 
 ground; to contemplate, in fhort, the benign 
 influence of Solitude upon all the troubles of the 
 heart. 
 
 SOLITUDE is that ftate in which the foul freely 
 refigns itfelf to its own reflections. The fage, 
 therefore, who bani flies from his mind all recol- 
 lection of external objects, and retires within him- 
 felf, is not lefs folitary than he who forfakes fo- 
 ciety and devotes himfelf entirely to the calm 
 enjoyments of a lonely life. 
 
 THE mind furrenders itfelf in retirement to the 
 unreftrained enjoyment of its own ideas, and 
 adopts without limitation or reftraint the fenti- 
 ments which the tafte, the lepper, the inclination, 
 and the genius of its ^ofleflbr infpire. 
 
 OBSERVE
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. J 
 
 OBSERVE the fhepherds of thofc extenfive 
 deferts : one chaunts THE BEAUTY which capti- 
 vates his foul ; another moulds the clay into a 
 ruftic vafe ; the furrounding charms of nature 
 form the fole delight and admiration of a third; 
 while a fourth inveftigates the precepts of the 
 moral law, or contemplates the fublime truths of 
 our holy religion. If they were refpeftively to 
 meet a lovely fhepherdefs beneath the fhades of 
 their retirement, feated on the borders of fome 
 gently-flowing ftream, the heart of each might 
 perhaps become the fiave of love; but deprived 
 of all that is dear to man, and doomed to tafte 
 involuntary Solitude, the beft refource for each is 
 to refign himfelf to the diftates of his inclination j 
 a refource to which every well-difpofed and vir- 
 tuous mind may conftantly refort without difrriay 
 or danger. 
 
 MAN in a ftate of perfect freedom pofTefles 
 an innate right to follow the fuggeftions of his 
 fancy : fome are delighted by the foft melody of 
 the nightingale, while others liften with equal 
 pleafure to the hideous (hriekings of the owl. 
 Some there are to whom even the vifits of 
 friendfhip are difpleafing ; who, to avoid the 
 painful intercourfe, confine themfelves eternally 
 at home, and confume their hours in writing 
 htooks 6r killing flies. 
 
 B 2 TH
 
 A THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THE poor dejefted heart conftantly attaches 
 itfelf to fome favourite object, as far at leait as 
 circumftances and fituation will permit, from 
 which it draws its confolation and fupport. 
 Roaming through the cloiflcrs of the Magdalene 
 Convent at HIDELSHEIM, I was furprifed to ob- 
 ferve an aviary of Canary birds in the cell of a 
 RELIGIEUSE. A Braban^on gentleman, fearful 
 of the efFetls of cold, and having the fame aver- 
 fion from WOMEN that certain perfons are faid 
 to feel from -MICE, lived five-and-twenty years 
 at BRUSSELS immured within his houfe, without 
 any other amufement than that of collecting 
 a magnificent cabinet of paintings and pic- 
 tures. 
 
 UNDER the confinement even of the dun- 
 geon 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 thofc pur- 
 fuits which afford them the highefl pleafurc. 
 The Swifs philofopher MICHAEL Due RET 
 incafured the heights of the Alps during his 
 confinement in the prifon of AARBURG, in the 
 canton of BERNE in SWISSERLAND ; and while 
 BARON DE TRENCH., a prifoner in the tower of 
 MAGDEBURGH, was every moment anxioufly 
 employed in forming projects to e fie ft his efcape, 
 
 GENERAL
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 5 
 
 GENERAL WALRAVE, the companion of his cap- 
 tivity, contentedly pafled his time in the feeding 
 of chickens. 
 
 THE term SOLITUDE does not, I conceive, 
 always 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 underfland it to mean the library 
 of a man of learning : and fometimes an occa- 
 fional retreat from the tumults of a6live life. 
 
 MEN are frequently folitary without being 
 alone \ for to conftitute a Hate of Solitude, it is 
 fufficient if the mind be entirely abforbed by thofe 
 ideas which its own reCeclions create. 
 
 THE haughty BARON, proud of the diftinc- 
 tions of birth, feels himfelf alone in every fo- 
 ciety the members of which are not ennobled by 
 an equal number of titles derived through a long 
 line of hereditary defccnts. A profound rea- 
 foner is, in general, folitary at the tables of the 
 witty and the " gay. The mind, - even amidft 
 the clamours of a popular aflembly, may with- 
 draw its attention from the furrounding objeOs, 
 may retire as effectually within itfelf, may be- 
 come as folitary as a monk in his monaftery 
 or a hermit in his cell. In Ihort, Solitude may 
 
 B 3 be
 
 6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 be as eafily attained amidft the gayeft circles of 
 the moft brilliant city, as in the uninterrupted 
 filence of a poor, deferted village; at LONDON 
 and at PARIS, as well as on the plains of THE- 
 B AIS or in the defert of NITRIA. 
 
 A TREATISE, therefore, upon the real advan- 
 tages of Solitude, appeared to me a proper 
 means to facilitate the acquifition of happi- 
 nefs. The fewer external refources men pof- 
 iefs, the greater efforts they make to difcover 
 in themfelves the power of being happy ; and 
 the more they are enabled to part without re- 
 gret from their connections with each other, 
 the nearer they moft certainly approach to true 
 felicity. The pleafures of the world are cer- 
 tainly beneath the attention with which they are 
 purfued; but it is equally true, that, upon a 
 ferious examination, all thofe Catholic notions, 
 once fo celebrated, of a total feclufion from the 
 world and its concerns, appear altogether im- 
 praclicable and abfurd. To render the mind in- 
 dependent of human afiiftances, and teach it to 
 rely entirely upon the (Irength of its own 
 powers, is, I acknowledge, a noble achieve- 
 ment; but it is certainly equally meritorious to 
 learn the art of living happily in fgciety, and of 
 rendering ourfelves uleful and agreeable to the 
 reft of mankind. 
 
 WHILE,
 
 ON THE MTND AND THE HEART. J 
 
 WHILE, therefore, I defcribe the allurements 
 of SOLITUDE, I fhall endeavour to warn my 
 readers againft thofe dangerous and extravagant 
 notions into which fome of its difciples have 
 been betrayed; notions equally repugnant to 
 the voice of reafon and the precepts of our di- 
 vine religion. 
 
 HAPPILY to avoid all the dangers by which 
 my fubjecl is furrounded, to facrifice nothing to 
 prejudice, to advance nothing in violation of 
 truth, to obtain the approbation of the peace- 
 ful difciples of reafon and philofophy, will be 
 my anxious endeavour; and if Affliction fhall 
 derive a ray of confolation from my labours ; if 
 Melancholy, in forgetting the horrors of her fitu- 
 ation, fhall raife her dejefted head to blefs me ; 
 if I fhall be able to convince the innocent vota- 
 ries of rural retirement, that the fprings of plea- 
 fure 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 
 fhall learn to feel the fuperior pleafures of a 
 country life, become fenfible of the variety of 
 refources they afford againft idlenefs and vexa- 
 tion ; what purity of fentiment, what peaceful 
 thoughts, what unfading happincfs the view of 
 verdant meads, the fight of numerous flocks and 
 herds quitting the fertile meadows on the clofe 
 
 B 4, of
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 of thy. infill into the mind; with what ineffa- 
 ble delight the fublime beauty of a wild roman- 
 tic country, interfperfed with diftant cottages, 
 and occupied by freedom and content, ravifhes 
 the foul ; how much more readily, in fhort, we 
 forget all the pains and troubles of a wounded 
 heart on the borders of a gentle ftrcam, than 
 amidft the concourfe of deceitful joys fo fatally 
 followed in the courts of princes; my talk will 
 be accomplifiied, and all my wiflies amply gra- 
 tified ! 
 
 OiAP-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 THE GENERAL ADVANTAGES OF SOLITUDE. 
 
 OOLITUDE engages the affe&ions of men, 
 whenever it holds up a picture of tranquil- 
 lity to their views. The doleful and monotonous 
 found of the clock of a fequeftered monaftery, 
 the filence of nature in a {till 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 foft 
 melancholy, and banifh all recollection of the 
 world and its concerns. But the man who 
 cannot hold a friendly correfpondence with his 
 own heart, who derives no comfort from the 
 reflections of his mind, who dreads the idea of 
 meditation, and is fearful of paffing a fingle 
 moment with himfelf, looks with an equal eye 
 on Solitude and on death. He endeavours to 
 enjoy all the voluptuoufnefs which the world 
 affords; drains the pernicious cup of pleafure 
 to its dregs; and until the dreadful moment ap- 
 proaches when he beholds his nerves mattered, 
 and all the powers of his foul deftroyed, he has 
 not courage to make the delayed confettion, 
 2 " I am
 
 IO THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " / am tired of THE wo R L D and all its idle follies^ 
 
 <c and now prefer the mcun.fid Jhade of the cyprefs, 
 
 " to the intoxication of its noify pleafures and tumul- 
 
 " tuousjoys." 
 
 THE dangers to which a life of Solitude is 
 cxpofcd, for even in Solitude many real dangers 
 exift, afford no fubflantial argument againfl 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 be 
 cafily eluded. The adventurous navigator, 
 when acquainted with the fignal of approach- 
 ing dangers, and the fituation of thofe rocks 
 and fhoals which threaten his fafcty, no longer 
 fears the perils to which he was before expofed. 
 Still lefs are the advantages of Solitude difproved 
 by the complaints of thofe, who, feeling a con- 
 tinual defire to efcape from themfelves, relifh no 
 pleafures but thofe which the world affords; to 
 whom retirement and tranquillity appear vapid 
 and fatiguing : and who, unconfcious of any 
 higher delight than that of paying and receiving 
 vifits, have of courfe no idea of the charms of 
 Solitude. 
 
 IT is, therefore, only to thofe 'diftinguimed 
 
 beings, who can refort to their own. bofoms for 
 
 an antidote againft difquiet, who are fearlefs 
 
 i of
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. II 
 
 of the numerous facrifices which virtue may 
 demand, whofe fouls are endowed with fufficient 
 energy to drive away the dread of being alone, 
 and whofe hearts are fufceptible of the pure 
 and tranquil delights of domeftic felicity, that 
 I pretend to recommend the advantages of SOLI- 
 TUDE. The miferable being, in whofe bofom the 
 corruptions of the world have already deftroyed 
 thefe precious gifts of nature; who knows no other 
 pleafure, is fenfible to no other happinefs, than 
 what cards or the luxury of a richly-furnifhed 
 table afford; who difdains all excrcife of the 
 underftanding, thinks all delicacy of fentiment 
 unnatural, and, by a brutality almoft incon- 
 ceivable, laughs at the facred name of fenfibility ; 
 muft be loft to virtue, and utterly incapable 
 of pleafure from any operations of his own 
 mind. 
 
 PHILOSOPHERS and minifters of the Gofpel, 
 if they were entirely to deprive them (elves of 
 the pleafures of fociety, and to {hun with rigid 
 feverity the honeft comforts and rational amufe- 
 ments of life, would without doubt eiTentially 
 injure the interefts of wifdom and virtue ; but 
 there are not, at prefent, many preceptors who 
 carry their doBrines to this extent : on the con- 
 trary, there exifts a multitude, both in the 
 country and the town, to whom Solitude would 
 
 be
 
 12 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 be infupportable, \vho fhamefully devote their 
 time to noify diffipations and tumultuous plea- 
 fiires altogether inconfiftent with their characters 
 and functions. The celebrated sera is pa fled 
 when a life of retirement and contemplation was 
 alone efteemed, and when the approaches 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 
 \vith fuch unceafmg avidity, I lhall fhew, in the 
 firft divifion of this chapter, that it enables MAN 
 to live independent and alone ; that there is no 
 misfortune it cannot alleviate, no forrow that it 
 will not foften ; that it adds dignity to his cha- 
 racler, and gives frefh vigour to the powers of 
 his mind ; that he cannot in any other fituation 
 acquire fo perfect a knowledge of himfelf; that 
 it enlarges the fphere of attention, and ripens 
 the feeds of judgement : in fhort, 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 ative life may be ren- 
 dered perfectly confident with all die advantages 
 of Solitude; and we fhall foon difcover upon 
 
 what
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 13 
 
 what foundations the opinions of thofe philofo- 
 phers aTe built, \vho maintain that the tumults 
 of the world, and the diflipations of its votaries, 
 are incompatible with the calm exercife of 
 reafon, the decifions of a fober judgement, the 
 inveftigation of truth, and the ftudy of the human 
 heart. 
 
 THE legion of fantaftic fafhions, to which a 
 man of pleafure is obliged to Sacrifice his time, 
 impair the rational /acuities of his mind, and 
 deftroy the native energies of his foul. Forced 
 continually to lend himfelf to the performance 
 of a thoufand little triflings, a thoufand mean 
 abfurdities, he becomes by habit frivolous and 
 abfurd. The face of things no longer wears its 
 true and genuine afpeft ; and his depraved tafte 
 lofes all relifh for rational entertainment or fub- 
 ftantial pleafure. The infatuation feizes on his 
 braih, and his corrupted heart teems with idle 
 fancies and vain imaginations. Thefe illufions 
 however, through which the plaineft objeft 
 comes diftorljed to his view, might cafily be 
 difpelled. Accuftomed to ,0. lonely life, and 
 left to reflect in calmnefs and fobriety, during 
 the filence of the Solitary hour, upon the falfe 
 joys and deceitful pleal'ures which the parade of 
 vifiting and the glare of public entertainments 
 offer to our view, he would foon perceive and 
 
 candidly
 
 14 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 candidly acknowledge their nothingnefs and in* 
 fipidity : he would foon behold the pleafures of 
 the world in their true colours, and feel that he 
 had blindly wandered in purfuit of phantoms; 
 which, though bodies in appearance, are mere 
 fhadows in reality. 
 
 THE inevitable confequences of this ardent 
 purfuit of entertainments and diverfions are 
 languor and difTatisfaftion. He who has drained 
 the cup of pleafure to its laft drop ; who is 
 obliged to confefs that his hopes are iled, and 
 that the world no longer contains an objel wor- 
 thy of his purfuit; who feels difappointmcnt 
 and difguft mingled with all his enjoyments; 
 who feems aftonifhed at his own inienfibility ; 
 who no longer poflefTes the magic of the en- 
 chantrefs IMAGINATION to gild and decorate 
 the fcene; calls in vain to his affiflance the 
 daughters of Senfuality; their carefles caft no 
 longer charm his dark and melancholy mind; 
 the foft and fyren fong of Luxury no longer 
 can difpel the cloud of difcontent which hovers 
 round his head. 
 
 BEHOLD yon weak old man, his mind ener- 
 vated, and his conftitution gone, running after 
 pleafures that he no more muft tafte. The airs 
 of gaiety which he affe&s render him ridiculous. 
 
 His
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 15 
 
 His attempts to fhine expofe him to derifion. 
 His endeavours to difplay the \vit and elo- 
 quence of youth, betray him into the garrulity 
 of old age. His converfation, filled with repe- 
 titions and fatiguing narrative, creates difguft; 
 and only forces the fmile of pity from the lips of 
 his youthful rivals. To the eye of Wifdom 
 however, who faw him through all the former 
 periods of his life, fparkling in the circles of 
 folly, and rioting in the noify rendezvous of 
 extravagance and vice, his character always 
 appeared the fame. 
 
 THE wife man, in the midft of the moft 
 tumultuous pleafures, frequently retires within 
 himfelf, and filently compares what he might do 
 with what he is doing. Surrounded even by the 
 exceffes of intoxication, he aflbciates only with 
 thofe warm and generous fouls, whofe highly 
 elevated minds are drawn towards each other 
 by wifhes the mod virtuous, and fcntiments 
 the moft fublime. The filence of Solitude has 
 more than once given birth to enterprifes of 
 the greateft importance and utility; and fome 
 of the mod celebrated aftions of mankind were 
 perhaps firft infpired among the founds of mufic, 
 or conceived in the mazes of the dance. Sen- 
 lible and elevated minds never commune more 
 clofely with themfelves than in thole places 
 
 of
 
 l6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 of public refort in which the low and vul- 
 gar, abandoned to the caprice of fafliion and 
 the illufions of fenfuality, become incapable 
 of reflection, and blindly fuffer themfelves to 
 be overwhelmed by the torrent of folly and 
 diftraftion. 
 
 VACANT fouls are always burdenfome to 
 their pofleffors ; and it is the weight of this 
 burden that impels them inceffantly in the pur- 
 fuits of diffipation for relief. The irrefiftible 
 inclination by which they are carried continu- 
 ally abroad, the anxiety with which they fearch 
 for fociety, the trifles on which from day to day 
 they fpend their time, announce the emptinefs 
 of their minds, and the frivolous affection of 
 their hearts. Poffefling no refources within 
 themfelves, they are forced to rove abroad, 
 and faften upon every obje6l that pre Tents itfelf 
 to their view, until they find the wifhed-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 
 indefatigably followed, only as means of efcap- 
 ing from themfelves. They feize with avidity 
 upon every objeft that promifes to occupy the 
 prefent hour agreeably, and provide entertain- 
 ment
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. \J 
 ment F r the day that is palling over their heads : 
 this muft ever be fome external objeft, fome 
 new phantom, fomething that fhall prevent 
 them from remaining with themfelves. The 
 man whofe mind is fufficiently fertile to invent 
 hour after hour new fchemes of plcafure, to 
 open day after day frefh fources of amufement 
 for the lazy and luxurious, is a valuable com- 
 panion indeed; he is their beft, th.ir only 
 friend: not that they are deflitute of thofe abili- 
 ties which might prevent this facrifice of time, 
 and procure them relief, but having been con- 
 tinually led from objcft to objeft in the purfuit 
 of pleafure, the aflillance of others has habitu- 
 ally become the firft want and greateft defire of 
 their lives: they have infenfibly loft the power 
 of acting from themfelves, and depend for every 
 thing on thofe about them, without being able 
 to direct or determine the imprefiions they ought 
 to receive. This is the rcafon why THE RicH t 
 who are feldom acquainted with any other plea- 
 fares than thofe of fenfe, are, in general, the mpft 
 imferable 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 ^ different opi- 
 nion. Returning one Sunday from TRIANOK 
 
 C tg
 
 l8 TttE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 to VERSAILLES, I perceived at a diftance a 
 number of people afTerr.bled upon the terrace of 
 the cattle; and on a nearer approach I beheld 
 Louis THE FIFTEENTH furroundcd by his court 
 at the windows of the palace. A man very 
 richly drcfTcd, with a large pair of branching 
 antlers fattened on his head, whom they called 
 THE STAG, was purfucd by about a dozen others 
 who compofcd THE PACK. The purfuedand the 
 purfuers leaped into the great canal, fcrambled 
 out again, and ran about to all parts, while the 
 air refounded with acclamations and clapping of 
 hands, to encourage the continuance of the fport. 
 " What can all this mean?" faid I to a French- 
 man who flood near me. 4C Sir," he replied with 
 a very fedous countenance, " it is for the enter- 
 tainment of THE COURT." 
 
 THE mofl obfcurc and indigent conditions 
 certainly happier than the ftate of thefe fovereigns 
 of the world, and their flavifh retinue, when re- 
 duced to the neceflTity of adopting fuch mean and 
 abjeB modes of entertainment. 
 
 THE COURTIER, when he appears at a levee* 
 outwardly affecls the face of joy, while his heart 
 is inwardly a prey to the moft excruciating for- 
 rows; and fpeaks with the livelieft intcrcft of tranf- 
 aftions in which he has no concern : but perhaps it 
 
 is
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 19 
 is neceflary to his confequence that he fhouldraife 
 falfe appearances to the minds of his vifitors, who 
 on their fide impofe equally on him in return. 
 The fuccefsj 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 confift in a firing of 
 hereditary titles, of perhaps no Very remote an- 
 tiquity or honourable origin. 
 
 ON this privation of the light of human reafon 
 do the felicities of a worldly life mofl frequently 
 depend. From this dark fource fpring the inor- 
 dinate pride of the imperious noble, and the no 
 lefs unbounded ambition of the fimple mechanic. 
 Hence arife the difdain of fome, the haughtinefs 
 of others, and the folly of all. 
 
 To men of diflipated minds, who dread the 
 painful intrufion of rational fentiment, thefe nu- 
 merous and noify places of public refort appear 
 like temples dedicated to their idol, PLEASURE. 
 He who feeks happinefs on tiie couch of indo- 
 lence ; who expends all the activity of his mind, 
 all the energies of his heart, upon trifling ob- 
 jects; who fuffers vain and frivolous purfuits to 
 abforb his time, to engage his attention, to lock up 
 all the functions of his foul; cannot patiently en- 
 dure the idea of being for one moment by himfelf. 
 
 C 2 Direful
 
 2O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 Direful condition ! Is there then no occupation 
 w atever, no ufcful employment, no rational 
 recreation fufficiently high and dignified for fuch 
 a character? Is he reduced to the melancholy 
 condition of not being able to perform one good 
 and virtuous aftion during the intervals o fuf- 
 peucled pleafure ? Can he render no fcrvices to 
 friendship, to his country, to himfelf ? Are there 
 no poor and miferable beings, to whofe boloms 
 he might afford a charitable comfort and relief? 
 Is it, in fhort, impoffible for fuch a character to 
 become, in any way, more wife or 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 neccffity, moft frequently exerts them, will 
 foon find that the higheft felicities, of which 
 our nature is capable, rcfide entirely within our- 
 felves. The wants of life- are, for the greater 
 part, merely artificial; and although fenfua ob- 
 je6l.s moft efficacioufly contribute to our pleafure 
 and content, it is not becaufe the enjoyment of 
 them is abfolutely neceffary, hut becaufe they 
 have been n ndered defirable bv habit. 1 he 
 
 j 
 
 gratifications they afford eafily perfuade us, that 
 Lie po Hellion of them is effential to happinefs; 
 but if we had iuiiitude to iciiii their charms, and 
 
 courage
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 21 
 
 courage to look within our own bofoms for that 
 felicity which we fo anxioufly hope to derive 
 from others, we fhould frequently find a much 
 greater variety of refources there, than all the ob- 
 jects of fenfe are capable of affording. 
 
 
 MEN of fuperficial minds may indeed derive 
 fome amufement from afTemblies, to which the 
 company in general rcfort merely to fee and to be 
 
 feen: but how many women offafhion expire in 
 fuch aflemblies under all the mortification of 
 difappointed vanity ! How many neglected wits 
 fullenly retire into fome obfcure corner of the 
 room ! The mind, on entering the circles of 
 the great and gay, is apt to flatter itfelf too 
 highly with hopes of applaufe; to expect with too 
 much anxiety the promifed pleafure. Wit, 
 coquetry, fenfuality, it is true, are. at thele 
 meetings, frequently exercifcd with coi.fiderable 
 fuccefs. Every candidate difplayshis talents to 
 the bed advantage ; and thofc who are the leaft 
 
 "informed frequently gain the reputation of 
 mining characters. Amidil thefe fcenes, however, 
 the eye may occafionally 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 interelting oc- 
 cafionally mix among the group. We may 
 
 C 3 form
 
 22 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 form acquaintance with men of diftinguifhed 
 merit, whom we mould not otherwife have haci 
 an opportunity of knowing ; and meet with 
 women of eftimable qualities and irreproachable 
 conduft, whofe refined converfation ravifhes the 
 mind with the fame delight that their exquifite 
 beauty captivates the heart. 
 
 BUT by what a number of painful fenfations 
 muft the chance of receiving thefe pleafures be 
 purchafed ? Thofe who are reftrained either by 
 filent forrow, a fecret difcontent, or a rational 
 difpofition, from mixing in the common dilfipa- 
 tions of life, cannot fee without a figh the gay 
 conceit, the airy confidence, the blind arro- 
 gance, and the bold loquacity, with which thefe 
 votaries of worldly pleafures proclaim a felicity, 
 that leads them, almoft inevitably, to their rtiin. 
 It is, indeed, irrefiftibly laughable to obferve 
 the exceflive joy of fo many men in place., the 
 abfurd airs of fo many old dowagers, the pre- 
 fumptuous and ridiculous fopperies of fo many 
 hoary-headed children; but who, alas! is there, 
 that will not grow tired even of the pleafanteft 
 comedy, by feeing it too frequently ? He, there- 
 fore, who has often been an eye-witnefs of thefe 
 fcenes, who has often yawned with fatigue in 
 thefe temples of pleafure, and is convinced that 
 they exhibitratherthe illufionandappearancethan 
 
 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART, 23 
 
 the fubftance and reality of it, becomes de- 
 jefted in the midft of ail their joys, and haftily re- 
 tires to domeftic privacy, to tafte of pleafures in 
 \vhich there is no deceit; pleafures which leave 
 neither difquietude nor diffatisfaclion behind them. 
 
 AN invitation to the board of Luxury, where 
 DISEASE with leaden iceptre is known toprefidc, 
 where painful truths are blurted in the ears of 
 thofe who hoped they were concealed, where re- 
 proach and calumny fall without difcrimination 
 on the bell and worft of characters, is, in the 
 eftimation of the world, conceived to confer the 
 liighelt honour, and the greateft pleafure. But 
 he, who feels the divine energies of the foul, 
 turns with abhorrence from focieties which tend 
 to diminifh or impair their operations. To him 
 the fimpleft fare with freedom and content, hi 
 the bofoms of an affectionate family, is ten thou- 
 fand times more agreeable than the rareft dainty, 
 and the richefl wine, with a fociety where form 
 impofes a filent attention to the loquacity of 
 fome vain wit, whofe lips utter nothing but fa- 
 tiguing nonfenfe. 
 
 TRUE focial pleafure is founded on unlimited 
 confidence, congeniality of fentiment, and 
 mutual eflccm. The fpiritlefs and crowded fo- 
 r.jeties of the world, where a round of low and 
 
 C 4 little
 
 24 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 little pleafures fills the hour of entertainment, 
 and the higheft gratification is to difplay a pomp 
 of drefs and levity of behaviour, may perhaps 
 afford a glimpfe of joy to light and thoughtlefs 
 minds, eagerly impatient to remove the weight 
 which every vacant hour accumulates. But men 
 of reafon and reflection, inftead of fenfible con- 
 verfatiou or rational amufement, find only a 
 dull unvaried jargon, a tirefome round of com- 
 pliments, and turn with averfion from thefe tem- 
 ples of delight, or refort to them with coldnefs, 
 diflatisfaction, or difguft. 
 
 How tirefome do all the pleafures of the world 
 appear, when compared with the happinefs of a 
 faithful, tender, and enlightened friendfhip ! 
 How joyfully do we make off the fhackles of fo- 
 ciety for that high and intimate connection of the 
 foul, where our inclinations are free, our feel- 
 ings genuine, our fentiment unbiaffed ; where 
 a mutual confidence of thoughts and actions, of 
 pleafures and of pains uninterruptedly prevails; 
 where the heart is led by Joy along the path of 
 Virtue, and the mind conducted by Happinefs 
 into the bowers of Truth; where every thought 
 is anticipated before it efcapes from the lips; 
 where advice, confolation, fiiccour, are recipro- 
 cally given and received in all the accidents and 
 misfortunes of life. The foul, thus animated 
 
 by
 
 ON THfc MIND AND THE HEART. 25 
 by the charm of friendship, fprings from its 
 floth, and views the irradiating beams of 
 Hope breaking on its repofe. Cafting a re- 
 trofpeftive eye on the time that has part, the 
 happy pair mutually exclaim with the tendered 
 emotions, " Oh ! what pleafures have we not 
 44 already experienced, what joys have we not 
 already felt!" If the tear of affliaion fteal 
 down the cheek of the one, the other, with af- 
 fection, wipes it tenderly away. 1 he cleepeft 
 forrows of the one are felt with equal poignancy 
 by the other ; but what forrow can refill the con- 
 folation 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 have feen, all that they have heard, 
 all that they feel, and every thing they know. 
 Time flies before them on his fwifteft pinions. 
 The ear is never tired of the gratification of lif- 
 tening fo each other's converfation. The only 
 misfortune, of which they have any fear, is the 
 greateft they can poffibly experience, the misfor- 
 tune of being feparated by occafional abfence or 
 by death. 
 
 POSSESSED of fuch refined felicity, it mu ft not 
 be attributed to aufterity of chara&ep, or incivi- 
 lity of manners, but to a venial error of imagi- 
 nation, if the intercourfes of ordinary minds no 
 
 longer
 
 26 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 longer charm us; if we become infenfible to 
 their indifference, and carelefs of their averfion; 
 if in confequence of the fuperiority of our joys 
 we no longer mix in the noify pleafures of the 
 world, and fhun all fociety which has numbers 
 only for its recommendation. 
 
 BUT the lot of human blifs is tranfuory. Often 
 times, alas ! while we think our happinefs cer- 
 tain and fecure, an unforefeen and fudden blow 
 ftrikes, even in our very arms, the objecl of our 
 delight. Pleafure then appears to be for ever 
 cxtinguifhed ; the furrounding objecls feem de- 
 fert and forlorn; and every thing we behold ex- 
 cites emotions of terror and difmay. The arms 
 of fondnefs are in vain extended to embrace the 
 friend that is no more ; in vain the voice of ten- 
 dernefs articulates the beloved name. The ftep, 
 the well known ftep, feems fuddenly to ftrike 
 upon our liftening ear ; but reflection inter- 
 pofes, and the fancied founds are heard no more : 
 all is hum, ftill, and lifelefs : the very fenfe of 
 our exiftence is almoft dead. A dreary folitude 
 appears around us: and every perception of the 
 mind is loft in the benumbing forrows of the 
 heart. The fpirits wearied and dejefted, we 
 think affection is no more, and imagine that we 
 are no longer capable of loving, or of being be- 
 loved; and to a heart that has once tafted the 
 6 fympathies
 
 ON THE MIND AND TftE HEART, 27 
 
 fympathies of love, life without affe&ion is worfe 
 than death. The unfortunate being, who is thus 
 affecled, inclines therefore to live in Solitude, 
 and die alone. A tranfition fo fudden, from 
 the higheft happinefs to the deepeft mifery, over- 
 powers the mind ; no kind friend appears to af- 
 fuage his fufferingt;, or feems inclined to afford 
 him confolation, or to form an adequate idea of 
 his diftrefs: and indeed true it is, that the pangs 
 which fuch a lofs inflifts cannot be conceived, 
 unlefs they have been felt. 
 
 SOLITUDE under fuch circumstances enjoys 
 its higheft triumph : it is here that all its advan- 
 tages may be fully experienced ; for when wifely 
 applied, it will give immediate eafe to the mofl 
 rancorous wound that forrow ever made, and, in 
 the end, effecl a cure. 
 
 THE wounds of affli&ion however admit only 
 of a flow and gradual remedy. The art of living 
 alone requires a long initiation, is fubjecl; to a 
 variety of accidents, and depends materially upon 
 iituations fuitable to each particular character: 
 the mind, therefore, mufl have attained a full 
 maturity, before any confiderable advantage can 
 be expected from it. But he who has acquired 
 fufficient vigour to break the galling chains of 
 prejudice, and from his earlieft youth has felt 
 
 efteem
 
 i8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 efteem and fondnefs for the pleafures of retire- 
 ment, will not be at a lofs to know when he is 
 prepared to try the remedy. From the moment 
 he perceives himfelf indifferent to the objefts 
 which furround him, and that the gaieties of pub- 
 lic fociety have loft their charms, he will then 
 rely on the powers of his foul, and never be lefs 
 alone than in the company of himfelf. 
 
 MEN of genius are frequently condemned to 
 a toil as unfuited to the temper of their minds, as 
 a naufeous medicine is difagreeable to an empty 
 ftomach. Confined to fome dry and difgufting 
 fubjeft, fixed to a particular fpot, and harraffed 
 by the inextricable and impeding yoke in 
 which they are enthralled, they relinquifh all 
 idea of tranquillity on this fide the grave. De- 
 prived of engaging in the common pleafures of 
 life, every object which the world prefents to 
 their view increafes their difguft. It is not for 
 them, they exclaim, that the youthful zephyrs 
 call forth the budding foliage with their caref- 
 fing breath; that the feathered choir chant in 
 enlivening ftrains their rural fongs; that odori- 
 ferous flowers deck the gay bofom of the ver- 
 dant meads. Leave thefe complainants however 
 to themfelves, give them only liberty and leifure, 
 and the native enthufiafm of their minds willfoon 
 re-generate, and foar into the higheft region with 
 3 he
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 29 
 
 the bold wing and penetrating eye of the bird 
 of JOVE. 
 
 IF Solitude be capable of diffipating griefs of 
 this complexion, what effeft will it not produce 
 on the minds of men who have the opportunity 
 of retiring at pleafure to its friendly fhades, for 
 thofe true enjoyments, a pure air and domeftic 
 felicity ! When ANTISTHENES was afked, What 
 fervices he had received from philofophy ; he 
 anfwered, lt It has taught me to fubdue my- 
 " felf." POPE fays, that he never laid his head 
 upon his pillow without reflecling, that the moft 
 important leflbn of life was to learn the art of be- 
 ing happy within himfelf. It feems to me that 
 all thofe who are capable of living contentedly 
 at home, and being pleafed with every objecl 
 around them, even to the dog and the cat, have 
 found what POPE looked for. 
 
 THOSE pleafures and diflipations, which are 
 fought after with fo much eagernefs and anxiety, 
 have, in truth, the effect of producing the 
 moil fcrious reflection on our minds when we 
 commune with ourfelves. It is then that we 
 learn whether the true felicity of life confift in 
 the poffcfiion of thofe external objects which we 
 have no power either to alter or reform, or in 
 a due and proper regulation of ourfelves. It is 
 
 then
 
 3O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE. 
 
 then that we begin to perceive how falfe and 
 faithlefs thofe flattering illufions prove, which 
 feem to promife us fuch variety of happinefs. A 
 lady, pofTefTed of youth and beauty, wrote to 
 me one evening on returning from a celebrated 
 ridotto, " You obferved with what gaiety and 
 " content I quitted the fcene. Believe me, 1 
 " felt a void fo painful in my breaft at the fight 
 v of thofe factitious joys, that I could willingly 
 " have torn the flowery decorations from my 
 " drefs." 
 
 TnEpleafures of the world are vain and worth- 
 lefs, unlefs they render the heart more happy in 
 itfelf, and tend to increafe our domeftic felicity. 
 On the contrary, every fpecies of misfortune, 
 howeveraccumulated, may be borne by thofe who 
 poffefs tranquillity at home, who are cabable of 
 enjoying the privacy of fludy, and the elegant 
 recreation which books afford. Whoever is pof- 
 feffed of this refource has made confiderable 
 advances towards happinefs ; for happinefs does 
 not exact more from us than an inclination to re- 
 gulate the affections of the heart, and a difpo- 
 fition to control the paffions of the mind. A 
 celebrated philofopher, however, has with great 
 judgment obferved, that there is both pride and 
 falfehood in pretending that man alone is capa- 
 ble of effecting his own happinefs. But we are 
 
 mod
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 3! 
 
 moft certainly capable of modifying the natural 
 difpofitions of our fouls, of forming our taftes, 
 of varying our fentiments, of directing our in- 
 clinations, of fubduing even the paffions them- 
 felves; and we are then not only lefs fenfible of 
 all the wants of life, but feel even fatisfaclion 
 under circumftances which to others would ap- 
 pear intolerable. Health is, without doubt, 
 one of the molt elfential ingredients to happinefs ; 
 and yet there are circumftances under which even 
 the privation of it may be accompanied with tran- 
 quillity. How many times have I returned 
 thanks to the great Difpofer of human events, 
 when indifpofition has confined me at home, and 
 enabled md to invigorate the weakened functions 
 of my foul in quietude and iilence ! a happineft 
 that receded in proportion as convalefcence ad- 
 vanced. Obliged to drag through the ftreets of 
 the metropolis day after day during a number of 
 years; feeble in conftitution; weak in limbs; 
 fufceptible, on feeling the fmallefl cold, to the 
 fame fenfation as if knives were feparating the 
 flefh from the bone; continually furrounded in 
 the courfe of my profeffion with the moft afflict- 
 ing forrows ; it is not furprifing that I fliould feel 
 a gratitude for thofe pleafures which confinement 
 by indifpofui^n procured. 
 
 " A PHY-
 
 32 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 A PHYSICIAN, if he pofiefs fenfibility, muft, 
 in his employment to relieve the fufferings of 
 others, frequently forget his own. But alas ! 
 when fummoned and obliged to attend, what- 
 ever pain of body or of mind he may endure, on 
 ir.aladies which are perhaps beyond the reach of 
 his art, how much oftener muft his own fuffer- 
 ings be increafed by thofe which he fees others 
 feel! The anxiety which fuch a fceneimpofes 
 diftrafts the mind, and raifes every painful feel- 
 ing of the heart. Under fuch circumftances, an 
 incapacitating difeafe, however excruciating, is 
 to me a foft repofe, and the confinement it oc- 
 cafions a pleafmg folkude; provided peevifh 
 friends do not intrude, and politely difturb me 
 with their fatiguing vifits. In thefe moments I 
 pray Heaven to beftow its bleffings on thofe who 
 neglecl to overwhelm me with their idle conver- 
 fation, and, with the kindeft compaflion, forget 
 to difturb me by enquiries after my health. 
 If amidft all my pain I can remain a fingle day 
 quietly at home and employ my mind on lite- 
 rary lubjefts, undifturbed by vifitors, I receive 
 more real pleafure than our women of quality and 
 men of fafhion ever felt from all their feaftings 
 and entertainments. 
 
 THE fufpenfion from labour which Solitude 
 affords is in itfelf a confiderable advantage : for 
 
 to
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 73 
 
 so men whofe duties depend on the neceffities or 
 caprice of the public, from whom indefatigable 
 a&ivity is exa&ed, and who unavoidably pafs 
 their days in continual anxieties, a temporary 
 relief is in effect tranfcendem felicity. 
 
 AT every period of life, whether during the 
 ftrength of youth or the imbecillky of age, the 
 power of employing the mind in fome ufeful 
 or agreeable occupation banifhcs the dread of 
 folitude. 
 
 SOURED by difappoinlmenl, we Ihould en- 
 deavour to divert the mind by purfuing fome 
 fixed and pleafing courfe of ftudy. To read 
 without deriving fome advantage is impoffible, 
 provided we mark with a pen or pencil the 
 new ideas that may occur, and retain the obfer- 
 vations by which our own ideas are illuftrated 
 and confirmed ; for reading, unlefs we apply 
 the information it affords either to our own cha- 
 rafters or to thofe of other men, is ufelefs and 
 fatiguing : but this habit is eafily acquired, and 
 then books become a fafe and certain antidote to 
 lafiitude and difcontent. Painful and unplea- 
 fant ideas vanifh from the mind that is capable 
 of firmly fixing its attention on any particular 
 
 THE
 
 34 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THE fight of a noble and intercfting objeft, 
 the ftudy of an ufeful fcience, a pitlure in which 
 the various revolutions of fociety are hiftorically 
 difplayed, and the progrefs made in any particu- 
 lar art, agreeably rivet the attention, and banifh 
 forrow from the mind. 
 
 PLEASURES of this defcription, it is certain, 
 greatly tranfcend all thofe which adminifter 
 merely to the fenfes. I am aware that, in fpeak- 
 ing of the pleafures of the mind fublime medita- 
 tion, the profound deductions of reafon, and the 
 brilliant effufions of fancy, are in general under- 
 flood ; but there are alfo others, for the perfect 
 enjoyment of which neither extenfive knowledge 
 nor extraordinary talents are neceflary. Thefe arc 
 the pleafures which refult from ative labour; 
 pleafures that are equally within the reach of the 
 vulgar clown and refined philofopher, and no lefs 
 exquifite than thofe which refult folely from the 
 mind : manual exertions, therefore, ought never 
 to be defpifed. I am acquainted with gentlemen 
 who are inftructed in the mechanifm of their own 
 watches ; who are able to work as painters, lock- 
 finiths, carpenters ; and who are not only fur- 
 nilhed with almoft all the tools proper to every 
 branch of trade, but know alfo how to ufe them : 
 fuch characters never feel the leaft difquietude 
 
 from
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. J$ 
 
 from the want of fociety, and are in confequence 
 the happieft of men. 
 
 THE recreation, which the ftudy of any art or 
 fcience affords, depends in a great measure on the 
 labour it requires. But when a certain point of 
 perfection is once attained, the mind receives 
 pleafure in proportion to its exertions, and be- 
 ing fatisfied with itfelf, is proof againft t' e at- 
 tack of moral evils* To conquer difficulties is 
 to promote our pleafures ; and every time our 
 efforts are crowned with that fuccefs which pro- 
 mifes completion to our de fires, the foul, tran- 
 quil and contented within itfelf, feeks for no 
 higher pleafure* 
 
 THE bofoms of thofe who are free, eafy* 
 affe&ionate, contented with themfelves, and 
 pleafed with thofe about them, are ever open 
 to new delights. Ah ! how much preferable, 
 therefore, is the happinefs which a country 
 life affords, to that deceitful felicity which 
 is affe&ed in the courts of princes, and in 
 the brilliant circles of the great and gay ! & 
 truth feverely felt by men of worldly pleafure, 
 and confefied by the wrefl'.ef.hefs and languor of 
 Which they frequently complain ; complaints 
 unknown among the vallies of the Alps, of 
 Upon thofe mountains where innocence yet 
 D 2 dwells
 
 36 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 dwells, and which no vifitor ever 'quitted without 
 the tribute of a tear. 
 
 THE fatal poifon which lurks beneath the 
 manners of luxurious cities can only be avoided 
 by renouncing the infipid life in which the 
 inhabitants are engaged. ' Virtuous aBions 
 convey tranquillity to the foul ; and a joy 
 equally calm and permanent accompanies the 
 man into the clofeft recefles of retirement, whofc 
 mind is fixed upon difcharging the duties of hu- 
 manity. With what delight alfo do we dwell 
 upon the recital of our fchool adventures, the 
 wanton tricks of our youth. The hiftory of the 
 early periods of our lives, the remembrance of 
 our plays and paftimes, of the little pains and 
 puerile wifhes of our infancy, always recal to 
 our minds the mod agreeable ideas ! Ah ! with 
 what complacent fmiles, with what foft regret a 
 venerable old man turns his eyes upon the happy 
 sera when the incarnation of youth animated all 
 his joys, when he entered into every enterprize 
 with vigour, vivacity, and courage, when he 
 fought difficulties only to difplay his powers in 
 fubduing them. 
 
 LET us contrail the character we formerly bore 
 with that which we at prefent poflefs ; or, giving 
 a freer range to our ideas, let us reflect upon the 
 
 various
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 37 
 
 various events of which we have been witnefles, 
 upon the means by which empires have been 
 eftablifhed and deftroycd, upon the rapid pro- 
 grefs which the arts and fciences have made 
 within our own remembrance, upon the ad- 
 vancement of truth and the retreat of prejudice, 
 upon the afcendancy which ignorance and fu- 
 perftition {till maintain, notwithftanding the fu- 
 blime efforts of philofophy to fupprefs them, 
 upon the bright irradiations of intellect, and the 
 moral depravation of the heart, and the clouds of 
 languor will immediately difappear, and reftore 
 our minds to tranquillity and peace. 
 
 THE high felicity and variety of delight, fo 
 Superior to the gratifications of fenfe, which 
 Solitude affords to every reflecling mind, arc 
 capable of being relifhed 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 
 confliturion, a free fpirit, an eafy temper, has 
 added the advantages of a cultivated under- 
 ftanding, will here experience, while his heart 
 continues pure and his mind innocent, the high- 
 eft and moft unalterable pleafure. The love of 
 exercife animates all the faculties of the foul, 
 and increafes the energies of nature. Employ- 
 ment is the firft dcfire of every aftive mind. It 
 is the filent confcioufnefs of the fuperiority of / 
 D 3 our
 
 38 THE INFLUENCE OF SOL'TUDB 
 
 our nature, of the force of our intellectual pow. 
 ers of the high dignity of our character, which 
 infpire great fouls with that noble ardour which 
 carries them to the true fubiime. Conftrained 
 by the duties of their fituation to mix in the in- 
 tercourfes offociety; obliged to fubmit, in fpitc 
 of their inclination, to the frivolous and fa- 
 tiguing difiipations of the world, it is by with* 
 drawing from thefe tumultuous fcenes to the 
 filence of meditation, that men become fenfible 
 of the divine efferv> fcence of their fouls, feel 
 a wifh to break theii chains, to efcape from the 
 fervility of pleafure, and from all the noify and 
 tumultuous joys in which they are engaged, 
 \Ve never feel with higher energy and fatif- 
 faftion, with greater comfort and cordiality, that 
 we live, think, are reafonable beings, that we 
 are felf-aflive, free, capable of the moft fubiime 
 exertions, and partaking of immortality, than 
 in thofe moments when we (hut the door 
 againft the intrufions of impertinence and 
 fafliion. 
 
 Ftw things are more vexatious and infup, 
 portable than thofe taftelefs vifits, thofe annoy, 
 ing partialities, by which a life of lazy opulence 
 and wanton pleafure is occupied. " IV; y thoughts," 
 fays ROUSSEAU, 6 will only come when they 
 plcafe, and pot when I chopfe." The intrufion 
 
 of
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 39 
 of a ftranger therefore, 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 feldom experienced an hour of 
 tranquillity, felt fuch petulant indignation againft 
 the importunate civilities, and empty compli- 
 ments of common converfation, while he enjoyed 
 the rational intercourfe of fenfible and well- 
 informed minds with the higheft delight*. 
 
 THE dignity of the human character, alas! 
 foon becomes debafed by aflbciating with low 
 and little minds. How many rays of thought, 
 precious rays ! emanating immediately from the 
 Deity upon jthe mind of man, are extinguifhed 
 by the noxious vapours of ftagnated life ! But 
 it is meditation and reflection that muft give 
 them birth, elevate them to the heights of ge- 
 nius, make them fubfiftent with the nature of 
 the human MIND, and fuit them to the fpirit of 
 the human character. 
 
 VIRTU r s to which the foul cannot raife itfelf, 
 even in the moft amiable of all focieties, are fre- 
 
 * " I never could endure," fays ROUSSEAU, " the empty 
 " and unmeaning compliments of common converfation; but 
 ** from converfations ufeful or ingenious, I have always felt the 
 f( higheft pleafure, and have never refufed to partake of them." 
 
 D 4 quently
 
 40 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 quently produced by folitude. Separated by* 
 diftan from our friends, we feel ourfelves de- 
 prive 1 of the company of thofe who are deareft 
 to our hearts; and to relieve the dreary void, 
 -we afpire to the moil fublime efforts, and adopt 
 the boldeft refolutions. On the contrary, while 
 we are under the protecting care of friendfhip 
 and of love, while their kind offices fupply all 
 our wants, and their affectionate embraces lock 
 us eternally in their arms, we forget, in the 
 blandifhments. of fuch a ftate, almoft the fa- 
 culty of felf motion, lofe fight of the powers of 
 ac'tir.g from ourfelves, and feldom refkcl that 
 we may be reduced to the neceffity of fupporting 
 ourfelves under the adverfnies of life. To guard 
 againft this event therefore it is proper, by re- 
 tiring into Solitude, to try the ftrength of our 
 own powers, and learn to rely upon them. The 
 faculties of the foul, weakened by the ftorms of 
 life, then acquire new vigour, fix the fteady 
 eye of fortitude on the frowns of adverfity, and 
 learn to elude the threatening rocks on which 
 the happinefs of vulgar minds is fo frequently 
 wrecked, He who devotes his days to Solitude, 
 finds refources within himfelf of which he had 
 no idea, while philofi phy infpires him wiih cou- 
 rage to fuftain the molt rigorous {hocks of 
 fate. 
 
 THE
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 4! 
 THE difpofition of man becomes more firm, 
 his opinions more determined and correft. when, 
 urged by the tumults of life, he refle&s, in the 
 quietude of his heart, on his own nature and 
 the manners of the world. The conftitution of 
 a verfatile and undecided character proceeds en- 
 tirely from that intellectual weaknefs, which pre- 
 vents the mind from thinking for itfelf. Such 
 characters confult upon every occafioji the 
 ORACLE of public opinion, fo infallible in their 
 ideas, before they know what they ought to 
 think, or in what manner their judgment fhould 
 be formed, or their conduct regulated. 
 
 WEAK minds always conceive it mod fafe to 
 adopt the fentiments of the multitude. They 
 never venture to form an opinion upon any 
 fubjecl until the majority have decided. Thcfe 
 decifions, whether upon men or things, they 
 implicitly follow, without giving themfelves the 
 trouble to enquire who is right, or on which 
 fide TRUTH preponderates. A fpirit of truth 
 and love of equity, indeed, are only to be ex- 
 pc&ed from thofe who are fearlefs of living \ 
 alone. Men of diflipated minds never protecY 
 the weak, or avenge the opprelfed. 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 ca- 
 lumny ?
 
 4^ THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 lumny ? You mufl not hope for redrefs from 
 light characters, or for vindication from men of 
 diffipated lives 5 for they only repeat the voice 
 of error, and propagate the fallacies of pre- 
 judice. 
 
 To live in c olitude, to feel ourfelves alone, 
 only infpires fear, inafmuch as it contributes to 
 extinguifn one corporeal power by giving birth 
 to another. The powers of the mind, on the 
 contrary, augment in proportion as they become 
 more concentrated, when no perfon is united to 
 us, or ready to afford protection. Solitude is 
 neceflary to be fought by thofe who wifh to live 
 undifturbed, to mitigate the poignancy of painful 
 impreffions, to render the mind fuperior to the 
 accidents of life, or to gain fufficient intrepidity 
 to oppofe the danger of adverfity. How fmoothly 
 flows the ftream of life when we have no anxiety 
 to enquire " Who did this?" "Who faid that ?" 
 How many mifcrable prejudices, and ftill more 
 contemptible paffions, has one ferious reflection 
 fubdued ! How quickly, in fuch a fituation, 
 that flavifh, fhameful, and idolatrous veneration 
 fi,T every unworthy object difappears! With 
 what noble fpirit the votary of Solitude fear- 
 Icfsly difdains thofe chara6lers, who conceive 
 that high birth and illuRrious defcent confer a 
 privilege to tyrannize over inferior men, to 
 
 whom
 
 CN THE MIND AND THE HEART. 43 
 
 whom they frequently afford fo many reafons for 
 contempt. 
 
 AN ingenious and celebrated obferver of 
 men and things informs us, it is in leifure and 
 retirement alone that the foul exalts itfelf into a 
 fublime fuperiority over the accidents of life, 
 becomes indifferent 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 
 fuffer. It is in Solitude alone that thofe noble 
 and refined ideas, thofe profound principles, and 
 unerring axioms, which form and fupport every 
 great character, are developed. Even pKlofo-* 
 phy itfelf, continues this excellent philolopher, 
 in his obfervations upon CFCE^O, and thofe 
 deep theories upon which the fublime conduft of 
 THE STATESMAN is founded, and which enable him 
 to perform with excellence the important duties 
 with which he is charged, are formed in the 
 filence of Solitude, in fome diftant retirement 
 from the great theatre of the world. 
 
 As Solitude, therefore, not only gives firm- 
 jiefs to the characters and propriety to the fenti- 
 mentsofmen, but leads the mind to a true de- 
 gree of elevation, fo likewife there is no other 
 fituation in which we fo foon acquire the im- 
 portant knowledge of ourfelves. 
 
 RETIRE-
 
 44 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 RETIREMENT connects us more clofely with 
 our own bofoms; for we there live in habits of 
 the ftricleft intimacy only with ourfelves. It is 
 certainly poffiblc for men to be deliberate and 
 
 wife even amidft all the tumultuous follv of the 
 
 j 
 
 world, efpecially if their principles 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 recommend themfelves 
 only by their vices ! How many profligate vil- 
 lains and unprincipled adventurers,ofinfmuating 
 manners, are well received by fociety, only be- 
 caufe they have learnt the art of adminiftering to 
 the follies, the weaknefles, the vices of thofc 
 who lead the f-ifhion. How is it poflible that the 
 mind, intoxicated with the fumes of that incenfe 
 which Flattery burns to its honour, fhould be 
 capable of knowing or appreciating the charac- 
 ters of men. But on the contrary, in the filence 
 and tranquillity of retirement, whether we be 
 led by inclination to the fludy of ourfelves, 
 awakened to reflection by a fenfe of mifery, or 
 compelled to think ferioufly on our fituation, and 
 to examine the inward complexion of the heart, 
 we difcern what we are, and learn from convic- 
 tion what we ought to be. 
 
 Hovr
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. A.$ 
 
 How many new and ufeful difcoveries may 
 be made by occafionally forcing ourfelves from 
 the vortex of the world to the calm enjoyments 
 of ftudy and reflection! To accomplifh this end, 
 it is only neceffary to commune ferioufiy with 
 our hearts, and to examine our conduft with 
 candour and impartiality. The man of worldly 
 pleafure, indeed, has reafon to mun this felf- 
 cxamination, confcious that the refult of the en- 
 quiry would be extremely unfavourable : for he 
 who only judges of himfelf by the flattering opi- 
 nion which others have been plea fed to exprefs 
 of his character, will, in fuch a fcrutiny, behold 
 with furprize, that he is the miferable (lave of 
 faftiion, habit, and public opinion; fubmitting 
 with laborious diligence, and the utmoft pof- 
 fible grace, to the exaflions of politenefs, and 
 the authoritative demands of eflablifhed cere- 
 mony; never venturing to cont;adi6l the im~ 
 perious voice of fafhion, however fenfelefs and 
 abfurd its dictates may appear; obfequioufly 
 following the example of others, giving credit 
 to every thing they fay, doing every thing they 
 do, and not daring to condemn thofe 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 
 aBions are infpired by a bafe fear of himfelf, or 
 
 arife
 
 46 THE 'NFLUENCE OF SOLlTtTDiE 
 
 arife from a fervile complaifance to others; that" 
 in the company of princes and ftatefmcn he only 
 feeks to flatter their vanities, and indulge their 
 caprices; that by his devotion to politcnefs, he 
 fubmits to become the minifter of their vices, 
 rather than offer them the finalleft contradiction, 
 or hazard an opinion that is likely to give them 
 the kafl difpleafure. Whoever with calm con- 
 fideration views this terrifying pi clure, will feel, 
 in the filent emotions of his heart, the neceflity 
 of occalionally retiring into Solitude, and feek- 
 ing fociety with men of nobler fentiments and 
 purer principles. 
 
 THE violent alternatives of pleafure and pairfj 
 of hope and fear, of content and mortification, 
 inceflantly torment the mind that has not cou- 
 rage to contemn the objecls of fenfe. 1 he 
 virtues fly from the heart that yields to every 
 momentary irnpreffion, and obeys the impulfe 
 of every feeling. The virtues difdain to dwell 
 in the bofoms of thole who, following the 
 example of the times, are guided in all their 
 actions by finifter motive:., and directed to every 
 end by the mean confederation of felf-intereft 
 either immediate or remote. But even to thofe 
 in whofe bofoms the virtues love to dwell, it 
 is necefTary to retire into Solitude from the 
 daily dangers of the world, and filently efli- 
 
 mate
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 47 
 mate the true value of things, and the real merit 
 of human a&ions, in order to give them dignity 
 and effect. The mind, debafed by the corrup- 
 tions of the world, has no idea of relinquifhing 
 the profpeft of prefent benefit, and makinga noble 
 facrifice of glory and of fortune. No action is 
 there appreciated by its its intrinfic merit; on the 
 contrary, every calculation is made upon the vile 
 notion of lucre, and the garb of virtue only af- 
 fumed as a means of fnatching fome poor ad- 
 vantage, of obtaining fome paltry honour, or of 
 gaining an undeferved good name. The vifit of 
 a worldly minded man to thofe who, from their 
 power and fuperiority, might, if they were equally 
 bafe and contemptible, prejudice his interefts, 
 confifts of fervility, flattery, lying, calumny, and 
 cringing; and he departs only to aft new fcenes 
 ef bafenefs elfewhere. 
 
 MANT difcovers with deeper penetration the 
 extent and nature of the paffions by which he is 
 fwayed, when he re. Heels on their power in the 
 calmnefs and filence of Solitude, where the foul, 
 being lefs frequently fufpended between hope 
 and fear, acls with greater freedom. How vir- 
 tuous, alas! do we all become under the pref- 
 fure of calamity! How fubmifllve, howindul- 
 gent, how kind is man, when the finger of God 
 chaftifes his frailties, by rendering his hopes de- 
 
 lufive,
 
 48 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 lufive, and his fchcmes abortive ; when the Al- 
 mighty Power humbles human pride, converts 
 his wifdom into folly, his profoundeft counfels 
 into manifeft and ftriking inftances of madnefs ! 
 At fuch a moment the careffes of a child, the 
 moft diftant civility from inferiors, afford the 
 higheft comfort. In Solitude this melancholy 
 fcene foon changes ; misfortune wears a different 
 afpeft; fenfibility becomes lefs acute; the fuf- 
 ferings of the mind decreafe ; and the foul, rifing 
 from its dejection, acquires a knowledge of its 
 faculties, becomes indifferent to every external 
 object, and, feeling the extent of its powers, 
 difcovcrs its fuperiority over all thofe circum- 
 (lances which before gave alarm to fear and 
 weaknefs. 
 
 SHELTERED in the retreats of Solitude from 
 the extremes of fortune, and lefs expofed to the 
 intoxication of fuccefs, or the depreffion of dif- 
 appointment, life glides eafily along like the 
 fhadow of a paffing cloud. ADVERSITY needs 
 not here intrude to teach us how infignificant we 
 are in the eyes of God, how helplefs without his 
 afliftance, how much our unchecked pride poi- 
 fons the happinefs of life, torments the heart, 
 and becomes the endlefs and increafing fource of 
 human mifery ; for in the calm regions of re- 
 tirement, undifturbed by treacherous fondnefs 
 i or
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 49 
 
 or groundless hate, if even hope fhoujd difappearj 
 and every comfort vanifh from our view, we are 
 (till capable of fubmitting to the ftroke of fate 
 with patience and refignation. 
 
 IJET every one, therefore, who wiflies to 
 think with dignity or live with eafe, feek the 
 retreats of folitude, and enter into a friendly 
 intercourfe with his own heart. How fmall a 
 portion of true philofophy, with an enlightened 
 underftanding, will render us humble and com- 
 pliant ! But, in the mills of prejudice, dazzled 
 by the intellectual glimmer of falfe lights, every 
 one miflakes the true path, and feeks for happi- 
 nefs in the fhades of darkncfs and in the laby- 
 rinths of obfcurity. The habits of retirement 
 and tranquillity can alone enable us to make a 
 juft eftimate of men and things, and it is by re- 
 nouncing all the prepofleffions which the cor- 
 ruptions of fociety have implanted in the mind,- 
 that we make the firft advances towards the 
 federation of reafon, and the attainment of 
 felicity. 
 
 SOLITUDE will afford us this advantage, if, 
 when we are there alone before God, and far 
 retired from the obfervation of men, the filent 
 language of confcience -mew to us the imper- 
 our characters, and the difficulties we 
 E have
 
 50 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 have yet to furmount before we can attain the 
 excellence of which our nature is capable. In 
 fociety men mutually deceive each other : they 
 make a parade of learning, arTe6l fentiments 
 which they do not poflefs, dazzle the obferver 
 by borrowed rays, and in the end miflead them- 
 felves by the illufions which they raife. But in 
 Solitude, far removed from the guile of flattery 
 and falfehood, accompanied by truth and fol- 
 lowed by virtue, the mind enters into a clofe 
 acquaintance with itfelf, forms its judgments with 
 accuracy, and feels the ineftimable value of Sin- 
 cerity and finglenefs of heart : and thefe qualities 
 can never prove injurious in the retreats of Soli- 
 tude; formo'ral excellence is not there an objeft 
 of either ridicule or contempt. There the mind 
 compares the falfe appearances of the world with 
 the reality of things, and finds that the advantages 
 which they feemed to promife, and the fpecious 
 virtues which they only appeared to poffefs, va- 
 nifli like an airy vapour. The pride of human 
 wit, the falfe conclufions of reafon, the abfurdi- 
 ties of vanity, and the weaknefifcs of the heart, 
 all the oftentations of felf-love, all that is im- 
 perfect in our faired virtues, in our fublimcft 
 conceptions, in our moft generous actions, are 
 delineated in Solitude to the eye of impartiality 
 by the pencil of truth. Is it poflible to acquire 
 fo perfeft a knowledge of ourfclves in the world, 
 2 amidft
 
 ON THE MIND A\ T D THE HEART. 5! 
 
 amidft the buftle of bufinefs, and among the 
 increafing dangers of public life ? 
 
 To fubdue thofe dangerous paffions and in- 
 clinations which pleafe while they corrupt the 
 heart, it is necefiary to divert the attention, 
 and to attach ourfelves to different purfuits; but 
 it is in Solitude only that thefe falutary purfuits 
 are to be found; it is here alone that new fenti- 
 ments and new ideas continually arife, and, from 
 inexhauftible refources, inflil themfelves into 
 the mind with irrefiftible force and energy. 
 Solitude, even to the idle, will mitigate the in- 
 temperance of defire ; but to the aftive it will 
 afford complete victory over all the moft ir- 
 regular inclinations of the heart. 
 
 SNATCHED from the illuiions of fociety, from 
 the fnares of the world, and placed in the fe- 
 curity of retirement, we view every objec): in its 
 true form, as well under the diftra&ions of mif- 
 fortune, as in the pangs of ficknefs and the an- 
 guifh of death; the vanity of thofe wifnes which 
 external objects have excited appear in full 
 view, and we difcover the neceffuy of curbing 
 extravagance of thought and licentioufnefs of 
 defire. The deceitful veil of falfe appearance is 
 removed; and he who in the world was raifed as 
 much above others as by his faults and vices he 
 E 2 ought
 
 C2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ought to have funk beneath them, perceives 
 thofe imperfections which flattery had concealed, 
 and which a crowd of miferable flaves had the 
 bafenefs and the cowardice to praife and juftify. 
 
 To acquire durable pleafures and true felicity, 
 it is.neceffary to adopt that judicious and rational 
 philofophy which confiders life in a ferious point 
 of vie\s', courts enjoyments which neither time 
 nor accident can deftroy, and looks with an eye 
 of pity on the flupid vulgar, agitating their minds 
 and tormenting their hearts in fplendid miferies 
 and childifh converfations. Thofe, however, on 
 the contrary, who l)ave no knowledge of their 
 own hearts, who have no habits of reflection, no 
 means of employment, who have not perfevered 
 I in virtue, and 'are unable to liften to the voice of 
 , reafon, have nothing to hope from Solitude; 
 : their joys are all annihilated, when the blood has 
 loft its warmth and the fenfes their force ; the 
 moft trifling inconvenience, the Icaft reverfe of 
 fortune, fills them with the deepeft diftrefs; their 
 hearts beat to the terrors of an alarmed imagina- 
 tion, and their minds fall under the tortures of 
 unwarranted defpair. 
 
 WE have hitherto only pointed out one por- 
 tion of the general advantages of Solitude ; there 
 are, however, many others which touch men 
 
 more
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 53 
 
 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 friendfhip, fought relief under us falutary 
 fhades ? Happy is the being who is fenfible of 
 the advantages of a religious retirement from the 
 world, of a facred tranquillity, wh .re all the be- 
 nefits to be derived from fociety imprefs them- 
 felves more deeply in the heart, where every 
 hour is confec rated to the practice of the pure 
 and peaceful" virtues, and in which 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 
 philofopher with thofe of a worldly fenfualift; 
 the tirefome and tumultuous life of the one with 
 the eafe and tranquillity of the other; when we 
 oppofe the horrors which difturb the death-bed 
 of the worldly-minded man with the peaceful exit 
 of thofe pious fouls who fubmit with refignation 
 to the will of Heaven. It is at this awful moment 
 that we feel how important it is, if we would 
 bear the fufferings of life with dignity and the 
 pains of death with eafe, to turn the eye inwardly 
 upon ourfelves, and to hold a religious com- 
 munion with our Creator. 
 
 E 3 SOLJ.
 
 54 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 SOLITUDE affords inconteftable advantages 
 under the greateft adverfities of life. The fick, 
 the forrowful, and the faftidious, here find equal 
 relief; it adminifters a balm to their tortured 
 fouls, heals the deep and painful wounds they 
 have received, and in time reflores them to their 
 priftine health and vigour. 
 
 SICKNESS and affliction would flee with hor- 
 ror from the retreats of Solitude, if their friendly 
 fhades did not afford 'a confolation not to be 
 obtained in the temples of worldly pleafure. In 
 the hour of ficknefs, the fuhtle vapours which 
 the flame of fenfuality fheds round a ftate of 
 health entirely difappears ; and all thofe charms 
 which fubfifl rather in imagination than in reality 
 lofe their power. To the happy, every objet 
 wears the delightful colours of the rofe ; but to 
 the miferable all is black and dreadful. Both 
 thefe defcriptions of men run into equal ex- 
 tremes, and do not difcover the errors into which 
 they are betrayed, until the moment when the 
 curtain drops, until the fcene is changed, and the 
 illufion diflipated. But when the imagination is 
 filenced, they awaken from the dream ; then the 
 one perceives that God employs his attention in 
 the prefervation of his creatures, even when he 
 fees them the mofl abandoned and profligate ; 
 and the others, when they fcrioufly commune 
 
 with
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 55 
 
 with themfelves, and refleft upon their fituation 
 and the means of attaining true happinefs, dif- 
 cover the vanity of thofe pleafures and amufc- 
 ments to which they furrendered the mod im- 
 portant period of their lives. 
 
 How unhappy fhould we be if the Divine Pro- 
 vidence were to grant us every thing we defire ! 
 Even under the afflictions by which man con- 
 ceives all the happinefs of his life annihilated, 
 God perhaps purpofes fomething extraordinary 
 in his favour. New circumftances excite new 
 exertions. A life paffed in mental and moral 
 inactivity will, in Solitude, experience a fudden 
 change ; for the mind, by earneftly endeavour- 
 ing to conquer misfortune, frequently receives 
 new life and vigour, even when it feems con- 
 demned to eternal inactivity and oblivion. 
 
 BUT there are ftill greater advantages : if for- 
 row force us into Solitude, patience and perfe- 
 verance foon reflore the foul to its natural tran- 
 quillity and joy. We ought never to read in the 
 volume of futurity ; ive /ball only deceive ourfehes : 
 on the contrary, we ought for ever to repeat this 
 experimental truth, this confolatory maxim, i hat 
 the objects, which men behold at adillance with 
 fear and trembling, lofe, on a nearer approach, 
 not only their difagreeable and menacing afpefl;, 
 4 but
 
 56 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 but frequently', in the event, produce the moft 
 agreeable and unexpected pleafures. He who 
 tries every expedient, who boldly oppofcs him- 
 fclf to every difficulty, who ftands Heady and 
 inflexible to every obftacle, who neglefts no 
 exertion within his power, and relies with con- 
 fidence upon the affiftance of God, extracts from 
 affliction both its poifon and its fling, and 
 deprives misfortune of its victory. 
 
 SORROW, misfortune, and ficknefs, foon recon- 
 cile us to Solitude. How readily we renounce 
 the world, how indifferent we become to all its 
 pleafures, when the infidious eloquence of the 
 paffions is filenced, when we are diftratled by 
 pain, oppreffed by grief, and deferted by all our 
 powers ! Under fuch circumHances, we immedi- 
 ately perceive the weaknefs and inflability of thofe 
 fuccours which the world affords; where pain is 
 mixed with every joy, and vanity reigns through- 
 out. How many ufeful truths, alas ! does fick- 
 nefs teach even to kings and minifters, who while 
 in health fuffcr themfelves i;o be deluded and 
 impofed upon by all mankind! 
 
 THE opportunity which a valetudinarian en- 
 joys of employing his faculties with facility and 
 fuccefs, in a manner conformable to the extent of 
 his defigns, is undoubtedly fiiort, and pafles ra- 
 pidly away. Such Lappinefs is the lot only of, 
 
 o thofe
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 57 
 
 thofe who enjoy robuft health : they alone can 
 exclaim " Time is my oivn : but he who labours 
 under continual fickncfs and fuffering, and 
 whofc avocations depend on the public neceflity 
 or caprice, can never fay that he has one mcmen t 
 to himfelf. He muft watch the fleeting hours as 
 they pafs, and feize an interval of leifure when 
 and where he can. Neceffity as well as reafon 
 convinces him, that he muft, in fpite of his daily 
 fufferings, his wearied body, or his harraffed mind, 
 firmly refill his accumulating troubles ; and, if 
 he would fave himfelf from becoming the vilim 
 of dejection, he muft manfully combat the dif- 
 ficulties by which he is attacked. The more we 
 enervate ourfelves, the more we become the prey 
 of ill health; but determined courage and ob- 
 ftinate refiftance frequently renovate our powers ; 
 and he who, in the calm of Solitude, vigorously 
 wreftles with misfortune, is certain, in the event, 
 of gaining a victory. 
 
 THE pains of ficknefs, however, are apt too 
 eafily to liften to the voice of indulgence; we 
 negleft to exercife the powers we poffefs ; and 
 inftead of directing the attention to thofe objects 
 which may divert dillraction and ftrengthen for- 
 titude, we fofter fondly in our bofoms all the 
 difagreeable circumftances of our lituation. The 
 foul finks from inquietude to inquietude, lofes all 
 
 its
 
 5$ THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 its powers, abandons its remaining reafon, and 
 feels, from its increafing agonies and fufferings, 
 no confidence in its own exertions. The valetudi- 
 narian fhould force his mind to forget its troubles; 
 {hould endeavour to emerge from the heavy at- 
 mofphere by which he is enveloped and depreiTed. 
 From fuch exertions he will certainly find im- 
 mediate relief, and be able to accomplifh that 
 which before he conceived impoflible. For this 
 purpofe, however, he muft firft difmifs the phy- 
 ficians who daily vifit him to a/certain the Mate of 
 Jiis health; who feel his pulfe with a ludicrous 
 gravity, ferioufly fhake their heads, and perform 
 many other affefted, ridiculous, and accuftomed 
 tricks : but who,, from their great attention to 
 difcovcr what does not exift, frequently overlook 
 thofe fymptoms that are moft plainly to be feen. 
 Thefe pretenders to fcience only alarm the pa- 
 tient, rivet more clofely in his mind thofe ap- 
 prehenfions which it would be ferviceable to him 
 to forget, and redouble his fufferings by the be- 
 neficial ideas of danger, which they raife from 
 the moft trifling and immaterial circumflances 
 of his diforder. He muft alfo forbid his friends, 
 and all thofe who furround him, to humour his 
 weakneffes; he muft requeft they will not rely 
 upon all he fays ; for if his fenfations be real, his 
 own imagination will form a fufficient variety 
 of gloomy phantoms and terrifying chimaeras. 
 
 UNDER
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 59 
 
 UNDER fituations ftill more difficult to fupport, 
 there yet remain refources and confolations in the 
 bofom of Solitude. Are the nerves damaged? 
 Is the head tortured by vertigoes ? Has the mind 
 no longer any power to think, the eye to read, 
 the hand to write ? Has it become phyfically im- 
 poffible to exercife any of the functions of the 
 foul ? In fuch a fituation we muft learn "TO 
 VEGETATE," faid one of the mod enlightened 
 philofophers of Germany, when he beheld me 
 at Hanover, 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 
 fpeak, when you mewed me the neceffity of 
 learning to fupport myfelf under my accumulated 
 calamities, by convincing me that you had ex- 
 perienced equal fufferings, ind had been able to 
 pra&ife the lefTons which you taught I 
 
 THE fublime MENDELSSOHN, during a certain 
 period of his life, was frequently obliged to retire, 
 when difcourfing on' philofophical fubjecls, to 
 avoid the danger of fainting. In thefe moments 
 it was his cuftom to neglecl all ftudy, to banifh 
 thought entirely from his mind. His phy- 
 fician one day afked him, " How then do you 
 " employ your time, if you do not think ?" 
 " I retire to the window of my chamber, 
 
 4i and
 
 63 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " and count the tiles upon the roof of my 
 16 neighbour's houfe." 
 
 WITHOUT thy tranquil wifdom, O my beloved 
 MENDELSSOHN ! without thy refignation to the 
 will of HEAVEN, \ve can never reach that ele- 
 vated grandeur of character, can never attain to 
 that dignified endurance of our fufFerings, can 
 never poflefs that ftoic fortitude, which places 
 human happinefs beyond the reach of mifery, 
 and out of the power of fate. Thy great ex- 
 ample pours confolation into the heart; and hu- 
 manity mould behold with grateful joy the fu- 
 periority which refignation affords to us, even 
 under the fevcreft of phyfical misfortunes. 
 
 A SLIGHT effort to obtain the faintefl ray of 
 comfort,, and a calm refignation under inevitable 
 misfortunes, will mutually contribute to procure 
 relief. The man whofe mind adheres to virtue 
 will never permit himfelf to be fo far overcome 
 by the fenfe of misfortune, as not to endeavour 
 to vanquifh his feelings, even when extreme 
 dcfpair obfcures every profpecl of comfort 
 or confolation. The moft dejefted bofom* may 
 endure fenfations deeply afflicling, provided 
 the mind will endeavour, by adopting fenti-. 
 ments of virttfe, generofity, and heroic great- 
 pefs, to prevent the foul from brooding over. 
 
 its
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 6l 
 
 its forrows. To this end alfo it is neceflary 
 to cultivate a fondnefs for activity, and to 
 force exertion until the defire of employment 
 becomes habitual. A regular employment is, 
 in my opinion, the fureft and moll efficacious 
 antidote to that laflitudc, acerbity, and deje&ion, 
 which wounded fpirits and nervous aife&ion* 
 are apt to produce. 
 
 THE influence of the mind upon the body is 2 
 truth highly ufeful and confolatory to thofe who 
 are fubjeft to conftitutional complaints. Sup- 
 ported by this idea, reafon'is never entirely fub- 
 dued ; religion maintains its empire in the 
 bread; and the lamentable truth, that men of 
 the fined fenfibiliries and mod cultivated under- 
 ftandings frequently pofiefs lefs fortitude under 
 afflictions than the mod vulgar of mankind, re- 
 mains unknown. CAMP AN ELLA, incredible as 
 it may feem, by gloomy reflections indicled tor- 
 ments on his mind more painful than even thofe 
 of the rack could have produced. I can, how- 
 ever, from my own experience, aflert, that 
 even in the extremity of didrefs every objeft 
 which diverts the attention foftens the evils 
 we endure, and frequently drives them, uu- 
 perceived, away.
 
 62 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 BY diverting the attention many celebrated 
 philofophershave been able not only to preferve 
 a tranquil mind in the midft of the mod poignant 
 iufferings, but have even increafed the ftrength 
 of their intelle&ual faculties in fpite of their cor- 
 poreal pains. ROUSSEAU compofed the greater 
 part of his immortal works under the continual 
 preffure of ficknefs and of grief. GELLERT, who, 
 by his mild, agreeable, and inftruSive writings, 
 has become the preceptor of Germany, certainly 
 found in this interefting occupation the furcft 
 remedy againft melancholy. MFNDELSSOIIN, at 
 an age far advanced -in life, and not naturally 
 fubjet to dejection, was for a long time op- 
 prefled by an almoft inconceivable derangement 
 of the nervous fyftem ! but by fubmitting with 
 patience and docility to his fufferings, he (till 
 maintains all the noble and fublime advantages 
 of his youth. GARVE, who had lived whole year's 
 \vithout being able to read, to write, or to think, 
 afterwards compofed his Treatife on CICERO; 
 and in that work, this profound writer, fo cir- 
 cimifpect in all his exprcffions, that he would 
 have been fenfibly affected if any word too em- 
 phatic had dropped from his pen, with a fpecies 
 of enthufiafm returns thanks to Almighty God 
 for the imbecility of his conftitution, becaufe it 
 had convinced him of the cxtenfive influence 
 
 which
 
 ON THE MiND AND THE HEART. 63 
 
 which the powers of the mind poffefs over thofe 
 of the body. 
 
 A FIRM retaliation, and always keeping fomc 
 noble and interefting end fteadily in view, will 
 enable us to endure the moll poignant affliction. 
 In all great and imminent dangers, nature in- 
 fpires the breaft with heroic courage ; and even 
 in the little crofies of life, it is a quality much 
 oftener found than patience : but perfeverance 
 under evils of long duration is rarely feen, efpe- 
 cially when the foul, enervated by its forrows, 
 abandons itfelf to its moft ordinary refuge, de- 
 fpair, and looks up to Heaven alone for pro- 
 teclion. 
 
 OF all the calamities of life, therefore, melan- 
 choly is the moft fevere ; and of all the remedies 
 againft it, there is none more efficacious than 
 regular, uninterrupted employment. The mo- 
 ment we make it a rule never to be idle, and to 
 bear our fufferings with patience, the anguifli of 
 the foul abates. A fondnefs for atlivity, and an 
 endeavour to repel incumbent mifery by mo- 
 derate but continued efforts, infpire the mind 
 with new powers; a i'mall victory leads to a 
 greater; and the joy which fuccefs infpires im- 
 mediately banifhes the idea of endlefs forrow. 
 When the efforts of reafon and virtue no longer 
 
 pro-
 
 64 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 produce a falutary effect, the mind fhould be di- 
 verted to fome pleafing, unimportant object, 
 which may rather engage its attention than exer- 
 cife its powers; for the flighted exertion will fre- 
 quently fubdue the fevereft forrow. The (hades 
 of melancholy difappear the moment any obje6l 
 interefts the mind. Even that filpinenefs, apathy, 
 and deep defpair, which rejeft. all advice and 
 confolatidn, are oftentimes, alas ! nothing more 
 than a difguifed indulgence of vexation and ill- 
 humour. This is, however, a real malady of the 
 mind, which it is impoffible to conquer but by a 
 firm and conftant perfeverance. 
 
 To men who poffefs a fenfibility too refined, 
 an imagination too ardent, to mix with comfort 
 in the fociety of the world, and who are con- 
 tinually complaining of men and things, Soli- 
 tude is not only defirable, but abfolutely ne- 
 ceffary. He who fuffers himfelf to be afflicled 
 by that which fcarcely excites an emotion in the 
 breafts of other men ; who complains of thofe 
 misfortunes as fevere, which others fcarcely feel; 
 whofe mind falls into defpair, unlefs hishappinefs 
 be inftantly reftored, and his wants immediately 
 fatisfied; who fuffers unceafing torments from 
 the illufions of his fancy ; who feels himfelf un- 
 happy only becaufe profperity does not antici- 
 pate his wiflies; who murmurs againft the blcff- 
 
 ings
 
 bN THE MIND AND THE HEART. 6> 
 ings 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 fo- 
 ciety; and if Solitude have not power to heal 
 his wounded fpirit, the earth certainly contains 
 no remedy to cure him. 
 
 MEN, who, in other refpeQs, poflefs rational 
 minds, feeling hearts, and pious difpofitions, 
 frequently fall into low fpirits and defpair; but 
 it is almoft entirely their own fault. If it pro- 
 ceed, as is generally the cafe, from unfounded 
 fears ; if they love to torment themfelves and 
 others upon every flight inconvenience, upon 
 the fmalleft derangement of their health ; if they 
 conftantly refort to medicine for that relief which 
 reafon alone can afford j if they will not endea- 
 vour to reprefs the wanderings of their fancies; 
 if, after having fupported the acuteft 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 
 only to complain of the want of courage in 
 themfelves : fuch characters, who by a {ingle 
 effort of the underftanding might look with an 
 eye of compofure and tranquillity on the mul- 
 tiplied and fatal fires iffuing from the dreadful 
 F cannon's
 
 66 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 cannon's mouth, fall under the apprehenfion of 
 being fired at by pop-guns. 
 
 FIRMNESS, refolution, and all thofe qualities 
 of the foul which form a ftoic heroifm of cha- 
 racter, are much fooner acquired by a quiet 
 communion with the heart, than in the noify inter- 
 courfes of mankind, where innumerable difficul- 
 ties continually oppofe us; where ceremony, 
 fervility, flattery, and fear, not only obftrucl the 
 exertions of the mind, but deftroy its powers; 
 and where, for this reafon, men of the weakeft 
 minds and moil contracted notions become more 
 aftive and popular, gain more attention, and are 
 better received, than men of feeling hearts and 
 liberal understandings. 
 
 THE mind fortifies itfelf with impregnable 
 ftrength under the fliades of Solitude againft 
 fufferings and affliflion. In retirement, the fri- 
 volous attachments which fteal away the foul, 
 and drive it wandering, as chance may direft, 
 into a dreary void, die away. Renouncing a 
 multiplicity of enjoyments, from an experience 
 of how few we want, we foon gain fo covnpleat a 
 knowledge of ourfclves, that we are not furprifed 
 when the Almighty chaftifcs us with affiiclion, 
 humbl&i our proud fpirits, difappoints our vain 
 conceits, retrains the violence of our paflions, 
 
 and
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 6/ 
 
 and brings us back to a lively fenfe of our inanity 
 and weaknefs. How many important truths do 
 we here learn, of which the worldly-minded man 
 has no idea; truths which the torrent of vanity 
 overwhelmed in his difiipated foul ! Cafting the 
 calm eye of reflection on ourfelves, and on the 
 objefts which furround us, how familiarifed we 
 become to the lot of mortality ! how different 
 every thing appears ! the heart expands to every 
 noble fentiment; the blufh of confcience reddens 
 on the cheek; the mind reaches its fublimeil 
 conceptions; and boldly taking the path of vir- 
 tue, we lead a life of innocence and eafe. 
 
 THE unfortunate being who deplores the death 
 of fome beloved friend, conftantly feels a ftrong 
 defire to withdraw from the intercourses of fo- 
 ciety ; but his worldly friends unite to deftroy 
 the laudable inclination. They avoid all con- 
 verfation with the unhappy fufferer on the fub- 
 jecl of his lofs; think it more confolatory to fur- 
 round him with a crowd of acquaintance, cold 
 and indifferent to the event, who think their du- 
 ties 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. 
 
 F 2 " LEAVE
 
 68 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLlTtfDE 
 
 "LEAVE ME TO MYSELF!" I exclaimed a 
 thoufand times, when, \vithin two years after 
 my arrival in GERMANY, I loft the lovely idol 
 of my heart, the amiable companion of my 
 former days. Her departed fpirit ftill hover* 
 round me : the tender recollection of her fo- 
 ciety, the afflicting remembrance of her fuffer- 
 ings on my account, are always prefent to my 
 mind. What purity and innocence! what mild- 
 nefs 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 Ihe reclined upon her pillow, while I read 
 to her " The Death of Chrift," by RAMMLER, 
 fhe caft her eyes over the page, and filently 
 pointed out to me the following paflage : <{ My 
 * { breath grows weak, my days are fhortened, 
 ** my heart is full of affliction, and my foul pre- 
 " pares to take its flight." Alas ! when I recal 
 all thofe circumftances to my mind, and re- 
 collect how impofEble it was for me to abandon ' 
 the world at that moment of anguifh and diftrefs, 
 when I carried the feeds of death within my bo- 
 fom, when I had neither FORTITUDE to bear 
 my afflictions, nor COURAGE to refift them, while 
 I was yet purfued by malice and outraged by 
 calumny, I can eafily conceive, in fuch a fitua- 
 tion, that my exclamation might be, ' Leave me 
 " to myfelf:* 
 
 To
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 69 
 To be alone, far retired from the tumults and 
 embarrafTments of fociety, is the firft and fondefl 
 defire of the heart, when, under fuch misfortunes, 
 we are unhappily fituated among men who, in- 
 capable of equal feeling, have no idea of the 
 torments we endure. 
 
 How ! to live in Solitude, to relinquifh the 
 fociety of men, ro be buried during life in 
 fome wild deferted country ! Oh yes ! fuch a 
 retreat affords a ffcider and certain canfblation. 
 under thofe afflictions which faften on the heart; 
 fuch as the eternal feparation of fenfible and be- 
 loved friends; a feparation more grievous and 
 terrifying than the fatal period itfelf which ter- 
 minates exiftence. The heart is torn with an- 
 guifh, the very ground we tread on feems to fink 
 beneath 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 me- 
 mory neither time nor accident can wipe away, 
 and whofe abfence renders all the pleafures of 
 the world odious to our fight. Solitude, under 
 fuch circumftances, is our only refource ; but 
 to foften the grief which this eternal feparation 
 infli&s, to remove the forrows which prey upon 
 the poor heart, to wipe away the tears from the 
 cheeks, we muft, even in Solitude, continue to 
 employ the mind, to excite its attention to fome 
 F 3
 
 yO THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 interefting, and lead the imagination from one 
 obje6l to another. 
 
 How many torments, alas! lie concealed 
 from the obfervation of the world, which we 
 muft learn to bear within our own bofoms, and 
 which can only be foftened by Solitude and re- 
 tirement ! 
 
 T to yourfelf an unfortunate fo- 
 reigner placed in a country where every one 
 was fufpicious of his character, borne down by 
 misfortunes from every fide, attacked every mo- 
 ment by defpair, and during a long courfe of 
 years unable either to ftoop or fit to write with- 
 out feeling the moft excruciating pains ; in a 
 country where, from a fanatic prejudice, every 
 one ftrewed thorns and briars in his path ; where, 
 in the midft of all his afflictions, he was deprived 
 of the object which was dearelt 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 affe&ion 
 towards him*; whofe voice, like a voice from 
 Heaven, faid to him, " Come, I will dry 
 " your tears, I will heal your wounded heart ; 
 " be the kind comforter of your fufferings, 
 
 * The author here alludes to MADAME DORINE, wife of the 
 councellor of ftate, and daughter to the celebrated vice-chancellor 
 STRVBE. 
 
 " enable
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. Jl 
 
 " enable you to fupport them, banifli the re- 
 <c membrance of forrow from your mind, recal 
 66 your fenfibility, and force ybu to acknow- 
 " ledge, that THE RELIGION we profefs is alfo 
 lt infpired by a beneficent Deity, whofe good- 
 " nefs ftrews flowers over the paths of life. 
 " You fiiall afterwards afford affiftance to me, 
 " become part of my family, and we will read, 
 {C think, feel, and lift up our hands together in 
 6t oraifons to God. I will endeavour to charm 
 " away the filence of difgufl by entertaining 
 6t converfation, and, when tranquillity returns, 
 " colled for you all the flowers -which adorn 
 " the paths of life ; difcourfe with you on the 
 <c charms of virtue; think of you with love; 
 " treat you .with efteem ; rely upon you with 
 <c confidence; prove to you, that the people. 
 " among whom you are fituated are not fo bad 
 u as you conceive them, and perhaps that they 
 " are not fo at all. 1 will remove from your 
 " mind all anxiety :about domeftic concerns; 
 " do every thing to relieve and pleafe you : 
 " you (hall taite all the happinei's of an eafy, 
 " tranquil life. I will diligently endeavour to 
 " point out your faults, and you, in gratitude, 
 " fiiall alfo correct mine' you (hall form my 
 " mind, communicate to me your knowledge, 
 * c and preferve to me, by the aflHtance of God 
 " and your own talents, the felicities of my life, 
 F 4 " together
 
 72 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " together with thofe of my hufband and my chil- 
 " dren : we will love our neighbours with the 
 " fame heart, and unite our endeavours to aP- 
 " ford confolation to the afflicted, and fuccour 
 <f to the diftreffed." 
 
 BUT if, after having experienced all this plea- 
 fure during many years; if, after having en- 
 joyed thefe confolations under circumftances 
 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 
 fhould be torn for ever from the bofom of her 
 family, and obliged to leave her country an 
 exile in a foreign land ; if I mould behold my- 
 felf for ever deprived of this dear friend, this 
 protecting angel, what 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 
 rifmg griefs, and. learn to fupport my deftiny- 
 with courage. 
 
 To a heart thus torn, by too rigorous a de- 
 ftiny, from the bofom that was opened for its 
 reception, from a bofom in which it fondly dwelt, 
 from an objeft that it dearly loved, detached from 
 
 every
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. j3 
 
 objeft, at a lofs where to fix its affe&ion, or 
 communicate its feelings, Solitude alone can 
 adminifter comfort. To him who, in the cruel 
 hour of feparation, exclaims in the bitternefs of 
 his foul, " In every exertion to do good, my 
 66 only reward is to give you pleafure ! all the 
 w happinefs of my life concentres in the joys 
 <; that you receive !" Solitude is the laft and 
 " only confolation. 
 
 THERE are, therefore, filiations from which 
 nothing but Solitude and retirement can relieve 
 us. For this reafon, it is frequently neceflary 
 that thofe whom melancholy affe&s mould be 
 left alone; for, as we mail now proceed to mew, 
 they may find in Solitude an infinite variety of 
 confolations, and many fources of comfort both 
 for the mind and the heart. 
 
 THE healthy and the fick, the happy and the 
 miferable, the rich and the poor, all, without 
 exception, may find infinite advantages in a re- 
 ligious retirement from the world. It is not, 
 alas ! in the temples of pleafure, in thofe meet- 
 ings where every one empties to its lad drop the 
 cup of folly, in the coteries occupied by vulgar 
 gaiety, in brilliant alfemblies, or at luxurious 
 boards, that the mind grows familiar with thofe 
 tender and fublime fentiments which fubdue the 
 
 defires
 
 74 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 defires of fenfuality, ennoble all the enjoyments 
 of life, raife the paffing moment into importance 
 by connecting it with the events of futurity, and 
 banifh from a tranfitory life the extravagant fond- 
 nefs for the diffipations of the world. 
 
 IN Solitude we behold more near and inti- 
 mately that Providence which overlooks all. 
 Silence continually recals to our minds the con- 
 folitary idea, the mild and fatisfatlory fentiment, 
 that the eye of the Almighty is for ever viewing 
 the aclions of his creatures; that he fuperintends 
 all our movements; that we are governed by 
 his power, and preferved by his goodnefs. In 
 Solitude the JDeity is every where before us. 
 Emancipated from the dangerous fermentations 
 of fenfe, guided by noble inclinations, pofiefTed 
 of pure, unalterable joys, we contemplate with 
 ferioufnefs and vigour, with freedom and with 
 confidence, the attainment of fupreme felicity, 
 and enjoy in thought the happinefs we expeft to 
 reach. In this holy meditation, every ignoble 
 fentiment, every painful anxiety, every worldly 
 thought and vulgar care, vanifh from the 
 mind. 
 
 SOLITUDE has already brought us nearer to 
 
 God, when, befide all the tender and humane 
 
 feelings of the heart, we feel thofe falutary (enfa- 
 
 2 tions
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 75 
 
 tions which a diftruft and jealoufy of our own 
 abilities create; fenfations which in public life 
 make light and tranfient impreffions, and fade 
 immediately away. At the bed of (icknefs when 
 I behold the efforts which the foul makes to op- 
 pofe its impending diffblution from the body, 
 and difcover by the encreafing tortures the ra- 
 pid advances of approaching death ; when I fee 
 my unhappy patient extend his cold and trem- 
 bling hands to thank the Almighty for the fmalleft 
 mitigation of his pains; when I hear his ut- 
 terance checked by intermingled groans, and 
 view the tender looks, the filent anguifh of his 
 attending friends; all my powers abandon me - 
 my heart bleeds, and I tear myfelf from the for- 
 rowful fcene, only to pour my tears more freely 
 over the unhappy fufferings of humanity, to la- 
 ment my own inability, and the vain confidence 
 placed in a feeble art; a confidence which 
 men have been fo forward to abufe. Con- 
 fcious of the inefficacy of art, I never rife from 
 my bed without thinking it a heavenly miracle 
 that I am ftill alive. When I count the number 
 of my years, I exclaim, with the livelieft gra- 
 titude, that God has prefervcd my life beyond 
 my expectation. Through what a lea of dangers 
 has his goodnefs conduced me! Reflecting 
 every moment on the weaknefs of my condition, 
 and beholding men fuddenly fnatched away be- 
 fore me in the prime and vigour of life; men 
 
 who
 
 76 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 who, but a few hours before, entertained no fear 
 of death, and reckoned, perhaps, on an extended 
 length of days; \vhat can I do, but offer up my 
 filent adorations to that Providence who has thus 
 faved me from the menaces of death ! 
 
 Is it poflible to become wife, and efcape from 
 the abounding perils of the world, without re-. 
 nouncing its diflipations, and entering into a fe- 
 rious examination of ourfelves ? for then only it 
 is that we are able maturely to reflect upon what 
 we hear and fee; it is only during filent medita- 
 tion that we can properly view thofe interefting 
 objefts to which, if we wifli to render them either 
 ufeful or permanent, we cannot be too ferioufly 
 attentive. 
 
 s 
 WISDOM is not to be acquired by the inceffant 
 
 purfuit of entertainments; by flying, without 
 reflection, from one party to another; by conti- 
 nual converfations on low and trifling fubjeftsj 
 by undertaking every thing, and doing nothing. 
 " He who would acquire true wifdom," fays a 
 celebrated philofopher, " muft learn to live in 
 " Solitude." An uninterrupted eourfe of diffi- 
 pation ftifles every virtuous fentirnent. The do- 
 minion of Reafon is loft amidft the intoxications 
 of Pleafure : its voice is no longer heard; its au- 
 thority no longer obeyed; the mind no longer
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 77 
 ftrives to furmount temptations; but, inftead of 
 fhunning the fnares which THE PASSIONS fcatter 
 in our way, we run eagerly to find them. The 
 precepts of religion are forgotten. Engaged in a 
 variety of abfurd purfuits, intranced in the deli- 
 rium of gaiety and pleafure, inflamed by that con- 
 tinual ebriety which raifesthe paflions and ftimu- 
 lates the defires, the connections between God 
 and man are loofened, the firft and only fource 
 of true felicity abandoned, the faculty of reafon 
 renounced, and religious duties never thought 
 of but with levity and indifference. On the 
 contrary, he who, entering into a ferious felf_ 
 examination, elevates his thoughts on all occa- 
 fions in filence towards his God j who confiders 
 the amphitheatre of nature, the fpangled firma 
 ment of Heaven, the verdant meads enamelled 
 with flowers, the ftupendous mountains, and the 
 filent groves, as the temples of THE DIVINITY ; 
 who direfts the emotions of his heart to the 
 Great Author and Conductor of things ; who has 
 continually before his eyes his enlightened pro- 
 vidence ;muft mod afluredly have already learned 
 to live in pious Solitude and religious medi- 
 tation. 
 
 THUS, by devoting daily only as many hours 
 to reflection as are employed at the toilet, or con- 
 fumed at the card-table, Solitude may be ren- 
 dered
 
 78 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 dered inftrumental in leading the mind to piety, 
 and the heart to virtue. Meditation not only 
 ftrengthens and improves the mind, but teaches 
 it to abhor the vices of the world, and renders 
 their idle entertainments taftelefs. We may 
 cherifh the bed intentions towards our fellow- 
 creatures, may fuccour them in diftrefs, afford 
 them every kind office in our power, without 
 indulging in the luxury of their feafts, attending 
 their coteries, or following their frivolous pur- 
 fuits. 
 
 THE opportunity of doing public good, of 
 performing actions of extenfive utility or univer- 
 fal benevolence, is confined to a few characters. 
 But how many private virtues are there which 
 every man has it in his power to perform with- 
 out quitting his ; chamber ! He who can con- 
 tentedly 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 liftcn to their complaints, relieve 
 their diftrefs, render fervices to thofe who are 
 about him, and extend his benevolence in 
 various ways, without being feen by the world, 
 or known by thofe on whom his favours are con- 
 ferred. 
 
 A LIVELY
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 79 
 A LIVELY and determined inclination for 
 Solitude is fometimes the happy mean of re- 
 eftablifhing a pious difpofition in the mind. It 
 is during thofe moments of undefinable delirium 
 which youth frequently experiences ; and which, 
 as the mind grows more rational, of courfe be- 
 come more efficacious ; that, by perceiving what 
 we are and what we ought to be, we begin to 
 know ourfelves, and to do juftice to our cha- 
 ra&ers. It is in thefe moments, perhaps, that 
 a phyfical change of conftitution turns the ope- 
 rations of the foul into a new direction, and, 
 awakening tbnfcience, forcibly fuggefts the ne- 
 ccffity of proftrating ourfelves before the throne 
 of God. Humility is the firft lefTon which we 
 learn from reflection, and fclf-diftruft the firft 
 proof we give of having obtained a knowledge 
 of ourfelves. The fophiftry of the paflions is 
 filent during the ferious folitary hours we pafs in 
 felf-examination. If we fometimes carry the fa- 
 liloquy too far, and become gloomy and dif- 
 contented, or fall into fuperftitious phrenfies on- 
 difcovering our fituation, the imprefTions, alas ! 
 are foon effaced. Yet even thefe exceffes, when 
 compared with that fatal fupinenefs which ex- 
 tinguiflies every virtue, are really advantageous. 
 The fmcere mortification we feel on the clifco- 
 very*of our defects is converted, by the light of 
 a pure and rational faith, into happy eafe and 
 
 perfect
 
 So THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 perfeft tranquillity. The fanatic enthufiafl pre- 
 fents ;himfclf before THE ALMIGHTY much 
 oftener than the fupercilious wit, who feoffs at 
 religion, and csflls piety a weaknefs. 
 
 THE ftudy of ourfelyes is fo extremely rare* 
 that we ought to prize its fruits like dear and 
 precious treafures. ' To induce Us to renounce 
 our flighty futile diffipations ; to conquer the 
 difconterit which drives us wandering from place 
 to place in fearch of new objects; to force 
 us into an examination of ourfelves; Grief muft 
 awaken us from the lethargy of pleafure, Sorrow 
 muft open our eyes to the follies of the world, 
 and the cup of Adverfity often embitter our 
 lips. From a conviclion of this truth it was that 
 one of the greateft philofophers of Germany, 
 the celebrated Mr. GARVE, exclaimed to doftor 
 SPALDING 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." 
 
 IN Solitude, RELIGION and PHILOSOPHY unite 
 their powers to conducl us to the fame end. 
 Both of tbent teach us to examine our hearts ; 
 both of them tell us that we cannot guard too 
 fcrioufly againft the dangers of fanaticifm, or 
 decry them with too loud a voice; but they alfo 
 
 con-
 
 ON THE MfND AND THE HEART. 8 I 
 
 convince us, that though virtue cannot be in- 
 ftilled into the foul without convulfive efforts, 
 we ought not to be intimidated by the appre- 
 henfion of danger. It is not in fche moment o 
 joy, when we turn our eyes from God and our 
 thoughts from eternity, that we experience thefe 
 falutary fervors 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 advance too (lowly in the heroic 
 courfc of virtue ; if, amidft the buftle of the 
 world, the fuggeftions of confcience lofe their 
 power, let every one retire, as frequently as 
 poflible, into Solitude, and there proftrate him- 
 fclf before God and his own heart. 
 
 IN the lall moments of life it is certain that 
 we all wifh we had lived more in Solitude, in a 
 greater intimacy with ourfelves, and in a clofer 
 communion with God. Preffed by the recol- 
 letlion of pad errors, we then clearly perceive 
 them to have fprung from the corruptions of 
 the world, and the indulged wanderings of the 
 heart. If we oppofe the fentiments of a foli- 
 tary man who has patted his life in pious con- 
 ference with God, to thofe which occupy a 
 worldly mind forgetful of its Creator, and 
 facrificing every thing to the enjoyment of the 
 moment : if we compare the character of a 
 
 G W.&F,
 
 $2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 WISE MAX, who refleBs in filence on the im- 
 portance of eternity, -with that of the FASHION- 
 ABLE BEING, who confumes all his time at 
 ridottos, balls, and aflemblies; we fhall then 
 perceive that Solitude, dignified retirement, 
 feleft friejidfhips, and rational fociety, can alone 
 afford true pleafure, and give us, what all the 
 vain enjoyments of the world will never beftow, 
 confolation in death, and hope of everlafting 
 life. 
 
 IT is upon the bed of death that we difcover, 
 more than in any other fituation, the great dif- 
 ference between THE JUST MAN, who has paffed 
 his days in religious contemplation, and THE 
 MAN OF THE WORLD, whofe thoughts have only 
 been employed to feed his paflions and gratify 
 his defires. A life paffed amidft the tumultuous 
 diflipations of the world, even when unfullied 
 by the commiflion of any pofitive crime, 
 concludes, alas! very differently from that 
 which has been fpent in the bowers of Soli- 
 tude, adorned by innocence and rewarded by 
 virtue. 
 
 BUT as example teaches more effectually than 
 precept, as curiofity is more alive to recent 
 facts than to remote illuftrations, I fhall here re- 
 late the hiftory of a man of family and fafhion, 
 
 who
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 8} 
 
 who a few years fince fhot himfelf in London; 
 from which it will appear, that men po fie fled 
 even of the beft feelings of the heart may be 
 rendered extremely miferable by fufFering their 
 principles to be corrupted, by the practices of 
 the world. 
 
 THE honourable Mr. DAMER, the eldeft fon 
 of LORD MILTON*, was five-and-thirty years of 
 age when he put a period to his exiftence by 
 means perfeclly correfpondent to the principles 
 in which he had lived. He had efpoufed a 
 rich heirefs, the daughter in-law of GENERAL 
 CONWAY. Nature had endowed him with ex- 
 traordinary talents; and if he had employed 
 them to nobler purpofes, his death mud have 
 made the deepeft impreflion on every bofom. 
 Unhappily, however, the mofl infatuated love of 
 difTipation deftroyed all the powers of his mind, 
 and fome of the more excellent qualities of his 
 heart. His houfes, his carriages, his horfes, his 
 liveries, furpafled in magnificence and elegance 
 every thing that is fumptuous in the metropolis 
 of England. The income he enjoyed was great; 
 but not being fufficient to defray his various 
 expences, he felt himfelf under the neceffity of 
 borrowing, and he obtained a loan of one hun- 
 dred and twenty thoufand pounds. A large 
 portion of the money was immediately employed 
 
 G 2 to
 
 . 
 
 84 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 to fuccour thofe friends who appeared to bt 
 diftrefTed; for his fentiments were as generous 
 as his feelings were tender and compaffionate. 
 His fenfibility, however, to the wants of others 
 was at length awakened to his own misfortunes; 
 and the dreadful fituation of his affairs reduced 
 his mind to defpair. Retiring to a brothel, he fent 
 for four common women of the town, and pa(Ted 
 feveral hours in their company with apparent 
 gaiety and good fpirits. On the near approach 
 of midnight, however, he requefted of them to 
 retire; and in a few -moments afterwards, drawing 
 a loaded piftol from his pocket, which he had 
 carried about with him all the afternoon, blew 
 out his brains. This fatal evening had pafied 
 with thefe women in the fame manner as he had 
 been tifed to pafs many others with different 
 women of the fame dcfcription, without requir- 
 ing favours which they would moft willingly have 
 granted. All he defired in return for the money 
 he lavilhed on them was their idle chatter, or the 
 privilege of a falute, to divert the torture of his 
 mind. The gratitude he felt for the temporary 
 oblivion, which thefe intercourfes afforded, fome- 
 times ripened into feelings of the warmeft friend- 
 fhip. A celebrated athefs on the London theatre, 
 whofe ccnvcrjations had already drained him of 
 confiderablefums of money, requefted of him, only 
 three days before his death, to lend her five- 
 End-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 85 
 
 and-twenty guineas. He returned an anfwer, 
 that he had not at that time more than eight or 
 ten guineas about him, and thefe he fent to her; 
 but he immediately borrowed the remainder, and 
 gave her the fum me required. 
 
 THIS unhappy young man, fhortly before the 
 fatal cataftrophe, had written to his father, and 
 difclofed the unhappy ftate of his affairs ; and 
 the night, the very night on which he termi- 
 na:ed his exiftence, his affectionate parent, the 
 good LORD MILTON, arrived in London for 
 the purpofe of difcharging all the debts of his 
 fon. Thus lived and died this deftitute and dif- 
 fipated man ! How different from that life which 
 the innocent live, or that death which the vir- 
 tuous die ! 
 
 I TRUST I mall be forgiven in reciting here 
 the Story of a Young Lady whofe memory I am 
 anxious to preferve; for I can with great truth 
 lay of her, as PETRARCH faid of his beloved 
 LAURA, <; The world is unacquainted with the 
 u excellence of her chara&er; me was only 
 *' known to thofe whom fhe has left behind to 
 u bewail her fate." 
 
 SOLITUDE was her WORLD; for me knew no 
 
 oilier pleafures than thofe which a retired and 
 
 G 3 virtuous
 
 86 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 virtuous life affords. Submitting with pious refig- 
 ruition to the difpenfations of Heaven, her weak 
 frame fuftained, with undiminifhed fortitude, 
 every affli6tion of mortality. Mild, good, and 
 tender, me endured her fufferings without a mur- 
 mur or a figh : and though naturally timid and 
 refervcd, fhe difclofedthe feelings of her foul with 
 all the warmth of filial enthufiafm. Of this de- 
 fcfiptionwasthe fuperior character of whom I now 
 write; a character who convinced me, by her for- 
 titude under the fevered misfortunes, how much 
 flrength SOLITUDE is capable of conveying to 
 the minds even of the feebled beings. Diffident 
 of her own powers, me liftened to the precepts of 
 a fond parent, and relied with perfe6l confidence 
 upon the goodnefs of GOD. Taught by my ex- 
 perience, fubmitting to my judgment, fhe enter- 
 tained for me the mod ardent affeclion ; and con- 
 vinced me, not by profejfions, but by her aR'tcns^ 
 of her fintrerity. Willingly would I have facri- 
 ficed my life to have faved her; and I am fatis- 
 ficed me would have given up her own for me. 
 My greaied happinefs confided in doing every 
 thing that I thought the mod agreeable to her. 
 She frequently prefented me with a rofe, a flower 
 from which fhe knew I received confidcrable 
 delight; and from her hand it was fuperior to 
 the riched treafure. A malady of almod a fin- 
 gular kind, a haemorrhage of the lungs, fud- 
 
 denly
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 87 
 
 denly deprived me of the comfort of this beloved 
 child, even while I fupported her in my arms- 
 Acquainted with her conftitution, I immediately 
 fuw 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 feel- 
 ings from her obfervation. Although fenfible 
 of her danger, me never communicated the Icaft 
 apprehenfion. Smiles arofe upon her cheeks 
 whenever I entered or quitted the chamber. 
 Although worn down by this fatal diftemper, 
 a prey to the mofl corroding griefs, the fharpeft 
 and moft intolerable pains, me made no com- 
 plaint. She mildly anfwered all my queftions 
 by fome fhort fentence, but without entering 
 into any detail. Her decay and approaching 
 diffolution became obvious to the eye; but 
 to the laft moment of her life, her countenance 
 preferved a ferenity correfpondent to the purity 
 of her mind and the affeftionate tendernefs of 
 her heart, 
 
 THUS I beheld my dear, my only daughter, 
 after a lingering fufferunce of nine long months, 
 expire in my arms ! Exclufive of the ufual in- 
 ternal appearances which attend a confumption 
 of the lungs, the liver was extremely large, the 
 flomach uncommonly fmall and contracted, and 
 G the
 
 88 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 the vifcera much overcharged. So many attacks, 
 alas ! were needlefs to the conqueft. She had 
 been the fubmiflive vi&im of ill health' from 
 her earlieft infancy; her appetite was almoft 
 gone when we left SWISSERLAN'D ; a rcfidence 
 which me quitted with her ufual fweetnefs of 
 temper, and without difcovering the fmalleft 
 regret, although a young man, as handfome in 
 his perfon as he was amiable in the qualities of 
 his mind, the objeft of her firft, of her only 
 affection, a few weeks afterwards put an end to 
 his exiftence in defpair. 
 
 THE few happy days we pafTed at HANOVER, 
 where me was much refpe&ed and beloved, me 
 amufed herfelf by compelling religious prayers, 
 which were afterwards found among her papers, 
 and in which Hie implores death to afford her a 
 fpeedy relief from her pains : during the fame 
 period (he wrote alfo many letters, always afFeci- 
 ing, and frequently fublime. They were rilled 
 with expreflions of the fame dcfire fpeedily to 
 re unite her foul with the Author of her days, 
 The laft words my dear, my well-beloved child 
 uttered, amidft the moft painful agonies, were 
 thefe: " To day I mall tafte the joys of Heaven!" 
 
 WE mould be unworthy of this bright exam- 
 ple, if, after having feen the fevereft fufferings 
 
 fu Rained
 
 ON THE MIND AN T D THE HEART, 89 
 
 fuftained by a female in the earlieft period of 
 life, and of the weakeft conftitution by nature, 
 we permitted our minds to be dejeled by mif- 
 fortunes, when, by the fmalleft degree of courage, 
 we may be enabled to furmount them; a female 
 who, under the anguifh of inexpreffible torments, 
 never permitted the figh of complaint to efcapc 
 from her lips; but fubmitted with filent refigna- 
 tion to the will of Heaven, in hope of meet- 
 ing with reward hereafter. She was ever active, 
 invariably mild, and always compaflionate to 
 the mifcries of others. But \VE, who have be- 
 fore our eyes the fublime inftruclions which a 
 character thus virtuous and noble has given us, 
 yndcr the prelfure of a fatal difeafe, under the 
 horrors of continued and bitter agonies; wr, 
 who like her afpire to the attainment of the glo- 
 rious-feat of happinefs and peace, refufe to fub- 
 mit to the fmalleft facrifice, make no endeavour 
 to oppofe the ftorms of fortune by the exertion 
 of courage, or to acquire that patience and re- 
 iignation which a candid examination of our 
 own hearts, and a filent communion with God, 
 would certainly afford. 
 
 SENSIBLE and unfortunate beings! the light- 
 eft afflictions, when compared with griefs like 
 mine, drive you, at prefent, to difquretude and 
 defpair. But you may give credit to experience, 
 
 they
 
 QO THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 they will eventually raife your minds above the 
 low confederations of the world, and give a 
 ftrength to your powers which you now con- 
 ceive to be impoflible. You now think your- 
 felves funk into the deepeft abyfs of fuffering 
 and forrow ; but the time will foon arrive, when 
 you will perceive yourfelves in that happy ftate 
 which lies between an attachment to Earth and a 
 fond devotion to Heaven. You will then enjoy 
 a calm repofe, be fufceptible of pleafures equally 
 fubftantial and fublime, and gain, inftead of tu- 
 multuous anxieties for life, the ferene and com- 
 fortable hope of immortality. Blefied, fupremely 
 ble(Ted is he who knows the value of retirement 
 and tranquillity ; who is capable of enjoying the 
 filence of the groves, and all the pleafures of 
 rural Solitude. The foul then taftes celeftial 
 delight, even under the deepeft impreflions of 
 forrow and dejeftion, regains its ftrength, col- 
 lefts new courage, and afts with perfect freedom. 
 The eye looks with fortitude on the tranfient 
 fufferings of difeafe ; the mind no longer feels a 
 dread of being alone ; and we learn to cultivate, 
 during the remainder of our lives, a bed of rofes 
 round even the tomb of death. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE UPON THE MIND. 
 
 1 HE 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 tofTed about by the vi- 
 ciffitudes of fortune; who has learned, from the 
 fufferings of his own experience, to form a juft 
 eftimate of men and things ; who can examine 
 every object with impartiality; and, walking in 
 the fteep and narrow paths of virtue, derives his 
 happinefs 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 extenfive plains of happinefs and 
 eafe. The love of Solitude ; when cultivated to 
 a certain extent at an early period of our lives, 
 infpires the mind with virtue, and raifes it to a 
 noble independence. It is to fuch characters 
 
 alone
 
 <)Z THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 alone that my precepts can prove ufeful ; or that 
 I here pretend to point out the avenue to true 
 felicity. 
 
 I DO not, however, wifh, in conducting them 
 to the retreats of Solitude, to lead them through 
 the paths of mifery, but would rather induce 
 them to feek retirement from a diflike to diffipa- 
 tion,a diftafte to the idle pleafures of life, a con- 
 tempt for the treacherous . profeffions of THE 
 WORLD, and a dread of being feduced by its 
 infinuating and deceitful gaieties. 
 
 MANY men have in Solitude acquired fo great 
 a fuperiority as to enable them to defy events ; 
 many, champions of virtue, like the majeftic ce- 
 dar, which braves the fury of the loudeft wind, 
 have refilled in retirement all the florms of vice. 
 Some few indeed have retained, even in Solitude, 
 the weaknefles of human nature ; but many others 
 have proved that wifdom cannot degenerate, even 
 in the moft dreary feclufion. Vifited by the au- 
 guft fpirits of the dead, left to liften to their own 
 though-s, and feel uded from the fight of every 
 breathing object, they muft converfe with God 
 alone. 
 
 THERE are two periods of life in which 
 
 tude becomes peculiarly ufeful: in YOUTH, to 
 
 t acquire
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 93 
 
 acquire a fund of uieful information, to form the 
 outline of the character we mean to fupport, and 
 to fix the modes of thinking we ought through 
 life invariably to purfue : in AGF, to caft a retro- 
 fpeftive eye on the courfe of life we have led, 
 to reflect on the events that have happened, 
 upon all the flowers we have gathered, upon all 
 the tempefts we have furvived. 
 
 LORD BOLINGBROKE fays, that there is not 
 a deeper or a finer obfervation in all LORD BA- 
 cov's works than the Following : " We muft 
 *' choofe betimes fuch virtuous oljefts as are pro- 
 " portioned to the means we have of purfuing 
 " them, and as belong particulary to \ho. flattens 
 * ; we are in, and the duties of thofe ftations. 
 " We muft determine and fix our minds in fuch 
 " manner upon them, that the purfuit of them 
 " may become the bufmefs-, and the attainment 
 " of them the end of our whole lives*. Thus 
 " we fnall imitate the great operations of nature, 
 " and not the feeble, flow, and imperfect opera- 
 " tions of art. We muft not proceed, in form- 
 
 * LORD BOLINGBROKE, in his " Idea of a Patriot 
 
 has paraphrafed the original ' f itt ccrtinut -vertao et rjfcrmet fe 
 <c ax.:.-*;, una Optra, in ijirtults otr:nc! y " in order to apply it 
 with greater effcft to the occafion for which he quotes it. 
 
 ' c ing
 
 94 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " ing the moral character, as a (latuary proceeds 
 
 " in forming a ftatue, who works fometimes on 
 
 " the face, fometimes on one part, an'd fometimes 
 
 " on another; but we muft proceed, and it is 
 " in our power to proceed, as Nature does in 
 
 *' forming a flower, or any other of her produc- 
 
 tions ; rudimenta -partium omnium fimui parif et 
 
 " frcduci.' ; me throws out altogether and at 
 
 " once the whole fyftem of every being, and the 
 
 " rudiments of all the parts." 
 
 YE amiable youths, from whofe minds the 
 artifices and gaieties of the world have not yet 
 obliterated the precepts of a virtuous education ; 
 who are not yet infected with its inglorious vani- 
 ties; who, ftill ignorant of the tricks and blan- 
 difhments of feduclion, have preferved the defire 
 to perform fome glorious aclion, and retained 
 the powers to accomplifh. it ; who in the midft of 
 feaiting, dancing, and aflemblies, feel an inclina- 
 tion to efcape from their unfatisfaclory delights; 
 Solitude will afford you a fafe afylum. Let the 
 voice of experience recommend you to cultivate 
 a fondnefs for domeftic pleafures, to roufe and 
 fortify yoi^r 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. To accom- 
 plifli this end, it is abfolutcly neceflary to force 
 
 yourfelves
 
 ON THE MIND. AMD THE HEART. 95 
 
 yourfelves from a world too trifling and infignifi- 
 cant to afford great examples. It is in ftudying 
 the characters of the Greeks, the Romans, the Eng- 
 lift), that you muft learn to furmount every dif- 
 ficulty. In what nation will you find more cele- 
 brated inftances of human greatnefs! What peo- 
 ple poflefs more valour, courage, firmnefs, and 
 knowledge, or greater love for the arts and fci- 
 ences ! But do not deceive yourfelves by a 
 belief, that in wearing the hair cut Jhort you 
 will acquire the character of Englishmen : inftead 
 xof fuch fopperies you muft eradicate the vices, 
 fubdue the weaknefles of your nature, and imi- 
 tate them only in their peculiar greatnefs. It is 
 the love of liberty, the qilalities of courage, 
 penetration, fublimity of fentiment, and ftrength 
 of reafon, that conftitute the true Engiijhman> 
 and not their cropt hair, half-boots, and jockey 
 hats. It is virtue alone, and not titles, that ele- 
 vate the characters of men. An illuftrious de- 
 fcent is certainly an advantage, but not a merit. 
 But you have already formed a proper e&mate 
 of thefe fplendid trifles, and learned that he 
 who venerates fuch little objects can never at- 
 tain to GREATNESS. Women may boaft of 
 hereditary defcent, of a line of anceftors, who, 
 during a courfe of centuries, were perhaps 
 diftinguifhed merely by the fplendour of their 
 equipages, and the numbers of humble citizens 
 
 who
 
 96 TrfE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 who followed them on foot. But in tracing 
 your genealogies, reckon only thofe your an- 
 ceftors who have performed great and glorious 
 actions, whofe fame adorns the pages of their 
 country's hiftory, and whofe admired characters 
 diftant nations continue to applaud ; never* 
 however, lofe fight of this important truth, that 
 no one can be truly great until he has gained a 
 knowledge of himfelf. 
 
 LIFE opens two paths to the choice of man* 
 The one leads to a fragrant garden and delight- 
 ful groves, perfumed with the fweeteft odours, 
 where a verdant bed, bedecked with rofes, in- 
 vites the enchanted fenfes to a foft repofe ; this 
 is that path of Plcafure which the multitude are 
 fo eafily feduced to follow; and where mufic, 
 dancing, and love, are thought to convey fuch 
 variety of delight. The other is a lefs- frequented 
 way, always tirefomc, fometimes rugged, the 
 progrefs through it flow, and filled with danger- 
 ous precipices, down which the toiling paficnger 
 often falls, 'while he thinks his footing certain 
 and fecure. A dark, unbounded defart, filled 
 with the cries of favage animals, the bodings of 
 the raven, and the fhivering hiffes of the wily 
 lerpent, then prefents itfelf to the affrighted 
 mind. The path of Pleafure conduces us to 
 the WORLD, but the rugged path of virtue 
 
 leads
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART, 97 
 leads to HONOUR. The one winds through fo- 
 ciety to places and employments either in the 
 city or at court; the other, fooner or later, 
 leads to SOLITUDE. Upon the one road a man 
 inay perhaps become a villain; a villain ren- 
 dered dear and amiable, by his vices, to fociety. 
 Upon the other road, it is true, he may be hated 
 and defpifed; but he will become A MAN after 
 rny own heart. 
 
 THE rudiments of a great character can only 
 be formed in Solitude. It is there alone that 
 the" folidity of thought, the fondnefs for activity, 
 the abhorrence of indolence, which conftitute 
 the characters of A HERO and A SAGE, are firft 
 acquired. Many Germans of my acquaintance 
 lived, during their refidence at the univerfity, 
 totally unconnected with fociety. They fhunned 
 the fafhionable vices of the collegians, preferved 
 their native purity, and, by an adopted ftoicifmj 
 continued not only chafte, but ftudious. They 
 are now, however, become minifters of ftate, 
 celebrated writers, and profound philofophers, 
 who have diffufed wifdom by their examples, 
 banifhed prejudice by their writings, and taught 
 Vulgar minds new roads to opulence and eafe. 
 
 A TRIBUTE cf the higheft gratitude is due 
 
 to the noble character who obferved, " That 
 
 H " when
 
 <jS THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ec when a youth of folid parts withdraws him- 
 " felf from the world, becomes melancholy 
 f < and filent, and teftifies by the aufterity of his 
 <e manners, and the coldnefs of his feelings, 
 " with what difgult the ' contemptible beings 
 with whom he has aflociatcd have infpired his 
 " foul ; when his mind, emitting its rays like 
 " flafhes of lightning in the obfcurity of a dark 
 " night, occafionally darts forth, and then falls 
 " into a long and filent calm ; -when all around 
 " him feems a painful void, and every object 
 " only infpires his mind with new avcrfion; 
 " you then behold, notwithftanding he has not 
 " openly complained, a happy plant, which only 
 " requires the cultivation of a. judicious hand 
 " to bring forth its fruits, and difclofe its beau- 
 " ties. O ! apply to it a foftering care. It will 
 Cf greatly and abundantly repay the culture it 
 " receives: and furely he who impedes the 
 <e progrefs of fuch a character, is the moft 
 " detcftable of murderers." 
 
 To rear a youth of this defcription, would 
 form the joy and pleafure of my future days. 
 I would nourifh him in my very heart. I would 
 watch over him with the tendereft care. I would 
 conceal his growing virtues from the jealous and 
 malignant obferva-tion of envious eyes; prevent 
 their endeavours to fupprefs the efforts of fu- 
 
 pcrior
 
 v ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. $9 
 
 perior genius ; and with a fmgle whifper drive 
 away thofe noxious vermin, enervated and in- 
 fipid men of fafhion, from my healthful plant. 
 If, however, fuch a youth did not immediately 
 liften to my Voice, and become obedient to my 
 precepts, but ftill liftened to the allurements of 
 the world, I would let him occafionally fail 
 among the rocks of life, and, permitting him to 
 be gently wrecked, mew him how EXPERIENCE, 
 fuperior to the powers of youth, would have 
 efcaped the danger. 
 
 SOLITUDE fometimes infpires a degree of ar- 
 rogance and conceit; but thefe defefts are foon 
 eradicated by focial intercourfe. Mifanthropy^ 
 contempt of folly, and pride of fpirit, are, in a 
 noble mind, changed, by the maturity of age, 
 into dignity of character ; and that fear of the 
 opinion of the world, which awed the weaknefs 
 and inexperience of youth, is fucceeded by 
 firmnefs, and an exalted contempt of thofc 
 falfe appearances by which it was fubdued. 
 The fatires once fo dreaded lofe all their force j 
 the mind judges of things not as they are$ 
 but as they ought to be, and feeling a con- 
 tempt for vice, rifes into a noble enthufiafrri 
 for virtue, and draws from the conflict a ratio- 
 nal experience and compaffionate feeling which 
 never die. 
 
 H 2 BUT
 
 IOO THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 BUT there is alfo a fcience of the heart too 
 frequently neglefted, and with which it is ne- 
 cefTary, at leaft as far as it is poffible, to familiar- 
 ize ourfelves in early youth. This is the noble 
 fcience of philofophy, which forms the charac- 
 ters of men, which teaches us to attain the end 
 we wifh rather by the blandiihments of love 
 than by the efforts of power ; a fcience which 
 corrects the cold dictates of reafon by the warm 
 feelings of the heart, opens to view the dangers 
 to which they are expofed, awakens the dormant 
 faculties of the mind, and prompts them to the 
 practice of all the virtues. 
 
 DION * was educated in all the bafenefs and 
 fervility of courts; accuftomed to a life of foft- 
 nefs and effeminacy ; and tainted by that more 
 
 * DION the fon of Hipparinus, a Syracufan, by flattering 
 the vices and promoting the pleafures of the tyrant Dionyfas, 
 became his favourite, and of courfe his flare. PLATO, who at 
 the requeft of Dion had come to refide at the tyrant's court, 
 converted the mind of his young pupil by the divine precepts 
 of his philofophy ; but, by preferring the dictates of virtue to 
 thofe of vice, he rendered himfelf odious in the eyes of Diony- 
 us, who baniihed him to Greece. The popularity which the 
 practice of PLATO'S precepts had acquired him increafed by hi 
 abfence; and he was invited to refcue his country from flavery. 
 He accordingly collected a numerous force in Greece, entered 
 the port of Syracufe with only two (hips, and in three days 
 reduced the empire under his power. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 pernicious
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. IOI 
 
 pernicious poifon which flows from idle pomp, 
 inconfiderate profufion, and abandoned plea- 
 fures;' but no (boner had he converfed with the 
 divine PLATO, and acquired a tafte for that re- 
 fined philofophy which leads to a life of virtue, 
 than his whole foul became deeply enamoured 
 of its charms. 
 
 THE infpiration which DION caught from 
 reading the works of PLATO, every mother may, 
 filently and unperceived, pour into the mind of 
 her child. Philofophy, 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, vrhen conducted by the hand 
 they love ? What fpecies of inftruclion can 
 excel the fweet lelfons which proceed from a 
 female mind, endowed with a found under- 
 Handing, an elevated ftyle of thinking, and 
 whofe heart feels all the affeclion that her pre- 
 cepts infpire ? Oh may every mother fo en- 
 dowed be blefled with a child who fondly re- 
 tires with her to her clofet, and liftens with 
 delight to her inftruclions; who, with a book 
 in his pocket, loves to climb among the rocks 
 alone ; who, when engaged in rural fport, 
 throws himfelf at the foot of fome venerable 
 tree, and feeks rather to trace out great and 
 H 3 illufyrious
 
 JO2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 illuftrious characters in the pages of PLUTARCH, 
 than to toil for game in the thickets of the fur- 
 rounding woods. The wiPaes of a mother are 
 accompliflied, when the Solitude and filence of 
 the forefts excite fuch thoughts *n the mind of 
 her beloved child*; when he thinks that he 
 has fecn the world, and knows that there are 
 ftill greater characters than MAYORS or KINGS, 
 Characters like thefe enjoy more pure and ele- 
 vated pleafures than ih~ gaming-table or strcm^ 
 blies are capable of affording : at eveiy interval 
 of leifure they leek the ihades of Solitude with 
 rapture and deliglit; the love of literature and 
 philofophy have inlpired their minds from the 
 earlieft infancy, and warmed their hearts at 
 every fubfequent period of their lives ; and, 
 amidft the greateft dangers, they preferve that 
 delightful taile which has power to banifh me- 
 lancholy from the deepeft cavern, a.nd deje&ion, 
 from the moil frightful defert. 
 
 BUT as every well-difpofed mind muft be 
 gufted and rendered unhappy by the intercourfe 
 of cities, in which it is the general lot of youth 
 to be placed, it may be advantageous to (hew 
 
 " Mirnm eft," fays the Younger Pliny, " ut ani 
 * tiont motuque urfcris excitiiur. Jam undiquc fil-va et 
 *' ipforunique iilud fihntium, quod venation datur, magna ccgita- 
 n tjeais inatamenta hint.* 
 
 how
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART, f Oj 
 
 how many refources a wife and fenfible nun, 
 whatever may be his fituation in life, his age, 
 or his country, may find in Solitude, againft the 
 infipidity of fociety, and all the falfe and deceit- 
 ful joys of the world. 
 
 PROVINCIAL TOWNS poflefs in this refpecl 
 many advantages over great and populous cities. 
 With what fuperior plcafure do we pafs our time, 
 how much more leifure, liberty, and quietude, 
 do we enjoy in an humble village, than in the 
 diflra&ing variety of a great city! The morn- 
 ing is not here deftroyed by endlefs meflages of 
 compliment, or by inceffant propofals of fome 
 new fcheme to kill the day. Domeftic cares 
 and comforts, the occupation of the mind, or 
 more delightful intercourfes of friendfhip and 
 of love, are here preferred to ceremonious vifits. 
 The quietude of rural retirement affords us op- 
 portunity to follow the courfe of our fentiments 
 and ideas, to examine whether they be juft before 
 \ve determine on our choice : in great cities, on 
 the contrary, men aft firft, and reflect on their 
 conduct afterwards. In a village, the impref- 
 fions we receive are more lively and profound ; 
 whilft in great cities time is entirely employed to 
 create amufements, which vanim the moment 
 they are approached; the bofom enjoys no re- 
 pofe; and while it fighs for reft, the hope, defire, 
 H 4 ambition,
 
 104 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 ambition, languor, difguft, and contrition, whack 
 it eternally feels, drive it for ever away. 
 
 THE minds, however, of thofe who have re- 
 tired to the calm fcenes of rural life, arc fre- 
 quently as vacant and deferted as the hamlets 
 in which they live; and they find the leifure, 
 the happy leifure which they enjoy without 
 knowing its value, tedious and irkfome. There 
 are, indeed, very few who have acquired the 
 art of rendering Solitude ufcful and rational. 
 Men of rank proudly fancy that their honour 
 would be degraded by the company of ruftics, 
 and, in confequence of this miftaken idea., {re- 
 fer a life of conftraint, and live in fplendid 
 languor, rather than enjoy a free and happy 
 intercourfe with rational and honeft peafants. 
 The reverfe ought to be adopted, eipecially 
 by difcontented minds: they ought to mix 
 familiarly in the company of honeft men, 
 and acquire the efteem of all by kindnefs 
 and attention. The lowlieft clown, capable of 
 communicating a new thought or agreeable 
 fentiment, is a very interefting companion to 
 an idle man, tormented as he muft be by vexa- 
 tion and ill humour. The humblefl charaBer 
 is not to be defpifed ; and, in the rural retreat, 
 
 THE SHEPHERD and THE KING fllOUld llVC 
 
 on equal terms, forget the paltry diuintlions of 
 3 birth,
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEAR?. 
 
 birth, and all thofe prejudices which the opi- 
 nions of the world have raifed refpecling the dif- 
 ference of their fituation. Rational condefcen- 
 fion will command applaufe, and prevent the 
 lower orders of men from reprobating the vena- 
 lity of their fuperiors, only bccaufe the gentle- 
 men of the neighbourhood refufe to admit them 
 into their company. 
 
 To live happily in the country, men muft 
 deport themfelves peaceably and affably to every 
 one, feel and exercife a concern for the interefts 
 of others, and devote a certain portion of their 
 time to the company and converfation of their 
 inferiors. 
 
 THE advantages which the mind gains by the 
 Solitude of a fequeftered village, when itpnce 
 begins to feel difguft at the tirefome intercourfes 
 of the great world, is inconceivable. Life is 
 no where fo completely enjoyed; the happy 
 days of youth are no where more advantage- 
 oufly employed; a rational mind can no where 
 find greater opportunities of employing its time ; 
 the dangers even of Solitude itfelf are no where 
 fooner learned, or more eafily avoided. A fequef- 
 tered village may be confidered as a CONVENT, 
 confifting of a feleft fociety of perfons diftantly 
 retired from this world, whofe wicked paflions 
 
 no
 
 106 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 no fooner ferment than they evaporate, but whofc 
 virtues equally increafe by the intercourfes of 
 congenial minds, or, the only alternative, a fe- 
 clufion from all fociety. 
 
 THE mind cannot fuffer a more odious tyranny 
 than prevails in. the government of a municipal 
 town; where not only the rich citizen creels him- 
 felf into a proud mailer over his lefs wealthy 
 equals, but where the contracted notions of this 
 little tyrant become, if unoppofed, the ftandard 
 of reafon to all the town. Towns, although they 
 may in fome refpefts rcfemble VILLAGES, differ 
 materially as to their internal government and 
 police. 
 
 THE members of fmall Republics care only 
 for themfelves, and feel little anxiety about any 
 thing that pafles beyond their own limits. The 
 all powerful and imperious Governor confiders 
 his little territory as the univerfe. His breath 
 alone decides every queftion that is prbpofed at 
 the GUILD HALL; and the reft of his time is 
 wholly occupied in maintaining his influence 
 over the minds of his fellow-citizens, by re- 
 lating private anecdotes, circulating fuperftitious 
 talcs, talking of the price of corn, the collection 
 of tythes, the rents of his manors, hay-harveft, 
 vintage time, or the next market. Next to
 
 ON THE MTND AND THE HEART. 
 
 GOD, he is within his own territory the greateft 
 man upon the face of the earth. The honed 
 labourer crouches with fear and trembling in 
 the prefence of his redoubtable majefly; for he 
 knows the ruin that awaits his anger. The 
 thunder of Heaven is lefs terrible than the wrath 
 of an upftart magiftrate; for the one foon paifes 
 away, but the other remains for ever. The 
 figure of Juftice here raifes its proud head, and 
 looks down with contempt on the humble fuitor : 
 the arbitrary magiftrate governs, orders, cen- 
 fures, and condemns, without regard to right 
 or wrong; and the fentence he pronounces fre- 
 quently conf'gns HONOUR to infamy, while it 
 raifes VICE to credit and applaufe, 
 
 TRE inhabitants of a municipal town are ge- 
 nerally addicted to LAW; and an ATTORNEY 
 is in their eyes the brighte'ft genius. The voice 
 of Reafon is an empty found, and cries in vain 
 for juftice; for they only believe that right 
 which Ti-iii LAW decrees. To fecede from their' 
 faHous meetings, to reafon with impartiality, 
 to think with candour, or to aft with liberality, 
 only excites their jealoufy and deteftation. Of 
 ftudy and refleBion, except among the clergy, 
 they have no idea; and language will not fur- 
 jiifh any word expreffive of the high contempt 
 in which they hold a Titerary character. Reafon 
 
 and
 
 IOS THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 and Juperftiticn are, in their minds, fynonimous 
 terms. If a hen have laid her egg before their 
 door, a crow have troaked upon the chimney- 
 top, a nioufe have run along the floor, they fool- 
 ifhly believe fome dire misfortune is impending j 
 and the man who dares to finile at their credu- 
 lity is, in their conceit, loft to every fenfe of 
 virtue and religion. They are yet ignorant that 
 men are not free-thinker^ for humbly doubting 
 vhether the fpots we frequently obferve on 
 linen announce the death of fome beloved rela- 
 tion. Unconlcious that there are men of inde- 
 pendent fpirits in the world, they think, alas ! 
 that no important fervice can be performed but 
 by a loud harangue in their TOWN -HALL, and 
 that no man can acquire the countenance of the 
 great and good who has dared to oppofe the lead- 
 ers of their little town. But who, except fuch 
 beings, would fo tamely endure a mean fubmiffioji 
 to the little tyrant of their poor domain ? An ho- 
 neft man will only bow before the Deity himfelf; 
 will only fubmit to the laws which he himfelf 
 has made ; will only reverence fuperior talents, 
 virtue, merit; and finile at the vain \vrath and 
 ludicrous appearance of the provincial magif- 
 trate, when he receives him in anger with his 
 bat upon his head. But of fuch a character they 
 have no idea: they do not perceive that SLAN- 
 DER, the common fcourge of every country- 
 town,
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. IC9 
 
 town, is the vice of narrow-minded men, who 
 vifit merely to fpy out their neighbour's con- 
 duel, and report every tranfaftion of his houfe, 
 his^kitchcn, or his cellar, with malevolent am- 
 plification. To men fo ignorant it would be 
 vain to fay, that .SOLITUDE would foon im- 
 prove their faculties, fubdue their faults, ren- 
 der them fuperior to the meannefs of envy, the 
 difgrace of flander, infpire them with noble ar- 
 dour to fcek the path of knowledge, and < .-liable 
 them to purfue with hartlinefs and vigour th 
 prize of VIRTUE. 
 
 PHILANTHROPY, however extended, will not 
 filence the tongue of envy ! for the jealoufy of 
 the world will attribute the bed actions to in- 
 terefted motives : to avoid therefore the ran- 
 corous malevolence of envious, minds, we mull, 
 with an exception of thofe whofe virtues we 
 revere, turn our backs on mankind, and by re- 
 tiring into Solitude prevent the appetite of Slan- 
 der from growing by what it feeds on. 
 
 A YOUNG man, however virtuous he may be, 
 who afpires to advance himfelf in life, will not 
 in the world find the leaft afliftance. The fa- 
 fhionable circles will certainly afford him nei- 
 ther information nor encouragement; for virtue 
 in thefe places is neither known nor beloved. If 
 
 his
 
 riO THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 his perfon fhould excite attention, the fentiments' 
 he utters will not be under flood; the company 
 will confider him as a weak ridiculous chara6ler$ 
 who, inftead of feeking by adulation to gain the 
 interefts of the great and powerful, prefers the 
 pleafure of writing or reading by himfelf. In 
 vain has he been reared in the bofom of a libe- 
 ral and enlightened family; in vain has he re- 
 ceived his education among the nobleft charac- 
 ters; in vain are Kis principles eftablifhed by a 
 correfpondence with the belt and moft learned 
 philofophers of the age; for thefe advantages 
 only excite envy, and afford greater inducement 
 to opprefs his activity and flop his courfe. What 
 man will continue t? patronize him, unlefs he 
 becomes dexterous in affording ufeful accom- 
 modation to thofe in whofe hands the whole 
 power refidcs; from whom alone hunger can 
 receive bread, or induftry procure employment j 
 to whofe will every thing is fubmitted; who 
 uiiecl and govern every movement; and by 
 \vhofe nod honour, fame, and efteem, are con- 
 ferred or taken away ? His mind muft cautioufly 
 conceal the fuperiority of its knowledge ; his 
 eyes muft appear blind to what he fees; his 
 heart feem fenfelefs of what he feels; he mu-fl 
 conftantly liiten to a loofe and frothy convcr- 
 fation, during which, however fatiguing it may 
 be, he is denied the privilege of yawning, and 
 
 is
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. Ill 
 
 is ruined for ever, if by his filence he permit 
 the fhadow of diffatisfaction to appear. He will 
 be defpifed as a man of fenfe and understanding, 
 notwithftanding he ufes every endeavour to be 
 thought othsrwife*. Surrounded by fo much 
 deformity, both he and his friends might blufh 
 for want of that diftinguifhing eminence upon 
 the back, but that he hears them gravely talk 
 at the Hotel de Villt upon the important care of 
 a ftable, much oftener than they meet in London 
 and Verjailles to decide upon the fate of EUROPE ; 
 and muft fit with as much attention to hear 
 them argue upon the right of a partition-wall, 
 as if he were placed in the fynod of the Gods. 
 Perceiving, therefore, that prefumption, igno- 
 rance, and proud ftupidity, are infinitely in 
 higher eftimation than the .noblcft exercife of 
 rcafon; that men of the dulleft apprehenfions 
 are the moft forward and impudent; that their 
 vain and idle boaftings alone model the wit and 
 direct the opinion of the day ^ that envy fattens 
 itfelf moft inveterately upon the enlightened 
 and well-informed ; that philofophy is confider- 
 ed as a contemptible delirium, and liberty mif- 
 taken for a fpirit of revolt : perceiving, in fhort, 
 
 * <f A imn of an enlightened mind," fays HELVETIUS, " with 
 " whatever addrefs he may conceal his charafter, can never fo 
 ** cxaftly refemble a fool as a fool rcfembles himfelf." 
 
 that
 
 112 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 that it is impoflible to fucceed unlefs by means 
 of the moft fervile complaifance and degrading 
 iubmilTion, \v r hat can fave a fenfible and inge- 
 nuous youth from the perils of fuch a fcene but 
 SOLITUDE ! 
 
 The poor poet MARTIAL*, on his return to 
 Bibitisi the place of his nativity, in Spain^ after 
 having lived thirty-four years among the moft 
 learned and enlightened men of ROME, found 
 it a dreary defert, a frightful Splitude. Forced 
 to aflbciate with perfons who felt no pleafure in 
 the elegant delights of literature or the fciences, 
 a painful languor feized his mind, and he fighed 
 inceflantly to revifit the beloved metropolis 
 where he had acquired fuch univerfal fame ; 
 where his good fenfe, his penetration, his fa- 
 gacity were duly applauded, and immortality 
 promifed to his writings, by the encomiums 
 they received from the Younger PLINY, as pof- 
 fefling equal fharpnefs, wit, and eafe : but 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. 
 
 * " Ac<edit bis," fays MARTIAL, in the Preface to the 
 Twelfth Bool; of Jiis Epigrams,, " muntcipalium rubigo dentium 
 " et judhii loco li-vor atf-ver/us tjusd dijpcile $ balere 
 
 Il
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 1 T 3 
 
 IF, therefore, you be obliged in the circles of 
 famion to be abfurd through politenefs, and 
 blind with your eyes completely open ; forced 
 to conceal your ideas; to fubdue your feelings; 
 to lirten 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 punifhrnent to you fo fevere; if 
 every happy thought muft be ftrangled in its 
 birth, all brilliancy of expreffion fuppreffed, the 
 looks of love concealed, honed truth difguifed, 
 and your whole time devoted to pleafe characters 
 who are ignorant of your merit; O REFLECT! 
 that in fuch a fituation the enervated fpirit 
 lies buried in cold obfcurity, like the fire in 
 the flint untouched by fteel ; that your foul 
 may languifh many years in this dangerous 
 apathy; AND FLEE by a noble effort from the feafts 
 and coteries of your corrupted city to th tran- 
 quillity of domeftic comfort) the filence of the 
 groves, the fociety of your own heart, and the 
 charms of that ineftimable liberty which you have 
 fo long neglected to obtain. 
 
 FIEED from the world, tthe veil which dim- 
 med the fight immediately vanishes ; the clouds 
 which obfcured the light of reafon difappear j 
 the painful burden which opprefled the foul is 
 alleviated; we no longer wreflle with misfor- 
 
 I tunes,
 
 Il4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE^ 
 
 tunes, becaufe we know how to foftcn them ; 
 we no longer murmur againft the difpenfations 
 of Providence, but refteci with calmnefs and 
 ferenity on the advantages we have derived from 
 Solitude. The contented heart foon acquires 
 the habit of patience; every corroding care flies 
 from our breafts on the wings of gaiety; and 
 op every fide agreeable and interefting fcenes 
 prefent themfelves to our view : the brilliant fun 
 finking behind the lofty mountains, tingeing 
 their fnow-crowned fummits with rays of gold; 
 the feathered choir haftening to their moify 
 homes, to tafte the fweets of calm repofe; the 
 proud crowing of the amorous cock; the flow 
 march of the oxen returning from tneir daily 
 toil; the noble activity of the generous {teed: 
 furrounded by fuch objefts, we receive the vifits 
 of intruders with an open air ; and, provided 
 they do not too frequently interrupt the pleafurea 
 ef our retreat, we reconcile our hearts to all 
 mankind. 
 
 BUT it is ftill more neceflary to fave ourfelves 
 from the dangers of the metropolis than from 
 thofe of the provincial towns. The follies and 
 vices of high life are much more contagious than 
 thofe of the fimple citizen ! How foon the finefl 
 beams of the imagination die away, how foon 
 does goodnefs lole its power, where fcnfe and 
 
 truth
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. II j 
 *ruth are conftantly defpifed, and the virtues 
 thrown afide as inconvenient and oppreffive ! 
 The human mind foon becomes weak and fuper- 
 ficial when feparated from thofe by whom it 
 might be enlightened and adorned; all the finer 
 feelings of the heart, the nobleft efforts of the 
 mind, fuddenly decay in the company of thofe 
 oftentatious characters who affeft to difdain thfc 
 pleafures of mixed Jocieties *. 
 
 THE great and famionable, however, are in 
 every country efteemed the beft company; but 
 the great*, unhappily, are not always the befl^ 
 however they may 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 manfionsof the great are open 
 to receive him ; and where merit is overlooked, 
 he almoft univerfally acquires precedency over 
 the man whofe merit is his only recommenda- 
 tion ; but thofe qualities, which alone can render 
 him valuable as a MAN, HIS EXCELLENCY muft 
 learn in focieties where the powers of the mind 
 
 * The French is, " AJJembltes fans au<vre melee ;" to which 
 is fubjoined the following explanation : " Thefe, in the ftyle of 
 " the German nobility, arc tflemblies from which not only all 
 " commoners are excluded, but all thofe whofe nobility is even liable 
 *' to the leaft fufpicion." 
 
 I a and
 
 Il6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 and the virtues of the heart alone confer dignity 
 and diflinclion. Let fuch a character, if he 
 mould 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 estimation, place him fo much above the 
 ordinary level of mankind, tind induce him to 
 retrace his defcent to the creation of the world ; 
 and he will find that titles and genealogies with- 
 out MERIT refemble thofe air-balloons, which 
 rife high only in proportion to their want of 
 weight. 
 
 IN almoft every country, however, thefe titles 
 of nobility feparate a certain clafs of men from 
 their fellow-citizens, who are in general better 
 informed, more wife, more virtuous, and not 
 unfrequently pofTerTed of the only true nobility, 
 a great and honourable character. Men who 
 rely only on a line of anceflry, not always the 
 moft refpeclable, and on the mere diftinftion of 
 birth, for their fame, rank, or eftablifhment in 
 the world, never feek to acquire any other merit, 
 becaufe it is the only one of which they have 
 any idea. Such characters, it is true, have the 
 honours of precedency, are generally acquainted 
 with the neweft modes of drefs, condud with 
 fuperior (kill the varying fafhions, underfland 
 
 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 117 
 the BOV-TOV, exempli y the etiquette and man- 
 ners of the day, and conceiving, from thefe cir- 
 cuTiflances, that they were formed for the re- 
 finements of fenfuality and volup'tuoufnefs, 
 fa-icy themfelves of courfe endowed with the 
 mod delicate and fenfible faculties ; 
 
 LANGUOR and difguft, however, penetrate 
 even into thofe illuflrious af^cmblies, from which 
 the pure and ancient nobility exclude the pro- 
 phane vulgar. This proportion may perhaps ai~ 
 firfl view appear a paradox. But liflen to the 
 manner in which a lady, whofe perfonal qua- 
 Jifications rendered her more refpetlable than 
 even the fplendour of her birthj explained the 
 aenigma : 
 
 et THE men of -whom our feleft parties arc 
 <c compofed do not always poiTefs the fame 
 " tafte and the fame fentiment with refpeft to 
 " thefe a r emblics; but it is- f,ill more rare for 
 " the women to be really fond of them. It is, 
 " in general, the lot of THE GR : AT to poflefs a 
 <s great deal by their birth, to defire much more 
 " than they po.Tefs, and to enjoy nothing : in 
 " confequence of this difpofition, they fly to 
 " places of public refort in fearch of each otherj 
 " they meet without feeling the fmalleft plea- 
 4i fure, and mix among the group without being 
 I 3 obfe'rved."
 
 tl8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 f obferved." " What is it then that re-unite^ 
 them?" afked I." It is their rank," fhe 
 replied, " and afterwards cuftom, latitude, ancl 
 <e the continual defire of diflipation ; a defire 
 * 6 inseparably attached to perfons of our con*. 
 " dition." 
 
 SINCE it is really poffible to experience dif- 
 gufl and languor in the aflemblies of THE GREAT, 
 let us examine if Solitude may not have an ufe- 
 ful influence on the minds of even this clafs of 
 perfons. 
 
 THE NOBILITY, mifled by falfe information, 
 maintain that all the pleafures of Solitude centre 
 in a contempt of the world and hatred of man- 
 kind, or, what is ftill worfe, that mifanthropy 
 is the only bafis on which they are founded. 
 On the contrary, I am perfectly fatisfied that 
 their minds feel much more fpleen and mor- 
 tification on their return from a public af- 
 fembly, than they poflefied when they quitted 
 home to fee the world. The fober voice of 
 reafon is there but faintly heard ; while the 
 light, unmeaning tongue of folly is liftened to 
 with delight : our intellectual communications 
 afford no rcHfh; no reciprocity of fentiment pre- 
 vails ; the appearance of fatisfaftkm frequently 
 excites envy, and ferenity of mind is mifconftrued 
 
 into
 
 OX THE MIND AND THE HEART. II 
 into faclnefs. The refpeftive members of a na- 
 merous affembly are, in general, actuated by 
 fuch different and oppofite interefts, that it is 
 impoffible to reconcile them with each other. 
 Afk that young and lovely girl, if in a public af- 
 fembly me always experienced the pleafures flie 
 Tiopcd to find. Afk her if her heart be not tor- 
 tured with vexation, when the rich and youthful 
 beau, negleclful of her charms, pays his addreffes 
 to fome rival beauty. Afk this rival beauty 
 what pangs her bofom feels when fhe perceives 
 herfelf fupplanted by fome happier fair : and 
 let this lafl ackn wledge the kind of plcafure fhe 
 receives, if her admirer pay the leafl attention 
 even to her own friend, the fair female whom her 
 heart adores. Afk that fober feeming matron, 
 \vhofe bofom heretofore has felt thefe torments, 
 if fhe be not convulfed by pain, when higher 
 compliments are paded on the beauty of youth 
 than on the wifdom of age. 
 
 AN Englifh gentleman whom I met in Ger- 
 many faid, in a manner extremely lively, "There 
 " are women who are eternally jealous that you 
 " do not pay them fufficient refpeB, and who, 
 " in confequcnce, affume an- arrogance which 
 6i would be infupportable even in an emprefs ; 
 " w*hile they might, by complacent fmiles, not 
 t only render every one about them pleafed 
 14 " and
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLTTUDE 
 * ; and happy, but obtain their admiration and 
 " aoplauic. The falfe dignity of fuch cha- 
 <c rafters ruffles their tempers like the quil's 
 ft upon the fretful porcupine, or the feathers of 
 {e a turkey-cock in wrath." 
 
 THE moft diffipated man muft furely 
 fuch characters with abhorrence and difguft ; 
 and if he ferioufly reflect how many there are 
 who, carelefs of diilinguifhing between appear- 
 ances and reality, feel with equal indifference 
 the love of truth and dread of falfehood ; bow 
 frequently the perfons who compofe what is 
 ftyled GOOD COMPANY are, even in the judgment 
 and opinion of their finccreft and moll liberal 
 admirers, dazz'ed by falfe brilliancy, and gr 
 fied by the mod trilling information ; that they 
 ihun with terror the advantages of reflection, 
 tranquillity and Solitude; that they prefer a 
 life of incefTam diffipation, and feldom confult 
 their judgments or exercife their under (landings; 
 that they rather expe6l to receive pleaune from 
 others, than endeavour to find jt within them- 
 felves, and conduct themfelves by cafual advice, 
 rather than take the trouble of thinking for 
 themfelves; that amidft the moft favourable 
 opportunities to obferve and {tiidy the human 
 character, they neither think nor fpeak bift by 
 the information of others; that they guide them- 
 
 felves
 
 0\ T THE MIND AND THE HEART. 121 
 
 felv?s by the prejudices of their education, the 
 pride of their rank, and the dicla'es of fafhion ; 
 that they blindly adopt and defend the reigning 
 opinion ol'the moment, and revolve continually 
 round ii,e f.ime circle of defective notions, falfe 
 ideas, and obfcure cxpreffions; in reflecting on 
 thefe errors, the moft diflfipated man muft exclaim 
 v.ith one of the moft virtuous and refpeclable 
 fages of Germany, " To be forced to frequent 
 ' this good cowp-.wy, is, to a thinking and ju- 
 " dicious mind, one of the greaterl torments 
 *' of life : but when a wife man is obliged from 
 ' indifpenfable motives to endure the torment, 
 " he will learn by experience to feel, in a ftill 
 " higher degree, the ineftimable value of a ra- 
 4i tional Solitude." 
 
 MEN of the world therefore, if they acl with 
 candour, and fincerely examine the merits of 
 ics, will foon contemn fuch noify and 
 tn .ultu'Hjs fcenes ; and, preferring the calm de- 
 ls of Solitude, will feel a happy inclination 
 to difplay, in more laudable purfuiti, the ftrength 
 and energies of the mind. 
 
 IM the frequent vicifiitudes. embarrafTments, 
 and diflraclions of pubiic pleafures, the intellec- 
 tual flame expires. 
 
 BY
 
 122 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 BY a fcrupulous attention to all thofe ceremoi 
 nies which politencfs exafts, we may, indeed, 
 pay the court of flattery to both high and low; 
 but we alfo thereby mofl fhamefully facrifice our 
 Jives. The paflfion for play not only confumes 
 time, but enervates the fpirits ; while the exac- 
 tions of gallantry reduce the foul to the moft ab- 
 jet ftate of fervitude. 
 
 THE other entertainments of the great and gay 
 are of as little value as their conversions. The 
 man on whom Heaven has beftowed only the ta- 
 lent of dancing will make but a poor figure in 
 fociety. The courtier, whofe converfation en- 
 tirely confifts of obfervations, that " this is con- 
 " trary to the eftablifhed etiquette that is the 
 " ncweft fafhion thefe are the moft elegant 
 " embroideries on filk, cloth, and velvet in 
 " fuch a month there will be a GALA,'* is a 
 creature ftill more pitiful. A man may, without 
 doubt, recommend himfelf by fuch kind of in- 
 formation, by that affefted intereft with which he 
 fpeaks on a thoufand trifling concerns of life, 
 by the approbation which he gives to every paf- 
 fion, the flattery with which he fooths every 
 prejudice and encourages every folly; but he 
 thereby narrows his mind, and deftroys the 
 faculty of forming a juft eftimate of any import- 
 ant fubjecl. Befides, the pleafures of high life 
 
 cannot
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 Cannot be enjoyed without the concurrence of 
 great numbers in the fame objcft. at the fame 
 time : but reading and meditation may be en- 
 joyed at any time, and continued without the 
 intervention of another perfon. It is true, in- 
 deed, that if a man of the world were only to 
 think of this mode of life, he would be defpifed 
 as a mifanthrope, and be obliged every moment 
 to liften to the recommendation of entering into 
 the round of public pleafures to effect his cure. 
 But, on the contrary, the focicties of the world, 
 while they add fome little refinement to the na-. 
 tural rudenefs of human manners, tend to in- 
 creafe a mifanthropic temper, by furnifhing the 
 mind with a variety of reafons to juftify it. In 
 ihort, the burden of mifanthropy is not greater 
 in the mind of him who flees from the pleafures 
 of the world, than in him who feeks them : the 
 firft character only feels a hatred of vice and 
 folly ; while, on the contrary, the idle and dif- 
 fipated man hates every perfon who diftinguiflies 
 himfelf, either by the goodnefs of his heart or the 
 fuperiority of his underftanding ; and by his en- 
 deavours to deride all who poflefs merit, dif- 
 covers that he feels no hope of acquiring for 
 Jiimfelf either reputation or efteem. 
 
 THE mind that ferioufly contemplates thefe 
 truths, and many others which thefe will iuggeft, 
 
 mud
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 muft feel the neceffity of retiring occafionally 
 from the world ; at lead of confining hirnfelf 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 
 ever-v fecond as it pafles. He, therefore, who 
 feels the leail inclination to fludy either men or 
 books, can derive pleafure only from the com- 
 pany and converfation of learned and enlight- 
 ened minds ; ' and if, unfortunately, in his courfe 
 through life, he fhouid not meet with agreeable 
 characters of this defcription, the charms of Soli-, 
 tude will recompenfe his difappointment. 
 
 A VERY great character, the younger PLINY, 
 felt no fatisfa&ion from any fpecies of public 
 entertainment, general feflival, or national fo- 
 lemnity, becaufe he had cultivated a tatte for 
 thofe pleafures which a contemplative mind af- 
 fords. He wrote to one of his friends, " I have, 
 " for fome days pad, read and written in the 
 " moft agreeable tranquillity. You will afk, 
 *' how this could poflibly happen in Rome. I 
 *' will fatisfy you : It was during the celebration 
 <4 of the games of the Circus, the fight of which 
 
 " affords
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 1 2 
 
 <J affords me no pleafure ; for they poffefs nei- 
 " ther novelty nor variety, and confift of no- 
 <; thing worth feeing more than once. It is in- 
 " conceivable to me, how fo many millions of 
 " people can prefs with fuch childiih curiofity 
 44 merely to fee horfes gallop and flaves feated 
 " on chariots. When I reflecl: on the intereft, 
 " anxiety and avidity? with vhich men purfue 
 " fights fo vain, frivolous, and reiterated, I feel 
 " a fecret fatisfaftion in acknowledging that to 
 " me they afford no amufement, and that I en- 
 " joy a fuperior delight in confecrating to the 
 " ftudy of the bdlcs httres that time, which they 
 K fo miferably facrifice to the entertainments of 
 ' the Circus." 
 
 BUT if, from fimilar motives, A MAX OF THE 
 WORLD were to Real from the plcafures of good 
 company, would he not by that means, degrade 
 his character ? Would he not in the rccefs of 
 Solitude forget the BON-TON, and, of courfe, 
 lofe all thofe qualities which externally conftitute 
 the fole difference between THE NOBLEMAN and 
 his SLAVE ? 
 
 THE BON-TON, which confifts entirely in a fa- 
 cility of expreffion, in reprefenting our ideas in 
 the moft agreeable manner, prevails in every 
 Country, and is pofTefied in general by all men 
 
 of
 
 126 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 of fenfe and education, whatever their rank of 
 condition in life may be. The nobleman and 
 the clown, therefore, may alike acquire a know- 
 ledge of the Bov-TO.v. The folitary character 
 may perhaps appear in fociety with manners 
 fomewhat out of date; buta certain propriety of 
 behaviour will accompany him, which a man of 
 true reflexion will prefer, however foreign his 
 ftylemay be to the fafhion of the world. He may 
 perhaps venture to appear in company with a 
 coat, the colour of which was in fafhion the pre- 
 ceding year; perhaps in his modes of thinking- 
 and manner of behaviour fomething may be dif- 
 cernable offenfive to the eyes of a man of the 
 world, who upon thefe important fubjefls- fol" 
 lows invariably the reigning opinion of the day; 
 but by his eafy, open, honeft air, by that natural 
 politenefs which good fenfe and virtue infpire, a 
 man, although he be fomewhat out of the fafhion, 
 will never difpleafe a rational and refined ob-- 
 fervcr, even in the brilliant circles of a court,- 
 when he is found to pofFefs a decent deameanour 
 and a mind ftored with ufeful information. The 
 moft accomplished courtier, with all his ftudiedi 
 manners and agreeable addrefs, frequently dif- 
 covers that he poffelfes few ideas, and that his 
 mind has only been employed on low and trifling 
 objects. Among men of diffipated minds, who 
 confider groffhefs ofconverfation and audacity of
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. I2i 
 mannerasthe only criterion of good fenfeandpo* 
 lifhed behaviour, a folitary man does not always 
 meet with a favourable reception. The ftyle and 
 fentiment which beft pleafe fuch characters arc 
 impoflible to be learned in Solitude; for he -who 
 mod contributes to the amufement of men of the 
 world can feldom boa ft 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 cha- 
 racter, without judgment, principle, or good 
 manners. 
 
 IN what I have hitherto confidered in this 
 chapter, no queftion has been raifed of the inter- 
 nal and immediate advantages which Solitude con- 
 fers upon the mind. 
 
 THE MIND, without doubt, gains confiderablc 
 advantage by having been accuftomed to Solitude 
 during the earlieft years of infancy, if inftrufted 
 in a judicious ufe of time. The circumftance 
 alfo, that even in fmall towns the mind may be 
 imprefTed 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 advantageous, that without leflening die 
 refpeft which is juftly due to the talents and vir- 
 tues of men of quality, the mind fiiould be 
 
 taught
 
 THE INFLUENCE op SOLITUDE 
 
 taught to remark alfo their foibles and defefts, 
 in order to detach it from its fondnefs for the 
 world, and conneft it more clofely with itfelf j 
 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 circulated in what is called GOOD 
 COM? AN Y. 
 
 Brr the firft and moft inconteftable advantage, 
 which Solitude confers, is, that it accuftoms the 
 mind to think. Tke imagination becomes more 
 lively, the memory more faithful, while the 
 fcnfes remain undiftra&ed and no external ob- 
 jecl: difgufts the foul. Withdrawn from the fa* 
 tiguing toils of the world, where a thoufand ad- 
 ventitious objects dance incefiantly before our 
 eyes, and fill the mind with incoherent ideas, 
 SOLITUDE prefents onefingle obje6l only to our 
 view, and we fteal ourfelves away from every 
 thing but that on which the heart has fixed its 
 purluit. An author*, whofe works I could read 
 
 * Dr. BLAIR, the author of the much admired Sermons, and 
 of an excellent work intitled, " I>clures. on Rhetoric and 
 " Belles Lcttres," printed in London, for the firft time, in the 
 year 1783; and indifpenfably nectffary to be ftudied by every 
 perfon who wifhes to fpeak and write with accuracy and ele- 
 gance. 
 
 with
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 V'ith-pleafure every hour of my life, fays " It 
 t 6 is the power of attention which in a great 
 " meafurc diflinguifhes the wife and the great 
 " from the vulgar and trifling herd of men. 
 46 The latter are accuftomed to think, or rather 
 " to dream, without knowing the fubjeft of 
 fi their thoughts. In their unconnected rovings, 
 " they purfue no end; they follow no. track. 
 " Every thing floats loofe and disjointed on the 
 " furface of their mind ; like leaves fcattered 
 
 <c and blown about on the face of the waters.'' 
 
 * 
 
 THE mind eai ly acquires the habit of think- 
 ing, when it is withdrawn from that variety of 
 objects by which its attention is diftrafted; when 
 it turns from the obfervation of external obje&s, 
 and finds itfelf in a fituation where the courfe of 
 daily occurrences is no .longer fubjeft to con- 
 tinual change. IDLENESS, however, would foon 
 deftroy all the advantages which Solitude is ca- 
 pable of affording; for idlenefs excites the mofl 
 dangerous fermentation of the paffions, and pro- 
 duces in the mind of a folitary man a croud of 
 extravagant ideas and irregular de fires. To lead 
 the mind to think, it is necefiary, therefore, to 
 retire from the multitude, and to raifc our 
 thoughts above the mean confederation of fen- 
 fual objefts. The mind then eafily recollects all 
 that information with which it has been enriched 
 
 K by
 
 I3O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 by reading, obfervation, experience, or difcourfe * 
 every reflection produces new ideas, and brings 
 the pureft pleafures to the foul. We caft our 
 eyes on the fcenes we have pafled, and think on 
 \vhat is yet to come, until the memory of the 
 pad and future die away in the actual enjoyment 
 of the prefent moment : but to preferve the pow- 
 ers of reafon, we muu% even in Solitude, direct 
 our attention actively towards fome nobly-in- 
 terefting end. 
 
 IT might perhaps excite a fmile, were I to af- 
 fert that Solitude is the only fchool in which we 
 can ftudy the characters of men ; but it muft be 
 recollected, that, although materials are to be 
 amafied only in Jcciety^ it is in Solitude alane 
 that 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 Solitude. Under this view of the 
 fubj.ecl:, therefore, I do not perceive how it is 
 poflible to call thofe chara&ers envious and 
 mifanthropic, who, while they continue in the 
 world, endeavour to difcover even the hidden 
 foibles, to expofe all the latent faults and im- 
 perfe&ions of mankind. -A knowledge of the 
 nature of man is laudable and neceffary ; and 
 this knowledge can only be acquired by obferva- 
 tion. I cannot therefore think, that this ftudy is 
 
 I either
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 1^ I 
 
 either 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 
 pleafures, and in the end to deftroy all the facul- 
 ties of the foul. I only perceive a very laudable 
 fpirit of ufeful inquiry and inftru&ive obfcrva- 
 ation. 
 
 Do I feel either envy or hatred againfl man- 
 kind, when I ftudy the nature, and explore the 
 fccret caufes, of thofe wcakneffes and diforders 
 \vhich are incidental to the human franle; when 
 I occafionally examine the fu-bjc6l with clofcr 
 infpe&ion, and point out for the general benefit 
 of mankind, as well as for my own fatisfaftion, 
 all the frail and imperfecl parts in the anatomy 
 of the body, and rejoice when I difcover phac- 
 nomina before unknown to others as well as to 
 inyfelf ? I do not, upon thefe occafions, confine 
 my knowledge to general obfervations, that fuch 
 and fuch appearances were produced by fuch 
 and fuch diforders; but, uninfluenced by any finif- 
 ter confiderations, I difclofe, when the neceffity of 
 the cafe calls for information, all the knowledge 
 I poffefs on the fubjeft, and explain every fymp- 
 tom of the difofder, with all its changes and 
 complications. 
 
 K 2 BUT
 
 1^2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 BUT a line of demarcation is drawn between 
 the obfervations which we are permitted to make 
 upon the anatomy of the human body, and thofe 
 which we aflume refpefting the philofophy of 
 the mind. The phyfician, it is faid, ftqdies the 
 diforders of the body, to apply, if poffible, a re- 
 medy, as occafion may require : but it is con- 
 tended, that the moralift has a different end in 
 view. How does this appear ? A fenfible and 
 feeling mind muft view the moral defefts of his 
 fellow-creatures with the fame regret that he ob- 
 ferves their phyfical infirmities. Why do moral- 
 ifts fhun mankind ? Why do they conftantly re- 
 tire from the corruptions of the world to the 
 purity of Solitude, if it be not to avoid the con- 
 tagion of vice ? But there are a multiplicity of 
 moral foibles or defefts, which are not perceived 
 to be foibles and defefts in thofe places where 
 theyare 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 with- 
 out doing an injury to any individual, 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 apprehenfion, a pleafure 
 ib far from being mifchievous, that I rather think, 
 and I truft I fliall continue to think fo even in 
 the hour of death, it is the only true mean of dif- 
 2 covering
 
 CN THE MIND AND THE HEART. 133 
 
 covering the machinations of the devil, and de- 
 ftroying the effeft of his works. 
 
 SOLITUDE, therefore, is the fchool in which 
 we muft fludy the moral nature of man : in re- 
 tirement, the principle of obfervation is awaken- 
 ed j the objefts to which the attention will be 
 moft advantageoufly directed are pointed out by 
 mature 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 digefting the fubjeft 
 on which they are formed. 
 
 BONNET, in a very affeBing paffage of the pre- 
 face to his work on the NATURE OF THE SOUL, 
 defcribes the advantages which, under the lofs of 
 his light, he derived from Solitude. " Solitude 
 " naturally leads the mind to meditation : that 
 *' in which I have in fome meafure hitherto lived, 
 " joined to the unfortunate circumftances which 
 " have for fome years afflifted me, and from 
 " which I am not yet releafed, induced me to 
 " feek in the exercife of my mind thofe refourccs 
 which my diftrafted ftate rendered fo neceflar'y. 
 * ; My mind now affords me a happy retreat, where 
 <! I taile all the pleafures which have charmed 
 
 K 3 " my
 
 J34 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " my affliclion." At this period the virtuous 
 BONNET was almoft blind. 
 
 AN excellent man, of another description, 
 who devoted his time to the inftruclion of youth, 
 PFEFFELL, of Cclmar, fupported himfelf under 
 the affliction of a total blindnefs in a manner 
 equally noble and affeBing, by a life lefs folitary 
 indeed, but by the opportunities of frequent lei- 
 fure, which he devoted to the ftudy of phi- 
 lofophy, the recreation of poetry, and the exer- 
 cife of humanity. 
 
 IN Japan there was formerly an academy of 
 blind perfons, who perhaps were much more 
 capable ofdifcernment than the members of fome 
 other academies. Thefe fightlefs academicians 
 confecrated their, hours to mufic, poetry, and 
 the hiftory of their country : the moft cele- 
 brated traits in the annals of Japan were cho- 
 fen as the fubjeft of their mufe, and thefe 
 they afterwards adapted to mufic. In reflecting 
 upon the irregular lives and ufelefs employ- 
 ments which a great number of folitary perfons 
 lead, we contemplate the conducl of thefe blind 
 Japanefe with the higheft plcafure. The "mind's 
 eye" opened to compenfate their unhappy fate 
 in being deprived of the enjoyment of their cor- 
 poreal organ. Light, life, and joy, iffued from 
 
 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 135 
 
 the fhades of furrounding darknefs, and blefied 
 them with tranquil refle&ion and falutary em- 
 ployments. 
 
 LET us then devote our lives to Solitude and 
 freedom ; let us frequently refign ourfelves to 
 the fame happy tranquillity which prevails in the 
 englifh garden of my immortal friend M. HINU- 
 BER, at Marieniuerder, where every object folicits 
 the mind to the enjoyment of pious, peaceful 
 fentiment, and infpires it with the mod elevated 
 conceptions: or, if difpofed profoundly to exa- 
 mine the more awful beauties of nature, and 
 thereby prevent the foul from finking through 
 the void which fociety has occafioned, let us 
 roam beneath the antique pines of the towering, 
 majeftjc 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 examine with honejl impartiality the 
 ideas which it feels the greateft inclination to 
 
 * An elevated mountain, from the fummit of which may be 
 fcen the ruins of an ancient caftle^ whence iffued the celebrated 
 Hufe of Auftria. 
 
 K 4 follow,
 
 J-;6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 3 
 
 follow, in order to dive into and unravel the 
 whole myftery of the human character; and he 
 who has not before been accuftomed to interro- 
 gate himfelf will, upon fuch an enquiry, often 
 difcover truths the molt important to his happi- 
 nefs, which the difguifes of the world had con- 
 cealed from his view. 
 
 To a man difpofed to activity, the only quali- 
 ties, for which there can be any occafion in Soli- 
 tude, are LIBERTY and LEISURE. The inftant 
 he finds himfelf 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 flavifh and oppreffed 
 life among the fons of men. Thofe authors who 
 never think* for themfelves, but only recollect 
 the thoughts of others, and aim not at origina- 
 lity, here compile their works with eafy labour, 
 and are happy. But what fuperior pleafure does 
 the mind of an author feel in the advantages of 
 Solitude, where they contribute to bring forth 
 the fruits of genius from the tree of virtue, to 
 the confufion of folly and wickednefs ! Solitude 
 and tranquillity moderate the exuberance of a 
 lively mind, bring its diverging rays to a fingle 
 point, and give it a power to ftrike which no- 
 thing can refift. A legion of adverfaries cannot 
 infpire fuch a charafter with fear; confcious of 
 
 his
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 137 
 
 his powers, and anxious for the interefts of 
 virtue, his delire and determination will be 
 to render his enemies, fooner or later, con- 
 dign juftice. He muft undoubtedly feel the 
 keeneft regret and mortification in obferving 
 the difpenfations of the world ; where vice is 
 frequently raifed to grandeur, hypocrify gene- 
 rally honoured by the fuffrages of a mifguided 
 populace, and prejudices obeyed in preference 
 to the voice of truth. Calling, however, his 
 eyes upon this fcene, he will fometimes fay, 
 * This is as it ought to be;" but, " this is not 
 <; to be endured :" and by a happy ftroke of 
 fatire from his pen, the bloom of vice fliali 
 wither, the arts of hypocrify be overthrown, 
 and prejudice extinguifhed. 
 
 To the eye of the bold fatirift, to the mind 
 of the profound philofopher, to the feelings of 
 the man of genius, the charms of TRUTH dif- 
 clofe themfelves with fuperior luftre in the 
 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 
 c; is the chara&eriftic of little and frivolous 
 u minds to be wholly occupied with the vulgar 
 " objcBs of life. Thcle fill up their defires, 
 v and fupply all the entertainment which their 
 
 <' coarfe
 
 IjS THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 ** coarfe apprehen lions can relifh. But a more 
 f 4 refined and enlarged mind leaves the wor!4 
 < behind it, feels a call for higher pleafures, 
 " and feeks them in retreat. The man of pub- 
 c lie fpirit has recourfe to it in order to form 
 *' plans for general good; the man of genius in 
 6; order to dwell on his favourite themes; the 
 * philofbpher to purfue his difcoveries ; the 
 f 4 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 foreft of 
 Aricia, where he paffed his time in wandering 
 alone through the facred groves, lawns, and 
 moil retired places. The fuperftition of the age 
 jmputed his love of Solitude, not to any hatred of 
 mankind, not to a forrowful or difcontented mind, 
 but to a higher caufe, a myfterious communi- 
 cation with fome protecting Deity. A rumour 
 prevailed, that the goddefs EGERIA had become 
 enamoured of his charms, had married him, 
 and, by enlightening his mind, and floring it 
 with fuperior wifdorn, had led him to divine 
 felicity. THE DRUIDS, alfo, who conftantly 
 inhabited caverns, rocks, and the moft folltary 
 woods, are faid to have inftruBed the nobility 
 of their nation in wifdom and eloquence, in all 
 
 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 139 
 
 the various phenomena of nature, the courfe of 
 the ftars, the myfteries of religion, and the 
 efTences of eternity. The high idea entertained 
 of the wifdom of THE DRUIDS, although, like 
 the ftory of NUMA, it is only an agreeable fic- 
 tion*, ftill fbewiwith what enthufiafm every age 
 and nation have fpoken of thofe venerable cha- 
 ra&ers who, in the lilence of woods and the 
 tranquillity of Solitude, have devoted their time 
 to the improvement and reformation of mankind. 
 
 IN Solitude the powers of genius no longer 
 require the patronage of THK GREAT, but at 
 by their own intrinfic force with greater energy 
 than when ftimulated by the praifes of partiality, 
 the promifes of flattery, or the hopes of re- 
 compencc. CORREGIO, at a time when FLAX- 
 DERS, torn by civil difcord, was filled with 
 painters as poor in circumftances as they were 
 rich in fame, had been fo feldom rewarded during 
 his life, that a payment of fix piftoles of Ger- 
 man coin, which he was obliged to travel to 
 
 * " Although," fays an elegant hiftorian, " the integrity 
 " of the fagc may be impeached in countenancing the fiction, yet 
 " the pious fraud of the monarch may be palliated if not vindi- 
 " cated; ani policy will pardon that deceit which was exerciftd 
 *' to reform the manners, and to rcftrain the poflions, of a la\v- 
 V ids and barbarous people." TRANSLATOR. 
 
 PARMA
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 PARMA to receive, created in his mind fuch an 
 extravagance of joy, that it proved the occafion 
 of his death*. The fecret approbation of the 
 judicious is the only recompence thefe divine 
 artifts expect for their merit; they paint in the 
 hope of being rewarded by immortal fame. 
 
 THE practice of profound meditation raifes 
 the mind above its natural tone, warms the 
 imagination, and gives birth to fentiments of 
 the higheft fublimity ; and the foul thus em- 
 ployed in Solitude feels the moft pure, un- 
 broken, permanent, and genial pleafures of 
 -which it is capable. In Solitude, to live and 
 to think are fynonymous terms ; on every emo- 
 tion the mind darts into infinity; and, wrapt in 
 its enthufiafrn, is confirmed by this freedom of 
 enjoyment in the habitude of thinking on fub- 
 lime fubjefts, and of adopting the moft heroic 
 purfuits. In a deep recefs, at the foot of a high 
 mountain near PYRMONT, one of the moft re- 
 markable achievements of the prefent age was 
 
 * The payment was made to him in guaariai, a fpecles of 
 copper coin. The joy which the mind of CORREGIO felt in 
 being the bearer of fo large a quantity of money to his wife, 
 prevented him from thinking either of the length of his journey 
 otthe exceflive heat of the day. He walked twelve miles; and 
 his hafte to reach his home brought on the pleurify of which he 
 died.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 firft conceived. The king of Prufiia having 
 vifited THE SPA, withdrew from the public com- 
 pany of the place, and wandered alone upon 
 this beautiful though uncultivated mountain 3 
 which to this day is called THE ROYAL MOUN- 
 TAIN*. On this defert fpot, fince become the 
 feat of coquetry and diffipation, the young mo- 
 narch, it is confidently reported, formed the pro- 
 ject of his war againft SILESIA. 
 
 THE ineftimable value of time, of which the 
 indolent, having no conception, can form no 
 eftimate, is much better learned in the regu- 
 larity of Solitude than in the light and airy- 
 rounds of life. He who employs himfelf with 
 ardour, and is unwilling to live entirely in vain, 
 contemplates with trembling apprehenfion the 
 rapid movement of a ftop-watch, the true image 
 of human life, the moft ftriking emblem of thfc 
 rapid courfe of time. 
 
 THE time which we employ in focial inter- 
 courfe, when it improves the faculties of. the 
 mind, raifes the feelings of the heart to a certain 
 degree of elevation, extends the fphere of know- 
 ledge, and baniflies our cares, is far from being 
 inifpent. But if an intercourfe even thus hap- 
 
 * Xcenigfljerg. 
 
 pily
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 J>ily formed become our fole delight, ana 
 change into the paflion of love; if it transform 
 hours into minutes, and exclude from the mind 
 every idea except thofe which the objeft of af- 
 fection infpiresj even LOVE itfelf, alas! will 
 abforb our time, and years will pafs unperceived 
 away. 
 
 TIME is never too long; on the contrary, it 
 appears too ihort to him who, to the extent of 
 his capacity, employs it ufefully in difcharging 
 the refpeclive duties which his particular fitua- 
 tion calls upon him to perform. To fuch a 
 difpofition, time, inftead of being burdenfome, 
 flies too haftily away. I am acquainted with a 
 young prince who, by the affiftance of fix do- 
 meftics, does not employ more than two mi- 
 nutes in dreffing. Of his carriage, it would be 
 incorrect to fay that he goes in it, for it files. At 
 his hofpitable 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, how- 
 ever, feen the royal youth, to whom I allude* 
 exercife the molt brilliant talents, fupport the 
 higheft ftyle of character, attend in his own per- 
 fon to every application, and I know that he has 
 afforded fatisfaclion and delight in every inter- 
 view.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 143 
 
 riew. I know that the affairs of his domcftic 
 ellablifhment engage his moft fcrupulous atten- 
 tion fix hours every day, and that in every day 
 of the year he employs, without exception, feveti 
 hours in reading the beft englifh, kalian, French,- 
 and german authors. This prince knows the 
 value of time. 
 
 THE time which the man of the world throws 
 awav is treafured up by the man of Solitude, and 
 indeed by every one who wimes to make his ex- 
 iftence ufeful <to himfelf or beneficial to man- 
 kind; and certainly there is not in this world 
 any fpecies of enjoyment more permanent. 
 Men have many duti'es to perform; and therefore 
 he who \fifhes to difcharge them honourably will 
 vigilantly feize the earlieft opportunity, rf he dor 
 fiot wifh that any part of his time, like, an ufelefe 
 page, mould be torn from the book of life. We 
 flop the courfe of time by employment; we 
 prolong the duration of life by thought, by wife 
 counfel, and ufeful actions. Existence, to him 
 who wimes not to live in vain, is to think and to 
 aft. Our ideas never flow more rapidly, more 
 eopioufly, or with more gaiety, than in thofe 
 moments which we fave from an unpleafant and 
 fafhionable vifrt.
 
 144- TttE INFLUENCE CF SOLITUDE 
 
 WE fhall always employ time with more rigid 
 ceconomy, when we reflect on the many hour* 
 vhich efcape contrary to our inclination. A ce- 
 Jebrated englifh author lays, " When we have 
 46 deduced all that is abforbcd in fleep, all that is 
 " inevitably appropriated to the demands of na- 
 " ture, or irrefiftibly engrofTed by the tyranny of 
 " cullom; all that paffes in regulating the fuper- 
 ef ficial decorations of life, or is given up in 
 " the reciprocations of civility to the difpofal of 
 * 6 others; all that is torn from us by the violence 
 " of difeafe, or ftolen imperceptibly away by 
 <c latitude and languor ; we (hall find that part 
 M of our duration very fmall of which we can 
 " truly call ourfelves matters, or which we can 
 6 fpend wholly at our own choice. Many of 
 ' our hours are loft in a rotation of petty 
 " cares, in a conftant recurrence of the fame 
 "employments; many of our provifions for 
 16 eafe or happinefs are always exhaufted by the 
 " prefent day, and a great part of our exiftence 
 " ferves no other purpofe than that of enabling 
 *' us to enjoy the relt." 
 
 TIME is never more mifpent than while we 
 complain againft the want of it. All our actions 
 are then tinctured by peevifhnefs. The 'yoke of 
 life certainly is leaft oppreflive when we carry it 
 with good humour. But when the imperious 
 
 voice
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 145 
 
 voice of Fafhion commands, we muft, without 
 a murmur, boldly refift her bondage, and learn 
 to reduce the number of ceremonious vifits 
 which employ the week. The accomplifhment 
 of this victory; a door well bolted againft the 
 intrufion of futile vifitors; our mornings paffed 
 in rational employments; and the evening con- 
 fecrated to a fevere fcrutiny into our daily con- 
 duel, will at leaft double the time we have to 
 live. MELANCTHON, when any vifitor was an- 
 nounced, noted down not only the hour, but 
 the very minute of his arrival and departure, 
 in order that the day might not flip unheededly 
 away* 
 
 THE forrowful lamentations on the fubjecl of 
 time mifpent and bufmefs neglefted no longer 
 recur to torture the mind, when, under the 
 freedom of a retired and rural life, we have once 
 learnt to ufe the paffing hours with oeconomy. 
 We have then no more fatiguing vifits to make ; 
 we are no longer forced, in fpite of our averfion, 
 to accept of invitations ; we are releafed from 
 thofe accumulating duties which the manners of 
 the world exaft, and which altogether are not 
 equal to a fingle virtue: importunate vifitors 
 cannot then call and fteal away thofe hours 
 which we hope to employ more ufefully. 
 
 L Bur
 
 146 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 BUT it has alfo been obferved with great truth, 
 that very few of the hours which we pafs in Soli- 
 tude are diftinguifhed by any ufeful or perma- 
 nent effecl; that many of them pafs lightly 
 away in dreams and chimeras, or are em- 
 ployed in difcontented, unquiet reflexions on the 
 indulgence of dangerous paflions or criminal 
 deli res. 
 
 To retire into Solitude is not always a proof 
 that the mind is devoted to ferious thought, or 
 that it has relinquifhed the amufement of low 
 and trifling purfuits. Solitude, indeed, may 
 prove more dangerous than all the diflipations 
 of the world. How frequently, in a moment 
 of the happieft leifure, does indifpofition render 
 the mind incapable either of ftudy, or of em- 
 ploying its powers to any ufeful end ! The mofl 
 forrowful condition of Solitude is that of the 
 hypochondriac, whofe mind is only occupied by 
 a fenfe of his pains. The moft diffipated man 
 does not more mifpend his time in purfuing 
 the fleeting pleafures of the world, than a man, 
 however abflracled from the world, who pines 
 in melancholy over his misfortunes. Peevifhnefs 
 and ill-humour occafion as great lofs of time 
 as melancholy, and are certainly the greateft 
 obftacles to the attainment of mental felicity. 
 
 Melan-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 Melancholy is an enemy whofe hoftilities alarm 
 our fears, and we therefore endeavour to refift 
 its attack; but peevifhnefs and ill-humour 
 work by fap, and we become tlie victims of 
 their power even before we think ourfelves in 
 danger* 
 
 LET us, however, only reflecl:, that by pee- 
 vifhnefs and ill-humour ws not only lofe a 
 fingle day, but weeks and months together, and 
 we mall endeavour to efcape from their influ- 
 ence, or,*atleaft, to prevent their accefs. One 
 unple'afant thought, if we ufelefsly fuffer it to 
 difcjuiet and torment our minds, will deprive 
 us r for a length of time, of the capacity to 
 perform any thing beyond the circle of our daily 
 occupations. We fliould, therefore* moil anxi- 
 oufly endeavour to prevent any the moft un- 
 toward accidents of life from impeding the ac- 
 tivity of our minds. While the attention is 
 employed, the remembrance of forrow dies away. 
 Thus, in literary compofition, if ideas flow with 
 freedom and fuccefs, peevifhnefs and ill-humour 
 immediately difappear; and the pen, which was 
 taken up with the frown of difcontcnt, is laid 
 down with the fmiles of approbation and the 
 face of joy.
 
 148 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 LIFE would afford abundant leifure amidft 
 the greateft multiplicity of affairs, if we did not 
 facrifice our time, or fuffer it to pafs unem- 
 ployed away. The youth, who has learned the 
 art of devoting every hour to fome ufeful pur- 
 pofe, has made conftderable proficiency, and 
 is already qualified to manage even extenfive 
 eoncerns. But the mind, whether from indo- 
 lence or ill-humour, before it undertakes a toil- 
 fome talk, hefitates, and endeavours to believe 
 that it is not yet the proper feafon to com- 
 mence ,the work. Indolence muft ever be 
 careffed before it can be induced to acl. Let 
 our firft care, therefore, be ta fix our minds 
 invariably upon fome object; and to purfue it 
 fo as to place attainment beyond the reach of 
 accident. To form the character of a man of 
 bufmefs, firmnefs and decifion muft unite with 
 good-nature and flexibility. Surely no man ever 
 knew better how to employ life than that monarch 
 of whom it was faid, " He is like marble, equally 
 ** jirm and polijhed" 
 
 THE purfuit of. fome particular object, while 
 it prevents the lofs of time, acts like a counter- 
 poifon to the languors of life. Every man, 
 from the monarch on the throne to the labourer 
 in the cottage, ftiould have a daily tafk, which 
 he fhould feel it his duty to perform without 
 
 delay.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 149 
 
 delay. The legend, " // is to do this that you 
 *' are -placed here," ought to be ever prefent to 
 his mind, and flimulate all his actions. The 
 great .monarch, exemplary to the age in which 
 he lives, and whofe conduct furnifhes a model 
 to poflerity, rifes every morning in fummer at 
 four o'clock, and in winter at five. The peti- 
 tions of his fubje&s, the difpatches from foreign 
 powers, the public documents of the Hate, 
 which were prefented the preceding evening, 
 or have arrived during the night, are placed 
 before him on a table. He opens and perufes 
 the contents of every paper, and then diftri- 
 butes them into three heaps. One, which re- 
 quires difpatch, he anfvvers immediately; the 
 fecond he prepares, by remarks written in the 
 margin with his own hand, for the minifters and 
 other officers of the crown ; the third, which 
 contains neither amufement nor bufmefs, is 
 configned to the fire. The fecretaries of ftate, 
 who attend in readinefs, then enter to re- 
 ceive his majefty's commands; and the bufinefs 
 of the day is delivered by the monarch into the 
 hands of his fervants, to be immediately per- 
 formed. He then mounts his horfe to review his 
 troops, and receives in the field thofe foreigners 
 who are defirous of being introduced to him. 
 This fcene is fucceeded by the hofpitality of his 
 table, to which he fits down with the gaiety of 
 L a con-
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 a contented mind, and enlivens the converfa- 
 tion with fentiments and apophthegms equally 
 admirable for their truth and utility. When the 
 repaft is rimmed, the fecretaries re-enter, bring- 
 ing 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 bufinefs 
 of the nation being concluded, the monarch 
 thinks himfelf at liberty to repole; and this 
 indulgence confifts in reading to himfelf, or in 
 having read to him, the belt compofitions, an- 
 cient and modern, until the hour of fup- 
 per. A fovereign who thus employs his 
 hours may fairly expect, that the time of his 
 minifters, his generals, his officers of ftate, fhall 
 not be mifpent. 
 
 THE activity of many men is never excited 
 except by matters of high importance; they 
 refufe to employ their talents upon trifling ob- 
 jecls; and becaufe no opportunity occurs wor- 
 thy, as they think, of their exertions, they will 
 do nothing. Others do nothing, becaufe they 
 do not know how. to diftribute their time. 
 Many great and ufeful purpofes might be 
 achieved, by actively employing all the idle half- 
 hours of life to any end they might propofe ; 
 
 for
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 1^1 
 
 for there are many important events which can 
 only be produced by flow degrees. But thofe 
 who are pleafed with and folicit interruption ; 
 who indulge their indolence by remaining idle 
 until they feel an inclination to be induftrious, 
 which can only be acquired by habit ; who look 
 profpe&ively for that feafon of complete leifure 
 which no man ever finds ; will foon fallacioufly 
 conclude, that they have neither opportunity 
 nor power to exert their talents ; and to kill that 
 time which adds a burden to their lives, will 
 fauntcr about on foot, or ride from place to 
 place, morning, noon, and night. 
 
 MY deceafed friend Is EL IN, one of the great- 
 eft and moft worthy men that ever adorned 
 SWISSERLAND, compofed his Epbemerides dur- 
 ing the debates in the fenate of BASIL*; a 
 work which many of the nobility of Germany 
 have read, and all of them ought to ftudy. Our 
 own celebrated MCLSZU, who now relides at 
 QJnaburgi equally honoured and beloved by 
 his king, the prince, the minifters, the nobility, 
 
 * Mr. ISELIN was a regifter: while he was competing his 
 Eficmeridts , the fenators of Eafd conceived that he was regiftering 
 their debates; in the fame manner as the counfellors ot Zurich 
 thought that the immortal GESSNER was collecting their pro- 
 ceedings upon his tablets, while he was in fact taking the portraits 
 of thofe worthies in caricature. 
 
 L 4 clergy*
 
 I2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 clergy, citizens and peafants, as a man of bu- 
 finefs and a patriot, raifed himfelf, by the eafy 
 exercife of fportive fancy, to a pinnacle of famo 
 which few German writers have been able to. 
 reach*. 
 
 
 
 6i CARPE DIEM," fays HORACE; and this re- 
 commendation 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 incefTant gaiety, to 
 enjoy the fleeting moments as they pafs; and 
 there is found reafon in thefe precepts, though 
 not in the fenfe in whic4i they underftand them. 
 To enjoy the prefent moments, they rnuft not 
 be confumed in drinking and debauchery, but 
 employed in advancing fteadily towards the end 
 we propofe to attain. The joys of public life 
 are not incompatible with the advantages of 
 Solitude. Morning vifits may be paid at noon a 
 cards of ceremony may be circulated through 
 half the town, perfonal appearance may be re- 
 corded in every fafhionablte aflembly, and the 
 morning and evening ftill kept facred to our- 
 
 * M. MCESER dilated to his daughter during the exhibition of 
 the theatre almoft the whole of his fugitive pieces, which luve 
 fo juftly given immortality to his fame. 
 
 felves.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 153 
 
 felves. It is only neceflary to adopt fomc re* 
 gular plan of life, to encourage a fondnefs for 
 home, and an inclination to continue the pur- 
 fuitofour defign. It i* the man of labour and 
 application alone, who has during the day 
 afforded benefit to his neighbour or fervice to 
 the ftate, that can in confcience fix himfelf a 
 whole night to the gaming-table, without hear- 
 ing or faying one interefting word, and without, 
 on his return home, being able to recoiled any 
 other exprefiion than, " { have won or loft fo 
 " much money." 
 
 \ 
 
 THE higheft advantage we derive from time, 
 and the fole end to which I would direct thefe 
 reflections, PETRARCH has already taught us. 
 ^ 6 If," fays PETRARCH, " you feel any inclina- 
 " tion to ferve God, in which confifts the higheft 
 " felicities of our nature ; if you be dif- 
 " pofed to elevate the mind by the ftudyof let- 
 ^ f ters, which, next to religion, procures us the 
 " trueft pleafures ; if, by your fentiments and 
 * writings, yqu be anxious to leave behind you 
 61 fomething that will memorize your name with 
 " pofterity, ftop the rapid progrefs of time, 
 ct and prolong the courfe of this moft uncertain 
 46 life; if you feel the lead inclination to ac- 
 ^ quire thefe advantages, flee, ah ! flee, I befeech 
 # you, from the enjoyments of the world, and 
 
 pafs
 
 *54 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 * pafs the few remaining days you have to live 
 <t in SOLITUDE." 
 
 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, matters of their time, and 
 who may, as their inclinations lead them, either 
 preferve or relinquish their connections with the 
 world. It is, therefore, for the benefit of fuch 
 characters, that I (hall continue to confider the 
 advantages which Solitude affords. 
 
 SOLITUDE infpires the mind with exquifite 
 tafte, extends the boundaries of thought, en- 
 larges the fphere of aclion, and difpenfes a fu- 
 perior kind of pleafure } which neither time nor 
 accident can remove/ 
 
 TASTE is refined in Solitude by a more care- 
 ful feleftion of thofe beauties which become the 
 fubje&s of our- contemplation. It depends en- 
 tirely upon ourfelves to make choice of thofe 
 objeels from which we may derive the pureft 
 pleafure; to read thofe writings, to encourage 
 thofe reflections, which moft tend to purify the 
 mind, and ftore it with the richeft variety of 
 images. Repofing with fecurity upon the efta- 
 blifhed wifdom of others, and confulting our 
 own judgments, the mind efcapes the conta- 
 gion
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 155 
 
 gion of thofc falfe notions which are fo gene- 
 rally adopted by the world. To be obliged 
 continually to fay, u This is the fentiment 
 <f which I muft entertain," is infupportable. 
 Why, alas ! will not men drive to gain opinions 
 of their own, rather than fubmit to be guided 
 by the arbitrary dictates of others? If a work 
 pleafe me, of what importance is it to me 
 whether the beau-mcnde approve of it or not? 
 In what do ye inftrucl me, ye cold and mifc- 
 rable critics ? Does your judgment make me 
 feel that which is truly fine, noble, good, and 
 excellent, with higher relifh ? How can I rely 
 upon the decifion of a tribunal fo partial as to 
 decide by arbitrary agreements \ a tribunal that 
 examines every thing haftily, and generally de- 
 termines wrong ? What opinion mufl; I enter- 
 tain of the multitude who only repeat what 
 REVIEWERS direft them to fay, and found the 
 fentiments of others to the public ear? What 
 confidence can be placed in the judgments of 
 thofe who pronounce the moft deteftable publi- 
 cation to be excellent, only becaufe a certain 
 perfon of literary renown, upon whofe word 
 they would condemn the chafteft work, has 
 thought proper to praife it ? 
 
 THE enchanting beauties of truth cannot be 
 difcovered or felt among fuch'a clafs of readers; 
 
 for
 
 1^6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 for they infect the judgment before we difcover 
 the danger. Enlightened minds who are capa- 
 ble of correctly diftinguifhing beauties from de- 
 feels, whofe bofoms feel extatic pleafure from the 
 tforks of genius, and excruciating pain from 
 dulnefs and depravity 9 while they admire with 
 enthufiafm, condemn with judgment and de- 
 liberation, and, retiring from the vulgar herd, 
 either alone, or in the fociety of a few chofen 
 friends, refign themfelves to the pleafure of a 
 tranquil intercourfe with the illuftrious fages of 
 antiquity, and with thofe writers who have 
 diftinguifhed and adorned the middle ages or the 
 prefent time 
 
 IN fuch a fociety we difcover the powers of 
 contributing to the perfection of our nature, and 
 experience the mofl agreeable fenfations of exift- 
 ence : we congratulate ourfelves on the poffeffion 
 of mental powers ; and feel, that with fuch 
 characters we exert our faculties not only to the 
 advantage of ourfelves, to the pleafure of our 
 friends, but perhaps alfo to the happinefs of con- 
 genial minds to whom we are yet unknown ; for, 
 in every age, the pen of truth will *pleafe the eye 
 of genius and the heart of virtue. 
 
 SOLITUDE gives new vigour to the activity of 
 the mind, multiplies the number of its ideas, 
 
 extends
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. I tft 
 
 extends its fources of information, renders curio- 
 fity more lively, application lefs fatiguing, and 
 perfeverance more firm. 
 
 A MAN who was well acquainted with all thefe 
 advantages has faid, that " by filent folitary 
 ' reflection, we exercife and firengthen all the 
 flf powers of the mind : the many obfcurities* 
 <f which render it difficult to purfue our path* 
 ** difperfe and retire, and we return to a bufy 
 '* focial life with more cheerfulnefs and content. 
 " The fphere of our underftandrng becomes en- 
 " larged by reflection ; we have learned to fur- 
 " vey more obj efts, and to bind them intel- 
 * { leftually together; we carry a clearer fight, 
 " a jufter judgment, and firmer principles 
 " with us into the world in which we are to live 
 " and a&; and are then more able, even in 
 ;c the midft of all its diftra&ions, to preferve 
 *' our attention, to think with accuracy, to de- 
 et termine with judgment, in a degree propor- 
 " tioned to the preparations we have made in the 
 16 hour of retirement." 
 
 RATIONAL curiofity is, in the ordinary tranf- 
 aftions of the work, very foon fatisfied, but in. 
 Solitude it continually augments. The human, 
 mind, in its refearches after truth, cannot im- 
 mediately difcover the end it wifhes to attain : it 
 
 links
 
 158 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITJ/DE 
 
 links obfervation to obfervation, joins conclufion 
 to conclufion, and by the acquifition of one 
 truth developes another. The aftronomers who 
 firft obferved the courfe of the planets did not 
 fore fee the extenfive influence, which their dif- 
 coverics would one day produce upon the hap- 
 pinefs and interefls of mankind. Delighted to 
 view the beauty of the firmament) and perceiving 
 that during the progrefs of the night the flars 
 change their fituations, curiofity induced them 
 to explore the caufcs of the phenomena by which 
 their wonder was excited, and led them to purfue 
 the road of fcience. It is thus, by filent activity, 
 that the foul aguments its powers ; and a contem- 
 plative mind will always gain advantage in pro- 
 portion as it reflects upon the immediate caufes, 
 the effe&s, and the poffible confequences, of an 
 eftablifhed truth. 
 
 THE imagination, when quieted by reafon, 
 proceeds perhaps with lefs rapidity, but it thereby 
 relinquifhes the fallacies of conjecture, and adopts 
 the certainty of truth. Drawn afideby the charms 
 of fancy, the mind may conftrucl new worlds ; 
 but they immediately burft, like airy bubbles of 
 foap and water; while reafon examines the ma- 
 terials of its projected fabric, and ufcs thofe only 
 which arc durable and good. " The great art to 
 " learn much," fays LOCKE, 6C is to under- 
 " take a little at a time." 
 
 DR. JOHNSOK,
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. [59 
 
 DR. JOHNSON, the celebrated Englifli writer, 
 has very happily faid, " All the performances of 
 4i human art, at which we look with praife or 
 " wonder, are inftances of the refiftlefs force of 
 
 64 perfevcrance : it is by this that the quarry 
 " becomes a pyramid, and that diftant countries 
 ." are united by canals. If a man were to com- 
 " pare the effect of a fingle ftroke of the pick- 
 " axe, or of one impreffion of a fpadc, with the 
 " general defign and lad refult, he would be 
 " overwhelmed by the fenfe of their difpropor- 
 cs tion ; yet thofe petty operations, inceffantly 
 " continued, in time lurmount the greatefl dif- 
 
 65 ficultics, and mountains are levelled, and 
 < ; oceans bounded, by the (lender force of human 
 " beings. It is therefore of the utmoft import- 
 " ance that thofe who have any intention of de- 
 " viating from the beaten roads of life, and ac- 
 " quiring a reputation fuperior to names hourly 
 " fwept away by time among the refufe of fame, 
 <{ Iliould add to their reafon and their fpirit the 
 C5 power of perfifling in their purpofes; acquire 
 " the art of fapping what they cannot batter; 
 u and the habit of vanquishing obftinate refill- 
 " ance by obftinate attacks." 
 
 ACTIVITY animates the mod favage defert, 
 converts the dreary cell into a lively world, 
 gives immortal glory to the genius who meditates 
 
 in
 
 l60 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 in the filcnce of retirement, and crowns the in- 
 genious artift who produces his cbef-d'ccuvres 
 from a folitary workfliop with unfading fame* 
 The mind, in proportion to the difficulties it 
 meets, and the refiftance it has to furmount, ex- 
 ercifes its powers with higher pleafure, and raifes 
 its efforts with greater zeal to attain fuccefs, 
 APELLES being reproached with the fmall num- 
 ber of pictures he had painted, and the inceflant 
 attention with which he retouched his works^ 
 contented himfelf with making this reply : " / 
 " paint for fofterity." 
 
 To recommend monadic notions of Solitude, 
 and the (terile tranquillity of the cloifter, to men 
 who, after a ferious preparation in retirement^ 
 and afliduous intercourfe with their own minds$ 
 are capable of performing great and good a6lions 
 in the world, would be extravagant and abfurd. 
 Princes cannot live the life of monks ; minifters 
 of ftale are no longer fought in the filence of the 
 convent ; generals are no longer chofen from 
 the members of the church. PETRARCH there- 
 fore aptly fays, " I condemn the Solitude which 
 " encourages floth, as well as the leifure which is 
 " idly and unprofitably employed: Solitude muft 
 <; be rendered ufeful to the purpofes of life. A 
 " roan who is indolent, flothful, and detached 
 *' from <ihe world, muil inevitably become me- 
 
 ** lancholy
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. l6l 
 * 4 lancboly and miferable. Such a character cein 
 " never do any good; he cannot refign himfelf 
 " to any ufeful fcience, or purfue any objeft 
 worthy the attention of a great man." 
 
 * 
 
 HE may, however, procure to himfelf the 
 pleafures of the mind ; thofe precious pleafures, 
 fo eafily acquired, fq acceffible to all mankind: 
 For it is only in the pleafures purchafed by pelf, 
 wherein the mind has no participation, and which 
 only tend to afford a momentary relief to languor, 
 or to drown the fenfes in forgetfulnefs, that THE 
 GREAT claim an exclufive right; but in thofe 
 enjoyments which are peculiar to the mind THEY 
 have no privilege ; for fuch enjoyments are only to 
 be procured by our own induftry, by ferious re- 
 flection, profound thought, and deep refearch. 
 The attainment of them, however, produces 
 hidden fruits ; a love of truth, and a knowledge 
 of the perfection of our moral any phyfical 
 nature. 
 
 A PREACHER from SWISSERLAND has faid in 
 a German pulpit, " The ftreams of mental plea- 
 " fures, of which all men may equally partake, 
 " flow from one to the other; and that of which 
 " we have moft frequently tafted lofes neither 
 :e its flavour nor its virtue, but frequently ac- 
 ** quires new charms, and conveys additional 
 
 M pleafure
 
 l62 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 < c pleafure the oftener it is tailed. The fubjefts 
 " of thefe pleafures are as unbounded as the reign 
 * of TRUTH, as extenfive as THE WORLD, as un- 
 "limited as the DIVINE PERFECTION. The in- 
 ' corporeal pleafures, therefore, are much more 
 " durable than all others. They neither difap- 
 * pear with the light of the day, change with 
 the external forms of things, nor defcend with 
 c our bodies to the tomb ; but continue while 
 < c we exift; accompany us under all the vicifli- 
 " tudes not only of our mortal life, but of that 
 <c which is to come; fecure us in the darknefs of 
 " the night; and compenfate for all the iniferies 
 t: we are doomed to fuffer." 
 
 MEN of exalted minds therefore have always, 
 hmidft the buflle of the gay world, and even in 
 the brilliant career of heroifm, preferved a tafte 
 for mental pleaiures. Engaged in affairs of the 
 moft important confequence, notwithftanding 
 the variety of objels by which their attention 
 was diftraftcd, they were Mill faithful to THE 
 MUSES, and fondly devoted their minds to works 
 of GENIUS. They gave no credit to the opinion, 
 that reading and knowledge are ufelefs to great 
 men j and frequently condefcended without a 
 blufh to become writers themfelves. When 
 PHILIP king of Meicedcn invited DIONYSIUS the 
 Younger to dine with him at Corintbj he felt an 
 2 inclination
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. l6j 
 
 inclination to deride the father of his royal gueftj 
 becaufe he had blended the characters of PRINCE 
 and POET, and had employed his leifure in writ* 
 ing odes and tragedies. " How could the king 
 " find leifure," faid PHILIP, " to write thefe 
 " trifles?" 4i In thofe hours," anfwered DIONY- 
 si us, " which you and I fpend in drunkennefs 
 * ( and debauchery*" 
 
 ALEXANDER was remarkably fond of reading. 
 Whilft he was filling the world with the fame of 
 his victories, marking his progrefs by blood and 
 flaughter, dragging captive monarchs at his cha 
 riot-wheels, marching over fmoaking towns and 
 ravaged provinces witrj encreafing ardour to 
 hew victories, he felt many intervals of time hang 
 heavy on his hands; and, lamenting that Afia 
 afforded no books to amufe his leifure, wrote to 
 HARPALUS, to fend him the works of Philiftus, 
 the tragedies of Euripides, Sophocles 5 and Efchytu!;, 
 and the dithyramb ics of Tkakjtes. 
 
 BRUTUS, the avenger of the violated liberty of 
 ROME, while ferving in the army under POMPEYJ 
 employed among books all the moments he could 
 fpare from the duties of his ftation. The hours 
 which were allotted to the repofe of the arrrjy he 
 devoted to reading and writing; and he was 
 even thus employed in the evening preceding 
 M * the!
 
 164 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 the battle off PHARSALIA; the celebrated battle* 
 by which the empire of the univerfe was decided. 
 The army was encamped in a marfhy plain -, it 
 was the middle of fummer, and the heat of the: 
 feafon exceffive. The fervants who bore the 
 tent of Brutus did not arrive until a. late hour. 
 Being much fatigued, he bathed, and towards 
 noon caufed his body to be rubbed with oil, 
 while he waited their arrival. Taking fome little 
 refrefhment, he retired to his tent, and while 
 others were locked in the arms of fleep, or con- 
 templated the event of the enfuing day, he em- 
 ployed himfelf during the night in drawing a plan 
 from the Hiftory of Pofybiv.s* 
 
 CICERO, who was more fenfible of mental 
 pleafures than any other chara&er, fays in his 
 oration 'for the poet Arcbias^ " Why fhould I 
 * s be afhamed to acknowledge pleafures like 
 <; thefe, fince, for fo many years, the enjoy- 
 ct rrient of them has never prevented me from 
 " relieving the wants of others, or deprived 
 * f me. of the courage to attack vice and defend 
 " virtue ? Who can juftly blame, who can cen- 
 " fure me, if, while others are purfuing the 
 " views of intereft, gazing at feftal fhows and 
 C{ id]e ceremonies, exploring new pleafures^ 
 c< engaged in midnight-revels, in the diftraftion 
 ?* of gaming, the madnefs of intemperance, 
 
 ' neither
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 165 
 
 * s neither repofing the body nor recreating the 
 < ; mind, I fpend the recolleftive hours in a 
 86 pleafing review of my pad life; in 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 a por- 
 table writing-defk by his fide. He made extracts 
 from every work he read; and, fcarcely con- 
 ceiving himfelf alive while his faculties were ab- 
 forbed in deep, he endeavoured by this diligence 
 $o double the duration of his exiftence. 
 
 PLINY the Younger read wherever it was pof- 
 fible, whether riding, walking, fitting, or when- 
 ever the fubjeft of his employment afforded him 
 the opportunity ; for he made it, indeed, an in- 
 variable rule to prefer the difcharge of his duty 
 to thole occupations which he followed only as 
 an amufement. It was this difpolition which fo 
 ftrongly inclined him to Solitude and retirement. 
 Shall I," faid he, never break the chains by 
 <e which I am held ? Are they indiflbluble ? 
 ct No ! I dare not hope for fuch an event ? 
 te Every day adds new torments to the former. 
 V Scarcely is one duty performed : when another 
 M 3 "is
 
 l66 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 *' is impofed; and the chain of bufmefs becomes 
 V every day more heavy and oppreffive.'* 
 
 PETRARCH was always gloomy and low fpirit- 
 ed, except while he was reading or writing, 
 efpecially when he was prevented from refigning 
 himfelf in Solitude to the fine phrenfies of poetry 
 on the banks of fome infpiring ftream, -among 
 the romantic rocks and mountains, or the flower, 
 enamelled vallies of the Alps. To avoid the 
 lofs of time during his travels, heconftantly wrote 
 at every inn where he flopped for refrefhmcnt. 
 One of his friends, THE BISHOP OF CAVILI.ON, 
 being alarmed, left the intenfe application, with 
 which he read and wrote when at Vaucluje> mould 
 entirely deftroy his health, which was already 
 greatly impaired, defired him one day to give 
 him the key of his library. PETRACRH gave it 
 to him immediately, without fufpefting the mo- 
 live of his requeft ; when the good bifliop in- 
 ilantly locking up his books and writing deflc, 
 faid, u I interdict you from pen, ink, paper, and 
 46 books, for the fpace of ten days." 
 
 PETRARCH felt the feverity of the fentence, 
 but fupprefled his feelings, and obeyed. The firft 
 day of this exile from his favourite pleafure was 
 tedious; the fecond, accompanied with an in- 
 ceflant head-ach ; and the third, with a fever. 
 
 The
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 167 
 The bifhop, affefted by his condition, 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 
 dragoons, which was quartered in a fmall town 
 in England. He difcharged his duty, upon all 
 occafions, with fcrupulous 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 vilited, in reading the moft celebrated 
 authors of Rome and Athens. Attacked at an early 
 period of his life by an hereditary gout, which 
 he wimed to eradicate, his mode of living was 
 extremely frugal and abftemious. The feeble 
 Hate of his health perhaps made him fond of re- 
 tirement; but it was certainly in Solitude that he 
 laid the foundation of that glory which he after- 
 wards 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 erro- 
 neous. Was the EARL OF CHATHAM inferior in 
 greatnefs to a Roman ? and will HIS SON, who, 
 while yet a youth, thunders forth his eloquence 
 in the fenate like DSMOSTHENESJ and captivates, 
 
 M 4 like
 
 168 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 like PERIC-.ES, the hearts of all who hear him; 
 \vho now, wlien little more than thirty years of 
 age, makes himfelf feared and refpecled as the 
 prime minifter of the Britifh empire, ever think 
 or aQ, under any circumftances, with lefs great- 
 nefs-than his illuftrious father ? What men have 
 once been, they may always be. Europe now 
 produces men as great as ever adorned a throne, 
 or commanded in the field. VVifdom and virtue, 
 where an inclination to attain them prevails, 
 may increafe as much in public as in private 
 life, as well in the palaces of kings as in 
 the humble cottage. Wife Solitude is no- 
 where more refpeftable than in the palace. The 
 ftatefman may, there, in profound tranquillity, 
 plan the mft important entcrprizes, and live 
 with qalmnefs and content, provided he dif- 
 charge his duty without oftentation, and avoid 
 the contagion of weak and frivolous minds. 
 Glory may be acquired at all times, and in 
 every place ; and although it may oe difficult 
 to return from the beaten path, and commence 
 a new career, the remainder of the journey may 
 be rendered pleafant to himfelf and beneficial to 
 the world, unlefs, with powers to difplay the 
 ftrong and iteady light of truth, his mind con- 
 tents itfelf with only occafional gleams, and 
 twinkles with the feeble light of the glow-worm. 
 
 SOLITUDE
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 169 
 
 SOLITUDE will ultimately render the mind 
 fuperior to all the viciffitudvs and miferies 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 (hade of every tree; 
 and with exquifite delight tafte pleafures as lively 
 as they are varied ; pleafures pure, and ever 
 new. The faculties of the mind regiin their 
 priftine ftrength : and their increafing vigour 
 not only excites the mofl pleafing fenfations, but 
 prefents to his view the attainment of any end 
 he choofes to adopt, of any character he may 
 choofe to acquire. Thefe pleafures increafe in 
 proportion to the extent of his capacity, the 
 gu:atnefs of his views, and the purity of his in- 
 tent; and his hopes, however high are rendered 
 rational by his contempt of flattery, and of ihc 
 idle purfuits and frivolous amufements of the 
 world. 
 
 HE who fhuns the fociety of men in order to 
 obtain their love and elteein, who rifes with the 
 fun to hold converfe w r ith the dead, is, without 
 doubt, not looted at the break of day. The 
 horfes of fuch a man repofe quietly in their 
 ftalls, and his doors remain carefully bolted 
 agaiuft the intrufion of idle loungers. He ftu- 
 dics, however, both men and manners; never 
 
 lofes
 
 170 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 lofes fight of the tranfations of the world; cafts 
 a retrofpe&ive eye upon the knowledge which 
 his ftudies and experience have gained; and 
 every obfervation, which he makes on life, con- 
 firms a truth or refutes a prejudice: for in Soli- 
 tude, the whole fyftemof life is unveiled, ftripped 
 of itsfalfe glare, and reprefented in its natural ftate 
 to our view. TKUTH, which in the common in- 
 tercourfe of men always lies concealed, here ex- 
 hibits itfelf in naked fimplicity. Ah ! how happy 
 is that man, who has attained to a fituation, where 
 he is not under the neceffity of purchafing plea- 
 fure at the expence of Truth. 
 
 THE advantages of Solitude are not incompa- 
 tible 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 facredly to fpeak THE TRUTH ? Can it be a 
 crime boldly and publicly to announce, as the 
 occafion may require, that of which an ordinary 
 individual would tremble to think ; and to pre- 
 fer noble 'freedom to a degrading flavery ? Is 
 not the liberty of the prefs 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 does not the free 
 
 com-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 171 
 communication of fentiments contribute to the 
 progrefs and improvement of human reafon ? It 
 is precifely this love of liberty which leads men 
 into Solitude, that they may throw off the chains 
 by which they are confined in the world j it is 
 from this difpofition to be free, that he who thinks 
 in Solitude boldly fpeaks a language, which per- 
 haps in fociety he would not have dared openly 
 to hazard. Timidity is never the companion of 
 retirement. The man who has courage to feek 
 the peaceful, lonely fhades of Solitude, difdains 
 a bafe fubmiffion to the pride and infolence of 
 THE GREAT, and boldly tears from the face of 
 defpotjfm the mafk by which it is concealed. 
 
 SOLITUDE conveys the mod fublime and lad- 
 ing pleafures to the foul, even when the faculties 
 of the body are entirely decayed. Calm, con- 
 folatory, and perennial, they at length become 
 as neceflary to our happinefs, as it is to the de- 
 bauched mind of a man of the world to be for 
 ever trifling, inactive, 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, li They employ us in youth, and amufe us 
 
 c in old age : in profperity they grace and em- 
 
 " bellilh; in adverfity they afford us fhelter 
 
 " and
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 *' and fupport ; delightful at home and eafy 
 *' abroad, they foften (lumber, fhorten fatigue, 
 ' and enliven retirement." 
 
 The Belles Lettres," fays PLINY the 
 Younger, <; are my delight and confolation, I 
 < 5 know of -no ftudy more agreeable; there is no 
 * 6 misfortune which they cannot alleviate. In 
 < the afflictions I feel for the fufFerings of my 
 " wife, the ficknefs of my fervants, the death of 
 <c my friends, I find no relief but in my ftudies; 
 c for although I am then made fenfible of the 
 " magnitude of my evils, they neverthelefs be- 
 5 C come more fupportable." 
 
 PHILOSOPHY, a love of letters, all that affords 
 pleafure or adds dignity to life, can only be 
 learned in Solitude. Fine tafte cannot be either 
 cultivated or preferved among thofe vain pre- 
 tenders, who, while you difcourfe with them 
 upon fubjets of fcience, fpeak of learning with 
 contempt, and frequently tell you with a fneer, 
 " Oh ! I never enquire into fuch vulgar things." 
 
 THE habit of thinking, of making new dif- 
 coveries, of acquiring new ideas, is a never- 
 failing refource to him who feels his mind en- 
 riched by obfervation, and knows how to apply 
 the knowledge which he gains. WhenDEMETiuus 
 had captured the city of Megara, the foldiers 
 
 6 prepared
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 17$ 
 prepared to plunder it ; the Athenians, however, 
 interceding ftrongly for its inhabitants, prevailed : 
 DEMETRIUS was fatisfied with expelling the gar- 
 rifon, and declared the city free. Amidft thefe 
 tranfaftions, he recollected STiLpo,a philofopher 
 .of great reputation, who fought only the retire- 
 ment and tranquillity of a ftudious life. Having 
 fent for him, DEMETRIUS afked, " if they had 
 <c taken any thing from him ?" No," replied 
 STILPO, " I found none that wanted to fteal my 
 C knowledge" 
 
 SOLITUDE is the channel through which all 
 fhofe things flow which men conceal in the or- 
 dinary commerce of life. The wounded feelings 
 of a man who is able and difpofed to write may, 
 in Solitude, derive the greateft comforts from 
 literary compofition. The pen, indeed, is not 
 always taken up becaufe we are alone; but if we 
 be inclined to write, it is indifpenfably neceflary 
 that we mould enjoy quietude. The mind of a 
 man difpofed to cultivate philofophy, or to court 
 the mufe, muft be free from all embarraflhnent. 
 He muft not hear his children crying every mo- 
 ment at his door, his fervants muft not inceffantly 
 intrude with rneffages of ceremony and cards of 
 compliment : in (hort, he muft be alone. Whe- 
 ther walking in the open air, leated in his clofetj 
 reclined under the fhade of a fpreading tree, or 
 
 ftretched
 
 174 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ftretched upon his fopha, he muft follow all the 
 impulfes of his mind, and be at liberty to change 
 his fituation when and where he plcafes. To 
 write with fuccefs, he muft feel an irrefiftible 
 inclination, and be able to obey the dictates of 
 his tafte and genius without impediment or re- 
 flraint. Unlefs all thefe advantages be united, 
 the writer mould interrupt the progrefs of the 
 work, and fufpend the efforts of the mind, until 
 it feels that divine infpiration which is capable of 
 iubduing every difficulty, and furmounting every 
 obftacle. An author can never write well, un- 
 lefs he feels a fecret call within his breaft, unlefs 
 he watches for thofe propitious moments when 
 the mind pours forth its ideas, and the heart 
 warms with the fubjecl. Revived by cheerful 
 profpels, animated by the nobleft fentiments, 
 urged by contempt of difficulties, the mind will 
 make a powerful effort, and fine thoughts, in 
 fuitable exprcffions, will flow fpontaneoufly from 
 his pen. The queftion, whether be ought or 
 ought not to write, will then be refolved. The 
 inclination is irrefiftible, and will be indulged, 
 ven at the expence of fortune, family, friends, 
 patrons, and all that we pofiefs. 
 
 PETRARCH felt this fecret impulfe when he 
 tore himfelf from Avignon, the moft vicious and 
 corrupted city of his time, to which the Pope 
 
 had
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 175 
 
 had transferred the papal chair. Although ho- 
 noured with the protection of the Holy Father, 
 of princes, and of cardinals, {till young and full 
 of noble ardour, he exiled himfclf from that 
 brilliant court, and retired to the famous Solitude 
 of Vaudufe t at the di (lance of fix leagues from 
 Avignon, where he had only one fervant to attend 
 him, and all his pofTeflions confifled of a fmall 
 houfe and little garden. Charmed -with the na- 
 tural beauty which furrounded this humble re- 
 treat, he removed his library to it ; and, during 
 his refidence there, completed all his works, of 
 which before he had only fketched the outlines. 
 PETRARCH wrote more at Vaudufe than at any 
 other place where herefided; but/altbough he 
 \vas ^continually employed in polilhing his wri- 
 tings, he hefitatcd long before he could refolve 
 to make thrm 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 mod perfect of all his works, and 
 which {hews, in almoft every line, tbat he wrote 
 for immortality. 
 
 EVERY great and excellent writer has this 
 noble view, and looks with enthufiafm towards 
 the fufl rages of pofterity. An inferior writer a{ks 
 a more moderate recompence, and fometimes 
 obtains the defircd reward. Both, however, 
 
 muft
 
 1^6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 tnuft withdraw From the diftraflions of the world, 
 feek the filence of the foreft, and the frefhnefs of 
 the (hade, and retire as it were into their own 
 ininds. t To produce a work capable of reaching 
 future generations, or worthy of the attention of 
 contemporary fages, the love of Solitude muft 
 entirely occupy the foul ; for, to the advantages 
 refulting from Solitude, every thing they per- 
 form, all that they obtain, muft be attributed. 
 Every advantage a writer gains by profound 
 thinking is due to Solitude; he there reviews 
 and arranges whatever in the world has made an 
 impreflion on his mind, and (harpens the dart of 
 ifatire againft inveteracy of prejudice and obfti- 
 nacy of opinion. The faults of mankind ftrike 
 the moral writer ; and the defire of correcting 
 them agitates his foul, as much as the defire of 
 pleafing actuates that of others. The defire of 
 immortality, however, is the laft in which a writer 
 ought to indulge. No one need attempt it, unlefs 
 he poflefs the genius of a BACON ; can think with 
 the acuienefs of a VOLTAIRE; compofe with the 
 eafe and elegance ofa ROUSSEAU ; and, like themj 
 be able to produce matter-pieces worthy of being 
 tranfmitted to pofterity. Characters like .thefe 
 alone may be allowed to fay, " Our minds are 
 " animated by the fweet, confolatory refleftionj 
 " that our names will be remembered when we 
 " are no more ; by the pleafing wjiifper of flat- 
 
 " tcryi
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 177 
 
 * c tcry which we hear from fome of our con- 
 " temporaries, of the approbation we mall here- 
 " after receive from thofe who are yet unborn, 
 c to whofe inftruflion and happinefs we have 
 " with all the ardour of efteem 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 
 <c buried in oblivion." 
 
 THE love of fame, as well by the feeble light 
 
 of THE LAMP, as On THE THRONE, Or in THE 
 
 FIELD, produces actions, the memory of which 
 is not extinguifhed by mortality, or buried with 
 us in the tomb. The meridian of life become* 
 then as brilliant as its morning. " The praifes," 
 fays PLUTARCH, " beftowed upon great and ex- 
 " alted 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 thing that is 
 " great and noble. They never confidcr them- 
 " felves fufficiently rewarded. Their prefent 
 " actions are only a pledge of what may be 
 " expelled from them ; and they would bluih 
 cs not' to live faithful to their glory, and to ren- 
 " dcr it ftill more illuftrious by their nobleft 
 adions." 
 
 K THE
 
 178 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE " 
 
 THE man to whofe ear idle adulation and 
 infipid compliments are difgufting, will feel his 
 heart warm when he hears with what enthufi- 
 afm CICERO fays, " Why fhould we diffemble 
 " what it is impoffible for us to conceal ? Why 
 t mould we not be proud of confeffing candidly 
 ' that we all afpire to fame ? The love of praifc 
 " influences all mankind, and the greateft minds 
 f are moil fufceptible of it. The philofophers, 
 " who mod preach up a contempt for fame, 
 " prefix their names to their works ; and the 
 " very performances in which they decry often- 
 " tation, are evident proofs of their vanity and 
 " love of praife. Virtue requires no other re- 
 " ward for all the toils and' dangers to which 
 *' (he expofes herfelf, than that of fame and 
 " glory. Take away this flattering reward, 
 <c and what would remain in the narrow career 
 " of life to prompt her exertions? If the mind 
 " could not launch into the profpeft of futurity, 
 " were the operations of the foul to be limited 
 " to the fpace that bounds thofe of the body, 
 " the would not weaken herfelf by conftant 
 " fatigues, or weary herfelf with continued 
 " watchings and anxieties ; me would not think 
 '" even life itfelf worthy of a ftruggle : but there 
 " lives in the bread of every good man a certain 
 " principle, which unceafingly prompts and in- 
 <f fpirits him to the purfuit of a fame beyond 
 
 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 179 
 
 tf the prefent hour; a fame not commenfuratc 
 '" to our mortal exifience, but co-extenfive with 
 " the lateft pofterity. Can we who every day 
 <: expofe oiirielves to dangers for our country, 
 " and have never pafled one moment of our 
 " lives without anxiety and trouble, meanly 
 * c think that all confcioufnefs fhall be buried 
 " with us in the grave ? If the greateft men 
 (s have been careful to preferve their buftoes 
 " and their ftatues, thofe images not of their 
 " minds but of their bodies, ought we not ra- 
 tc ther to tranfmit to pofterity the refemblance 
 " of our wifdom and virtue ? For my part, at 
 " lead, I acknowledge, that in all my aclions 
 <f I conceived that I was diffeminating and tranf- 
 ** mitting my fame to the remoteft corners and 
 " the lateft ages of the world. Whether there - 
 " fore my confcioufnefs of this fhall ceafe in the 
 " grave, or, as fome have thought, fhall furvive 
 ct as a property of the foul, is of little import- 
 " ance ; for of one thing I am certain, that at 
 cc this inftant I feel from the reflection a flatter- 
 " ing hope and delightful fenfation." 
 
 THIS is the true enthufiafm with which we 
 Ought to infpire the bofoms of the young no- 
 bility. Were any one happy enough to light 
 up this generous flame within their hearts, and 
 thereby enure them to a conftant application 
 N 2 to
 
 l8o THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 to their ftudies, we fhould fee them fhun the 
 pernicious pleafures of their age, and enter 
 with- dignity on the ftage of life : we might then 
 expecl them to perform the nobleft actions, to 
 add new luftre to fcience, and brighter rays to 
 glory. To exalt the minds of noble youths, it is 
 only necefTary to infpire them with an averfion 
 from every thing that is mean ; to excite a difguft 
 for every thing that enervates the body or weakens 
 the faculties of the mind to remove from their 
 company thofe vile and contemptible flatterers 
 who are continually praifing the pleafures of 
 fenfe, and who feek to acquire intereft and for- 
 tune only by leading them into crimes ; decry- 
 ing every thing that is great, and rendering 
 them fufpicious of every thing that is good. 
 The defire of extending our fame by noble 
 deeds, and of incrcafing our credit by internal 
 dignity and greatnefs of foul, pofleffes advan- 
 tages which neither high rank nor illuftrious 
 birth can beftow ; and which, even on the 
 ihrone, cannot be acquired without the aid of 
 virtue, and a fixed attention to the fuftrages of 
 pofterity. 
 
 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 multi- 
 tude, to paint their prejudicesj and expofe their 
 
 vices
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. l8l 
 
 vices in glowing and unfading colours; and 
 whofe works, if they fail to reform the age/ in 
 which they are written, may operate upon 
 fucceeding generations, and extend their influ- 
 ence to the remoteft pofterity. The author, 
 whofe merit, while living, envy and malice .have 
 inveterately purfued, reaps the advantage of his 
 judicious precepts, inftru&ive examples, and ho- 
 neft fame, when his mortal part has defcend- 
 cd to the grave. Oh LAVATER I thofe bafe cor- 
 rupted fouls, who only mine a moment and are 
 for ever extinguished, will be forgotten, while 
 thy name is honoured and beloved. Thy 
 foibles, for without them thou wouldefl not 
 have been fo great, will no longer be remem- 
 bered, and thofe qualities which diftinguifh 
 thee from others will alone be feen ! The rich 
 variety of thy language, the judgment with 
 \vhich thou haft boldly invented and created 
 newexpreffions, the nervous brevity of thy ftyle, 
 and thy finking pitlure of human manners and 
 defects, will, as the author of " The Charac^ 
 " ters of German Poets and Profe Writers," 
 has predicted, extend the fame of thy " FRAG- 
 " MENTS upotf PHYSIOGNOMY," to the remoteft 
 pofterity, as o"ne of the fmall number of German 
 originals which do honour to the genius of the 
 age. The accufation that LAVATER, who was 
 capable of developing fuch fublime truths, 
 N 3 and
 
 lS2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 and of creating almofl a new language, gave 
 credit to the juggles of MESMER, will then be 
 forgotten. 
 
 SUCH is the fate that attends the works of 
 great and excellent writers. The life after 
 death, for which CICERO feemed to hope with 
 fo much enthufiafm, will arrive. The appro- 
 bation which LAVATER predicted his work 
 on PHYSIOGNOMY will receive, notwithftand- 
 ing all thofe injuries that have been heaped 
 upon it both in Swifferland and in Germany. 
 But if CICERO had been only a con/ul, and 
 LAVATER merely a tbaumaturgus*^ little of 
 either the one or the other would be recorded 
 ia the archives of Time, which fwallows up 
 common characters, and preferves only thofe 
 whofe names are worthy of everlafting fame. 
 
 THE invectives of the vulgar, and the indigna- 
 tion of the critics, are wreaked in vain againft thefe 
 celebrated names, and againft all thofe who may 
 be tempted to imitate them. " Why," fay each 
 of them to the laughing blockhead, " would you 
 u expound the meaning of all that I write, fmce 
 
 k THAUMATURGUS one who works miracles; a title 
 given by the papifts to thofe of their faints who were fuppofed 
 to work miracles. TRANSLATOR.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. l$$ 
 is my fineft ftrokes, congealing in 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 
 t; tafte ? Where are the works by which you are 
 * diftinguifhed ? When and where have you 
 " been announced to the world? How many 
 < s fuperior characters do you reckon among 
 t; the number of your friends ? What diftant 
 64 country is confcious that fuch a man exifls ? 
 " Why do you continually preach your nil admi- 
 " ran ? Why do you ftrive to depreciate every 
 V thing that is good, great, and fublime, un- 
 " lefs it be from a fenfe of your own littlenefs 
 " and poverty ? You feek the approbation of 
 " the weak and giddy multitude, becaufe no 
 u one elfe efteems you; and defpife a fair and 
 " lafting fame, becaufe you can do nothing that 
 61 is worthy of honeft praife ; but the name you 
 <s endeavour to ridicule mall be remembered 
 * 6 when yours will be forgotten." 
 
 THE defire of glory is equally natural and al- 
 lowable in men even of little fenfe and judg- 
 ment ; but it is not from the opinions of fuch 
 characters that writers expeft fame. It is from 
 reflecting and impartial minds; from the ap- 
 probation of thofe virtuous and private charac- 
 ters for whom alone they withdraw from the 
 N 4 multi-
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 multitude, and whofe bofoms open willingly to 
 a writer, when they obfcrve the confidence with 
 which he defires to difclofe his fentiments ; it is 
 to obtain the approbation of fuch perfons alone, 
 that writers feek the fhades of Solitude. 
 
 EXCEPT thofe who fcribble their names on 
 walls and on panes of glafs, no character ap- 
 pears to me lei's 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, feeks for fame 
 among his fellow citizens, is a fool who fows his 
 feed upon a rock. They may perhaps praife the 
 elegance of his ftyle, but they will never par- 
 don the fcverity, greatnefs, and freedom of his 
 exprefiions. To the prejudiced multitude, there- 
 fore, he muft learn to be difcreetly filent; for 
 openly to avow fentiments that would do honour 
 to his character, or by which he might acquire 
 the praifes of other men, is only to exafperate 
 thofe among whom he lives. 
 
 A WRITER, however, of true tafte and found 
 judgment is confcious that impartial and rational 
 mind-, throughout the univerfe, 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
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 185 
 " Does the work relate to the interefts of man- 
 " kind? Is its objeft ufeful and its end moral ? 
 " Will it inform the underftanding and amend 
 " the heart? Is it written with freedom and ira- 
 " partiality ? Does it bear the marks of honefty 
 " and fincerity ? Does it attempt to ridicule any 
 " thing that is good or great ? Does a manly 
 <6 ftyle of thinking predominate ? Do reafon, 
 " wit, humour, and pleafantry, prevail in it ? 
 " Does it contain new and ufeful truths? If it 
 " infpire noble fentiments and generous refo- 
 " lutions, our judgment is fixed: the work is 
 ** good, and the author a mafter of the fci- 
 ence." 
 
 IN the ordinary commerce of the world, in 
 that imercourfe of flattery and falfehood where 
 every one deceives and is deceived ; where all 
 appear under a borrowed form, profefs friend- 
 fhips which they do not feel, and beftow praifcs 
 <yily to be praifed in return ; men bow the 
 loweft to him whom they defpife the moft, and 
 ftyle every filly woman they meet " Tour Grace* " 
 But he who lives retired from this fcene of illu- 
 fion expefts no compliments from others, and 
 beftows them only where they are deferved. All 
 the infidious grimaces of public life are nothing 
 
 * A title given in Germany to perfons of quality. 
 
 to
 
 i86 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 to the infpiring fmiles of friendfhip, which 
 fmooth the rugged road of Hfe 3 and foften all 
 our toils. 
 
 OF what value are all the babblings and vain 
 boafttngs of fociety to that domeftic felicity 
 which we experience in the company and con- 
 yerfation of an amiable woman, whofe charms 
 awaken the dormant faculties of the foul, and 
 fill the mind with finer energies; whofe fmiles 
 prompt our enterprifes, and whofe aiTiftance in- 
 fibres fuccefs; who infpires us with congenial 
 greatnefs and fublimity; who with judicious pe- 
 netration weighs and examines our thoughts, our 
 aftions, our whole character; who obferves alj 
 our foibles, warns us with fmcerity of their con- 
 fequences, and reforms us with gentle*nefs and 
 affection; who by a tender communication of 
 her thoughts and obfervations conveys nevr 
 inftru6lion to our minds, and by pouring the 
 warm and generous feelings of her heart into 
 our bofoms, animates us inceffantly to the exer- 
 cife of every virtue, and completes the polifhed 
 perfection of our character by the foft allure- 
 ments of love, and the delightful concord of her 
 fentiments. In fuch an intercourfe, all that is 
 virtuous and noble in human nature is preferved 
 within the brcaft, and every evil propenfity dies 
 away. 
 
 BUT
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 187 
 BUT in our public intercourfes with the wor!4 
 we are forced to relinquish the manners we in- 
 dulge in Solitude. The fmooth and polifhed 
 furface of character muft alone be exhibited in 
 the world, and every fharp point carefully con- 
 cealed. It is true by thefe means we pafs through 
 fociety without doing hurt to any perfon, and 
 the generality of men find pleafure in our com- 
 pany*. 
 
 THERE are, however, thofe who view us in 
 a different afpecl:. To contemporary jwriters our 
 good qualities and defects appear by our writ- 
 ings, in which one fincere fentiment frequently 
 becomes the ftrongeft evidence againft us ; -and 
 this danger furnifhes great confolation to our 
 dear countrymen^ who, if the voice of Fame fliould 
 chance to convey the founds of our fuccefs to 
 their ears, are mortified to think that there arc 
 people in the world not loft to a fenfe of merit. 
 The human character, it is true, frequently ex- 
 hibits a fingular mixture of virtue and vice, of 
 ftrength and weaknefs ; and why mould we con- 
 
 " Le materiel conftitutes the higheft degree of merit ; and 
 " to live in peace we ought to take great care that the other 
 " fide of ur characters fhould be perceived ;" faid a great man 
 to me ; one of the deareft and moft refpeftable among my friends 
 in Germany. 
 
 ceal
 
 iSS THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ccal it ? Our foibles follow all that is terreftrial 
 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 
 worthy of exiftence, furvives; and our writings 
 are the beft wealth we leave behind us when 
 \ve die. 
 
 BUT, exclufive of this enthufiafm, Solitude 
 affords a pleafure to an author of which no one 
 can deprive him, and which far exceeds all the 
 honours of the world. He not only anticipates 
 the effeft his work will produce, but while it 
 advances towards completion, feels the delicious 
 enjoyment of thofe hours of ferenity and compo- 
 fure which his labours procure. 
 
 The mind of a fuccefsful writer feels the 
 higheft pleafure from the uninterrupted atten- 
 tion and the glowing enthufiafm which accom- 
 pany his fludies. Sorrows flee from this elegant 
 occupation. Oh ! I would not exchange one 
 fingle hour of fuch private tranquillity and con- 
 tent, for all thofe flattering illufions of public 
 fame with which the mind of TULLY was fo 
 incefiantly intoxicated. Solitude, in the midft 
 of continual fufferings, is an enjoyment which 
 not only rationally connects the foul with the 
 prefent moment, but carries it to future happi- 
 
 nefs
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 189 
 
 nefs and felicity. The fecret pleafure, which the 
 moft trifling acquifition produced by folitarV 
 fludy affords, is unknown to men of vigorous 
 conftitutions ; for they confide in the ftrength 
 of their powers. But to a writer afflifted by ill- 
 health, a difficulty furmounted, a happy mo- 
 ment feized, a propofition elucidated, a fen- 
 tence neatly and elegantly turned, an harmo- 
 nious period, or a happy expreffion, is a falutary 
 and healing balm, a counter-poifon to melan- 
 choly, the moft precious advantage of Solitude, 
 and infinitely fuperior to thofe dreams, thofe 
 frefent intents of honour and glory after death. 
 Oh ! who would not willingly renounce, for one 
 of thefe enjoyments, that enthufiafm, againfl 
 which reafon oppofes fo many powerful objec- 
 tions, and which to me does not appear quite 
 fatisfa&ory, 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 ufclefs, thofe hours which 
 forrow and chagrin would otherwife fteal from 
 the fum of life ; are the great advantages of AN 
 AUTHOR ; and with thefe advantages alone I am 
 perfectly content. And who would not be 
 content with Solitude, when he perceives that 
 while the multitude are rolling in their carriages 
 2 through
 
 190 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 through the ftreets, and niaking the walls of every 
 houfe tremble to their foundation, he is capable 
 of deriving fuch fuperior advantages ? 
 
 THE fingularhies of fome writers are often> 
 times the effects, and frequently the real advan- 
 tages, of Solitude. Men who are proficient in 
 Solitude, from a long abfence from the world, 
 are boldly inflexible to its manners ; and evert 
 thofe of its votaries,' who frill retain a fondnefs 
 for fociety, foon lofe the arts of fimulation, and 
 inftead of undergoing the painful neceffity of ap- 
 pearing different from what they are, they feize 
 the pen, and relieve their feelings by indulging 
 the momentary effufions of a light and fportive 
 fancyi 
 
 THE world perhaps may condemn this praQice; 
 and fay, that this light and eafy ftyle of writing 
 contributes neither to the pleafure nor the infor- 
 mation of a reader : but it has its merit: it intro- 
 duces a free and lively kind of literature; teaches 
 the mind to rife above a creeping train of 
 thought, and vigoroufly appropriates to itfelf the 
 manners of the times. A nation not yet perfect 
 may become mature by extirpating ancient pre- 
 judices, indulging freedom of fentiment, and 
 encouraging philoibphical writers boldly to ex- 
 prefs their fentiments and opinions. To en- 
 tertain
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 tcrtain readers, it is, in my opinion, only ne- 
 eeflary to deliver freely in writing that which in 
 the general intercourfes of fociety it is impofliblc 
 to fay either with fafety or politenefs. This is 
 what I call LIBERTY; an ineftimable treafure! 
 which, under a wife and moderate adminiftra- 
 tion, every one enjoys who lives in Solitude. 
 
 IN a treatife upon STYLE, printed at Weymar$ 
 a gentleman appears very flrongly to oppofe 
 this new manner of writing. In 'honour of the 
 SOLITUDE and LIBERTY by which it was pro- 
 duced, I mould have many things to fay to him, 
 although in general we perfectly coincide. He 
 wifhes one rule to be adopted with refpett to 
 STYLE, and I contend for that variety which 
 allows of compofition according to every man's 
 fancy and humour. He thinks that a writer 
 fhould always have a model before him ; I think 
 that every writer mould be his own model. He 
 wifhes writers to follow the ft vie of others; I 
 think that writers mould be original, not in 
 ftyle alone, but in every other property of com- 
 pofition. He is unwilling that the writer mould 
 appear in the work; but I think that an author 
 may be permitted publicly to analyze his mind, 
 and anatomize his own character, for the benefit 
 of other men, rather than to leave his work to be 
 di Hefted by a pofthumous profeffor. lie recom- 
 6 mends
 
 192 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 mends authors to proceed by regular fteps; I 
 hate to be taught by others how I ought to walk. 
 He complains, that it is a fafhion with authors to 
 difclofe their private and peculiar feelings when 
 they write ; I cannot altogether conceal mine 
 -when I converfe with my readers. He appears 
 not inclined that they fhould conceive them- 
 felves alone when they are writing ; while very 
 frequently I write only that I may have the oppor- 
 tunity of expreffing one word in Solitude. 
 
 THIS treatife, however, contains in general 
 many true and judicious criticifms ; efpecially 
 towards the conclusion, which is filled with ob- 
 fei vations equally accurate and profound. The 
 paffage on which I have commented is the only 
 one through the work of which I difapprove : 
 for although the ramblings, the extravagances, 
 and the digreffions of our beaux efprits difpleafe 
 me as much as they do this gentleman; yet I 
 think that this free and eafy ftyle of writing, 
 which can be acquired only in Solitude, has al- 
 ready produced a degree of LIBERTY which, if 
 employed with tafte and difcretion, will not only 
 increafe the number of ufeful truths, but banifh 
 from focicty the number of dangerous prejudices 
 which (till exift. 
 
 THE
 
 0N THE MIND AND THE HEART. T 93 
 THE light of pbilofophy has been prevented 
 from penetrating into many recefies, folely be* 
 caufe the people follow one uniform mode in 
 forming their opinions. Every man liftens and 
 looks up to the fentiments of his neighbour, and 
 no one dares to deviate from the ordinary mode of 
 judgment. Men of knowledge and experience, 
 who beft know the art of appropriating to them- 
 fclves the newefl and moft refined ideas of 
 others, are, in their intercourfe with the world, 
 obliged to conceal them, and to follow the ge- 
 neral manners of the age. But when authors, 
 from the retreats of Solitude, appear before the 
 public without difmay; when they ftudy the 
 characters of every defcription of people, their 
 manners of acting, their modes of thinking, and 
 dare with boldnefs and confidence to defcribe 
 things in their true colours, and difclofe thofe 
 truths which every man in a free country ought 
 to be permitted to difclofe; INSTRUCTION 
 will circulate gradually among the people, the 
 philofophy of human life will fpread itfelf 
 abroad, every man will dare to think for him- 
 felf, and difdain to be guided by fubtle and 
 deceitful opinions of the unthinking multitude. 
 To efFecl: this revolution, however, it is neceffary 
 that writers fhould ftart from the common 
 fphere of the Univerfity, and break through 
 O from
 
 194 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 from the confined limits of felf-concern; their 
 minds muft be formed by an intercourfe with 
 men of every ftate and nation ; they muft neither 
 fear the great nor defpife the inferior claffes of 
 mankind; they muft learn to retire occasionally 
 from the world to uninterrupted Solitude ; re- 
 nounce the feduttions of pleafure, free them- 
 felves from the ties of Society, and above all, 
 become deaf to the praife that propagates FALSE- 
 HOOD} or the cenfure that condemns TRUTH. 
 
 THE Germans felt the Helvetic feverity of 
 thofe works which I formerly wrote; a feverity 
 produced, without doubt, by my folitary life. 
 The SPECTATOR of Tburingia for four years 
 fucceflively defended me with equal vivacity 
 and flu 11 againft the very heavy reproaches, 
 that I was a peevifh .hypocritical philofopher, 
 who was never pleafed with any production, and 
 who always viewed the worft fide of things j that 
 nothing was facred from the keennefs of my 
 criticifin and the feverity of my fatire ; but that 
 the nation was too modcft, too decent, too de- 
 licate, and too virtuous, to be entertained by 
 fudi competitions ; in mort, that ENGLISH 
 writers were infuiferable to German delicacy, 
 and of confequence it was impoffible to endure 
 I Swiss, 
 
 IT
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 195 
 
 IT appears to me thatfuch complainants con- 
 found the manners of the world with the ftylc 
 of books. Harfhnefs is certainly an unfocial 
 quality, and therefore excluded from the man- 
 ners of the world; but, on the other hand, the 
 TRUTHS, which well-written works from time 
 to time difclofe, frequently ftrike the mind 
 and produce an effeft. u I am myfelf good- 
 * 6 natured , " faid a poet, " but I acknowledge 
 *' that my works are not." A writer, therefore, 
 may be civil and polite in his perfonal inter- 
 courfe with mankind, and ftill properly fevere 
 in his works. Why fhould authors write as 
 they fpeak, if others never fpeak as they think ? 
 Is it not enough that when they mix in fociety 
 they endeavour to pleafe every one; fubmit 
 without exception to whatever the laws of po- 
 litenefs exaft; give up whatever is infifted on, 
 maintain no opinions unnecefTarily, always yield 
 the privilege of talking to others, and do every 
 thing as if they were only there to hear and 
 learn? There. are, however, many beaux efprits 
 who are infufferable in company, from a vain 
 conceit that their writings are the laft beft mo- 
 dels of elegance and urbanity ! Would not fuch 
 cbaraclers aft more wifely to correcl, in their 
 commerce with the world, the errors that may 
 have efcaped from their pens, than to reftr in 
 their pens and never check their tongues? He, 
 
 O 2 alas!
 
 196 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 alas! who in the circles of fociety 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 harfii expreflion, 
 .and to infert here and there a melancholy truth, 
 when fo many others are occupied in circulating 
 fprightly falfehoods. 
 
 STRENGTH of thought.is baniflied from the lan- 
 guage of converfation. But if the freedom with 
 
 o o 
 
 which an author exprefTes himfelf in his writ- 
 ings be infufferable to the feelings of the world, 
 the foft and meretricious language of fociety 
 would be ridiculous in literary compofidon. An 
 author muft fpeak in the language of TRUTH ; 
 but in fociety A MAN can feel it only, for he 
 inuft impofe a neceflary filence upon his lips. 
 MANNERS are formed by intercourfe with the 
 world, and CHARACTERS by retiring into Soli- 
 tude. In Solitude it will foon x be difcovered 
 whether they have only learned the trick of com- 
 plaifance, or have acquired freedom of thought, 
 firmncfs of exprefiion, dignity of fentiment, and 
 grandeur of (tyle. 
 
 SOLITUDE raifes the mind to a high degree 
 of elevation and power. The man, who has not 
 courage enough to place himfelf above the pre- 
 judices and fafhions of the world; who dread* 
 
 I the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 197 
 the reproach of fingularity ; who forms and con- 
 duels bimfelf upon the example of others; 
 will certainly never acquire a fufficient degree 
 of refolution to live a life of voluntary Solitude. 
 It has been well obferved, that SOLITUDE is as 
 indifpenfably necefiary to give a jufl, folid, firm, 
 and forcible tone to our thoughts, as a knowledge 
 of the world is to give them richnefs^ brilliancy, 
 and application. 
 
 THE MIND employed on noble objeb dif- 
 dains the indolence that (tains the vacant breaft. 
 THE SOUL, enjoying freedom and tranquillity, 
 exerts its energies with fuperior force, and dif- 
 plays an extent of power which was before un- 
 known; the faculties (harpen; our ideas become 
 more clear, luminous, and extended ; we fee 
 with greater perfpicuity; the mind, in fliort, 
 exafts much more from itfelf in the leifure of 
 Solitude than in the buftle of the world. The 
 tranquillity of Solitude, however, muft not de- 
 generate into idle eafe, into a ftate of mental 
 numbnefs or ftupefaclion. It is not fufficient to 
 be continually gazing out of a window with a 
 thoughtlefs mind, or gravely walking up and 
 down our ftudy in a ragged robe de cbambre and 
 worn-out flippers. The exterior of tranquillity 
 gives no elevation to the foul, infpires no a6li- 
 vity ; but we muft be perfuaded that Solitude is 
 O 3 neceflary,
 
 198 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 neceffary, and feel it a defire of the foul. It is 
 then only that it affords a precious liberty, ani- 
 mating at the fame inftant b.oth the reafon and 
 the imagination. 
 
 V 
 
 AN illuftrious friend. has frequently affured 
 me, that he never felt fo ftrong an inclination, 
 to write as during a review, when forty thoufand 
 perfons left their houfes and travelled on foot, 
 in carriages, and on horfeback, to obferve the 
 manoeuvres of a fingle battalion. This friend 
 has publifhed many excellent treatifes upon 
 the fciences, but he never wrote a trifle fo full 
 of wit and gaiety as the one he wrote at this 
 review. In early youth 1 never felt fo ftrong 
 a difpofition to employ my mind on ferious 
 fubjetts as on Sunday mornings, when, far re- 
 tired in the country, I heard the fharp and tinkt 
 ling found of the village bells, while all my 
 fellow-citizens, occupied by their devotions, 
 frizzed and powdered their heads to go tct 
 church. 
 
 CONTINUAL interruption deftroys all the ef- 
 fefts of Solitude. Difturbance prevents the 
 mind from collecting its ideas. This is the 
 reafon why an eftaliifiment frequently takes 
 away more advantages than it brings. In Soli- 
 tude, a man may be juft what he wifhes and 
 
 what
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 199 
 what he is; but in the world it isjevery man's 
 pride to attend to thofe Viquettes which his fla- 
 tion exafts ! and if the philofopher or man of 
 genius do not follow the ufages of his ftation, 
 they fay of him, " This is a fool; he only 
 " knows how to write books :" or, perhaps, 
 " His writings "are good, but as for himfelf, he 
 K is an afs." 
 
 BUT Solitude enables a man to attack Pre- 
 judice and defeat Error with as much eafe and 
 fuccefs as an athletic champion meets a puny 
 adverfary. Repeated examinations having ap- 
 proximated every objeft, and rendered their pro- 
 perties familiar, he feizes TRUTH wherever he 
 difcovers her, and regards with the tranquil 
 fmile of pity thofe who think themfelves au- 
 thorifed to fpcak of her with contempt; he 
 hears, without being difconcerted, the invec- 
 tives which Envy and Prejudice throw out 
 againft him ; and perceives a we'ak multitude 
 making HUE AND CRY the moment he opens his 
 hand, and unloofes one of the truths which it 
 contains. 
 
 SOLITUDE diminifhes the number of our paf- 
 fions by forming out of a multiplicity one great 
 defire. Solitude certainly may produce dange- 
 rous effe&s upon the pafiions, but. Providence 
 O 4 fcc
 
 20O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 be thanked ! it may alfo produce the mofl falu 
 tary effects. If it diforder the mind, it is capa- 
 ble of effecting its cure. Drawing out and fe- 
 parating all the various propenfities of the hu- 
 man heart, it collects and re-unites them into 
 ONE. We feel and learn not only the nature 
 but the extent and influence of all the paffion. c 
 They rife up like angry waves, and endeavour 
 to overwhelm us in the abyfs ; but PHILOSOPHY 
 flies to our aid, divides their force, and if we do 
 not yield an eafy victory by neglecting all oppo- 
 fition to their attacks, VIRTUE andSELF-DENiAL 
 bring gigantic reinforcements to our affiftance, 
 
 and infure fuccefs. VIRTUE and RESOLUTION 
 
 i 
 
 in fhort, are equal, to every conflict, the inftant 
 we learn that one paflion is only to be conquered 
 by another. 
 
 THE mind feels itfelf proudly dignified by 
 that grcatnefs of foul which we acquire by a 
 commerce, with ourfclves; and difdaining every 
 ignoble object, withdraws itfelf on every fide 
 from fociety. A virtuous mind obferves the 
 fons of worldly pleafure mingling in fcenes of 
 riot and debauchery without being feduccd. In 
 vain is it echoed from every fide, that inconti- 
 nence and debauchery are the earlieft propenfities 
 and mofl fafiiionable vices of every young man 
 who wifhes to know life ; no, the noble mind 
 
 feels
 
 I 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2OI 
 
 feels and fees that fuch fccnes not only enervate 
 youth, and render him callous to the charms of 
 virtue and the principles of honefty, but that 
 they deftroy every manly refolution, infpire timi- 
 dity in the hour of danger, and defeat every great 
 and glorious enterprize : that by the indulgence 
 of libertin //;, the generous warmth and fine enthu- 
 fiafm of the foul, its noble fondnefs for the fub- 
 lime and beautiful, all its powers are loft. He, 
 therefore, who retains a wifh to appear great and 
 honourable in the world, muft renounce for ever 
 the habits of indolence and the practices of luxury. 
 The moment he ceafes to injure his faculties by 
 debauchery, and difcontinues his attempts to re- 
 novate them by an excefs of wine and luxurious 
 living, he will no longer fell it neceflary frequently 
 to take the air, or to confume the whole day on 
 horfeback. 
 
 ALL men without exception have fomething 
 to learn. Whatever may be the diftinguiflied 
 rank which they hold in fociety, they can never 
 be truly great but by their perfonal merit. The 
 more the faculties of the mind are exercifed in 
 the tranquillity of retirement, the more con- 
 fpicous they appear; and fhould the pleafures 
 of debauchery be the ruling paffion, O young 
 man ! learn that nothing will fo eafily fubdue it 
 as an increafing emulation in great and virtuous 
 
 aftions,
 
 2O2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 aliens, 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 dig- 
 nity and greatnefs in the retreats of Solitude, 
 where the paffion for fublime objecls operates 
 with greater freedom than in any other fituation. 
 The paffion which carried ALEXANDER into 
 Afia confined DIOGEMES to his tub. HSRACLI- 
 TUS quitted the throne to devote himfelf to the 
 fearch of TXUTH. He who wifhes to render his 
 writings ufeful to mankind muft firft ftudy the 
 world, not too intenfely, or with any fondnefs for 
 its follies. The follies of the world enervate and 
 deftroy the vigour of the mind. C^S^AR tore - 
 himfelf from the embraces of CLEOPATRA, aod 
 became the mafter of the empire; but ANTONY 
 took her as a miftrefs to his arms, and by 
 his effeminacy loft not only his life, but the 
 WORLD. 
 
 SOLITUDE, it is true, infpires notions too high 
 and exalted for the level of common life. But 
 high and exalted minds fupport themfelves on 
 heights which would turn the heads of degene- 
 rated men.' The faculties acquired by Solitude 
 6 ^improve
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 303 
 improve the feelings of the heart, and the mind 
 foars beyond the condition of mortality. Every- 
 day in the life of a man of the world feems as if 
 he expected it would be the laft of his exift- 
 ence; he feems to think that all happinefs de- 
 pends upon his being prefent at a favourite diver- 
 fion, prefiding at a club, knowing a celebrated 
 conjurer, patronizing a new boxer, or admiring 
 fome foreign novelty which the hand-bills of the 
 day have announced, 
 
 I FEEL the warmeft emotions -whenever I re- 
 collect this palfage in PLUTARCH : t6 I live," 
 fays he, " entirely upon HISTORY, and while 
 6 I contemplate the pictures it prefents to my 
 <e view, my mind enjoys a rich repaft from the 
 cc reprefentation of great and virtuous charac- 
 < ; ters. If the actions of men, which I mull 
 c6 neceflarily look into, produce fome inftances 
 < c of vice, corruption, and difhonefty, I en- 
 ct deavour, neverthclefs, to remove the im- 
 " preffion, or to defeat its effect. My mind 
 " withdraws itfelf from the fcene, and, free 
 " from every ignoble paffion, I attach myfelf to 
 <e thofe high examples of virtue which are fo 
 46 agreeable and fatisfactory, and which accord 
 " fo completely with the genuine feelings of our 
 tf nature," 
 
 THE
 
 ; 
 
 204 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THE foul, winged by thefe fublime images, 
 flies from the earth, mounts as it proceeds, 
 and cafts the eye of difdain on thofe furrounding 
 clouds which gravitate to the world, and ob- 
 flrucl its flight. Attaining a certain height, the 
 faculties of the mind open, and reveal the inclina 
 tion of the heart. It is wife and glorious to at- 
 tempt every achievement ; for that which is not 
 phyfically impoffible may always be morally per- 
 formed. How many dormant ideas may be 
 awakened by exertion; and then, what a variety 
 of early impreffions, which were feemingly for- 
 gotten, revive, and prefent themfelvestoourpens! 
 We may always accomplifh much more than 
 ve conceive, provided we do not relax in the 
 proper exercife of the mind; provided pafTion 
 fans the fire which imagination has lighted; for 
 life is infupportable, if it be not animated by the 
 foft affeclions of the heart. 
 
 A STATE of exiftence without pafllon is, in 
 Solitude as well as in every other fituation of life, 
 the death of the foul.* Difeafe and long fuffer- 
 
 * " The force of the paffions," fays a great philofopher, "can 
 " alone counterbalance in the human mind the effects of indo. 
 " lence and inactivity, flea! us from that repofe and torpidity 
 " towards which we inceflantly gravitate, and at length endow 
 " the mind with that continuity of attention to which ftiperior- 
 ." ity of talent is attached."
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 ing, after I ceafed to breathe ray native air, 
 occafionally reduced me, during many years, 
 to this horrible condition. Thofe amongft whom 
 1 lived, and who were ignorant of my real fitu- 
 ation, thought that I was fullen, and expefted 
 every moment that I mould angrily feize the 
 lance of fatire; but 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 re- 
 mained perfectly infenfible, and preferved an 
 jnviolable iilence. The languors of ficknefs, 
 the tortures of a wounded heart, the oppreffion 
 of domeftic misfortunes, had vanquished my 
 mind, and rendered it infenfible to every other 
 concern. My brain continued, during feveral 
 years, as obdurate as marble : 1 paffed many hours, 
 day after day, without a thought; uttering fre- 
 quently the direl contrary to what I meant; 
 fcarcely taking any nourifhment; deriving no 
 iiipport from that which ftrengthens others; ex- 
 pefting every ftep I took to fall to the ground ; 
 and fuftering the mod excruciating pain when- 
 ever I fat down to write. I was loft to the 
 world and its' concerns, and felt no intereft ex- 
 cept only in the fecret object of my chagrin, 
 which I kept clofely locked within my bleeding 
 heart. 
 
 THS
 
 205 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THE pafiions have no exiftence until the cor-i 
 poreal organs are capable of indulging the natural 
 difpofitions of the heart. The mind, therefore} 
 ought to be kept in a (late of conftant exercife; 
 for the -foul, a8.ing only by means of thefe cor- 
 poreal organs, its operations, whether in the tran- 
 quility of Solitude or in the hurry of the world, 
 can never produce any thing great if intercepted 
 by thefe fubaltern agents. Solitude, it is certain, 
 affords happinefs to the heart in every period of 
 our lives, and leads the mind to the fertile 
 fources of every great conception: but, alas! it 
 is not always in our power to enjoy it. How 
 pafiionately fond of Solitude would every noble- 
 minded youth become, if he were capable of 
 perceiving the variety of grand ideas, fublime 
 fentiments, and profound knowledge, which he 
 might there acquire in the earlieft periods of his 
 infancy! A wife old-age finds its happieft days 
 in the retreats of Solitude. The mind there 
 thinks with dignity and eafe. In the tranquillity 
 of retirement, we fee how every thing ought to be 
 conduced; while, in fociety, we only fee how 
 things are carried on. Uninterrupted reflection 
 and profound thought infpire the greateft works 
 which the human mind is capable-of producing; 
 while, in fociety, the intellectual fpirit evaporates 
 by its continual attention to trifling objcBs. The 
 charm of Solitude makes men forget the cares 
 
 of
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 of life, teaches them to defpife every thing that 
 belongs to earth, where they fuffer their minds to 
 lie fallow, abandoned to weeds, or a prey to the 
 beafts of the field, 
 
 AN enthufiafm foT great achievements extin- 
 guiflies all consideration for trifling objecls. 
 This is the reafon why, in conducting little con- 
 cerns, COMMON-SENSE* is much more ufeful 
 than GENIUS. The ordinary occupations of 
 life deftroy the enthufiafm of genius, which no- 
 thing will fo effectually reflore as Solitude and 
 leifure. The philofophic obferver and profound 
 writer, therefore, have no other refource, when 
 they are furrounded and encumbered by a mul- 
 tiplicity of affairs. Mifundcrftood and ridiculed, 
 their fouls ficken under general obloquy, and 
 become as it were extinft; they have no induce* 
 ment to undertake any great and diftinguifi. 
 work, when they are convinced that envy and 
 malice will endeavour to turn it into ridicule the 
 moment it is known by whofc pen it was pro- 
 
 * (f A man of common fcnfe," fays HELVETIUS, " is a man 
 " in whofe character indolence predominates. He is not endowed 
 " with that activity of foul which, in high ftations, leads great 
 f( minds to difcover new fprings by which they may fet the 
 * r world in motion, or to fow thofe feeds from the growth of 
 ** whkh they are enabled to produce future events." 
 
 dttced.
 
 oS THE INFLUENCE OP SOLlf UDE 
 duccd. The defire of fame dies, where merit is 
 no longer rewarded by praife. But remove fuch 
 a writer or philofopher from the multitude; give 
 him liberty, leifure, pens, ink, and paper, and 
 he is revenged; and his writings will then excite 
 the admiration of nations. A great variety of 
 men, who poffefs extraordinary talents, remain 
 undiftinguimed, only becaufe their minds Ian- 
 ^iiim 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 leads genius to its proper fphere. 
 The mind rejoices in being reftored to its facul- 
 ties, and derives pleafures from purfuits which 
 vulgar minds difdain. The hatred which is ge- 
 nerally entertained againft folitary men frp- 
 quently proves a fource of enviable happinefs, 
 It would indeed be a great misfortune to him 
 who is meditating in tranquillity the performance 
 of fome great and important work, if he were 
 univerfally beloved; 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 r" 
 Happily, however, philofophers are not, in ge- 
 neral, the favourites of the world ; and they 
 have the plcafure of reflecting, that public 
 
 hatred
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. $09 
 
 hatred is never excited againft an ordinary man, 
 There is always fomething great in that mart 
 againft whom the world exclaims, at whom every 
 one throws a ftone, to whofe condu6l all impute 
 a thoufand abfurdities, and on whofe character 
 all attempt to affix a thoufand crimes without be- 
 ing able to prove one. The fate of a man of 
 genius who lives retired and unknown is ftill 
 more enviable; for he will not only enjoy the 
 advantages of Solitude, but, expecting his fen- 
 timents to be difliked or mifunderftood, he will 
 not be chagrined by the ftupid vulgar condemn- 
 ing whatever he writes or fays, or furprifed that 
 the efforts of his friends to undeceive the public 
 with refpecl: to his merit mould 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 BUCKE- 
 BOURG. Of all the German authors, I never 
 knew one whofe writings were more ridiculed or 
 fo little underftood ; and yet his name was worthy 
 of being enrolled among the greateft characters 
 of his age or country. I became acquainted with 
 him at a time when he lived almoft continually 
 in Solitude, retired from the world, managing 
 his fmall eftate with great difcretion. There was 
 indeed fomething in his manner and appearance 
 JP which
 
 2IO TtfE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 which, at firfl fight, created difguft, and obfcured 
 the brilliant qualities of his mind. 
 
 THE COUNT DE LACY, formerly ambaflador 
 from Spain to Peterjburgh^ informed me at 
 Hanover, that he led the Spanifh army againft the 
 Portuguefe at the time they were commanded by 
 the COUNT DE BUCKEBOURG 3 the fingularity of 
 whofe perfon and manners fo forcibly flruck 
 the minds of all the Spanifh generals, while they 
 were reconnoitring the enemy with their telefcopes, 
 that they exclaimed with one voice, Are the 
 " Portuguefe commanded by DON QUIXOTE ?" 
 The ambaflador, however, who poffeffed a very 
 liberal mind, fpoke with enthufiaftic rapture of 
 the good 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 ex- 
 traordinary length of his vifage, might, in 
 truth, bring back the recolle6lion-of the Knight 
 of LA MANCHA; for certain it is, that at a dif- 
 tancc he made a moft romantic appearance; 
 on a nearer approach, however, a clofer view 
 immediately convinced you of the contrary. The 
 fire and animation of his features announced the 
 elevation, fagacity, penetration, kindnefs, virtue, 
 and ferenity of his foul. Sublime fentiments and 
 
 heroic
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 211 
 
 heroic 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, andpofiefled 
 a difpofition as whimfical as it was extraordinary. 
 The anecdotes concerning him, which I heard 
 from his relation a GERMAN PRINCE, are perhaps 
 not generally known. He was fond of contend- 
 ing with the ENGLISH in every thing. For in- 
 ilance, 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 towards LONDON ; 
 and in this manner he actually rode through 
 feveral counties in ENGLAND. He not onlytra- 
 verfed the greateft part of that kingdom on foot, 
 but travelled in company with a German prince 
 through feveral of the counties in the character 
 of a beggar. Being informed that part of the 
 current of the DANUBE, above RATISBON, was 
 fo ftrong and rapid, that no one had ever dared 
 to fwim acrofs it, he made the attempt, and 
 fwairi fo far, that it was with difficulty he faved 
 his life. A great flatefman and profound phi- 
 lofopher related to me at HANOVER, that, 
 during the war in which the count commanded 
 the artillery in the army of PRINCE FERDINAND 
 f Brunfwick againfl the French, he one day 
 P 2 invited
 
 212 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 invited feveral 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 ahout the tent. 
 The French," exclaimed the officers, u cannot 
 " be far off." " No, no," replied the count, 
 <* the enemy, I allure you, are at a great diftance;" 
 and he defired them to keep their feats. The 
 firing foon after re-commenced ; when one of the 
 balls carrying away the top of the tent, the officers 
 rofe fuddenly from their chairs, exclaiming, 
 6 The French are here." t; No," replied the 
 count, " The French are not here ; and there - 
 " fore, gentlemen, I defire you will again fit 
 " down, and rely upon my word." The balls' 
 continued to fly about; the officers, however, 
 continued to eat and drink without appre- 
 henlion, though not without whifpering their 
 conjectures to each other upon the fingularity of 
 their entertainment. The count at length rofe 
 from the table, and, addrefling himfelf to the 
 compa'ny, laid, (t Gentlemen, I was willing to 
 c; convince you how well I can rely upon the 
 6; officers of my artillery; for I ordered them 
 " to fire during the time we continued at 
 u dinner, at the pinnacle of the tent ; and 
 " they have executed my orders with great 
 inequality." 
 
 - CURIOUS
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 CURIOUS and reflecting minds will not be un- 
 thankful for thefe traits of the character of a man 
 anxious to exercife himfelf and thofe under his 
 command in every arduous enterprize. Being 
 one day in company with the count by the fide 
 of a magazine of gun-powder which he had made 
 under his bed-chamber in FORT WILHULMSTEIN, 
 I obferved to him, that, 6f I mould not fleep 
 " very contentedly there during fome of the hot 
 " nights of fummer." The count, however, 
 convinced me, though I do not now recollect how, 
 that the greateft danger and no danger are one 
 and the fame thing. When I firft faw this extra- 
 ordinary man, which was in the company of 
 two officers, the one Englifl.'^ the other Pottagi'.efe, 
 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 WILHELMSTEIN, 
 which he had conftrucled in the middle of 'the 
 water, from plans which he fhewed me of his own 
 drawing, and where not a foot of land was to 
 be feen. On Sunday, upon the great parade at 
 PYRMONT, furrounded by many thousand men, 
 who were occupied in drefs, dancing, and gal- 
 lantries, he entertained me during the courfe of 
 two hours, and with as much tranquillity as if 
 we had been alone, by detailing the various 
 P 3 con-
 
 214 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 controverfies refpefting the exiftence of God, 
 pointing out their defective parts, and convincing 
 me that he could furpafs them all. To prevent my 
 efcape, he held me faft by the button of my 
 coat. He mewed me, at his feat at BUCKEBOURG, 
 a large folio volume in his own hand writing, 
 < c On the art of defending a fmall Town againft 
 <e a great Power." The work was completely 
 finifhed, and defigned as a prefent to the king 
 of Portugal ; but he did me the favour to read 
 many paffages refpecling SWISSERLAND. The 
 count confidered the Swifs invincible : and 
 pointed out to me not only all the important 
 pofts which they might occupy againft an enemy, 
 but mewed me roads through which a CAT would 
 fcarcely be able to crawl. I do not believe that 
 any thing was ever written of higher importance 
 to the interefts 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. Mos;s MENDELSSOHN, to 
 whom the count had read the preface to thi$ 
 work at PYRMO.NT, confidered it as a mafter- 
 piece, both for its correct language and fine 
 philofophy; for the count could write the French 
 language with almoft the fame eafe, elegance, 
 and purity as VOLTAIRE : while in the German 
 he was laboured, perplexed, and diffufe. What 
 adds to his praife is, that upon his return to 
 6 PORTUGAL^
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 21$ 
 
 PORTUGAL, he had with him for many years, 
 two of the moft acute mafters of Germany ; firft 
 ABBT, and afterwards HERDER. Thofe -who 
 fee with more penetrating eyes than mine, and 
 have had more opportunities to make obferva- 
 tions, are able to relate a variety of remarkable 
 anecdotes concerning this truly great and extraor- 
 dinary man. I mail only add one obfervation 
 more refpe&ing his character, availing my felf of 
 the words of SHAKESPEARE : thecouNT WILLIAM 
 DE SCHAUMBOURG LiPPE carries no dagger ; 
 
 " He has a lean and hungry look" 
 (t - but he's not dangerous ; 
 __ -- - he reads much ; 
 
 tc He is a great obferver ; and he looks 
 
 " Qmte through the deeds of men. He loves no plays ; 
 
 " -- he hears no mufic ; 
 
 " Seldom he fmiles, and fmiles in fuch a fort, 
 
 " As if he mock'd himfelf, and fcorn'd his fpirit 
 
 *' That could be mov'd to fmile at any thing." 
 
 JULIUS CESAR, Ad I. Scene 4. 
 
 SUCH was the character, always mifunderftood, 
 of this folitary man. A character of this defcrip- 
 tion may well indulge the fmile of fcorn, when 
 he perceives himfelf fcoffed at by the world; but 
 what mull be the fhame and confufion of thofe 
 partial judges, when they behold the monument 
 >yhich the great MENDELSSOHN has erefted to his 
 P 4 memory i
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 memory; or the judicious hiftory of his life, 
 which a young author is about to publifh at 
 HANOVER; the profound fcntiments, the noble 
 ftyle, the truth and fincerity of which will 
 be difcovered 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 flowing hair, his 
 great hat, and little fword, might be pardoned, 
 if, like the count, they were philofophers and 
 heroes. The count, however, never fmiled at 
 the world, or upon men, but with kindnefs. 
 Without hatred, without mifanthropy, he enjoyed 
 the tranquillity of his rural retreat, deep embo-r 
 fomed in a thick foreft, generally alone or in the 
 company of his wife ; for whom, while living, 
 he did not appear to entertain any extraordinary 
 fondnefs; but when fhe died, his affection for 
 her was fo great, that her death brought him 
 aim oft to the grave. 
 
 THE people of Athens laughed thus at THE- 
 MISTOCLES. They even reviled him openly 
 as he patTed along the ftreets, becaufe he did 
 riot poflefs the manners of the world, the TOM 
 of good company, and was ignorant of that 
 
 accom-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2IJ 
 accomplifliment which is called genteel breeding: 
 one day, however, he retorted upon thefe rail- 
 ers with the keeneft afperity. " It is true," faid 
 he, " I never learned to tune a lyre, or to 
 " play upon a lute; but I know how to raife a 
 ct fmall and inconfiderable city to grcatnefs and 
 " to glory !" 
 
 SOLITUDE and philofophy therefore, although 
 they may infpire fentiments and manners which 
 appear ludicrous to the eye of worldly folly, 
 banifh every mean and fordid idea from the mind, 
 and prepare it for the grandeft and molt fublime 
 conceptions. lie who is accuftomed to itudy the 
 characters of great men, and to admire elevated 
 fentiments, will almoft imperceptibly adopt a 
 romantic ftylc of thinking, which may frequently 
 excite the lirtile of ridicule. 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 ren- 
 ders fuch characters, in the eyes of the weak and 
 wicked, ridiculous and infupportable. The 
 noblenefs of foul, which men of this defcription 
 always difcover, is frequently offenfive to the 
 fafhionable 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 ad- 
 vice
 
 28 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 f ice upon the goyernment of the ftate, and upon 
 the changes ; and limitations which might be made 
 in the laws. He who three fuccefli ve times com- 
 municated falfe or unimportant obfervations loft 
 for one year the privilege of fpeaking in the 
 prefence of the foyereign. There are many other 
 romantic philofophers who would require much 
 more, but would do nothing. . PLOTINUS re- 
 quefled the emperor GALIENUS to confer upon 
 him the foyercignty of a fmali city in CAMPA- 
 NIA, 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 thecourtiers laughed 
 at the propofal, and told the emperor that the 
 philofopher was a fool, whofe mind even expe- 
 rience could not reform. 
 
 PICTURES of the greatnefs and virtue of the 
 ancients produce, in Solitude, the happieft in- 
 fluence upon minds fufceptible of thofe ideas and 
 fentiments. Sparks of that bright flame, which 
 warmed the bofoms of the great and good, fome- 
 times operate the moft unexpected effects. To 
 cheer the drooping fpirits of a lady in the country, 
 whofe health was impaired by a nervous affection, 
 
 I ad-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2lG 
 I advifcd her to read very frequently the hiftory 
 of the Greek and Roman empires. At the ex- 
 piration of three months fhe wrote to me, " With 
 ." what veneration for antiquity have you infpired 
 ." my mind ! What are the buzzing race of the 
 I' prefent age, when compared with thofe noble 
 . <: characters ? Hiftory heretofore was not my 
 " favourite ftudy ; now I live only on its pages. 
 ? s I feel, during the progrefs of my fludy, the 
 f 4 ftrongell inclination to become acquainted 
 {: with all the tranfaclions of GREECE and ROME. 
 " It has not only opened to me an inexhauftible 
 ? ; fource of pleafure, but reftored me to health. 
 <?' I could not have believed that my library 
 . 6t contained fo ineftimable a treafure - t it will 
 ct become dearer to me than any thing I poffefs. 
 f In the courfe of fix months you will no longer 
 " be troubled with my complaints. My PLU- 
 ." TARCH has already become more valuable to 
 ." me than all the triumphs of coquetry, or all 
 < that fentimental writing addreffed to ladies 
 " in the country who are inclined to be all bsart y 
 ." and with whom SATAN plays tricks of love 
 " with the fame addrefs as a dilletante plays tricks 
 " of mufic on the violin." This lady, who, I 
 confefs, is learned, gives me further information 
 refpecling the conduct of her kitchen, and the 
 management of her poultry-yard ; but fhe has 
 recovered her health, and I think will here- 
 after
 
 22O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 after find as much pleafure in houfe-keeping and 
 feeding her chickens, as me did formerly from 
 the pages of PLUTARCH. 
 
 THE hiflory of the grandeur and virtue of the 
 ancients cannot operate for any length of time, 
 except in the tranquillity of retirement, or among 
 a feleft circle of friends; 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 great crowd of ideas which appear ridi- 
 culous to his fellow-citizens; but it is by fuch 
 ideas that men are led to perform actions wor- 
 thy of immortality. The Swifs fongs com- 
 pofed by LAVATER appeared at a time unfa- 
 vourable to their reception, and when the Re- 
 public was in a declining flate. The Swifs 
 Society of SCHINTZUACH, who had prevailed 
 upon that ardent genius to compofe thofe fongs, 
 offended the French Ambaffador; and, from 
 that time, the Society was exclaimed againft 
 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 confidered us as enemies 
 to orthodoxy, and asdifciples of JEAN JACQUES 
 ROUSSEAU, a man hateful to his eyes. At 
 ZURICH, the prefident of the- Committee for the 
 i Reformation
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 221 
 Reformation of Literature prohibited the Swifs 
 fongs of LAVATER, from the excellent motive, 
 that it was not proper to flir up the old dunghill. 
 No poet of GREECE, however, wrote with more 
 fire and force in favour of his country, than 
 LAVATER did for the interefts of Swifferland. 
 I have heard children chaunt thefe fongs with 
 patriotic enthufiafrn, and feen the fineft eyes 
 rilled with tears while their ears liftened to the 
 finger. Rapture glowed in the breads of the 
 Swifs peafants to whom they were fung, their 
 mufcles fwelled, the blood inflamed their cheeks. 
 Fathers have, within my own knowledge, carried 
 their infant children to the chapel of WILLIAM 
 TELL, to fing in full chorus the fong which LA- 
 VATER wrote upon the merits of that great man. 
 I have made the rocks re-echo to my voice, by 
 finging thefe fongs to the nmfic which my heart 
 compofed for them in the fields : and upon thofe 
 celebrated mountains where thefe heroes, the 
 anceftors of our race, fignalized themfelves by 
 their immortal valour, I thought myfclf encom- 
 pafied by their venerable fhades. I fancied that 
 J faw them ftill armed with their knotted clubs, 
 breaking to pieces the crowned helmets of Ger- 
 many; and, although inferior in numbers, forcing 
 the proud nobility to feek their fafety by a pre- 
 cipitate and ignominious flight, 
 
 THIS,
 
 222 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THIS, I lhall perhaps be told, is romantic i 
 for romantic ideas can only pleafe folitary and 
 reclufe men, who always fee objects in a dif- 
 ferent point of view from the multitude around 
 them. Great ideas, however, fometimes pene- 
 trate in fpite of the moft obflinate refiftance. 
 In republics they operate infenfibly, and infpire 
 elevated fentiments, which may become ex- 
 tenffvely ufeful in times of trouble and com- 
 motion. 
 
 EVERY thing unites, in Solitude, to faife the 
 foul and fortify the human character; becaufe 
 the mind there habituates itfelf, much better 
 than in the world, to noble fentiments and he- 
 roic refolutions. The folitary man poffeffes a 
 charm againft all the (hafts of envy, hatred, and 
 malice. Refolved to think and to a6l, upo* 
 every occafion, in oppofition to the fentiments 
 of narrow minds, he attends to all the contrari- 
 eties he meets with, but is aftonifhed at none. 
 Entertaining a juft and rational efteem tot 
 friends; but fenfible alfo that they, like enemies j 
 generally indulge their feelings to excefs, that 
 all of them are partial, and inclined to form too 
 favourable a judgment; he appeals to the pub- 
 lic : not indeed to the public of his own city, 
 who always confider tbe per/on and not the thing 
 in controverfy, and who never decide until they 
 
 have.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 223 
 have heard the opinions of two or three beaux 
 efprits; but he appeals to the world at large, at 
 \vhofe impartial tribunal he appears, and, with 
 his works in his hand, demands the juftice that 
 is due. 
 
 BUT it is commonly thought that Solitude, by 
 elevating the fentiments, renders the mind unfit 
 for bufinefs : this, however, I do not believe. 
 On the contrary, it muft be highly beneficial to 
 raife the foul, and to exercife the mind in fuch a 
 manner as will prevent our becoming viftims to 
 the events of public life. The love -of truth is 
 preferved by Solitude, and virtue there acquires 
 a greater firmnefs; but I acknowledge that, in 
 bufinefs, truth is fometimes inconvenient; and 
 rigid virtue is not always propitious to the af- 
 fairs of life. 
 
 THE virtue and Simplicity of manners which 
 Solitude produces are revered by the GREAT 
 and GOOD of every clime. It was thefe inefti- 
 mable qualities which, during the higheft fury 
 of the war between ENGLAND and FRANCE, 
 obtained the philofophic JEAN ANDRE DE Luc 
 the reception he met with at the court of 
 Verjailhs> and infpired the breaft of the vir- 
 tuous, the immortal DE VERGENNTS with the 
 defire to reform, by philofophy, thofe citizens 
 
 of
 
 224 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 of Geneva, who had refilled all the power of 
 the prime-minifter of France. DE Luc, at the 
 requeft of VERGENNES, 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 moun- 
 tains, that this amiable philofopher acquired 
 that fimplicity of manners, which he ftill pre- 
 ferves amidfl all the luxury of LONDON j where 
 he endures with firmnefs 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 
 DE Luc indulged himfelf: when any thing 
 vexed his mind, he chewed a little morfel of 
 fugar; and, of courfe, always carried a fmall 
 fupply of it in his pocket. 
 
 SOLITUDE not only creates fimplicity of man- 
 ners, but prepares and ftrengthens the faculties 
 for the toils of bufy life. Foftered in the bofom 
 of retirement, the mind feels a greater degree 
 of activity when it engages in the tranfaclions 
 of the world, and retires again into tranquillity 
 to repofe itfelf, and prepare for new conflicts. 
 PERICLES, PHOCION, EPAMINONDAS, laid the 
 foundation of all their greatnefs in Solitude; 
 they there acquired that ftyle which is not to be 
 
 learned
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2^C 
 
 learned in the forum of the univerfity the ftyle 
 of their future lives and afHons. When the 
 mind of PERICLES was occupied by important 
 objects, he never appeared in the ftreets except 
 to tranfacl his bufinefs, and inftantly renounced 
 feaftings, public affemblies, and every other 
 pleafure of the kind. While the adminiftratio>i 
 of the affair.-, of the republic was in his hands, 
 he only went once to fup with a friend, and 
 came early away. PHOCION immediately refigned 
 himfelf to the ftudy of philofophy, not from 
 the oftentatious motive of being called a wife 
 man, but to place himfelf in a condition to 
 conducl the bufinefs of the ftate with greater 
 relolution and effecl*. 1 he people were afto- 
 niftied, and enquired of each other when and 
 by what means EPAMINONDAS, after having 
 paffed his whole life in ftudy, had not only 
 learned, but, as it were, all at once exercifed, 
 the military art in its higheft perfection. lie 
 was frugal of his time, devoted his mind en- 
 tirely to the delights of literature; and, defiring 
 nothing fo much as to be exempt from bufinefs, 
 withdrew himfelf from every public employ- 
 
 * ThusT.ACiTus.fpe;iks of HELVIDIUS PRISCUS: " Ingenium 
 t( iilujlre altioribus jludiis ju=ven'u admodum dtdit, non ut maguifao 
 11 n-jmine otium -velaret, Jd quo frauor, adverjus for'.uita rempuL- 
 " hcam caffferet." 
 
 O ment.
 
 226 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ment. His country forced him from the retreats 
 of Solitude, gave him the command of the army, 
 and he faved the republic. 
 
 THE charaBer of PETRARCH, which I never 
 contemplate but with increafing fcnfibility. was 
 formed in Solitude; and he was thus rendered 
 capable of tranfatting the moft complicated 
 political affairs. PETRARCH was, without doubt, 
 at times, what perfons very frequently become 
 in Solitude; choleric, fatirical, and petulant. 
 He has been reproached with great fevcrity 
 for the lively pictures he has drawn of the 
 manners of his age ; and particularly for his 
 defcription of the fcenes of infamy which were 
 tranfacled at AVIGNON', unde.r the reign of 
 pope CLEMENT THE SIXTH. But PETRARCH was 
 perfectly acquainted with the human heart, knew 
 how to manage the paffions with uncommon 
 dexterity, and to conducl them direftly to his 
 purpofe. The ABBE DE SADES, the beft hiftoriaa 
 of his life, fays, " PETRARCH was fcarccly 
 " known, except as a tender and elegant poet, 
 " who loved with unextinguilhable ardour, and 
 " fung in all the harmony of verfe the graces 
 ct of his miftrefs." And was nothing more 
 known of his character ? His contemporaries, 
 alas ! were ignorant of the obligations that 
 literature, long buried in the ruins of barbarity, 
 
 owes
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. rj 
 
 owes to his pen; that he faved the bed works 
 of antiquities from duft and rottennefs ; that many 
 of thofe precious treafures which have Cnce 
 contributed to enlighten the world would have 
 been loft, if he had not digged them from the 
 grave, and procured them to be corre&ly copied; 
 that he was the reflorer of the belUs lettres in 
 Europe; purified the tafte of the age; and 
 wrote himfelf like an illuftrious citizen of an- 
 cient Rome; that he extirpated the prevailing 
 prejudices of his time, preferved his courage 
 and his firmnefs till the hour of his death, and fur- 
 pa fled in his laft work all thofe which had preceded 
 it. Still lefs were they informed that PETRARCH 
 was an able ftatefman, to whom the mod cele- 
 brated fovereigns of his age confided every 
 difficult negociation, and confulted in their moft 
 important concerns^ that in the fourteenth century 
 he pofTcfTed 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 illuftrious nobility 
 of Italy, cultivated his friendfhip, and folicited 
 his correfpondence ; that, as a ftatefman, a 
 minifter, an ambafTador, he was employed in 
 tranfafting fome of the greateft a flairs of the 
 age; that he was thereby placed in a fuuation 
 
 , 2 tU
 
 228 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 to inftrucl them in the moft ufeful and im- 
 portant truths. -But it was to Solitude alone that 
 he owed all this power, that no perfon was 
 better acquainted with its advantages, cherifhed 
 it with greater fondnefs, or refounded its praifes 
 with higher energy ; and he at length preferred 
 LiBuRTV and LEISURE to all the enjoyments of 
 the world. He appeared a long time evervated 
 by LOVE, to which he had confecrated the prime of 
 his life; but he fyddenly abandoned the foft 
 and effeminate tone in which he fighed at 
 LAURA'S feet; addrefied himfelf with, manly 
 boldnefs to kings, to emperors, to popes; and 
 ever afterwards maintained that confidence 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 tbemfelves, and to 
 unite their powers againft their common enemies 
 the barbarians, who tore to pieces the very 
 bofom of their country. He encouraged, guided, 
 
 * (t His LATIN works of philofophy, poetry, and elo, 
 " quence," fays Mr^ GIBBON, " eftabliftied his ferious repu, 
 t( tation, which was foon diffufed from Avignon over France and 
 " Italy ; his friends and difciples were multiplied in every city ; 
 " and if the ponderous volume of his writings be now abandoned 
 " to a long repofe, our gratitude muft applaud the man who by 
 *' precept and example revived the fpirit and ftudy of the Augnlhn 
 age," TRANSLATOR, 
 
 and
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 220 
 
 and fupported RIENZI, who appeared like A 
 guardian-angel fent from Heaven to re-eflablifh 
 the original fplendour of the city of ROM H*. He 
 incited a pufillanimous emperor to penetrate into 
 the heart of Italy, and to feize, as the fuc- 
 cefTor of the C/ESARS, the government 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 TJJJER. At a time even when he acknow- 
 ledges, in one of his writings, that his mind was 
 filled with vexation, his bofom tormented by an 
 unextinguifhable paffion, difgufted with the con- 
 duct of men, and tired with public life, pope 
 CLEMENT THE SJXTH, who, without doubt, was 
 ignorant of what was palling in his heart, in- 
 trufted him with a negociation of great difficulty 
 to the court of NAPLES. PETRARCH undertook 
 the charge. He confefTed, that the life of a 
 court had rendered him ambitious, bufy, and 
 cnterprizing; 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 croud of courtiers 
 in his Juite. When JOHN VISCONTI, arch- 
 
 * For a concife and elegant hiftoiy of tbe birth and fortunes 
 of this extraordinary man, fee the izth vol. of Gibbon's Romao 
 Empire, p. jji. Svo. edit. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 Q 3 bifhop
 
 23O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 bifhop and prince of MILAN, and fovereign of all 
 LOMBARDY, a man who united the fineft talents 
 with an ambition fo infatiable that it threatened 
 to fwallow up all ITALY, had the happinefs to 
 fix PETRARCH in his interefts, and by inducing 
 - him to undertake the office of private fecretary, 
 to gain every thing that could accompany fuch 
 an acquifition, a philofopher and man of learn- 
 ing, \vho eftcemed Solitude above any other fitu- 
 ation ; the friends of PETRARCH exclaimed, 
 " How ! this bold republican, who breathed no 
 " fentiments but thofe of liberty and independ- 
 * 6 ence; this untamed bull, who fpurned at the 
 li fhadow of the yoke; who difdained to wear 
 41 any other fetters than thofe of LOVE, and 
 44 frequently found even thefe too heavy; who 
 <; refufed fo many advantageous offers from 
 44 the court of ROME, and preferred his liberty 
 4i to the enflaving charms of gold, now volun- 
 44 tarily fubmits to the fliackles of an Italian 
 " tyrant : this mifanthrope, who could no longer 
 " cxift but in rural tranquillity; this great apof- 
 44 tie of Solitude, has at length quietly fixed hii 
 " habitation amidfl the tumults of MILAN !" 
 u My friends," replied PETRARCH, " you are 
 " perfectly right; man has not a greater enemy 
 44 than himfelf. I have afted contrary to my 
 * c inclination, and againft my own fentiments. 
 * ; Alas ! in all ihe tranfaclions of our lives, we 
 
 " do
 
 , ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2^1 
 
 < do thofe things that we ought not to do, and 
 " leave undone thofe things to which we are 
 " rnoft 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 fuffi- 
 " ciently exercifed the powers of his mind in 
 " Solitude; and to convince you, that a previous 
 " retirement confers liberty, firmnefs, expreffion, 
 <; folidity, dignity, and nobility, upon all the 
 " tranfaBions of public life." 
 
 AVERSION from the commerce of -the world, 
 and the frivolous employments of the metro- 
 polis, infpires the mind with a fufficient degree 
 of courage to defpife the prejudices of the age, 
 and the opinions of the multitude , a courage 
 which is therefore feldom found, except among 
 folitary men. The commerce, 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 ! how frequently the bed plans fail of fuo 
 cefs, from difficulties of execution; notwith- 
 ftanding the accuracy and excellency with which 
 they are formed. 'How many happy thoughts 
 have been ftifled at the moment of their birth, 
 from a fear that they were too bold ! When 
 a literary work appears, the excellence of its 
 Q 4 matter
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 matter and the elegance of its compofition are 
 overlooked. The reader endeavours to pick out 
 fome latent inattention of the author; condrues 
 every expreffion contrary to its import; petceivcs 
 a vein of fatire where in faQ: no fatire exifts, 
 where it would be impoffible that there fhould 
 be any; and disfigures even thofe rcfpeftable 
 truths which the author difclofes in the fincerity 
 of his heart, and for which every juft and honcft 
 mind will filently thank him. 
 
 THE prefident MONTESQUIEU experienced 
 this treatment at Paris, in the meridian of his 
 fplendour; and for this reafon he has obferved, 
 in the defence of his immortal work, " 'The 
 tc Spirit of Laws ," " Nothing flifles knowledge 
 " more than covering every thing with a doclor's 
 " robe; for the men who are continually teaching 
 " are great impediments to learning. There is 
 " no genius that is not contract d, when it is 
 " enveloped by a million of vain fcruples. Al- 
 " though you have the bell intentions that were 
 *' ever formed, they will even force the mind to 
 ^ doubt its own integrity. You can no longer 
 cc employ your endeavours to fpeak or to write 
 : with propriety, when you are perplexed with 
 cc the fear of exprcffing yourfclf ill, and when, 
 inftead of purfuing your thoughts, you are 
 only bufy in felecling fuch terms as may efcape 
 3 
 
 "
 
 ON THE M I NP AND THE H E A R T . ,' 5 } 
 
 " the fubtlcty of the critics. They feem inclined 
 " to place a biegin on our heads, and to warn us 
 " at every word, Tc.ke ;<!? y.u dt 
 " -would Jpeak like yourfelf, but I -rjould hmt yen 
 " Jpeak like me. If you attempt to foar. they pull 
 " you by the flccve, and impede your ilighr. 
 " If you write with life and fpirit, they inflantly 
 " deprive you of it. If you rile to foine height, 
 " they take out their rule or their compais, and, 
 " lifting up their heads, defirc you to come down, 
 u that they may meafure you : and, in running 
 " your courfe, they advife you to take notice of 
 " all the impediments which the grubs of litcra- 
 " ture have raifed in your way.'' 
 
 MONTESQUIEU fays, " that no degree of know- 
 " ledge or learning is proof ngainfl. this pedantry." 
 But did he not himfelf refill it? Does not his 
 work continue to be reprinted ? Is it not read 
 with univerfal applaufc . J 
 
 The writer who knows and dares to paint the 
 characters of men, mutt, without doubt, wear a 
 triple fhield upon his brealt : but, on the other 
 hand, there is no book worth reading that is not 
 Written in this {Kle. Every j >k contains 
 
 truths, againfl which the indignation of thole 
 whom they afFeft will naturally arife. V/hy do 
 THE E\GL!Sti fo farfurpafs us in their fpeculations 
 
 upon
 
 2^4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 upon mankind ? Why do we appear fo puerile, 
 when compared with them, or with the Greek 
 and Roman writers, on every fubje6l that refpefts 
 the defcription of human manners? It proceeds 
 from the clamours which are raifed againft every 
 author, who hazards any opinions upon the philo- 
 fophy of life for the general benefit of mankind. 
 We who honour, in fo high a degree, the courage 
 of the warrior, why, like effeminate SYBARITES, 
 do the foldings of a rofe-bud trouble our repofe ? 
 Why do we vomit forth injuries againfl that civil 
 courage, the courage without arms, the domefticas 
 fortitudines of CICERO? 
 
 THE idea that there is neither heart nor fpirit 
 
 except in REPUBLICS, that under the democratic 
 
 form of government alone people may fpeak the 
 
 TRUTH with freedom and fafety, is not well 
 
 founded. It is true that in ARISTOCRACIES, and 
 
 even under governments much more free, but 
 
 where a finglc demagogue pofleffes the fovereign 
 
 power, common-fenfe is frequently confidered as 
 
 a crime. This abfurdity renders the mind timid; 
 
 and, of courfe, deprives the people of all their 
 
 liberty. But in a MONARCHY, punifliment is, 
 
 in almoft' every inflance, prefcribed by the laws 
 
 of juftice; while, in REPUBLICS, it is inflifted by 
 
 prejudice, paffion, and ftate-neceflity. Under a 
 
 republican form of government, the firft maxim 
 
 parent!
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 235 
 
 parents inculcate into the minds of their children 
 is, not to make themfelves enemies. To this 
 fage counfel I remember replying, when I was 
 very young, " My dear mother, do you not 
 " know, that it is only a poor man who has 
 < 4 no enemies?" In many republics the citizen 
 is under the authority and jealous obfervation of 
 a multitude of fovereigns; but, in a monarchy, 
 the prince is the only man on whom his fubje&f 
 are dependent. The number of mailers in a 
 republic crufhes the fpirit; but, in a monarchy,, 
 love and confidence in ONE alone raifes the fpi- 
 rits, and renders the people happy. In every 
 country, however, the rational man, who re- 
 nounces all the ufeiefs converfations of the 
 world, who lives a life of Solitude, and who, fu- 
 perior to every thing that he fees, to all that he 
 hears, forms the integrity of his mind in the 
 tranquillity of retirement, by an intercourfe 
 with the heroes of GKEECT, of ROME, and of 
 GREAT BRITAIN, lays a permanent foundation 
 for his future character, and acquires a noble 
 ftyle of thinking beyond the reach of vulgar 
 invective or caprice. 
 
 are the observations I had to make, re- 
 fpc&ing the Influence of Solitude upon the Mind. 
 Many of them arc, perhaps, undigested; and many 
 more arc certainly not well expreffed.
 
 536 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 DEAR and virtuous young man, into whofe 
 hands this book perchance may fall, receive 
 with kindnefs and affection the good which it 
 contains, and reject all that is cold and bad; all 
 that does not touch and penetrate the heart. 
 But if you thank me for the performance, if 
 you blefs me, if you acknowledge that I have 
 enlightened your mind, corrected your manners, 
 and tranquillifed your heart, T mail congratulate 
 niyfelf on the fincerity of my intentions, and 
 think my labours richly rewarded. If, in pe- 
 rufing it, you find yourfelf able to juftify your 
 inclination for a wife and a&ive Solitude, feel an 
 averfion from thofe focieties which only ferve 
 to deftroy time, and difdain to employ vile and 
 fhameful means in the acquifition of riches, I 
 fhall afk no other benediction for my work. If 
 you be fearful of opening your lips; if you 
 labour under the continual apprehenfion of fay- 
 ing fometliing that may be confidered ridiculous, 
 in the underftandings of thofe who have granted 
 to themfclves the monopoly of WIT and TASTE, 
 and who, by virtue of this ufurpation, go about 
 uttering the greateft abfurdities ah! then THIN-K 
 that, in fuch company,'! mould be confidered an 
 equal blockhead with yourfelf. 
 
 n every thing I have written by the 
 real fentimsnts of my mind, and bv the immediate 
 
 feelings
 
 ,, ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 337 
 
 feel'ings of my heart, a lady of great wit obferved, 
 on reading the firft two parts of this work, that 
 the moment I had unbofomed myfelf I laid 
 down my pen. 
 
 THIS method of writing has certainly pro- 
 duced faults which a fyftematic philofopher 
 vould not have committed. But I mall confole 
 myfelf for thefe errors, if this Chapter afford 
 only a glimpfe of thofe advantages which SOLI- 
 TUDE confers on the minds, the underftandings, 
 and the characters of men; and that which fol- 
 lows mall excite a lively fenfation of the true, 
 noble, and fublime pleafures which it produces 
 by a tranquil and affectionate contemplation of 
 nature, and by an exquifite fenfibilUy for every 
 thing that is GOOD and FAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE UPON THE HEART. 
 
 PEACE OF MIND is, upon earth, the fa- 
 premc good. Simplicity of heart will procure 
 this invaluable bleffing to the \vife mortal who, 
 renouncing the noiiy pleafures of the world, fets 
 bounds to his defires and inclinations, cheerfully 
 fubmits himfelf to the decrees of Heaven, and, 
 viewing thofe around him with the eye of chari- 
 table indulgence, feels no pleafures more delight- 
 ful than thofe which are afforded by the foft 
 murmur of a ft ream falling in cafcades from 
 the fummit of rocks, the refreshing breezes of 
 the young zephyrs, and the fwcet accents of the 
 woodland chaunters. 
 
 How refined our fentimcnts become when the 
 tempefts of life have fubfided-, when thofe mif- 
 fortune? which caufed our afflictions have va- 
 nifhed; when we fee ourfclvcs furroundcd by 
 friendfhip, peace, (implicit/, innocence, rcpofc, 
 and liberty ! 
 
 THB
 
 24-0 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THE heart, to tafle the charms of retirement, 
 need- not be without emotion. Oh ! who would 
 not prefer to every other enjoyment the foft 
 melancholy which Solitude infpircs : V\'ho would 
 not renounce the univerfe for one fingle tear of 
 j.ovi: ? The heart is fufceptible of this felicity, 
 when it has learned to admire, with equal plea- 
 fure, NATURE in its fublimell beauties, and in 
 the modeft flower which decorates the valley; 
 when it has learned to enjoy, at the fame time, 
 that infinite fyftem, that uniform fucceffion of 
 j^rts, which expands the foul, and thofe delicious 
 details which prefent foft and pleafant images to 
 the mind. Thefe pleafures are not exclufiveljr 
 referved for II rong' energetic minds, whofe fen- 
 fations are as lively as they are delicate. , and 
 upon whom, for that reafon, GOOD and BAD 
 make an equal impreffion, The pureft happi- 
 aefs, the mod enchanting tranquillity, are alfo 
 within the reach of men whofe temperament is 
 cola : \ ho, endowed with imaginations lefs bold 
 and livciy, always perceive fomething extrava- 
 g-iivt in the energetic expreflion of a ftill more 
 tncrgetic fenfation : in the pictures, therefore, 
 which are prefented to the eye of fuch charac- 
 ters, the colouring mud not be high, or the 
 t -hits too (harp! for, as the bad llrikcs them lefs, 
 fo alfo they are kf> fufceptible of the livelier 
 
 THE
 
 Otf THE MIND ANJD TITE HEART. 24! 
 THE higheft enjoyments of the heart are, in 
 Solitude, derived from the IMAGINATION. The 
 touching afpecl of delightful nature, the va- 
 riegated verdure of the forefts, the noife of 
 an impetuous torrent, the quivering motion 
 of the foliage, the harmony of the groves, and 
 the fine imagery of an cxtenfive profpect, ravifli 
 the foul fo entirely, and abforb in fuch a man- 
 ner all our faculties, that the fentirnents of the 
 mind are inftantly converted into fenfations of the 
 heart. The view of an agreeable landfcape 
 excites the fofteft emotions, and gives birth to 
 pleafmg and virtuous fentiments : all this is pro- 
 duced by the charms of imagination. 
 
 THE IMAGINATION* when it acts with tranquil 
 freedom, clothes every object with feduclive 
 charms. Oh! how eafy it is to renounce noify 
 pleafures and tumultuous aflemblies for the enjoy- 
 ment of that philosophic repofe which Solitude 
 affords! Awful fenfations and the fofteft raptures 
 are alternately excited by the deep gloom of fo- 
 refts, the tremendous height of broken rocks, 
 and the multiplicity of fublime, majeftic objects, 
 which fill the fcite of a delightful landfcape. 
 Pain, however excruciating, is immediately van- 
 quifhed by the foft, ferious, agreeable emotions 
 and reveries with which the furrounding tran- 
 quillity infpires the mind. The Solitude of re- 
 R tirement,
 
 242 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 .tirement, and the awful filence of nature, im- 
 prefs an idea of the happy contraft between fim- 
 plicity and grandeur. Our feelings become more 
 exquifite, and our admiration more lively, in pro- 
 portion 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 firft time, a garden cultivated 
 in the Englifli tafte near HANOVER : and foon 
 afterwards I beheld one in the fame ftyle, but on 
 a much larger fcale, at MARIENWERDER, about 
 the diftance of a league from the former. I was 
 not then apprifed of the extent of that art which 
 fports with the moft ungrateful foil, and, by a 
 new fpecies of creation, converts even barren 
 fandy mountains into fertile and fmiling land- 
 fcapes. This magic art makes an aflonilhing im- 
 preflion on the mind i it excites in every heart, 
 not yet infenfible to the delightful charms of 
 cultivated nature, all the pleafures which Soli- 
 tude, rural repofe, and a feclufion from the haunts 
 of men, can procure. I cannot recollect a finglc 
 day during the early part of my refidence 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 thofe of 
 
 the
 
 NO THE MIND AND THE HEART. 243 
 
 the deepeft melancholy. But when I entered the 
 little garden of my late friend M. DE His USER, 
 near HANOVER, I forgot for the moment both 
 my country and my grief. 
 
 THE charm was new to my mind. I was not 
 then apprifed that it was poffible, upon fo fmall a 
 fcale, to imitate the enchanting variety and the 
 noble fimplicity of Nature. I was not till then 
 convinced that her afpeQ; alone is fufficient, at 
 the firfl view, to obliterate all the oppreffion of 
 the world, to excite in our breafls the pureft 
 luxury, to fill our minds with every fentiment 
 that can create a fondnefs for life. I ftill blefs the 
 hour when I firfl learned this fecret. 
 
 THIS new re-union of ART and NATURE, which 
 was invented not in Cbina, but in England^ is 
 founded upon a refined tafte for the beauties of 
 nature, confirmed by experience, and by the fen- 
 timents which a chafte fancy refle&s upon a 
 feeling heart. HIRSCMFELD, the great painter 
 of nature, and amiable and fenfible philofopher, 
 the firft German who, by his admirable theories, 
 introduced among us a knowledge of gardening, 
 is become, by his communications upon this fub- 
 jeft, one of the great benefactors to his coun- 
 tr.
 
 244 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THERE are, without doubt, many GERMAN- 
 ENGLISH gardens fo wimfically and ridiculoufly 
 laid out, that they only excite pity and con- 
 tempt. Who can forbear laughing to fee forefts 
 of poplar trees fcarcely large enough to warm a 
 chamber-ftove for a week ; mole-hills, which 
 they call mountains ; menageries of tame and 
 fdvage animals, birds and amphibious creatures, 
 grinning in native grandeur upon tin; bridges 
 without number acrofs a river which a couple of 
 ducks would drink dry ; wooden fiflies fwim- 
 ming in canals which the pump every morning 
 fupplics with water? All this is certainly not lefs 
 natural tha.ii the pitiful tafte of our anceftors. 
 But if, on the contrary, in the garden of M, 
 H i x u BER at Mariemoerder every look elevate my 
 foul towards God, if every point of view afford 
 to the eye fublime repofe, if on every bank I dif- 
 cover fcenes ever fmiling and ever new, if my 
 heart feel relief from the afpect of this enchant- 
 ing place, mail I amufe myfelf by difcufling, 
 whether what I fee might have been done in a 
 different way, and permit the dull rules of cold 
 and taftelefs mailers, to diminifh my pleafures ? 
 Scenes of ferenity, whether created by tafteful art, 
 or by the cunning hand of nature, always convey 
 tranquillity to the heart; an effect which it owes 
 to the imagination. If a foft filence breathe 
 around, and every object be pleafant to my view; 
 
 if
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 245 
 
 if rural fcenes abforb all my attention, and difli- 
 pate the grief that lies heavy on my heart; if the 
 lovelinefs of Solitude enchant me, and, gradu- 
 ally fubduing my foul, leave it full of benevo- 
 lence, love, and content ; I ought to thank God 
 for the imagination which, although it has in- 
 deed frequently caufed the trouble of my life, has 
 always led me, in retirement, to fome friendly 
 rock, upon which I could hang while I contem- 
 plated with greater compofure the tempefts I had 
 efcaped*. A celebrated Englifh writer has faid, 
 that "SOLITUDE, on the firft view of it, infpires 
 " the mind with terrqr, becaufc every thing that 
 " brings with it the idea of privation is terrific, 
 " and therefore fublime, like fpace, darknefs, 
 " and filence." In Swifferland^ and efpecially 
 near the canton of BERNE, the Alps have at a 
 
 * A French writer has embeiliiried this idea with all tlie 
 riches of eloquence. " There is no mind of fenfibility which 
 " has not tailed in the retreats of SOLITUDE thofe delicious 
 " moments when MAK, fleeing from the delufions of falfhood, 
 " enters into his own heart to feck the fpnrks of truth. What 
 " plcafure, after having been toiled during many years on the 
 " fea of life, to climb fome friendly rock, and reflect in peace 
 " and fafety on the temped and fhipwrccks which enfucd! 
 " Happy the man who can then forget the idle prejudices which 
 " occupy the mind : the miferies of hurmr.ity vanifh from his 
 " fight; auguft TRUTH fills his bofom with the pureft joys. It 
 ** is only in thefe moments, and in thofe which precede the 
 " diflblution of our mortal frame, that MAN can learn what he is 
 t( upon this earth, and wiut this earth ii to him." 
 
 R 3 diftance
 
 246 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 diflance an aftonifhing grandeur of appearance ; 
 but viewed nearer, they infpire images terrific and 
 fublime. That fpecies of grandeur, \vhich ac- 
 companies the idea of infinity, charms the eye 
 when feen at a proper diftance. The heart feels 
 nothing but ravifhment, while the eye obferves 
 from afar the uninterrupted chain of thefe im- 
 menfe mountains, thefe enormous mafTes rifing 
 one above the other. The fucceflion of foft and 
 lively fhades tempers tbe impreffion, and gives to 
 this prodigious .wall of rocks more cf the agree- 
 able than the fublime. On the contrary, a mind 
 of fenfibility cannot take a near view of thefe 
 mountains without feeling any involuntary trem- 
 bling. The eye looks with fear on their eternal 
 fnows, their fteep afcents, their obfcure caverns, 
 the torrents which precipitate themfelves with 
 rcfounding noife over their fummits, forming 
 innumerable cafcades, the dark forefts of fir with 
 \vhich their fides are overcharged, and the enor- 
 mous fragments of rocks which time and tern- 
 pefts have detached from their foundations. 
 How my heart beat, when, for the firft time, I 
 cliraed through a deep and narrow path upon 
 thofe fublime defeits, continually difcoveringnew 
 mountains rifing over my head, \vhile upon 
 the leafl ftumble death menaced me in a thou- 
 fand different fhapes below!- But imagination 
 foon begins to kindle, \vhen you perceive your- 
 
 felf
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 247 
 
 felf alone in the midft of all this grandeur of 
 nature, and reflect from thefe heights on the 
 nothingnefs of human power, and the weaknefs 
 of the greateil monarchs ! 
 
 THE hiftory of Swiffsrland evinces, that 
 the inhabitants of thefe mountains are not men 
 of a degenerated cafl, but that their fentiments 
 are elevated, and their feelings warm. Their 
 boldnefs and intrepidity are innate j the fpirit of 
 Liberty gives wings to their fouls; and they tram- 
 ple tyranny and tyrants under their feet. But 
 the fpirit of liberty is only to be found genuine 
 among the inhabitants of the Alps ; for all the 
 Swiss are not in reality free, although they have 
 notions of liberty, love their country, and return 
 their thanks to THE ALMIGHTY for that happy 
 peace which permits each individual to live 
 quietly under his vine, and to enjoy the fhade of 
 his fig-tree. 
 
 THE Alps in Swifferland are inhabited by a race 
 of men fometimes unfociable, but always good 
 and generous. The feverity of their climate 
 renders them hardy and robuft, while their paf- 
 toral life adds foftnefs to their characters. An 
 Englifhman has faid, that he who never heard 
 thunder in the Alps, cannot conceive any idea 
 of the continuity of the lightning, the rolling 
 R 4 and
 
 248 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 and the burft of the thunder which roars round 
 the horizon of thefe immenie mountains. The 
 inhabitants of the Alps therefore, who have never 
 ieen better houfes than their own cabins, or any 
 other country than their native rocks, conceive 
 every part of the univerfe to be formed of the 
 fame rough materials, and a fcene of unceafing 
 tempefts. 
 
 THE Heavens, however, are not al ways threaten- 
 ing ; the lightning does not continually flafh upon 
 their eyes; immediately after the mod dreadful 
 tempelts, the hemifphere clears itfelfby flow de- 
 grees, and becomes fercnq. The heads and hearts 
 of THE Swiss are of a fimilar nature; kindnefs 
 iucceeds to anger ; and generofity to the moft 
 brutal fury: this may be eafily proved, not 
 only from the records of hiftory, but from recent 
 
 ONE of the inhabitants of thefe ftupendous 
 mountains, GENERAL DE RED IN, born in the 
 canton of Scbwitz, was enrolled very early in 
 life in the Swifs guards, and had attained the 
 ilation of lieutenant-general. His long refidencc 
 at Paris and Verfailles^ however, did not in any 
 degree alter his character; and he continued 
 through life a Swifs. The orders ifiucd by the 
 court of VerJailleS) in the year 1764, for the re- 
 
 gulation,
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 249 
 
 gulation of the Swifs who were in the fervice of 
 that court, occafioned great difcontents in the 
 canton of Schwitz. The citizens confidered this 
 innovation as extremely prejudicial to their an- 
 cient privileges, and they threw the blame of 
 this meafure upon GENERAL REDIN. At this 
 crifis the wife of the general, who refided on 
 his eftate, was exerting all her intereft to raife 
 recruits; but the found of the French drum was 
 become difgufting to the ears of the citizens of 
 the canton, and they faw with indignation the 
 white cockade placed in the hats of the deluded 
 pe'afants. The magiftrate, apprehenfive that 
 this fermentation might ultimately caufe an in- 
 furreftion among the people, thought it his duty 
 to prohibit MADAME DE REDIN from continuing 
 to raife her levies. The lady required him to 
 give a certificate in writing of this prohibition ; 
 but the magiftrate was not at that moment 
 inclined to adopt fo fpirited a meafure againft 
 the interefts of FRANCE ; and the wife of the 
 general continued to raife her recruits. This 
 bold defiance of the prohibition irritated the 
 inhabitants of the canton : they fummoned a 
 general diet, and MADAME DE REDIN ap- 
 peared before the FOUR THOUSAND. " The 
 " drum," faid me, " (hall never ceafe to beat, 
 <: until you give me a certificate, which may 
 t; juftify my hufband to the court of France for 
 
 not
 
 25<> THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " not completing the number of his men.'* 
 They granted her the certificate (he demanded, 
 and the general was at the fame time enjoined 
 to ufe his intereft at the court of France for the 
 iervice of his country. Thefe meafures being 
 adopted, the canton waited in anxious expectation 
 of receiving fatisfa&ory accounts from PARIS; 
 but unhappily very difTatisfadory accounts ar- 
 rived. The feelings of the inhabitants were irri- 
 tated beyond reftraint ; and thofe who were pof- 
 feffed of credit and authority publicly maintained, 
 that the new regulation endangered both their li- 
 berties and their religion. The general difcontent 
 was inftantly converted into popular fury. The 
 diet was again aflembled, and it was publicly re- 
 folved not to furnifh 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 return im- 
 mediately with the foldiers under his command, 
 upon pain of perpetual exile. REDIN obtained 
 the kind's leave of abfence for himfelf and his 
 regiment ; and they returned obedient to the 
 order of the diet. '1 he general entered Schwitz, 
 the metropolis of the canton, at the head of his 
 troops, with drums beating and colours flying, 
 and inarched immediately towards the church. 
 REDIN placed the colours by the fide of the 
 great altar, fell upon his kuees, and offered 
 
 up
 
 OJJ THE MIND AND THE HEART. 25 1 
 
 lip his thanks to God. He then difcharged his 
 foldiers, paid their arrears, and 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 feemed to in- 
 creafe, when they found the man in their cuftody 
 whom they confidered as a perfidious wretch, a 
 traitor who had favoured the new regulations at 
 the court of Verfailles^ and who had confpired to 
 give a mortal blow to the interefts of his 
 country. The general diet affembled, and 
 REDIN was fummoned to difclofe the manner 
 in which thefe new regulations had paffed, in, 
 order that they might know the terms on 
 which they flood with F..AN T C^, and learn the 
 degree of offence the traitor had committed, fo 
 that they might afterwards grant him a pardon, 
 or apportion his punifliment. REDIN, perfeclly 
 aware that, under the real circumflances of the 
 cafe, eloquence would be vainly exerted againfl 
 minds fo heated in the caufe, contented himfelf 
 with laying roughly, and in few words, that all the 
 world knew the manner in which things had 
 paffed, and that he was as innocent with regard 
 to the new regulation, as he was of the caufes 
 affigned for his difmiffion. " The traitor then 
 <c will not confefs !" exclaimed the mofi furious 
 of the members ! " hang him on the next tree 
 *' cut him to pieces." Thefe menaces were in- 
 
 ftantly
 
 2*2 'THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ftantly repeated by the whole aflembly; RED IN, 
 however, continued perfectly tranquil. A troop 
 of furious peafants mounted THE ROSTRUM, while 
 REDIN flood by the fide of the magiftrates. 
 It was at this time raining. A young man, the 
 godfon of REDIN, held a 'parc.^luie over his 
 head. One of the enraged multitude, with a 
 blow of his flick, broke the farapluie to pieces, 
 exclaiming, " Let the villain be uncovered." 
 Rage fwelled the bofom of the youth. " Ah ! 
 *' ah I" faid he, " I did not know that my god- 
 c{ father had betrayed his country : but fince it 
 " is fo, bring me a cord this moment, that I 
 <c may flrangle him." 1 he 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 vehemence ;' 
 and to offer the facrifice of his whole fortune as 
 a reparation for the offence he had committed, 
 on condition that they would fpare his life. 
 REDIN walked out of the circle with a grave and 
 tranquil air, and made the fign of filence with his 
 hand. The whole aiTcmbly waited with im- 
 patience to hear the general confefs; and the 
 greater number of the members flattered him 
 with the hopes of pardon. "'My dear country- 
 " men," faid the general, t( you are not igno- 
 u rant that I have fcrved the KING OF FRANCE 
 
 <{ two-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 253 
 
 " two-and-forty years. You know, and many 
 
 " among you who were with me in the fervice 
 
 " can bear witnefs of its truth, how frequently I 
 
 " have appeared in the face of the enemy, and 
 
 66 the manner in which I have conduced myfclf 
 
 <c in feveral battles. I eonfidered every engage- 
 
 " ment as the laft day of my life. But I here 
 tc proteft, in the prefence of Almighty God, who 
 
 " knows all hearts, who liftens to my words, who 
 
 " is to judge us all, that I never appeared before 
 
 *' the cncmy^ with a confcience more tranquil, 
 
 " pure, and innocent, than I at this moment 
 
 " poflefs; and am now ready to yield up my 
 
 " life, if you think proper to condemn me for 
 
 tf 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 aflembly, and he was faved. But both he 
 and his wife foon afterwards quitted the canton. 
 She entered into a religious convent at URJ, 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 fublided; 
 he returned to the canton, and rewarded their 
 ingratitude by the molt fignal fervices. Every 
 individual then recollected the integrity and 
 magnanimity of the general ; and to compenfate 
 
 the
 
 254 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 the injuries and injuftice he had received, .they 
 elecled him BAILLI, or firft officer of the canton: 
 nay, what very rarely happens, they afterwards 
 elected him three times fucceffively to this im- 
 portant dignity. 
 
 THIS is the charafteriftic difpofition of the 
 people who inhabit the Alps of Swifferland; 
 alternately mild and violent : following, in the 
 extreme, the dictates of a bold and lively ima- 
 gination, their paffions and affections experience 
 the fame viciffitudes as their climate. But I 
 candidly acknowledge, 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 deferts of 
 the Alps may perhaps contribute to render THE 
 Swiss rude and unpolifhed ; but, as in every 
 fimilar fituation, their hearts are improved in 
 kindnefs and good-nature by the tranquillity of 
 their fields, and the fmiling beauties of the fcenery 
 by which they are furrounded. The Englifli 
 artifts acknowledge, that the face of nature in 
 SWISSERLAND is too fublime and too majeftic for 
 the pencil to render a faithful reprefentation of 
 it. But what exquifite enjoyments mud they 
 not experience upon ihofe romantic hills, in 
 thofe agreeable vallies, upon the happy borders 
 2 of
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE fcEART. 255 
 
 of thofe ftill and tranfparent LAKES*! Ah! it 
 is there that Nature may be clofely examined : it 
 is there that fhe appears in her higheft pomp 
 and fplendour. If the view of the oa.k, the elm, 
 the dark firs which people thefc immenfe forefts, 
 convey no pleafures; if the fight of thofe majeftic 
 trees excite no pleafing emotion in your mind, 
 there ftill remain the myrtle of Venus, the al- 
 
 * I feel great delight in reading in the Letters upon Swig. 
 SERLAND by Profeffor MEINERS, with what amiable fenfibilitf 
 that philofopher featedhimfelf upon the banks of the lake of BIEL, 
 and quietly refigned himfelf to all the emotions of his foul ! 
 * f When I am fatigued," fays M. MEINERS to one of his friends at 
 GOTTINGEN, " and it pleafes my fancy to confider more attentively 
 " the feveral objects which furround me, I feat myfelf upon the 
 ** firft bank, or the wall of a vineyard under which people coru 
 *' tinually pafs. I never indulge this difpofition without expe- 
 " riencing an inexpreffible tranquillity. The laft time it was 
 " about fix o'clock, while the fun was finking behind the ridge of 
 " JURA. The dark green firs which grow almoft alone to a cer- 
 " tain height on the mountain; the oaks of a brighter verdure which 
 " fucceed them ; the vines, ftill livelier in their teints, in the 
 " middle of which I was feated ; and a confiderable portion of 
 f{ the lake, which by that means appeared more cxtcnfivc, was 
 " in the (hade; while the other part of the lake, the oppofite 
 " fhore, BIEI,, and NIDAW, and the tops of the GLACIERS 
 " "were ftill brightened by the laft rays of the fun. Above 
 " the bleating of the flocks tranfported me in idea to the fmiling 
 " plains of ARCADIA ; below, I heard the hum of peafants, and 
 " of fifhermcn, whofe boats I could fca reel y difcovcr, with the 
 " affecting murmur of THE LAKT, gently rolling its waves ngainft 
 " the rocks which overhang its banks." 
 
 mond-
 
 256 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 mond-tree, the jeffamine, the pomegranate, and 
 thofe eminences covered with luxurious vines. 
 Reflect, that in no country of the globe. Nature 
 is more rich and variegated in her appearances 
 than in SWISSERLAND, and that it was the land- 
 fcape and the lake of ZURICH which infpired the 
 IDYLLS of the immortal GESSNER; the molt 
 agreeable of all the poets of nature. 
 
 i 
 
 THESE fublime beauties raife the heart; and 
 flrike the imagination in a much more lively 
 manner than fofter fcenes ; as a fine night 
 affords a more auguft and folemn fpeftacle than 
 the mildeft day. In coming from FRESCATT, 
 by the fide of the fmall lake of NE&I, which 
 lies in a deep valley fo enclofed by mountains 
 and forefts that the winds never agitate its fur- 
 face, it is impoffible not to exclaim with the 
 Englifh poet, that here 
 
 " Black Melancholy fits, and round her throws 
 " A death-like fiience, and a dread n-pofe : 
 " Her gloomy presence f: the fcene, 
 
 " vShades every flo^ i - r.s every green, 
 
 " Deepens the murmur Hr.g floods, 
 
 " And breathes a brown.: horror on the woods." 
 
 , Elcija to Abelo)-d, ver. 165, 
 
 WHILE the foul expands, and the mind be- 
 comes fercne and free, you fuddenly difcover 
 
 from
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 From the garden of the Capuchins near ALBANO, 
 the little melancholy lake with all the mountains 
 and forefts which furround it; the cattle of GAN- 
 DOLPHO, with FRESCATI and all its rural villas 
 on one fide; on the other, the handfome city of 
 ALBANO, the village and cattle 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 mif- 
 trefs of the univerfe, raifes its majeftic head; and 
 laftly, beyond all thefe objects, the hills of TIVOLI, 
 the APPENNINES, and the Mediterranean fea*. 
 
 THUS the view of Jullime or beautiful objecls 
 differently affecls the heart; the SUBLIME excite 
 fear and terror, the BEAUTIFUL create only foft 
 and agreeable fenfations. But both of them en- 
 large and aggrandize the fpherc of the imagina- 
 tion, and enable us more fatisfaclorily to feek 
 enjoyments within ourfelves. 
 
 * A German Lady, who poiTefies a very lively imagination, 
 undertook a voyage to Italy for the re-eftablilhment of her health. 
 Her ftrength increafed day after day. When (he found herfclf on 
 the/f/V* of ALBANO, above dcfcribed, (he endeavoured to exprefs 
 to her companions the emotions which 'the view of this fcene 
 occafioned : but her feelings were fo exquifite, that they deprived 
 her of the power of utterance ; and (he actually remained, feveral 
 ilays, without being able to fpeak. 
 
 S T*
 
 258 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 To experience thefe pleafures, it is not necef- 
 fary to vifit SWISSERLAND and ITALY. There is 
 no perfon who may not, by quietly traverfing the 
 mountains with his gun, and without running 
 after poetic images, like KLEIST*, learn to feel 
 how much the great fcene of nature will affecT: 
 the heart, cfpecially when affifted by the powers 
 of imagination. The fight of an agreeable land- 
 fcape, the various points of view which fpacious 
 plains afford, the frefhnefs of the zephyrs, the 
 beauty of the fkvj and the appetite which a long 
 chace procures, will give feelings of health, and 
 make every ftep feem too fhort. The privation 
 of every objec\ that can recal the idea of depend- 
 ance, accompanied by domeftic comfort, health- 
 ful exercife, and ufeful occupations, will add 
 vigour to thought, give warmth to imagination, 
 prefent the mofl agreeable and fmiling images to 
 the mind, and inebriate the heart with delicious 
 fenfations. A man with a fine imagination would 
 be more happy in a dark prifon, than, without 
 imagination, amidfl the mod magnificent fcenery. 
 But, even to a mind deprived of this happy 
 faculty, the rich harveft of rural life will alone 
 perform miracles upon the heart. Who among 
 us, alas ! has not experienced, in the hours of 
 
 * M. KLEIST, a celebrated poet of Germany, diftinguifhed 
 l>y his Poem upon SPRING, 
 
 languor
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 259 
 languor and difguft, the powerful effefts which a 
 view of the enchanting pleafures enjoyed hy 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 unlettered talcs! 
 How fuddenly do we feel our bofoms interefted 
 in every objecl that concerns him ! Rural fcenes 
 difplay, refine, and meliorate the lurking inclina- 
 tions of the heart, and afford a variety of plea- 
 fures even to thofe who, buried in the fink of 
 cities, fcarcely know what pleafure is. 
 
 A FRENCH officer, on his return to his native 
 country after a long abfcnce, exclaimed, " It 
 " is 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 refpeft, the greater advantage 
 tf over the town. The air is pure, the profpe&s 
 " fmiling, the walks pleafant, the living comfort- 
 cc able, the manners fimple, and the mind vir- 
 " tuous. The paflions unfold thcmfelves with- 
 u out injury to any perfon. The bofom, in- 
 " fpired by the love of liberty : feels itfelf de. 
 fc pendent on Heaven alone. Nature fatisfies 
 " the moft avaricious mind, by the endlefs 
 " bounty of her gifts. The warrior may follow 
 " the chace; the voluptuary may cultivate the 
 S & !' rich -
 
 260 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 <c rich fruits of the earth; an d the philofopher 
 " indulge his contemplation at eafe." Oh ! how 
 flrongly this writer moves and interefls my heart 
 -when he tells me, by this affe&ing paflage of his 
 work, " I mould prefer a refidence in my na- 
 " tive fields to. all others; not becaufe they arc 
 " more beautiful, but becaufe I was there brought 
 " up. The fpot on which we pafs our earlieft 
 <e days pofleffes a fecret charm, an inexpreflible 
 " enchantment, fuperior to any other enjoyment 
 " the world affords, and the lofs of which no other 
 " country can compenfate; the fpot where the 
 gambols of my infant days were played; thofc 
 41 happy days, which pafTed without inquietude or 
 " cares. The finding of a bird's neft then filled 
 <c my bofom with the highefi joy. What delight 
 ct have I felt from the carefles of a partridge, in 
 46 making it peck at me, in feeling its little heart 
 <c beat againft my hand ! Happy he who returns 
 " to the place of his firft attachment; that place 
 " where he fondly fixed his love on all around 
 " him; where every object appeared amiable to 
 cc his eyes; 'the fertile fields in which he ufed to 
 " run and exercife himfelf; the orchards which 
 " he ufed to pillage*." 
 
 * To this paflage, in the French tranflation of this work, is 
 fuhjoined the following note: " Not knowing the traveller who 
 " is here alluded to, we beg his excufe for having ventured to 
 " tranilatc it into Frtncb from die text in German." 
 
 THESB
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 26l 
 THESE delightful fcntiments engrave inde- 
 libly on our hearts the remembrance of our 
 infancy, of thofe happy times which we pafiTed 
 with fo much plcafure in the charming 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 facred orator, " How happy is the wife and 
 " virtuous man, who knows how to enjoy tran- 
 cc quillity with true dignity and perfect eafe, 
 " independent of every thing around him! 
 " How preferable is this happy calm to the 
 " deafening clamour, the falfe joys, the daz- 
 " zling fplendour of the fafliionable world! 
 " What refined, noble, generous fentiments rife 
 64 and unfold themfelves in retirement, which, 
 " during the din of bufinefs and the dillipations 
 4{ of pleafure, lie concealed at the bottom of 
 " the foul, fearful of the contemptuous fnccr of 
 w wicked and unthinking minds!" 
 
 Oh my beloved ZOLLIKOFER * ! I have felt 
 in the pleafures of a retired domeftic life the 
 truth of thofe doftrines which you announced at 
 LEI P SICK; doctrines which do not inculcate a 
 
 * A celebrated preacher of Germany. 
 
 S 3 cold
 
 262 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 cold and fterile theology, but wife and virtuous 
 precepts which warm and animate the heart. 
 I have feen, as you defcribed, that in the bowers 
 of retirement the vexations of bufinefs may be 
 forgot ; that forrow too poignant to remove 
 may be lulled to reft in the bofom of friendmip, 
 and the heart revived by the charms of confola- 
 tion; that the mind may be brightened by rifing 
 hopes, and the ftorms of fortune fulpcnded until 
 returning fortitude enables us to fupport them, 
 or we gain fufficient courage to drive them 
 away. Studious men frequently abandon their 
 labour, and retreating from recondite refearches 
 find, in the enjoyments of domeftic. innocence, 
 and the fimple, honeft, manners of their do- 
 rneftics, more happinefs, tranquillity, cordial 
 enjoyment, and mental pleafure, than even the 
 arts and fciences are capable of affording. In 
 the private ceconomy of rural retirement, every 
 one obtains the exatl portion of praife and ap- 
 probation which he merits, and he obtains them 
 from thofe \vhofe praife and approbation it is 
 I his utmofl ambition to acquire. Here the un- 
 fortunate are relieved, the wretched made 
 happy, the wanderer put into his right way; 
 and everybody rejoicing in fatisfatlion and 
 content. 
 
 THE
 
 t 
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 263 
 ^HE calm of rural life infpires a foft and 
 tranquil difpofition; which, while it renders the 
 noify pleafures of the world infipid, enables us 
 to tafte the charms of Solitude with increafed 
 delight. The happy indolence peculiar to Ita- 
 lians, who, under the pleafures of a clear un- 
 clouded Iky, are always poor but never mifer- 
 able, contributes greatly to improve the heart. 
 The mildnefs of their climate, and the fertility 
 of their foil, compenfate for every thing. DOC- 
 TOR MOORE, an Englifh traveller, whofe works 
 afford me great delight, fays, that " the Italians 
 " are the greatefl loungers in the world ; and, 
 " while walking in the fields, or ftretched in the 
 " fhadc, feem to enjoy the ferenity and genial 
 ct warmth of their climate with a degree of 
 (t luxurious indulgence peculiar to themfelves. 
 <l Without ever runing into the daring exceffcs 
 ff of THE ENGLISH, or difplaying the frilky 
 " vivacity of THE FRENCH, or the ftubborn 
 " phlegm of THE GERMAN s, the Italian populace 
 " difcover a fpecics of fedate fenfibility to every 
 " fource of enjoyment, from which, perhaps, 
 t they derive a greater degree of happinefs than 
 " any of the other." 
 
 UNDER this plcafing privation of thofe objefts 
 which afflift and torment the heart, the mind 
 unavoidably indulges agreeable chimeras and 
 
 S 4 romantic
 
 264 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 romantic fentiments. This condition has. its 
 fair fide. A romantic difpofition may lead the 
 mind into extravagance and error, may fre- 
 quently engender bafe and contemptible paf- 
 fions, habituate it to a light and airy mode of 
 thinking, prevent it from directing its faculties 
 to rational ends, and obfcure the profpeCl of 
 true happinefs; for the foul cannot eafily quit 
 the illufion on which it dwells with fuch fond 
 delight; and the ordinary duties of life, and its 
 more noble and fubftantial pleafures are, per- 
 haps, thereby oburufted*: but romantic fenti- 
 ments do not, in general, render the mind un- 
 
 * " The influence of the imagination on the conduct of life,'* 
 fays Dr. ARBUTHNOT, " is one of the moft important points 
 " in moral philofophy. It were eafy, by an induction of fafts, 
 " to prove that the imagination directs almoft all the paflions, 
 " and mixes with almoft every circurnftance of action or pleasure. 
 tf Let any man, even of the coldeft head and fobereft induftry, 
 ts analyfe the idea of what he calls his intereft, he will find that 
 " it confifts chiefly of certain degrees of decency, beauty, and 
 " order, varioufly combined into one fyftem, the idol of which 
 " he feeks to enjoy by labour, hazard, and felf-der.ial. It is, 
 tf on this account, of the laft confequence to regulate thefe images 
 " by the ftandard of nature and the general good ; otherwife the 
 " imagination, by heightening foine objefts beyond their real 
 '* exiftence and beauty, or by reprefenting others in a more odious 
 *| and terrible fhape than they deferve, may of courfe engage us 
 (f in purfuits utterly inconfiftent with the moral order of things." 
 TRA.NSLAT'PR, 
 
 happy*
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 26? 
 
 happy. Who, alas ! has ever really experienced 
 the happinefs he has enjoyed by the powers of 
 imagination ? 
 
 ROUSSEAU, in his youth, was a great reader 
 of novels ; and being hurried away by the 
 imaginary objefts with which this fpecies of 
 compofition abounds, and his own romantic 
 mind, he became carelefs of the world. From 
 this fource fprung that tafte for Solitude which 
 he preferved to an advanced period of his life; 
 a tafte in appearance dictated by melancholy 
 and mifanthropy, and which he attributed to 
 the kind, tender, and affectionate difpofition of 
 his heart. Natural or experimental philofophy, 
 therefore, not being able to raife in his mind 
 fentiments fufficiently warm and animated, he 
 fought, by conftraint, the field of fiction. 
 
 THERE are wanderings of the imagination 
 which may be indulged in Solitude, without 
 doing any injury either to the fentiments of the 
 mind or the fenfations of the heart. I have, in 
 the varieties of my fortune, always found fome 
 individual to whom my heart has fondly at- 
 tached itfelf. Oh! if the friends I leftinSwis- 
 SERLAND knew how frequently, during the 
 filence of the night, I pafs with them thofe 
 hours which fhould be facred to fleep ; if they 
 
 knew
 
 266 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 knew that neither time nor abfence can efface 
 from my mind "the remembrance how dear they 
 have been to me from my earlieft youth ; if 
 they knew how fpeedily the foft remembrance 
 diflipates my forrows, and makes me forget mif- 
 fortune ; they would perhaps rejoice to find that 
 I ftill live among them in imagination, although 
 I may be dead to them in reality. 
 
 LET not a folitary man, whofe heart is 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 the live- 
 lieft pleafures. The French conceived 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 ex- 
 " prefs to you. Sir, how much I am affected by 
 * c perceiving that you confider me the moft un- 
 *' happy of mankind. The public will, without 
 " doubt, judge of me as you do ; and this is the 
 " caufe of my affliction. Oh ! that my feelings 
 " were but known to the whole univerfe ! that 
 " every man would endeavour to follow my ex- 
 u ample ! peace would then reign throughout the 
 " world ; men would no longer dream of caluni- 
 " niating each other ; and there would no longer 
 
 " be
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 267 
 
 * c ' be wicked men, when no one would find it their 
 " intereit to be wicked. If it be alked, how I 
 '' could 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 j 
 " in all that the eye finds beautiful in the real 
 " world, or the imagination in the intellectual. 
 I collected about me every thing that is flatter- 
 " ing to the heart; my defires were the rule of 
 " my pleafures. No ! the moft voluptuous have 
 " never experienced fuch refined delights; and 
 u I have always enjoyed my chimeras much more 
 ct than if they had been realifed. 1 ' 
 
 THERE is undoubtedly a high and romantic 
 flyle in thefe expreffions ; but oh ! ye ftupid 
 vulgar, who would not prefer the warm wander- 
 ings of ROUSSEAU'S fancy to your cold and 
 creeping underftandings? Who would not joy- 
 fully renounce your vague converfation, your 
 deceitful felicities, your boafted urbanity, your 
 noify nonfcnfe, puerile paftimes and prejudices, 
 for a quiet and contented life in the bofom of a 
 happy family ? Who would not rather feek in 
 the filence of the woods, upon the daified borders 
 of a peaceful lake, thofe pure and fimple plea- 
 fures of nature, which leave fo delightful an im- 
 preffion, and produce joys fo pure, fo affecting, 
 
 fo different from your own ? 
 
 ECLOGUES
 
 268 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ECLOGUES are fiftions, but they are fiftions of 
 the moft natural and agreeable kind, the pureft 
 and moft fublime defcriptions of rural happinefs. 
 
 jf 
 
 REAL pleafure can only be found in retire- 
 ment, where the foul, difengaged fiom the tor- 
 ments of the world, no longer feels thofe artifi- 
 cial dcfires which render her unhappy both 
 in profpeft and fruition. Content with little, fa- 
 tisfied with all, furrounded by love and innocence, 
 ve perceive in retirement the golden age of the 
 poets revived, of which the worldly-minded man 
 regrets the lofs. But thefe advantages were not 
 peculiar to the golden age : we may all live in 
 ARCADIA if we pleafe. The beauties of a cryftal 
 fpring, a iilent grove, a daified meadow, will 
 chaften the feelings of the heart, and afford at 
 all times a permanent and pure delight. 
 
 POPE afcribes the origin of poetry to the age 
 that immediately fucceeded the creation. 1 he 
 firft employment of mankind was the care of 
 flocks, and therefore the moft ancient fort of 
 poetry was probably -paftoral. It is natural to 
 imagine, that anciently fhepherds muft have en- 
 deavoured to divert the happy leifure of their fo- 
 litary and fedentary life; and in fuch a fituation 
 what diverfion could be more agreeable than 
 finging ? and in their fongs what could be more 
 
 natural
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART, 269 
 natural than to celebrate their own felicity r Such 
 was probably, in the opinion of POPE, the origin 
 of pafiorals ; descriptions of the calmnefs and 
 tranquillity with which the life of a (hepherd was 
 attended, and designed to create in our bofoms 
 a love and efteem for the virtues of a former age. 
 
 TnESEhappy fictions communicate joy and glad- 
 nefs, and we blefs the poet who, in the ecftucy of 
 his own felicity, contributes to render others as 
 happy as himfelf. SICILY and ZURICH have pro- 
 duced two of thefe benefactors to mankind. The 
 Idylls of THEOCRITUS and G.;SSNER * reprefent 
 
 * Perhaps no writer throughout Europe has more judicioufljr 
 criticifcd the IDYLLS of GESSNER than the incomparable BLAIJ 
 in his " Ledures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres," where he 
 fays, " Of all the moderns M. GESSNBR, a Post of Swiflcrland, 
 " has been the rnoft fuccefsful in his paftoral compofitions. He 
 " has introduced into his Idylls (as he entitles them) many new 
 " ideas. His rural fcenery is often ftriking, and his defcriptioiii 
 " are lively. He prefents paftoral life to us with all the embel- 
 " lifhmcnts of which it is fufceptible ; but without any excefs of 
 ff refinement. What forms the chief merit of this poet is, that 
 " he writes to the heart, and has enriched the fubjeft of his ] 
 " with incidents which give rife to much tender fcntiment. Scenes 
 " of domeftic felicity are beautifully painted. The mutual affec- 
 *' tion of huJbands and wives, of parents and children, of bro- 
 (C thers and fitters, as well :\sof lov*r*, are difplayed in a pleailnj 
 *' and touching manner. From not underftanding the language 
 " in which M. GESSXER writes, I can be no judge of ths j- 
 " of his ftyle : but, in the fubjeft and conduct of his paftorals, h 
 " appears to me to have outdone all the Moderns," 
 
 nature
 
 270 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 nature in its moft beautiful afpecl, and infpire the 
 heart, on reading them, with tendernefs and de- 
 light. It, is my peculiar gratification, my dear 
 GESSNER, to recal the pleafures 1 have received 
 in your correfpondcnce. 
 
 By thefe eafy, fimple modes the beauties of 
 nature operate upon the heart and aid the imagi- 
 nation. The mind, indeed, drawn away by 
 thefe agreeable images, often refigns itfelf too 
 eafily to the illufions of romance ; but the ideas 
 they create always amend the heart without in- 
 juring the undei Handing, and fpread fome of the 
 fweeteil flowers along the moft thorny paths of 
 life. 
 
 THE heart feels no repofe, the highcft happi- 
 nefs on earth, except in Solitude : but this term 
 muft not be conftrued into indolence and floth. 
 The tranfition from pain to pleafure, from the 
 rcftraints of bufinefs to the freedom of philofo- 
 phy, is true repofe. This was the idea of P. 
 SCIPIO when he faid, that he was never lefs idle 
 than in the hours of Icifure, and never lefs alone 
 than when alone. I eifurc is not a ftate of 
 mental torpidity, but of thought and action ; 
 when one employment is immediately fucceeded 
 by another; for in Solitude it is the heart that 
 finds repofe in the cxercifc of the mind. 
 
 2 IT
 
 N THE MIND AND THE HEART. 27! 
 IT is but too true, alas ! that he who feeks for 
 a fituation exempt from all inquietude follows a 
 chimera. To enjoy life repofe rnuft be fought 
 not as an end, but only as a -means of reftoring loft 
 activity. Such employments therefore as are beft 
 fuited to the extent and nature of the capacity 
 muft be preferred, and not thofe which promife 
 compenfation without labour, and enjoyment 
 without pain. 
 
 To take immediate advantage of the firfl im- 
 pulfe to action, will eventually lead the mind to 
 repofe. If the misfortunes of thofe we love have 
 rendered us unhappy ; if the fufferings of others 
 tear our hearts; if a fympathifmg tendernefs de- 
 ftroys all pleafure, envelopes the mind in (hades 
 of the darkeft melancholy, fo as to render exig- 
 ence painful, and deprive us even of ability to 
 practifc the virtues which we feel ; if we have long 
 but vainly ftruggled to deliver the heart from thefe 
 cruel fufferings, SOLITUDE is the only refuge. 
 But oh ! may tbe Beauty who accompanies our 
 retreat be an Angel of Virtue, and in our def- 
 cent to the vale of death conducl and fupport us 
 by her wifdom in a noble and fublime tran- 
 quillity. 
 
 AMIDST the misfortunes of which I was the 
 fport and victim, I knew no hours more happy 
 
 than
 
 272 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 than thofe in which I forgot and was forgotten 
 by the world. The filence of the groves relieved 
 my pains; and all the oppreflion of my heart, the 
 -worldly vexation of my mind, difguft, fear or 
 conftraint, then fled far away. The calm afpeft 
 of nature charmed me; and while I enjoyed the 
 fcene, the fofteft and moft delicious i'enfations 
 filled my breaft. 
 
 How often, on the approach of fpring, has 
 the magnificent valley where the ruins of the re- 
 fidence of RODOLPHO DE HAPSBURG rifes upon 
 the fide of a hill crowned with woods of va- 
 riegated verdure, afforded me the pureft and moft 
 ineffable delight. There the rapid AAR de- 
 fcends in torrents from the lofty mountains ; 
 fometimes forming a vaft bafon in the vale ; at 
 others, precipitating through narrow paflages 
 acrofs the rocks, winding its courfe majeflically 
 through the middle of the vaft and fertile plains : 
 on the other fide the RUFFS, and, lower down, 
 the LIMMAT bring their tributary ftreams, and 
 peaceably unite with the waters of the Aar. In 
 the middle of this rich and verdant carpet I be- 
 held the Royal Solitude where the remains of the 
 Emperor ALBERT THE FIRST repofe in filence, 
 with thofe of many Princes of the Houfe of 
 Auftria, Counts, Knights, and Gentlemen, 
 killed by the Swifs. At a diftance I difcovered 
 the long valley where lie tli ruins of the celc- 
 
 bratcd
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2*J $ 
 brated city of Vindomjfa*^ upon which I have fre- 
 quently fat and reflected on the vanity of human 
 greatnefs. Beyond this magnificent country, an- 
 cient caftles raife their lofty heads upon the hills, 
 and the far diftant horizon is terminated by the 
 romantic and fublime fummits of the Alps. In 
 the midft of all this grand fcenery, my eyes were 
 involuntarily caft down into the deep valley im- 
 mediately below me, and continued fixed upon 
 
 * VINDONISSA was a very large and well-fortified Roman 
 village, which ferved as a fortrefs to the EMPERORS againft the 
 irruptions of the Germans* In this place they continually kept 
 a very numerous garrifon to overawe thofe dangerous neigh. 
 bours, who frequently eftablifhed themfelves on the borders of 
 the Rhine, and pillaged the plains of the Aar, notwithftanding 
 the fortrefles the Romans had erected on the banks of that 
 river. The emperor CONSTANTINE CHLORUS defeated the 
 Germans in the year 297 between the Rhine and the Aar ; but 
 at the beginning of the fourth century, the Romans loft all 
 their power in that country, and VINDONISSA was taken and 
 deftroyed by the Germans. It appears, indeed, that it was 
 rebuilt ; for the epifcopal chair was, during the reigns of 
 the French emperors, eftablilhed in this city, but in confequencc 
 of being again deftroyed, was> towards the year 579, removed 
 to Conftantia. It was among the remains of this celebrate^ 
 city that the counts WINDICH and ALTEMBERG dwelt in the 
 tenth century. Of all this grandeur, the ruins only are now 
 to be feen; below which, near the caftles of WINDICH and 
 ALTEMBERG, is the little village of Brugg, where I was 
 born. 
 
 T
 
 274 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 the little village where I firft drew my breath. 
 I traced all the houfes and every window of the 
 houfe which I had inhabited. \\ hen I compared 
 the fenfations I then felt with thole which I had 
 before experienced, I exclaimed to myfelf, 
 * Why, alas ! does my foul thus contract itfelf, 
 <; when furrounded by fo many objects capable 
 " of infpiring the fublimeft fentiments ? Why 
 does the feafon, fo lively and ferene, appear 
 ; to me fo turbulent and di final ? Why do I 
 64 feel, on cafting my eyes below, fo much 
 t; uneafinefs and difguft, when but a moment 
 66 ago, on viewing thofe romantic objefts, I felt 
 " my heart expand with tranquillity and love, 
 < ; pardoned all the errors of mifguided judgment, 
 " and forgot the injuries I received ? Why 
 " is that little knot of men who are affembled 
 " under my feet fo fretful and difcordant ? Why 
 " is a virtuous character fo horrid to their fight ? 
 < c Why is he who governs fo imperious, and he 
 " who is governed fo abjecl: ? Why are there in 
 " this place fo little liberty and courage ? Why 
 <c are there fo few among them who know them- 
 *' felves ? Why is one fo proud and haughty, 
 "' another fo mean and grovelling ? W^hy, in 
 " fhort, among beings who are by nature equal, 
 46 does pride and arrogance fo egrcgioufly prevail, 
 Ci while they perceive the natives of .thefe groves 
 " perch without diftin&ion upon the highcft and 
 
 64 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 21$ 
 K the lowed boughs, and unite their fongs to 
 cc celebrate the praifes of their Creator ?" Having 
 finifhed my foliloqtiy, I defcended, fadsfied and 
 peaceable, from my mountain ; made my moft 
 profound reverences to MESSIEURS the burgo- 
 maiters, extended my hand with cordiality to 
 one of my inferiors, and preferved the happiefl 
 tranquillity, until, by mixing with the world, 
 the fublime mountain, fmiling valley, and the 
 friendly birds, vanifhed from my mind. 
 
 THUS rural Solitude diflipates every unpleafant 
 idea, changes the bittereft feelings into the fweeteit 
 pleafures, and infpires an exflacy and content 
 which the votaries of the world can never ex- 
 perience. The tranquillity of nature filences 
 every criminal inclination in the corrupted heart; 
 renders us blithe, amiable, open, and confident; 
 and ftrengthens our fteps in the paths of virtue, 
 provided we direft the paffions to their proper 
 end, and do not by an overheated imagination 
 fabricate fancied woes. 
 
 THESE advantages are with difficulty attained 
 in the hurry of the world. It appears eafy for a 
 man to retire to his apartment, and raife his mind 
 by filent contemplation above the confideration 
 of thofeobjefts by which he is furroanded. But 
 lew perfons have this, opportunity. Within doors, 
 
 T i a thou-
 
 276 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLlTUfcB 
 
 a thoufand things occur to interrupt reflection } 
 and without, accidents continually happen to con- 
 found our vain wifdom. The peevifh, painful fen- 
 fations,wh'ich thefe interruptions excite, aggravate 
 the heart, and weaken the powers of the mind, 
 unlcfs it be upheld by objeQs particularly affect* 
 ing. 
 
 ROUSSEAU was always unhappy in PARIS*. 
 This extraordinary genius, indeed, wrote his 
 immortal works while he refided in the metropo- 
 lis; but the moment he quitted his houfe, his 
 mind was bewildered by a variety of oppofite 
 fentiments, his ideas abandoned him, and the 
 brilliant writer, the profound philofopher, 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 fatisfaciion. The foli- 
 tary man, if tired with meditating in his Rudy, 
 has only to open his door and walk abroad : tran- 
 quillity attends his fteps, and new pleafures pre- 
 fent themfelves at every turn. Beloved by all 
 
 * I can truly fay, that all the time I lived at Paris was 
 only employed in fceking the means of being able to live out 
 ef it. 
 
 around
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 277 
 
 around him, he extends his hand with cordial 
 affeftion to every man he mee'ts. Nothing occurs 
 to irritate his paffions, here he dreads not the 
 difdain of fome haughty countefs or imperious 
 baron. No monied upftart drives over him with 
 his coach. The frontlefs ufurer dares not under 
 the authority of mufty title-deeds threaten his 
 repofe, or the infolence of wealth offer an in- 
 dignity to his modeft virtue. 
 
 THE man who is at peace with himfelf, and 
 poffefles fufficient ftrength of nerves, may, even, 
 in Paris or any other city, experience happinefs 
 by withdrawing from the tumults of the town. 
 But with feeble nerves every obje6l in the leaft 
 degree difpleafing irritates his mind, and he 
 becomes the fport of paflions unworthy of a 
 man. 
 
 THE languors even of a weak conftitution, 
 though furrounded by the moft unplcafant ob- 
 jects, may be quietly borne in the moft aciive 
 fcenes of life, provided we are at peace withour- 
 felves. The paflions are the gales by the aid of 
 which man ought to fteerhis courfe on the ocean 
 of life, for it is the paffions alone which give mo- 
 tion to the foul ; but when they become impetu- 
 ous, the vefTel is in danger and runs a ground. 
 Fain and grief find no entrance into thofe bofoms 
 
 T 3 that
 
 2^8 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 that are free from remorfe, The virtuous forget 
 the paft, form no idle fpeculations on the future 9 
 and do not refine away their happinefs, by think- 
 ing that what is good may ftill be better. Every 
 thing is much better tha.n we imagine. The anx- 
 ious \vifhes of an ardent mind are feldom fatif- 
 fied; for with fuch chara&ers fruition is indeed 
 frequently accompanied with difcontent. The 
 ftream of content muft flow from ourfelves, 
 taking its fource from a deliberate difpofition to 
 learn what is good, and a determined refolution 
 to feek for and enjoy it, however fmall the por- 
 tion may be. 
 
 To acquire that happy tranquillity which men 
 expeft to find in Solitude, it is not fufficient to 
 regard every object that prefents itfelf to their 
 view with fupinenefsor furprife. He who, withr 
 out employment, without having a plan of con- 
 duct previoufly digefted and arranged, hopes 
 for happinefs in Solitude, will yawn at his 
 cottage in the country juft 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 
 he who, living in the moft profound Solitude, 
 keeps himfelf continually employed, will acquire, 
 by means of labour, true tranquillity and hap- 
 
 PETRARCH
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 279 
 PETRARCH would have found this tranquillity 
 in his Solitude at VAUCLUSE, but that his heart 
 fighed fo inceffantly for his beloved LAURA. He 
 was, however, perfectly acquainted with the art 
 of vanquifhing himfelf. " I rife," faid he, " at 
 midnight; I go out by break of day. I ftudy 
 " in the fields, as well as in my chamber. I 
 * ; read, I write, I think. I endeavour to con- 
 " quer the lead difpofition to indolence, and 
 " drive away fleep, effeminacy, and fenfuality. 
 I traverfe, from morning till night, the bar- 
 u ren mountains, the humid vallies, and the 
 64 deep caverns.. 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 
 u on the future. 1 have found an excellent ex- 
 " pedient to induce a feparation from the world. 
 " I attach myfelf to the place of my refidence ; 
 " and I am perfuaded that I ctmld form that at- 
 " tachment in any place except at AVIGNON. 
 " In my prefent refidence atVAUCLusE, I find 
 " ATHENS, ROME, or FLORENCE, according as 
 " the manners of the one or of the other beft 
 <c pleafcs the difpofition of my mind. Here 
 li I enjoy all my friends, as well thofe with 
 ' whom 1 have lived, as thofe who have entered 
 T 4 " the
 
 28O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " the vale of death before me, and whom I only 
 <s know by their good works." 
 
 WHEN we are thus refolved, and find re- 
 fources like thefe within our minds, Solitude 
 enables us to accomplish whatever we pleafe. 
 LOVE however prevented PETRARCH from im- 
 proving the opportunities which Solitude af- 
 forded, and his heart was a ftranger to repofe ; 
 which, as LAVATER has obferved, confifts in 
 quietude of confcience and the exercife of 
 virtue. 
 
 EMPLOYMENT will produce content in the 
 moft frightful deferts. The dairo of Japan 
 banifhes the grandees of the empire who incur his 
 difpleafure into the ifland FATSISIO. >The 
 fliores of this ifland, which was formerly inha- 
 bited, are of a furprifing height. It has no haven, 
 is entirely barren, and its accefs fo difficult, 
 that the exiles and their provifion are obliged 
 to be landed by means of cranes. The fole em- 
 ployment of thefe unhappy men in this melan- 
 choly residence is to manufacture filk fluffs and 
 gold-tiffues, which are fo highly beautiful, that 
 they are not fuffered to be purchafed by ftrangers. 
 1 confefs, that I mould not like to fall under the 
 difpleafure of the Emperor of Japan; but I ne- 
 verthelefs conceive, that there is more internal 
 
 tran-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 tranquillity in the ifland of FATSISIO than the 
 emperor and his whole court enjoy. 
 
 EVERY thing which conveys a fpark of com- 
 fort to the foul of man fhould be anxioufly pre- 
 ferved; not by feeking to raife an eternal 
 flame, but by taking care that the lafl fpark 
 be not extinguifhed. It is by this means that 
 we acquire in the country that quietude which 
 flees from the tumults of the town, and thofe 
 advantages of which the worldly-minded have 
 no idea. 
 
 WHAT epicure ever enjoyed fo much fatis- 
 faciion in the midft of all his fplendid entertain- 
 ments, as ROUSSEAU experienced in his frugal 
 repafts? " I return flowly home," fays he, < 4 my 
 46 mind in fome degree fatigued, but my heart 
 * 4 contented : I experience, on my return, the 
 44 mofl agreeable relief, in refigning myfelf 
 44 to the imprefllon of objects, without exercifing 
 46 my thoughts, indulging my imagination, or 
 44 doing any thing but feeling the peace and 
 44 happinefs of my fituation. I find my table 
 " ready fpread on my lawn. I eat my fupper 
 44 with appetite in the company of my little 
 " family. No trace of fervitude or dependence 
 44 interrupts the love and kindnefs by which we 
 44 are united: my dog himfelf is my friend, and 
 
 " not
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " not my (lave ; he never obeys me, foswe have 
 " always the fame inclinations. My gaiety tefti- 
 " fies the Solitude in which I pafs the day; for 
 u I am very different when company has inter- 
 " rupted me : I am feldom contented with others, 
 " and never with myfeif ; and at night fit either 
 " grumbling or filent. This remark is my houfe- 
 " keeper's; and fince fhe mentioned it to me, I 
 " have found it invariably true from my own ob- 
 " fervations. 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 him- 
 " dred times more fweet than deep itfelf." 
 
 NATURE and a tranquil heart are to the Divi- 
 nity a more beautiful and magnificent temple 
 than the church of Sx PETER at ROME, or the 
 cathedral of ST. PAUL in LONDON. The moft 
 favage defert is filled with the immenfity of 
 THE ALMIGHTV, and his prefence fanftifies 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 every where hears the 
 prayers of thofe whofe invocations are fmcere. 
 Whether on the hill or in the dale, we do not find 
 a grain of duft that is not filled with his fpirit. But 
 no places infpire ideas more religious than thofe 
 happy fcites, which, uniting the moft fublime and 
 3 beautiful
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 283 
 beautiful appearances of nature, ravifh the heart 
 "with voluptuous fenlations, and excite in the mind 
 fentiments of love, admiration, and repofe. 
 
 I NEVER recal to my memory, without feel- 
 ing the foftefl emotions, the fublime and mag-* 
 nificent fcene which I enjoyed in the year 1775, 
 when, during a fine day, accompanied by my 
 friend LAVATER, I alcended the terrace of the 
 houfe he then inhabited ; the houfc in which he 
 was born and educated. In whatever direction 
 I turned my eyes, whether walking or fitting, 
 I experienced nearly the fame fenfation which 
 BRYD-.NE defcribes himfelf to have felt upon 
 the top of ^ETNA*. I included in one view the 
 city of ZURICH, the fmiling country which fur- 
 rounds it, its tranquil and expanded lake, and 
 the high mountains covered with froft and fnow, 
 lifting their majeftic heads to Heaven. A di- 
 vine tranquillity furrounded me while I beheld 
 this fcene. 
 
 UPON this terrace I difcovered the myftcry 
 which enabled LAVATER, while he enjoyed fo 
 
 * BRYDONE fays, " In proportion as we are raifed above the 
 " habitations of men, all low and vulgar fentiments are left be- 
 " hind ; and the foul, in approaching the ztherial regions, (hakes 
 " off its earthly affeftions, and already contrafts fomething of 
 tl their invariable purity." 
 
 delicious
 
 284 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 delicious a fenfation of his exiftence and his 
 powers, to walk calmly through the ftreets of 
 ZURICH, expofed to the obfervations of the cri- 
 tics of that city, who were in the daily practice of 
 venting- their abufe againfl him, and of whom 
 he fo humbly afked pardon for the innocence of 
 his life, which, according to the laws at leaft, 
 were unable to deftroy. 
 
 UP O?T this terrace I difcovered the caufe of 
 his ilill cherifhing with fuch unfeigned tender- 
 
 ^ 
 
 nefs his implacable enemies, thofe learned critics 
 of ZURICH whofc rage the found of his name 
 ^as fufficicnt to excite, who felt with the greateft 
 repugnance every thing that was praife-worthy 
 in his character, and expofed with the higheft 
 feelings of joy thofe foibles and defeBs from 
 which no man is entirely free; who could not 
 reftrain their fury when his merits were praifed, 
 or his fpibles extenuated; who rejected with 
 averfion every thing in his favour, and liftened 
 with eager triumph to the calumnies againfl. 
 him ; who are humbled by his glory as much as 
 they are degraded by their own infamy; and 
 who have the accomplishment of his difgrace as 
 much at heart as their own perfonal advantage ; 
 in whofe breafts LAVATER'S happinefs becomes 
 a fource of mifery, and his misfortunes a foun- 
 tain of joy j who affel filence on his virtues, 
 
 and
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 285 
 and loudly aggravate his defe&s, which they in- 
 duftrioufly circulate, rather indeed to their own 
 injury than to his difgrace, for by thefe means 
 they frequently increafe the glory which they 
 feek to extinguifh; who infidioufly requefl the 
 impartial ilranger to fee the man, and judge for 
 himfelf; and have almoft uniformly the mortifi- 
 cation of perceiving, that LAVATER rs found to 
 poflefs a character diametrically oppofite to that, 
 which the envenomed tongues and pens of his 
 enemies at ZURICH have reprefented. 
 
 AT the village of RICHTERSWYL, a few 
 leagues from ZURICH, in a fituation flill more 
 delicious and ferene than even that where 
 LAVATER lived, furrounded by every objeft 
 the moft fmiling, beautiful, and romantic, that. 
 Swifferland prefents, dwells a celebrated phy- 
 fician. His foul is as tranquil and fublime as 
 the fcene of nature which furrounds him. His 
 habitation is the temple of health, friendship, 
 and every peaceful virtue. The village is (itu- 
 ated 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 
 oppofite mores, 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^
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 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 artift has yet attempted to paint except irt 
 detached fcenes, opens itfelf from the eaft to 
 the fouth. The view towards the higher part 
 of the Lake, which on this fide is four leagues 
 long, prefents to the eye points of land, diftant 
 iflands, the little town of RAPPERS WYL built 
 on the fide of a hill, the bridge of which ex- 
 tends itfelf from one fide of the Lake to the 
 other. Beyond the town, the inexhauftible valley 
 rifts in a half-circle^ to the fight. Upon the 
 firft ground-plot is a peak of land, with hills 
 about half a league diftant from each other > 
 and, behind thefe, rife a range of mountains co- 
 vered with trees and verdure, and interfperfed 
 with villages and detached houfes. In the back. 
 ground are difcovered the fertile and majeftic 
 ALPS, twilled one among the other, and ex- 
 hibiting alternate ihades of the lighted and 
 darkeft azure. Behind thefe ALPS, rocks co- 
 vered with eternal fnows rear their majeftic 
 hciids, and touch the clouds. Towards the 
 fouth, the opening of the amphitheatre is con- 
 tinued by a new chain of mountains. This 
 
 incomparable-
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 287 
 
 incomparable fcene, thus enriched, continually 
 affords new delights. 
 
 THE mountains extend thcmfelves from the 
 fouth to the weft; the village of RICHTERSWYL 
 is fituated at their feet upon the banks of the 
 Lake: deep forefts of firs cover the fummit, 
 and the middle is filled with fruit-trees, inter- 
 fperfed with rich fallows and fertile pafturcs, 
 among which, at certain diftances, a few houfcs 
 are fcattered. The village itfelf is neat, the 
 ftrcets are paved, and the houfes, built of ftone, 
 are painted on the outfidcs. Around the village 
 are walks formed on the banks of the Lake, 
 or cut through fhady forefts to the iiills. On 
 every fide, fcenes, beautiful or fublime, ftrike 
 the eye, and ravifh the heart of the admiring 
 traveller; he flops and contemplates, with ea- 
 ger joy, the accumulating beauties; his bofom 
 fwells with excefs of pleafure; and his breath 
 continues for a time fufpendcd, as if fearful 
 of interrupting the fulncfs of his delight. 
 Every acre of this charming country is in the 
 higheft ftate of cultivation and improvement. 
 No part of it is fuffered to lie unfilled ; every 
 hand is at work; and men, women, and child- 
 ren, fjom infancy to age, are all ufefully 
 employed, 
 
 THE
 
 288 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THE two houfes of the phyfician are each 
 of them fur-rounded by a garden; and, although 
 fituated in the middle of the village, are as rural 
 and fequeftcred as if they had been built in the 
 bofom of the country. Through the gardens, 
 and in view of the chamber of my dear friend, 
 {lows a limpid ftream, on the oppofi'te iide of 
 which is the great road, where, during a fuc- 
 ceflion of ages, a crowd of pilgrims have almofl 
 daily paifed in their way to THE HERMITAGE. 
 From thefe houfes and gardens, at about the 
 diftance of a league, you behold, towards the 
 fouth, the majeilic 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 his departing rays every evening 
 before his courfe is finifhed. In the front is 
 the lake of ZURICH, the peaceful waters of 
 which are fecured from the violence of tempefls, 
 while its tranfparent furface reflects the beauties 
 of its delightful banks. 
 
 DURING the filence of night, if you repair 
 to the chamber window, or indulge in a lonely 
 valk through the gardens, to tafte the refrefh- 
 ing fcents which exhale from the furrounding 
 flowers, while the moon, riftng above the moun- 
 tains, reflects on the expanfe of the Lake a 
 6 broad
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 289 
 broad beam of light; you hear, during this 
 awful fleep of nature, the found of the village 
 clocks echoing from the oppofite fliores ; and 
 on the Ricbtcrfayl fide the fhrill proclamations 
 of the watchmen blended with the barkings of 
 the faithful dog. At a diftance you hear the 
 little boats foftly gliding down the ftream, di- 
 viding the water with their oars ; and perceive 
 them, as they crofs the moon's tranflucent beam, 
 playing among the fparkling waves. On view, 
 ing the Lake of GENEVA in its full extent, the 
 majefty of fuch a fublime pifture ftrikcs the 
 fpeclator dumb; he thinks that he has difcovered 
 the chef cTauvre of creation ; but here, near the 
 Lake of ZURICH at RICHTERSWVL, the objefts, 
 being upon a fmaller fcale, are more foft, agree- 
 able, and touching. 
 
 RICHES and luxury are no where to be feen 
 in the habitation of this philanthropift. His 
 chairs are made of ftraw ; his tables worked 
 from the wood of the country ; and he enter, 
 tains his friends on a fervice of earthen plates. 
 Neatnefs and convenience reign throughout. 
 Drawings, paintings, and engravings, of which he 
 has a large collection, are his foleexpence. The 
 firft beams of Aurora light the little chamber 
 where this philofophic fage deeps in peaceful re- 
 pofe, and opens his eyes to every new day. Rifmg 
 
 U from
 
 INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 from his bed, he is faluted by the cooirrgs of 
 the turtle doves, and the morning fong of 
 birds who fleep with him in an adjoining cham- 
 ber. 
 
 THE firft hour of the morning and the laft at 
 night are facred to himfelf ; but he devotes all 
 the intermediate hours of the day to a difeafed 
 and affli&ed multitude, who daily attend him 
 for advice and afliftance. The benevolent ex- 
 ercife of his profeffion engroffes every moment 
 of his life, but it alfo conftitutes his happinefs 
 and joy. The inhabitants of the mountains of 
 SWISSERLAND, as well as of the valley s of the 
 ALPS, refort to his houfe, and vainly feek for 
 language to exprefs the grateful feelings of their 
 hearts. They are perfuaded that the doclor 
 fees and knows every thing ; they anfwer his 
 queftions with franknefs and fidelity 3 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 confeffors at THE HERMITAGE. 
 After a day fpent in this manner, can it be ima- 
 gined that any thing is wanting to complete 
 the happinefs of this friend of mankind ? Yes ; 
 when a fimple and ingenuous female, who had 
 trembled \\dth fear for the fafety of her beloved 
 hufband, enters his chamber, and, feizing him 
 
 fondly
 
 ON TITE MIND AND THE HEART. 2QI 
 fondly by the hand, exclaims, " My hufband, 
 " fir, was very ill when I firft came to you ; but 
 " in the fpace of two days he quite recovered! 
 {C Oh my dear fir, I am under the greateft obli- 
 " gations to you," then this philanthropic cha- 
 rafter feels that which ought to fill the bofom of a 
 monarch in the moment when he confers happi- 
 nefs on his people. 
 
 OF this defcription is the country of SWISSER- 
 LAND, where doftor HOTZE, the ableft phy- 
 fician of the prefent age, refides ; a phyfician 
 and philofopher, whofe pervading genius, pro- 
 found judgment, and great experience, have 
 placed him with TISSOT and HIRTZEL, 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. His mind, aftive and full 
 of vigour, never feeks repofe ; but a divine 
 quietude dwells within his heart. Palaces, alas ! 
 feldom contain fuch characters. Individuals, 
 however, of every defcription, may cultivate an 
 equal degree of happinefs, although they do not 
 refide amidfl fcenes fo delightful as thofe of my 
 beloved HOTZE at RICHTERSWYL, the convent 
 of Capuchins near ALBANO, or the manlion of 
 my fovereign at WINDSOR. 
 
 U 2 THE
 
 292 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 THE man who requires no more than he pof- 
 feffes is happy ; and fuch felicity is eafily found at 
 RICHTERSWYL, and upon the banks of the Lake. 
 It is not, however, confined to fpots like thefe, 
 but may be found even in fuch a chamber as 
 that in which I am now writing this Treatife upon 
 Solitude, where during feven years I had nothing 
 to look at but fomc broken tiles 3 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 af- 
 feclionate does the heart become on the border 
 of a clear fpring, or under the made of a 
 branching pine ! In Solitude, the tranquillity of 
 nature glides into the heart ; but, in fociety, we 
 find much more occafion to flee fronrourfelves 
 than from others. To be at peace with ourfelves, 
 we muft be in peace with mankind. While the 
 heart is tranquil, the mind confiders men and 
 things in the moil favourable and pleafing point 
 of view. In rural retirements, where it is open 
 only to agreeable fenfations, we learn to love our 
 fellow creatures. While all nature fmiles around 
 us, and our fouls overflow with benevolence, we 
 wifh for more hearts than one to participate in 
 our happinefs. 
 
 BY
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 293 
 By mild and peaceful difpofitions, therefore, 
 the felicities of domeftic life are relifhed in a 
 much higher degree in rural retirement, than in 
 any other fituation whatever. The moft fplendid 
 courts in Europe afford no joys to e^ual thefe; 
 and their vain pleafures can never afTuage the 
 juftifiable grief of him who, contrary to his in- 
 clination, feels himfelf torn from fuch a felicitv, 
 dragged into the palaces of kings, and obliged to 
 conform to the frivolous amufements praciifed 
 there, where people do nothing but game and 
 yawn, and among whom the reciprocal commu 
 nication of languors, hatred, envy, flattery, and 
 calumny, alone prevails.* 
 
 IT is in rural life alone that true pleafures, the 
 love, the honour, and the chafte manners of an- 
 cient days are revived. ROUSSEAU, therefore, 
 fays with great truth to the inhabitants of cities, 
 that the country affords delights of which they 
 have no idea ; that thefe delights are lefs infipid, 
 lefs unpolifhed, than they can conceive; that tafte, 
 variety, and delicacy, may be enjoyed there; that 
 
 * MADAME DE MAINTENON wrote from Marli to MADAMS 
 DE CAYLUS, " We pafs our lives here in a very fingular man- 
 tc ner: Wit, gallantry, and che?rfulnefs mould prevail; but of 
 " all thefe qualities we are totally deftitute : we game, yawn, 
 " fatigue ourfelves, reciprocally receive and communicate vexa- 
 " tions, hate, envy, carefs, and calumniate each other." 
 
 U 3 a nian
 
 S94 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 a man of merit, who retires with his family into 
 the country, and employs himfelf in farming, will 
 find his days pafs as pleafantly as in the moft bril- 
 liant afTemblies ; that a good houfewife in the 
 country may be a charming woman, adorned with 
 every agreeable qualification, and poffefs graces 
 much more captivating than all thofe prim and 
 affected females whom we fee in towns. 
 
 THE mind under refreshing ihades, in agreeable 
 vallies, and delightful retreats, forgets all the un- 
 pleafant circumftances it encountered in the 
 world. The moft profligate and wicked cha- 
 racters are no longer remembered in fociety, 
 when they are no longer feen. It is only in the 
 tumultuous fcenes of civil life, and under the 
 heavy yoke of fubordination, that the continual 
 fliock of reafon and good-fenfe againft the ftupi- 
 dity of thofe who govern fpreads a torrent of 
 mHeries overhuman life. Fools in power render 
 the lives of their inferiors bitter, poifon their 
 pleafures, overturn all focial order, fpread thorns 
 in the path of genius and virtue, and make this 
 world a vale of tears. Oh ! that honourable 
 men, brave and fkilful generals, able ftatefmen, 
 fhould have reafon to exclaim with the philofo- 
 pher, " Had I the wings of a dove, I would fly 
 ." where inclination leads me, and fix my dwel- 
 *' ling as chance might dired. Diftant fhould 
 6 "be
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 2O 
 
 c< be my flight ! I would feek fome defert; and 
 Ct haften to efcape the furrounding tempeft of the 
 " court, the army, and the city, where hypocrifv, 
 " malice, falfehood, and diforder prevail." 
 
 STUPIDITY, when it has gained credit and 
 authority, becomes more dangerous and hurtful 
 than any other quality ; it always inclines to ren- 
 der every thing as little as itfelf, gives to every 
 thing a falfe name, and miftakes every character 
 for the oppofite to what it really is; in a word, 
 flupidity changes white into black, and black into 
 white. Men of frank, honeft, liberal difpofitions, 
 therefore, if they would efcape from its perfecu- 
 tion, muft act like the fox of SAADI, the Indian 
 fabulift. 
 
 A PERSON 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 
 <s for which you are fearful of being punifhed ?" 
 " No, fir," replied the fox, " my confciencc 
 <* is clear, and does not reproach me with any 
 <e thing; but I have juft overheard the hunters 
 " wifh that they had a camel to hunt this morn- 
 " ing." " Well, but how does that concern 
 " you ? You are not a camel." " Oh ! fir," 
 replied the fox, " fagacious heads always 
 
 V 4 *' have
 
 296 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 66 have enemies. If any one fhould point me 
 * 6 out to the huntfmen, and fay, There runs a 
 6S CAM/;L 1' thofe gentlemen would imme- 
 ' diately feize me, and load me with chains, 
 " without once enquiring whether I was in fact 
 6 the kind of animal the informer had defcribed 
 me to be." 
 
 REYNARD was perfectly right in his obfer- 
 vation : but it is lamentable than men fhould be 
 wicked in proportion as they are ftupid, or that 
 they mould be wicked only bccaufe they are 
 envious. If I mould ever become an objeft of 
 wrath to fuch characters, from their conceiving 
 that I enjoy more happinefs than themfelves, 
 and it is impoffible for me to efcape from their 
 perfecutions, I will revenge myfelf by letting 
 them perceive that no man living is to me an 
 object of fcandal. 
 
 THE felf-love of that breaft which feels no 
 defire for more than it poffefies, is invulnerable. 
 The temper which refults from a life fimple, 
 regular, and ferene, guards the heart againft the 
 excefs of defire. A conftant examination of our 
 characters dilcovers to us our deficiency in many 
 of thofe qualifications which, in the opinions 
 of others, we are fuppofed to poffefs; and in 
 the advantages we gain, as well a&
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 297 
 all the happinefs we feel, appear to be the effeft 
 of favours conferred on us. This reafon alone 
 renders it impoflible that we fhould repine at the 
 bappinefs of another ; for candour will force a 
 man who lives continually by himfelf, and afts 
 with fincerity of heart, to refleft upon his own 
 defe&s, and to do juflice to the fuperior merit of 
 other men, 
 
 <4 I SHOULD wifh to end my days in the de- 
 e lightful Solitudesof LAUSANNE," faysa French 
 hiftorian of that province, " far retired from the 
 " tumultuous fcenes of the world, from avarice 
 <c and deceit ; in thofe Solitudes where a thou- 
 cc fand innocent pleafures are enjoyed and re- 
 <c newed without end : there we efcape from 
 <c profligate difcourfe, from unmeaning chatter, 
 " from envy, detraction, and jealoufy. Smiling 
 " plains, the extent of which the aftonifhed eye 
 <6 is incapable of meafuring, and which it is 
 " impoffible to fee without admiring the good- 
 " nefs of the Divine Creator; fo many different 
 *' animals wandering peaceably among each 
 " other i fo many birds making the woods re. 
 w echo to their fongs; fo many wonders of 
 64 nature wooing the mind to aweful contem- 
 " plation,"
 
 298 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 IN Germany, whichever way you turn your 
 eyes, you find, as in the Solitudes of LAUSANNE, 
 happy families enjoying more pure and genuine 
 pleafures than are ever feen or felt in fafliionable 
 life. Ihe induftrious citizen returning in the 
 evening to his wife and children, after having 
 honourably performed the labours of the day, 
 feels without doubt more real content than any 
 courtier. If the voice of the public or his fellow- 
 citizens, inftead of rendering the efteem. and 
 honour which his character merits, treats his zeal 
 with contempt, and his good works with ungrate- 
 ful neglecl; he forgets the injuftice in the bofom 
 of his happy family, when he fees their arms open 
 ready to receive him, and obtains from them the 
 praife and approbation he deferves. With what 
 delight his heart feels the value of their fondnefs 
 and affeclion ! Jf the eclat of fafliionable life, the 
 fplendour of courts, the triumph of power and 
 grandeur, have left his bofom cold and comfort- 
 lefs; if the bafe practices of fraud, falfehood, 
 hypocrify, and puerile vanities, have irritated and 
 foured his mind ; he no fooner mixes in the 
 circle of thofe whom he cherifhes, than a genial 
 warmth re-animates his deje&ed heart, the ten- 
 dereft fentiments infpire his foul with courage, 
 and the truth, freedom, probity, and innocence 
 by which he is furrounded, reconcile him to the 
 lot of humanity. On the contrary, the man who 
 
 enjoys
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 299 
 enjoys a more elevated fituation, the favourite of 
 aminifter, the companion of the great, loved by 
 the women, and admired in every public place 
 as the leader of the fafhion, his birth high, and 
 his fortunes rich; yet if his home be the feat of 
 difcord and jealoufy, and the bofom of his family 
 a ftranger to that peace which the wife and vir. 
 tuous tafte under a roof of thatch, would all thefe 
 dazzling pleafures compenfate for this irreparable 
 lofs? 
 
 THESE are my fentiments on the advantages 
 which Solitude poflefies to reconcile us to the 
 lot of humanity and the practices of the world : 
 but I mail here only cite the words of another; 
 the words of a doftor of divinity of the fame 
 tenets with my felt , a judicious theologian who 
 does not inculcate imperious doBrines, or propa- 
 gate a religion which offends the heart. They 
 are the words of his fermon upon Domeftic Hap- 
 pinefs, of that incomparable difcourfe which men 
 of every defcription ought to read, as well as all 
 the other fermons of ZOLLIK.OFER. 
 
 " SOLITUDE," fays this divine, " fecures us 
 " from the afperfions of light and frivolous 
 " minds, from the unjuft contempt and harfh 
 ;i judgments of the envious; preferves us from 
 <4 the afflicting fpe&acle of follies, crimes, and 
 
 f 4 mifery,
 
 300 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 mifery, which fo frequently difgraces the 
 " theatre of aftive and focial life ; extinguifhes 
 <e the fire of thofe paffions which are too lively 
 fc and ardent j and eftablifhes peace in our 
 hearts." 
 
 THESE are the fentiments of my beloved ZOL- 
 LIKOFER ; the truth of which I have experienced* 
 When my enemies conceived that accidents, how- 
 ever trifling, would trouble my repofe; when I 
 was told with what fatisfaclion the coteries would 
 hear of my diftrefs, that les belles dames would leap 
 for joy, and form a clufter round the man who 
 detailed the injuries I had received, and thofe 
 which were yet in (lore for me ; I faid to myfelf, 
 " Although my enemies mould have fworn to 
 * afflict me with a thoufand deaths, what harm 
 *' can they really do me ? What can epigrams 
 <c and pleafantries prove ? What fling do thofe 
 " fatirical engravings carry, which they have 
 " taken the pains to circulate through every part 
 ct of SWISSERLAND and GERMANY ?" 
 
 THE thorns over which the fteady foot walks 
 unhurt, or kicks from beneath it with contempt, 
 inflict no wounds; they hurt only effeminate 
 minds, who feel that as a ferious injury of which 
 others think nothing. Characters of this de- 
 fcripdon require to be treated a like young 
 
 and
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 and tender flowers, with delicacy and attention, 
 for they cannot bear the touch of rude and vio- 
 lent hands. But he who has exercifed his powers 
 in the fevereft trials, and combated with adver- 
 lity, who feels his foul fuperior to the falfe opi- 
 nions and prejudices of the world, neither fees 
 nor feels the blow ; he refigns trifles to the nar- 
 row minds which they occupy, and looks down 
 with courage and contempt upon the vain boafl- 
 ings of fuch miferable infecls. 
 
 To defpifeor forget the malice of our enemies, 
 however, it is not always neceflary to call to our 
 affiftance foft zephyrs, clear fprings, well-flored 
 rivers, thick forefts, refrefhing grottos, verdant 
 banks, or fields adorned with flowers. Oh ! 
 how foon, in the tranquillity of retirement, every 
 antipathy is obliterated ! All the little crofTes of 
 life, obloquies, injuftice, every low and trifling 
 care, vanifti like fmoke before him who has 
 courage to live according to his own tafte and 
 inclination. That which we do voluntarily, al- 
 ways affords pleafure, The reftraints of the 
 world, and the flavery of fociety, poifon the plea- 
 fures of free minds, and deprive them of every 
 fatisfaclion, content, and power, even when placed 
 in a fphere of elegance, eafy in fortune, and fur- 
 rounded by affluence. 
 
 SOLTTUDI,
 
 302 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 envv, wicked- 
 nefs, and flupidity, but affords advantages ftill 
 more valuable. Liberty, true liberty, is no where 
 fo eafily found as in a diftant retirement from 
 the tumults of men, and every forced connec- 
 tion with the world. It has been truly faid, that in 
 Solitude MAN recovers from that diftractiort 
 \vhich had torn him from himfelf ; that he feels 
 in his mind a clear and intimate knowledge of 
 what he was, and of what he may become j that 
 he lives more within himfelf and for himfelf than 
 in external objects ; that he enters into the ftate 
 of nature and freedom ; no longer plays an arti- 
 ficial part, no longer reprefents a different pcr- 
 fonage, but thinks, fpcaks, and acts according 
 to his proper character and fcntiments \ that he 
 difcovers the whole extent of his character, and 
 does not act beyond it ; that he no longer dreads 
 a fevere mafter, an imperious tyrant; he ridi- 
 cules no one, is himfelf proof againfl the fhafts 
 of calumny, and neither the conrtraints of bu- 
 finefs, nor the ceremonies of falhion difquiet his 
 rnind ; but, breaking through the fhackles of 
 fervile habit and arbitrary cuftom, he thinks with 
 confidence and courage, and the fenfibilities of 
 his heart refign themfdves to the fentiments of 
 his mind. 
 
 MADAM-E
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 303 
 MADAME DE STAEL confidered it as a great 
 and vulgar error to fuppofe that freedom and li- 
 berty could be enjoyed at court; where, even in 
 the moftminute actions of our lives, we are obliged 
 to be fo obfervant; where it is impoffiblc to think, 
 aloud; where our fentiments muft be regulated 
 by the circumflances of thofe around us ; where 
 every perfon we approach affumes the right of 
 fcrutinizing our characters ; and where we never 
 have the fmalleft enjoyment of ourfelves. " The 
 < c enjoyment of one's felf," fays fhe, 4< can only 
 " be found in Solitude. It was within the walls 
 " of the BAST i LLE that I firft became acquainted 
 with myfelf." 
 
 MEN of liberal minds are as ill qualified by na- 
 ture to be chamberlains, and to conducl the eti- 
 quette of a court, as women are to be religieufes. 
 The courtier, fearful of every thing he fees, al- 
 ways upon the watch, inceflantly tormented by 
 fufpicion, yet obliged to preferve the face of 
 ferenity and fatisfaftion, is like the old woman, 
 always lighting one taper to Michael the archangel) 
 and another to the Devil^ becaufe he does not 
 know for \vhich of them he may have moftocca- 
 fion. 
 
 SUCH precautions and conftraints are infup- 
 portable to every man who is not born a courtier. 
 
 In
 
 304 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 In fituations, therefore, lefs connected with the 
 world, men of liberal minds, found underftand- 
 ings, and aftive difpofuions, break all the chains 
 by which they are withheld. To find any plea-, 
 fure in the fumes of fafhion, it is neceflary to have 
 been trained up in the habits of a court. The 
 defeft of judgment which reigns in courts, with- 
 out doubt magnifies the moft trifling details into 
 matters of high importance; and the long con- 
 ftraint 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 an- 
 other. Who has not experienced what it is to be 
 forced to remain fixed upon one's chair a whole 
 evening, even in common fociety, without know- 
 ing on what fubjeft 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 fenfible converfation, but 
 never contribute a fingle idea to the promotion 
 of it themfelves? Who has not feen his thoughts 
 fall upon minds fo barren, that they produce no 
 return, and flide through the ears of his auditors 
 like water upon oil-cloth ? 
 
 How many men of contemplative minds are 
 
 the (laves of fools and madmen! How many 
 
 rational beings pafs their lives in bondage, by 
 
 being unfortunately attached to a worthlefa 
 
 3 faclion!
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 305 
 faction ! How many men of excellent under- 
 ftandings are condemned to perform a pitiful 
 part in many provincial towns ! The company 
 of a man who laughs at every thing that is 
 honourable, and rejecls thofe fentiments which 
 lead to love and efteem, foon becomes infup- 
 portable. There are no worfe tyrants than the 
 prejudices of mankind ; and the chains of fer- 
 vitude become weighty in proportion to the 
 public ignorance. To form a ferious thought of 
 pleafing in public life, is vain; for to fucceed 
 in fuch an endeavour, we muft facrifice all 
 thought, furrender every real fentiment, defpife 
 every thing which rational minds efteem, and 
 efteem every thing that a man of underftanding 
 and good fenfe defpifes, orelfe, by blindly dam- 
 ing forward upon all occafions, hazard content, 
 tranquillity, and fortune. 
 
 A RURAL refidence, or a tranquil and do- 
 meftic life in town, will fecure us from thefe 
 conftraints, and is the only mean of rendering 
 us free and independent of thofe fituations which 
 are as hoftile to happinefs as they are repugnant 
 to good fenfe. But to render Solitude free from 
 conftraint, we muft neither take the habit of 
 monachifm, nor, like the doge of Venice, 
 wear the diadem of fovereignty. This abjeft 
 (lave cannot vifit a friend, or receive a foreign 
 X ambaf-
 
 306 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ambaffador, without a fpecial permiflion from 
 the fenate for the purpofe. Solitude and de- 
 pendence are univerfally acknowledged to be the 
 higheft prerogatives of his crown. 
 
 THE foul, relieved from thefe torments, be- 
 comes fenfible in Solitude of its powers, and at- 
 tains a clear and intimate knowledge of its per- 
 fections. Liberty and leifure, therefore, always 
 render a rational and a&ive mind indifferent to 
 every other kind of happinefs. 
 
 THE love of liberty rendered all the plea- 
 fures of the world odious to the mind of PE- 
 TRARCH* In his old age he was folicited to 
 officiate as fecretary to different popes, at \vhat- 
 every falary he thought proper to fix ; and indeed 
 every inducement that emolument could afford 
 was infidioufly made life of to turn his views 
 that way. " RICHES," replied PETRARCH, 
 <s when acquired at the expence of liberty, 
 "are the caufe of real mifery; and a yoke 
 " made of gold or filver is not lefs opprefllve 
 6t than if made of iron or lead." To him the 
 world afforded no wealth equal in value to liberty 
 and leifure ; and he told his patrons, that he 
 could not renounce the pleafures of fciencc ; 
 that he had defpifed riches at a time when he 
 was moil in need of them, and it would be 
 
 ihameful
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 307 
 fhameful to feck them now, when it was more 
 eafy for him to do without them ; that he mould 
 apportion the provifion for his journey accord- 
 ing to the diftance he had to travel; and that 
 having almoft reached the end of his courfe, he 
 ought to think more of his reception at the inn 
 than of his expences on the road. 
 
 A DISTASTE of the manners of a court led 
 PETRARCH into Solitude when he was only three- 
 and-twcnty years of age, although in his out- 
 ward appearance, in his attention to drefs, and 
 even in his conftitution, he po fie fled all the 
 attributes of a complete courtier. He was in 
 every refpeft formed to pleafe : the beauty of 
 his figure excited univerfal admiration, and 
 people flopped and pointed him out as he walked 
 along. His eyes were bright and full of fire : 
 his lively countenance proclaimed the vivacity 
 of his mind ; the freflieft colour glowed upon 
 his cheeks; his features were diftinft and 
 manly; his fhape fine and elegant; his pr- 
 fon tall, and his prefence noble. The genial 
 climate of Avignon increased the warmth of his 
 conftitution. The fire of youth, the beauties 
 alfembled at the COURT of THE POPE from every 
 nation in Europe, and, above all, the diffolute 
 manners of the court, led him very early 
 
 X 2 into
 
 308 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 into connexions with women. A great pof-* 
 tion of the day was fpent at his toilet in the 
 decorations of drefs : his habit was always 
 white ; and the leaft fpot or an improper fold 
 gave his mind the greateft uneafinefs. Even in 
 the fafhion of his fhoes he avoided every form 
 that appeared inelegant; they were extremely 
 tight, and cramped his feet to fuch a degree, that 
 it would in a fhort time have been impoflible 
 for him to walk, if he had not recollected that it 
 was much better to mock 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 becaufe he was fearful of deranging the 
 drefs of his hair. A love, however, as ele- 
 vated as it was ardent for virtue and the belles 
 lettreS) always counterbalanced his devotion to 
 tbejcx. To exprefs his paffion for the fair, he 
 wrote, all his poetry in Italian, and only ufed 
 the learned languages upon ferious and important 
 fubjecls. But, notwithftanding the warmth of 
 his conftitution, he was always chatte. He 
 held all debauchery in the utmoft delegation; 
 the leaft deviation from viiMe tortured his 
 feeling^ with remorfe ; and he inveighed with 
 ircrimony a::ain(t the fenfibility by which he 
 had been betrayed : " I fiiould like," faid he, 
 
 " to
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 309 
 * to have a heart as hard as adamant, rather than 
 c< be fo continually tormented by fuch feducing 
 " paffions." Among the number of fine women 
 who adorned the court at Avignon^ there were 
 fome who endeavoured to captivate his heart. 
 Seduced by their charms, and drawn afide by 
 the facility with which he obtained the happi- 
 nefs of their company, he became, upon clofer 
 acquaintance, obedient to all their wishes; but 
 the inquietudes and torments of LOVE fo much 
 alarmed his mind, that he endeavoured to fliun 
 her toils. Before his acquaintance with LAURA 
 he was wilder than a flag ; and, if tradition may 
 be believed, he had not qntil the age of thirty- 
 five any occafion to reproach himfelf with mif- 
 conducl. Religion, virtue, and the fruits of the 
 education he received from his mother, prefervecl 
 him from the numerous dangers by which he was 
 furrounded. 
 
 THE practice of the civil Jaw was at this period 
 the only road to eminence at AVIGNON; but 
 PETRARCH detefted the venality of the profeffion. 
 Previous to devoting himfelf to the church, he 
 exercifed for fome time the profeffion of an ad- 
 vocate, and gained many caufes; but he re- 
 proached himfelf with it afterwards. " In my 
 " youth," fays he, " I devoted myfelf to the 
 < l trade of felling words, or. rather of telling 
 
 X "lies;
 
 3IO THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 * c lies ; but that \vhich we do againfl our inclina- 
 cc tions is feldom attended -with fuccefs. My 
 ' fondnefs was for Solitude, and I therefore at- 
 " tended the pra6lice of the bar with the greater 
 " deteftation." The fecret confcioufnefs which 
 he 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 
 prefumption of being equal to every thing; 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 making 
 44 my fortune in the court of the vicar of JESUS 
 "CHRIST; to accomplish that, I muft affidu- 
 " oufly vifit the palaces of the great ; I muft flat- 
 " ter, lye, and deceive." PETRARCH was not 
 capable of doing this. He neither hated men nor 
 difliked advancement, but he detefted the means 
 he muft neceflarily have ufed to attain it. He 
 loved glory, and ardently fought it, though not 
 by the ways in which it is generally obtained. 
 He delighted to walk in the moft unfrequented 
 paths, and, of courfe, he renounced THE 
 WORLD. 
 
 THE averfion which he felt from the man- 
 ners which are peculiar to courts was the 
 particular occafion of his Effay upon Solitude. 
 i In
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 311 
 
 In the year 1346 he was, as ufual, during Lent, 
 at Vaudufe. TH& BISHOP OF CAVATLI.ON, anxi- 
 ous to enjoy the converfation of his friend, 
 and to tafte the fleets of retirement, fixed his 
 refidence at the caftle ; a manfion fituated upon 
 the fummit of a high rock, and, in appearance, 
 better conftrufted for the habitation of birds 
 than men; the ruins of which at prefent only 
 remain. The fcenes of which the BISHOP and 
 PETRARCH had been witnefles at Avignon and 
 Naples^ infpired them with difguft of cities, and 
 with contempt for the manners of a profligate 
 court. They weighed all the unpleafant circum- 
 ftances they had before experienced, and oppofed 
 the fituations which produced them to- the ad- 
 vantages of Solitude. This was the ufual fubjeft 
 of their converfation at the caftle, and that 
 which gave birth in the mind of PETRARCH to 
 the relblution of uniting in one work all his 
 own ideas and thofe of others upon this delight- 
 ful fubjeft. It was begun in Lenf, and finifhed 
 at Eafter ; but he revifed and corrected it after- 
 wards, making many alterations, and adding 
 every thing which occurred 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, 
 
 X 4 IF
 
 312 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 IF all that I have faid of PETRARCH in the 
 courfe of this work were to be 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 fuperior degree 
 of delight ; a happinefs which he obtained 
 from his hatred of a court and his love of 
 liberty. 
 
 THE love of liberty was alfo the caufe of 
 ROUSSEAU'S violent difguft for fociety, and in 
 Solitude became the fource of all his pleafures. 
 His letters to MALHERBE difcover the genius 
 of the writer and the nature of the man, as much 
 as his CONFESSIONS, which have not been better 
 underftood than his character. " I miftook for a 
 ** great length of time," fays he in one of 
 them, " the caufe of that invincible difguft 
 * e which I always felt in the commerce of the 
 " world. I attributed it to the mortification of 
 '* not poffefling that quick and ready talent ne- 
 " ceffary to difcover in converfation the little 
 "knowledge 1 po fie (Ted; and this beat back 
 " an idea that I did not occupy that ftation 
 ' in the opinion of mankind which I conceived 
 " I merited. But after having fcribbled a great 
 ' quantity of paper, I was perfectly convinced 
 
 " that
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 313 
 
 " that even in faying many ridiculous things I 
 44 was in no danger of being taken for a fool. 
 44 When I perceived myfelf fought after by all 
 44 the world, and honoured with much more 
 c; confideration than even my own ridiculous 
 44 vanity would have ventured to expe6l; and 
 44 that, notwithftanding this, I felt the fame 
 44 difguft rather augmented than diminifhed, I' 
 " concluded that it muft arife from fome other 
 44 caufe, and that thefe were not the kind of 
 46 enjoyments for which I muft look. What 
 44 then, in fatt, is the caufc of it ? It is no other 
 4i than that invincible fpirit of liberty which no- 
 44 thing can overcome, and in comparifon with 
 44 which honour, fortune, and even fame itfelf, 
 44 are to me nothing. It is certain that this 
 44 fpirit of liberty is engendered lefs by pride 
 44 than by indolence ; but this indolence is in- 
 " credible ; it is alarmed at every thing ; it 
 " renders the moft trifling duties of civil life 
 4t infupportable : to be obliged to fpeak a word, 
 44 to write a letter, or to pay a vifit, are to me, 
 4t from the moment the obligation arifcs, the 
 46 fevereft punimments. This is the reafon why, 
 44 although the ordinary commerce of men is 
 " odious to me, the pleafures of private friend- 
 4< (hip are fo dear to my heart : for in the in- 
 41 dulgence of private friendfhips there axe no 
 " duties to perform ; we have only to follow the 
 
 < feelings
 
 314 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 <>' feelings of the heart, and all is done. This 
 * : is the reafon alfo why I have fo much dreaded 
 * 6 to accept of favours ; for every atl of kind- 
 <f nefs demands an acknowledgement j and I 
 < feel that my heart is ungrateful, only becaufc 
 *' gratitude becomes a duty. The kind of hap- 
 " pinefs, in fhort, which pleafes me beft, does 
 tf not conlift fo much in doing what I wifh, as 
 " in avoiding that which is repugnant to my 
 " inclination. A&ive life affords no tempta- 
 f * dons to me; I would a hundred times rather 
 "do nothing at all than that which I diflike; 
 t and I have frequently thought that I fhould 
 " not have lived very unhappily even in THE 
 " BASTILLE, provided I was free from every other 
 <c conftraint than that of merely refiding within 
 " its walls." 
 
 THE advantages of a tranquil leifure were 
 never felt with higher delight than by ROUSSEAU; 
 thefe enjoyments, however, are equally within the 
 reach of every individual. * c When my tor- 
 ments/' fays this amiable philofopher, " oblige 
 * f me to count the long and forrowful progrefs of 
 " the night, and the violence of my fever pre- 
 " vents me from enjoying one moment's fieep, 
 " I frequently forget my condition in reflccl- 
 " ing on the various events of my life, and re- 
 " collection, repentance, regret, and pity, di- 
 
 <{ vidp
 
 ON THE MIND AND TlfE HEART. 31$ 
 
 ct vide thofe attentions in which I bury, for a 
 " few moments, all my fufferings. What fitu- 
 " ations do you conceive, fir, I moft frequently 
 Cf and mod cheerfully recal to my mind in thefe 
 " meditations? Not the pleafures of my youth; 
 <s they were too few, too much blended with 
 " bitternefs, and are now too diftant from my 
 t ( thoughts; but the pleafures of my retirement, 
 61 my folitary walks, the tranfient though deli- 
 < c cious days which' I paffed entirely with my- 
 " felf, with my good old houfckeepcr, my 
 " faithful well-beloved dog, my old cat, the 
 (( birds of the fields, and the bcalts of the forefts, 
 '' furrounded by all the charms of nature, and 
 " their divine and incomprehenfible Author. 
 " Repairing to my garden before day-break, to 
 * ivait for and contemplate the riling fun, my 
 (f firft prayer vras, when I difcovercd the fymp- 
 * c toms of a fine day, that neither mefiagcs nor 
 " vifitors might diilurb the charm. After hav- 
 " ing devoted the morning to various cares, 
 " which as I could put them off till another 
 * c time I always attended to with pleafure, I 
 " haftened to my dinner that I might avoid un- 
 /' pleafant vifuors, and thereby procure a longer 
 '{ afternoon. Before one o'clock, even in the 
 " hotted days of lummer, while the fun fhone 
 <; in meridian fplendour, I walked forth with 
 f* rny faithful ACHATES, hurrying along, fearful 
 
 ' U-ft
 
 316 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " 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 lively joy I drew my breath, 
 " and exclaimed, Now I am nuifter of my time 
 "for the remainder cf the day ! I then walked with 
 " tranquil fteps in fearch of fome wild fequef- 
 * s tered fpot in the foreft, fome defert place, 
 " where no object, touched by the hands of men, 
 " announced fervitude and domination ; fome 
 " afylum, into which I might fancy that 1 alone 
 " had firft entered, and where no impertinent 
 " intruder might interpofe between nature and 
 myfelf." 
 
 WHO would not willingly renounce the dififj- 
 pations of the world for thefe calm enjoyments 
 of the heart ? the fplendid flavery of fociety for 
 this ineftimable liberty ? I am perfectly aware, 
 that mankind in general are not in a fuuation fo 
 favourable to felf-enjoyment ; let them however 
 try the pure pleafures of the country, and they 
 will find that one day of liberty, one hour of 
 quiet, will effectually cure them of their anxiety 
 for feafts, fhows, finery, and all the noify norj- 
 fenfe of fafhion and folly. 
 
 POPE
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 317 
 
 POPE CLEMENT the fixth offered to PETRARCH 
 not only the office of apoftolic fecretary, but 
 many confiderable bifhoprics. PETRARCH con- 
 ftantly refufed them. " You will not accept of 
 e; any thing I offer to you!" faid the holy father: 
 " Afk of me what you pleafe." Two months 
 afterwards PETRARCH wrote to one of his friends, 
 " Every degree of elevation creates new fufpi- 
 u cions in my mind, becaufe I perceive the mil- 
 " fortunes that attend them. Would they but 
 " grant me that happy mediocrity fo preferable 
 t: to gold, and which they have promiled me, I 
 46 mould accept the gift with gratitude and cor- 
 46 diality; but if they only intend to inveft me 
 " with fome important employment, I fliall refufe 
 <s it. I will make off the yoke; for I had much 
 c; rather live poor than become a flave." 
 
 AM Englifhman fomewhere a(ks, <c Why are 
 c; the inhabitants of the rich plains of LOMBAR- 
 48 DY, where nature pours her gifts in fuch pro- 
 46 fufion, lefs opulent than thofe of the mountains 
 
 " of SwiSSERLAND ? Becaufe FREEDOM, whofe 
 
 *' influence is more benign than funfhine and 
 4t zephyrs ; who covers the rugged rock with 
 " foil, drains the fickly fwamp, and clothes the 
 " brown heath in verdure; who dreffes the la- 
 4 * bourer's face with fmiles, and makes him behold 
 ** his increanng family with delight and cxulta- 
 6 " tion;
 
 ^iS THE INFLUENCE OF SOLlfUDE 
 " tion; FREEDOM has abandoned the fertile fields 
 " of LOMBARDY, and dwells among the moun- 
 " tains of SWISSERLAND." 
 
 THIS is the warm enthufiafm of poetry; but it 
 is literally true at Uri, Schwitz, Underpaid, Zug, 
 Claris, and Appenzel. For he who has more 
 than his wants require is RICHJ and whoever is 
 enabled to think, to fpeak, and to employ himfelf 
 as his inclination may direl 3 is FREE* 
 
 COMPETENCY and liberty, therefore, are the 
 true fweetners of life. That Hate of mind, fo 
 rarely poflefled, in which we can fincerely fay 
 / have enough" is the higheft attainment of 
 philofophy. Happinefs confifts not in having 
 too much, but fufficient. Kings and princes are 
 unhappy, becaufe they always defire more than 
 they pofiefs, and are continually (limulated to 
 accomplifh more than it is within their power to 
 attain. Great and good kings are not to blame, 
 if they fometimes fay, " My Jon , I am deaf to-day 
 " on my left ear." 
 
 MEN in general endeavour to appear much 
 happier than in faft they are; and confider every- 
 thing which detracts from this appearance as a 
 real misfortune. But happinefs ought to be 
 concealed, except from the eye of friendfhip 
 
 and
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 319 
 
 and love; for ENVY is its direft foe; ever watch- 
 ful to find its way to the happy bofom, and eager 
 to deflroy its repofe. 
 
 HE who only wants little has always enough. 
 I am contented," fays PETRARCH, in a letter 
 to his friends the cardinals TALEYRAND and 
 BOLOGNO, " I defire nothing more. I have 
 " placed limits to my defires. I enjoy every 
 " thing that is neceflary to life. CINCINNATUS, 
 " CURIUS, FABRICIUS, and REGULUS, after 
 " having conquered nations and led kings in 
 44 triumph, w^re not fo rich as I am. But I 
 * mould always be poor if I were to open a 
 <c door to my paflions. Luxury, ambition, ava- 
 " rice, know no bounds; and defire is a fathom- 
 " lefs abyfs. I have clothes to cover me; vic- 
 " tuals to fupport me; horfes to carry me; lands 
 ' to lie down or walk upon while I am alive, and 
 " to receive my remains when I die. What 
 " more did any Roman emperor poffefs ? My 
 " body is healthy; and the fleflj, fuhdued by la- 
 " hour, is lefs rebellious againft tie fpirif. I have 
 4(1 books of every kind, which to me are inefti- 
 " mable treafures; they fill my foul with a vo- 
 <f luptuous delight untinclured with remorfe. I 
 *' have friends, whom I confider more precious 
 *' than any thing I poffefs, provided their coun- 
 * { fels do not tend to deprive me of my liberty. 
 
 " I know
 
 320 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " I know of no other enemies than thofe which 
 " envy has raifed againft me. I defpife them 
 u from the bottom of my heart; and perhaps it 
 44 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 I have never feen, 
 " and perhaps never mail fee." 
 
 FROM this paffage we difcover that ENVY fol- 
 lowed PZTRARCH into the retreats of Solitude. 
 He frequently complains of it; but in this letter 
 he treats it properly. He dcfpifes his envious 
 enemies^ and would be forry if he were without 
 them. 
 
 SOLITUDE difcovers to mankind their real 
 wants. Where great Simplicity of manners pre- 
 vails, men always poifeis fufficient for the enjoy- 
 ment of life. Ignorant of thofe things which 
 others defire or poffefs, the mind cannot enter- 
 tain an idea of any good which they can poffibly 
 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 
 viioor-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
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 32! 
 "Were we all as ignorant of mror-c-'ckS) we fhould 
 all be as happy as the curate of the mountain near 
 the lake of THUN. 
 
 HE who places limits to his real wants is more 
 wife, more rich, and more contented than us all. 
 The fyftem upon which he ats partakes of the 
 noble fimplicity of his mind. He finds felicity 
 in the moft obfcure life, in fituations at the 
 greateft diftance from the world. Truth is the 
 only objeft of his affe&ion ; he follows that phi- 
 lofophy 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 aftcfting and agreeable Ode upon the fubjeft 
 of Solitude, which comprehends the very eilcncc 
 of this philofophy. 
 
 ODE ON SOLITUDE. 
 
 HAPPY the man wliofe wifh 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, 
 rrces in fumnicr yield him (hade, 
 
 In winter, fire. 
 Y Blcfr,
 
 322 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 Bleft, who can unconcem'dly find 
 
 Hours, days and years flide foft away, 
 Jn health of body, peace of mind, 
 
 Quiet by day, 
 
 Sound fleep by night ; fludy and eafe, 
 Together mix'd ; fweet recreation ! 
 And innocence, which moft does pleafe 
 
 With meditation. 
 
 Thus let me live unfeen, unknown, 
 
 Thus unlamented let me die, 
 Steal from the world, and not a ftone 
 
 Tell where I lie, 
 
 A CALM and tranquil life renders even fen- 
 fuality itfelf more fimple, peaceful, and lefs alarm- 
 ing. The field of fcnfual pleafures is to the world- 
 ly-minded parched up and barren; it is noify and 
 tumultuous ; filled \vith vineyards, banqueting- 
 houfes, wanton dancings, infirmaries, tombs upon 
 which the rofes fade, and dark mades for the 
 purpofe of guilty aflignations. But to the mind 
 of him who fhuns fuch brutal joys, fuch grofs vo- 
 luptuoufnefs, the pleafures of fenfe are of a more 
 elevated kind; foft, fublime, pure, permanent, 
 and tranquil. 
 
 THE irifolence of wealth difappcars in the 
 fimplicity of rural life. The bofom learns to 
 
 enjoy
 
 ON THE MIND. AND THE HEART. 
 enjoy fenfations very different from thofe it ex- 
 perienced in the world. The fentiments of the 
 mind are rendered more free; the feelings of the 
 heart more pure 3 neither heated by profufion, 
 nor extinguifhed by fatiety. 
 
 PETRARCH one day inviting his friend the 
 cardinal COLONNA to vifit his retirement at 
 VAUCLUSE, wrote to him, " If you prefer the 
 Cf tranquillity of the country to the tumults of the 
 <c town, come here, and enjoy yourfelf. Do not 
 " be alarmed at the fimplicity of my table, or the 
 < hardnefs of my beds. Kings themfelves are 
 <c fometimes difguftcd with luxury, and prefer 
 " the plcafures of a more frugal repaft. They 
 <r are pleafed by the change of fcene; and oc- 
 " cafional interruption does not render their 
 " pleafures lefs lively. But if you wifh only to 
 *' enjoy your accuftomed luxury, what is to pre- 
 <e vent your bringing with you the moft exquifite 
 " viands, the wines of Vefuvius, dimes of filver, 
 <{ and every thing that can delight the fenfes. 
 " Leave the red to me. I promife to provide 
 " you with a bed of the fineft turf, a cooling 
 " made, a concert of nightingales, figs, raifins, 
 " water drawn from the frefheft fprings, and, in 
 fhort, every thing that the hand of nature pro 
 " fents to true pleafure." 
 
 Y 2 AH!
 
 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 AH ! who would not willingly renounce thofe 
 things which only produce difquietude in the 
 mind, for thofe which render it contented ? The 
 art of occafionally diverting the imagination, 
 tafle, and paffions, affords new and unknown 
 enjoyments to the mind, and confers pleafure 
 without pain, and luxury, without repentance. 
 The fenfes, deadened by fatiety, revive to new 
 enjoyments. The lively twitter of the groves, 
 and the murmur of the brooks, yield a more 
 delicious pleafure to the ear than the mufic of the 
 opera, or the compofitions of the ableft matters. 
 The eye repofes more agreeably on the concave 
 firmament, on an expanfe of waters, on moun- 
 tains covered with rocks, than it does on balls, 
 aflemblies, and petits Joupers. The mind enjoys 
 in Solitude objects which were before infupport- 
 able ; and, reclining on the bofom of fimplicity, 
 eafily renounces every vain delight. PETRARCH 
 wrote from VAUCLUSE to one of his friends, *' I 
 " have made war againft my corporeal powers, 
 < for I find they are my enemies. My eyes, 
 which have occafioned me to commit fo many 
 " follies, are now confined to the view of a 
 " fingle woman, old, black, and fun-burnt. If 
 HELEN and LUCRETIA had poffefled fuch a 
 " face, TROY would never have been reduced 
 " to afhes, OITARQUIN driven from the em- 
 " pire of the world. But, to compenfate thefe 
 
 defeas,
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 " defefts, fhe is faithful, fubmifiive, and induf- 
 " trious. he paffes whole days in the fields; 
 " and her fhrivelled fkin defies the burning fun, 
 " even in the hotteft dog-days. My wardrobe 
 ei flill contains fine clothes, but I never wear 
 " them : and you would take me for a common 
 cs labourer or a fimple fhepherd ; I who was 
 66 formerly fo anxious about my drefs. But the 
 cs reafons which then prevailed no longer exift ; 
 " the fetters by which I was enflaved are broken ; 
 " the eyes which I was anxious to pleafe are 
 ce fhut; and if they were ftill open, they would 
 t( not perhaps now be able to maintain the fame 
 " empire over my heart." 
 
 SOLITUDE, by ftripping worldly objefts of that 
 falfe fplendour with which the imagination array* 
 them, deftroys the vain ambition of the mind. 
 Accuftomed to rural pleafure, and indifferent to 
 every other, a wife man no longer feels power 
 and dignities worthy of his defires. CINCIN- 
 NATUS, a noble Roman, was overwhelmed with 
 tears on being obliged to accept the confulfhip, 
 becaufe it would for one year deprive him of the 
 pleafure of cultivating his fields. He was called 
 from the plough to the command of the army of the 
 empire; he defeated the enemy, pofleffed himfelf 
 of the provinces, made his triumphal entry into 
 Y ROME,
 
 3Z6 THE INFLUENCE OP SOLITUDE 
 
 . PVOME, and at the expiration of fixteen days re- 
 turned to his plough. 
 
 THE inmate of an humble cottage, who is 
 forced to earn his daily bread by labour, and the 
 owner of a fpacious manfion, for whom every 
 luxury is provided, are not held in equal eftima- 
 tion by mankind. But let the man who has ex- 
 perienced both thefe fituations be afked, under 
 which of them he experienced the moft content. 
 The cares and inquietudes of the palace are in- 
 numerably greater than thofe of the cottage ; in 
 the former, difcontent poifons every enjoyment, 
 and its fuperfluity is only mifery in difguife. 
 The princes of Germany do not digeft all the 
 palatable poifon which their cooks prepare, fo well 
 as a peafant upon the heaths of LIMBOURG digefts 
 his buck-wheat pie. And thofe who may differ 
 from me in this opinion will be forced to acknow- 
 ledge, that there is great truth in the reply which 
 a pretty French country girl made to a young 
 and amiable nobleman, who folicited her to aban- 
 don her folitary rural fituation, and retire with 
 him to Paris. " Ah ! motifieur le marquis^ the 
 " farther we remove from ourfelves, the greater 
 f< is our diftance from happinefs." 
 
 A SINGLE paflion, which we are neither able 
 to fubdue nor inclined to fatisfy, frequently poj- 
 
 ibns
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 327 
 ions our days with the bittereft forrow*. There 
 are moments in which the mind is difcontented 
 with itfelf, tired of its exiftence, difguftcd with 
 every thing, incapable of relifhing either Solitude 
 or Diflipation. loft to all repofe,and alienated from 
 every pleafurc. Under fuch a fuuation, time, al- 
 though 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 reality, wants the truefali of life \ and, without 
 that, exiftence is infipid. 
 
 BUT where is this precious fait to be found? 
 Js it in the paflion of love? LOVE, without 
 
 * " Wife men," fays lord BOLINGBROKE, " are certainly 
 fe fuperior to all the evils of exile; but, in a ftrift fenfe, he who 
 " has left any one paffion of his foul unfubdued, will not defervc 
 <( that appellation. It is not enough that we have ftudicd all the 
 ft duties of public and private life, that we are perfectly acquainted 
 " with them, and that we live up to them in the eye of the world ; 
 " a paflion that lies dormant in the heart, and has efcapcd our 
 '* fcrutiny, or which we have obferved and indulged as venal, or 
 " which we have perhaps encouraged as a principle to excite ami 
 " aid our virtue, may one time or other deflroy our tranquillity, 
 " and difgrace our whole character. When virtue has fteeled 
 " the mind on every fide, we are invulnerable on every fide, but 
 " ACHILLES was wounded in the heel. The leaft part over. 
 ' looked or neglefted, may expofe us to receive a mortal blow." 
 .TRANSLATOR. 
 
 Y 4 doubt,
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 doubt, frequently preferves life, and fometimes 
 gives it new vigour and animation; but a paflion 
 which undermines and confumes, can neither 
 afford permanency nor tranquillity. The love 
 capable of raifing itfelf to the ftrength_and power 
 of being permanent, muft defcend into a iincere 
 friendfhip, or it will deftroy itfelf or its object; 
 and, by adding fuel to a fubtle flame, will reduce 
 the lover and beloved to a heap of cinders. The 
 fait of life, therefore, can only be extracted from 
 paffions which do not require extraneous aid; 
 from paffions which fupply their own aliment, 
 acquire force by indulgence, and, being free and 
 independent, raife the foul fuperior to every 
 thing that furrounds it. 
 
 SOLITUDE and limited defires afford a true 
 happinefs to the ftatefman, whether only difmiffed 
 from his office, or exiled from the ftate. Every 
 great rninifter does not, indeed, retire from his 
 employments, like NECKAR, through the portals 
 of everlafting fame. But every one, without 
 diftinclion, ought to raife his grateful hands 
 to Heaven, on finding himfelf fuddenly con- 
 veyed from the troubled ocean of public life ta 
 the calm repofe of his native fields, to the paf- 
 toral care of his flocks and herds, under the 
 fliades of thofe trees which his anceftors planted. 
 In France^ THE MINISTER who incurs the dif- 
 
 pleafure
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 329 
 pleafure of his fovereign is ordered to retire ; 
 that is, to vifit an eftate highly embellifhed and 
 made a mod agreeable retreat. But alas ! this 
 delightful retreat, being a place of exile, be- 
 comes intolerable; he no longer taftes its beau- 
 ties with pleafure; fleep (lies from his eyes, 
 fince he is no longer his own mafter; the lei- 
 fure he poffefies renders him an impatient hypo- 
 chondriac ; he turns with averfion from every 
 object; and his ill humour tinctures every- 
 thing he fees. The difgrace of a minifter in 
 France is frequently fatal to his political cxift- 
 ence*. But, in England, they congratulate the 
 minifter on his retirement, as they would a 
 man juft recovered from a dangerous diftemper. 
 He retains many and better friends than before 
 he was difmilTed ; for thofe who accompany his 
 retreat muft be attached to him by Cncere ef- 
 teem ; but perhaps thofe who adhered to him 
 in power were only influenced by intereft. 
 Thanks, generous BRITONS! for the examples 
 you have given to us of men fufficiently bold 
 and independent to weigh events in the fcales of 
 
 * " It is to this end," fays one of our writers, " that difgrace 
 " of almoft every kind conducts men. The credit, authority, and 
 " confideration, which they before enjoyed, are like thofe tranfient 
 " fires which ftiine during the night; and, being fuddenly extin- 
 ( guifhed, only render the darkncfs and folitude in which the 
 *' traveller is involved jnore vifible." 
 
 reafon,
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 reafon, and to guide themfelves by the intrinfic 
 and real merit of each cafe ! For, notwithftand- 
 ing the rafhnefs -with which many Englifhmen 
 have revoked againft the Supreme Being, not- 
 withftanding the laugh and mockery with which 
 they have fo frequently infulted 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; and, in their tran- 
 quil and delightful VILLAS, think and live with 
 more freedom, dignity, and real happinefs, than 
 any prcfumptuous peer in the zenith of parlia- 
 mentary power. 
 
 IT is faid, that among thofe minifters who 
 receive the public thanks, or are forced by 
 age to retire, more than half finifti their career 
 by becoming gardeners and country gentlemen. 
 So much the better for thefe ex-minifters; for 
 they, like the excellent chancellor DE LA ROCHE 
 at Spire, certainly poflefs much more content 
 with tbe Jhovel and the rake, than they enjoyed 
 in the mod profperous hours of their admi- 
 niftration. 
 
 SENTIMENTS like thefe furnifh an excellent 
 theme to thofe who, ignorant of the manners of 
 the world, and unacquainted with men, are fond 
 
 of
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 331 
 
 of moralizing, and of extolling a contempt of 
 human greatnefs. They contend that rural in- 
 nocence and amufemcnt, the pure and fimple 
 pleafures of nature, and the enjoyment of a calm 
 content fo arduoufly required, very feldom form 
 any portion of thofe boafted advantages which 
 Solitude is faid to poffefs. They add alfo, that 
 a minifter in office, though furrounded by end- 
 lefs difficulties, fubjctt to inceffant torments, 
 obliged to rack his brains, and to employ every 
 art and cunning to attain his ends, begins by his 
 fuccefs to feel that he has attained, what until 
 this period he had never before poirefled, the 
 character of MASTER and SOVEREIGN; 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 ereft an Englifh grove on its fcitc ; 
 make hills where hills were never feen before; 
 level eminences with the ground, compel the 
 ftream to flow as his inclination fhall direct; 
 force woods and flirubberies to grow where he 
 pleafes; graft or lop as it mail ftrike his idea ; 
 open views and fhut out boundaries; conftrufl; 
 ruins where ruins never happened; erecl tem- 
 ples, of which he alone is the high-priefl, and 
 build hermitages where he may feclude himfelf 
 at pleafure; that all this is not a reward for the 
 rcltraints he formerly experienced, but a natural 
 6 incli-
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 inclination, fince now he may give orders with- 
 out being hiinfelf obliged to obey; for that a 
 MINISTER mud be, from* the habits of his life, 
 fond of command and fovereignty to the end of 
 his days, whether he continues at the head of an 
 extenfive empire, or dire&s the management of a 
 poultry-yard. 
 
 To maintain that it is necefTary to renounce 
 the natural paflions of the human mind, in order 
 to enjoy the advantages of Solitude, would, 
 without doubt, not only be moralizing very 
 awkwardly, but difcover a great ignorance of 
 the world, and of the nature of MAN. That 
 which is planted in th6 breaft of man muft there 
 remain. If therefgre a MINISTER be not fatiated 
 with the exercife of power and authority, if in 
 his retirement he ftill retain the weaknefs to wifh 
 for command, let him require obedience from his 
 chickens whenever he pleafes, provided fuch a 
 gratification is effential to his happinefs, and 
 tends to fupprefs the defire of again expofing 
 himfelf to thofe tempefts and fhipwrecks which 
 he can only avoid in the fafe harbour of rural 
 life*. An EX-MINISTER muft fooner or later 
 
 learn 
 
 * " MARSHAL DE BOUFFLERS has retired to cultivate 
 " his fields," faid MADAME MAINTENON : " I am of opinion 
 ?' that this CINCINNATUS would not be forry to be fetched 
 
 from
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 333 
 
 learn to defpife the appearances of human gran- 
 deur; for in his retirement he will perceive-that 
 true greatnefs frequently begins at that period of 
 life which ftatefmen 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 am- 
 bition in difguifc ; and feel that the inhabitants 
 of the country, in cultivating their cabbages and 
 afparagus, are a hundred times happier than the 
 greateft MINISTER. 
 
 UNDER fuch circumftances it is only neceflary 
 to be contented with ourfelves, to forget the 
 fupcrfluities of life, and to render the little we 
 po fiefs as palatable as poflible. The firft year 
 which PETRARCH palled at Vauclufe^ he was almoft 
 always alone, and had no other company than 
 his dog, no other fervant than a neighbouring 
 iifhcrman, who ferved him with every thing he 
 wanted. The domeftics who attended, him at 
 Avignon, not being able to accuflom themfelves to 
 this manner of living, quitted his fervice, Befide, 
 he was badly lodged, iiaving only a poor cottage 
 for his refidence, which he. afterwards rebuilt with- 
 out any art, merely to render it tenantable, and 
 
 *'" from his plough. At his departure he charged us all to 
 " think of him, if r.ny thin'j; was wanted daring his abfence, 
 " which may perhaps continue fifteen days." 
 
 even
 
 3:4 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 even the traces of which no longer remain. His 
 fare was coarfe and frugal ; nothing that flatters 
 .the fenfes was to be feen. His beft friends 
 therefore called upon him very feldom, and when 
 they came their vifits were very fhort; others 
 only vifited him from the fame charitable feelings 
 which lead men to the chamber of the fick, 
 or the dungeon of the prifoner. He wrote to 
 his friend PHILIP DE CARRABOLD, bifhop of 
 Cauaillor^ who was then at Naples, " Let 
 " others run after riches and honours; let them 
 rt be princes and kings ; I fhall never attempt 
 44 to impede their career. I am contented 
 44 with the humble character of POET. And 
 why, my good BISHOP, will you continually 
 (t wander from place to place merely to dif- 
 44 cover the road to preferment? You know 
 " the fnares which are laid in the courts of 
 " princes, the anxieties which corrode the heart, 
 46 the rifques which are run, and the ftorms to 
 u which life is there expofed. Return therefore 
 " to your diocefe, return to tranquillity and 
 4 ' repofe. You may do this with honour, while 
 44 fortune fmiles upon you. You will there find 
 " every thing you can defire. Leave fuper- 
 44 fluity to the avaricious. The rooms, although 
 46 not decorated with tapeftry, are commodioufly 
 <; furnimed. If our table be not fumptuous, 
 *' yet we have enough to fatisfy hunger ; and 
 
 " although
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 335 
 
 u although our beds are not decorated with gold 
 " and purple, we do not fleep in them with Ida 
 " comfort. The hour of death approaches, and 
 " warns me to renounce^ll the extravagant vani- 
 ties of life. To cultivate my gardens is now 
 tc the only pleafure I purfue. I plant fruit-trees, 
 *' in hope that while I am fifhing on my rocks, 
 <fi they will cover me with their made. But my 
 " trees are old, and require to be replaced; I 
 " muft therefore requeft that you will defire your 
 " attendants to bring me fome plants of the 
 " peach and pear-tree from Naples. The enjoy- 
 " ments of my old are purchafed by labour; 
 " and I live in the expectation of future plea- 
 " fures, 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 fo reft 1 ." 
 
 SOLITUDE, however, will not procure us all 
 thefe advantages, unlefs we renounce the mania 
 of refining upon happincfs. By endeavouring 
 to make things better than they are, we abandon 
 thofe that are good. He who always views things 
 on the unfavourable fide, who wifhes that all 
 thofe things which are wrong, and which ought 
 to remain wrong, were made right, voluntarily 
 furrendcrs a large portion of his pleafures; for 
 without fo great a number of Wrongbeads in the 
 
 world.
 
 3<6 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 world, life would not be half fo entertaining aa 
 it is. 
 
 To live happily, it is an excellent maxim to 
 take things jult as they are; or to admit with a 
 celebrated German philofopher, as the founda- 
 tion of all morality, that it is our duty to do as 
 much good as poffible, and to be contented with 
 every thing as we find it. This fpecies of mora- 
 lity is certainly founded in toleration and good- 
 nature ; but it is apt to degenerate too eafily into 
 a loofer kind of philofophy*, dcftrudive in fome 
 minds both of freedom and virtue. 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^ while he was preparing 
 to fhave me, exclaimed with a deep figh, " It is 
 *' terribly hot to-day." " You place Heaven," 
 faid I to him, " in great difficulties; for thefe 
 " nine months paft you have regularly told 
 " me every other day, " // is terribly cold to-day " 
 Cannot the Almighty, then, any longer govern 
 
 * " Let the world go as it pleafes," fays an ingenious wri- 
 ter ; "to do one's duty tolerably well, and fpeak always 
 ' in praife of the good PRIOR, is an ancient maxim of the 
 " monks ; but it may lead the difcipline of convents into a ftatc 
 " of mediocrity, relaxation, and contempt." 
 
 i the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 337 
 the Univerfe without thefe gentlemen barbers 
 finding fomething to be difcontented with ? " Is 
 <{ it not," I afked him, " much better to take 
 ft the fealbns 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 the barber. 
 
 COMPETENCY and content therefore may, in 
 general, be confidered as the bafis of earthly 
 happinefs; and Solitude, in many inftances, fa- 
 vours both the one and the other. 
 
 ONE of the advantages we dill owe to Solitude 
 is, that it enables us by habit to relinquifh the 
 fociety of men. For, as it is impoffible always 
 to procure agreeable and interefting company, 
 we foon lofe the defire to attain it, and confole 
 ourfelves with the idea, that it is incomparably 
 more eafy to drive away languor and difcontent 
 in retirement than in the world; befide, as it 
 very rarely happens that on quitting a public 
 a {Terribly we enter with great good-humour into 
 the examination of ourfelves 4 , this ought to be 
 ftill another reafon to induce us the more eafily 
 to renounce it. The lefs, therefore, ^we form 
 connections with other men, the more we are 
 qualified for an intercourfe with ourfelves. 
 
 IT
 
 338 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 IT is frequently difficult to find an amiable 
 and fenfible chara&er with whom we may form 
 connexion, and to whom we can freely com- 
 municate our thoughts, our pleafurcs, and our 
 pains. In this cafe nothing t>ut employment 
 and activity can divert our minds. The idle 
 and unemployed, not being able to drive away 
 latitude and difcontent by yawning, expeft that 
 relief from the coming on of time which the in- 
 duftrious enjoy every moment of their lives. 
 The coldncfs of indolence freezes all the func- 
 tions of the heart, and the dread of labour pai- 
 fons every pleafure; but the man who ferioufly 
 adopu fomc ufeful courfe of life, who immedi- 
 ately executes whatever his ftation calls upon 
 him to perform, always enjoys a contented mind. 
 To him the day appears too fhort, the night too 
 long. Vexation and dilquietude vanifh from 
 the bread of him, who never leaves for the 
 performance of to-morrow that which may be 
 done to-day, who makes himfelf matter of the 
 prefent moment, and does not indifcreetly rely 
 upon an uncertain futurity. 
 
 A SITUATION in a fmall village, or a coun- 
 try reti-rqrnent, is befl fuited to this fpecies of 
 employment. The great world is a fcene of 
 agitation from morning to night ; although, 
 fpeaking, nothing is done coring the 
 
 day.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 339 
 
 day. In a fmall village, or more fequeftcred 
 fituation, the mind has time to think ; \\-e 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 v.e 
 have read, but to enjoy and benefit by the infor- 
 mation which reading affords. Every thing we 
 read in filence, in tranquillity, finks deep into the 
 mind, unites itfelf more clofelv with our thoughts, 
 
 J <D ' 
 
 and operates more forcibly on the heart. A judi- 
 cious ufe of time in fuch a fituation foon leffens 
 our inclination to fociety, and, at. length, we 
 eftcem ourfelves completely happy in finding it 
 totally extinguifhed. 
 
 THE filence of the country therefore is, to the 
 female mind, frequently the fchool of true phi- 
 lofophy. 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 pofieflcs in itfelf inexpreffi- 
 ble delights : but among that aftive people, the 
 love of Solitude is, perhaps, in general much 
 ftronger in the women than the men. A no- 
 bleman who employs the day in riding over his 
 eftate, or in following the hounds, does not en- 
 joy the Solitude of rural life with the fame plea- 
 fure as his lady, who devotes her time to needle- 
 work, or to reading, in her romantic pleafure- 
 Z 2 grounds,
 
 34-O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 grounds, feme inftruftive or afFe&ing work. In 
 ENGLAND, where ideas flow fo rapidly, where in 
 general the people love fo much to think, the 
 calm of retirement becomes more valuable, and 
 the enjoyments of the mind more interefting. 
 Learning, which has fo considerably incrcafed 
 among the ladies of G RMANY, certainly owes its' 
 origin to rural life ; for among thofe who pafs 
 their time in rural retirement, and improve their 
 minds by reading, we find in general much more 
 true wit and fentiment than among the beaux 
 tferits of the metropolis. 
 
 How would thofe who occafionally refide in 
 the country abridge the time of their refidence 
 in town, if they weighed and felt the advantages 
 of a rural fituation! The frivolous enjoyments 
 of the metropolis would then vex and difguft 
 their minds ; they would foon be difcontented 
 to fee men employ time with fo little improve- 
 ment to themielves; running inceffantly after 
 every thing that is ftrange, devoting their whole 
 lives to drefs, to gaming, and to vifits, without 
 ever refigning themielves to thofe fublime re- 
 flections which elevate and ennoble the heart. 
 PofTeffed of goodnefs, liberality, and Simplicity, a 
 country life, after having lived in town, affords 
 fo many opportunities of being happy, that it is
 
 CN THE MIND AND THE HEART. 34! 
 i*npoflible to be languid or difcontented, pro- 
 vided we are neither negligent, idle, Tick, nor 
 in love. 
 
 How fweet, how confoling it is, in the tran- 
 quillity of retirement, to call to remembrance 
 our abfent friends ! Ah, this remembrance 
 alone makes us tafte again in Solitude all the 
 pleafures we have enjoyed in their fociety. 
 " You are far removed, but I am notwithftand- 
 " ing always near to you. There is the place 
 " where you ufed to fit. I have the identical 
 <{ chair ilill by me. You gave me that pi&ure; 
 6; that charming, tranquil landfcape. With what 
 f foft effufion, with what a natural overflow of 
 <{ feeling and fentiment we enjoyed the view of 
 ct that engraving, reprefenting lively images of 
 " a happy tranquillity ! Is it poffible to be un- 
 " happy when we never live with higher joy, 
 " with more refined delight than when we are 
 " only one day's journey from each other!" 
 By the aid of thefe light artifices of imagination, 
 thefe flattering illufions, which Solitude fuggefts, 
 two men may live in continual intercourfe with 
 each other, even when feparated by oceans; 
 when they no longer liften to the vaice or dif- 
 ttnguifh the approaching fteps of the objeft they 
 refpe&ively love. 
 
 Z 3 FRIENDS-
 
 342 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 FRIENDS whom deftiny has feparated from 
 each other, do not any-wherc feel their fenti- 
 ments fo noble and refined as in thofe places 
 where nothing interrupts this ibft intercourfe, 
 and \vhere the pleafures of the world cannot 
 interpofe between their fympathifing hearts. 
 Mutual ill-humour, thofe mortifications -which 
 a commerce with the world daily inflifts. and a 
 number of little accidents, may fometimcs leffen 
 the delight which the company of the deareft 
 friend would otherwife afford. In thefe fubacid 
 moments the mind, influenced by the feelings 
 of the heart, never recurs to thofe foft inter- 
 courfes which once prevailed. The friend who 
 until this moment engaged my love, now repels 
 it by ill-humour : but how many agreeable fen- 
 timents, how many delightful pleafures would 
 be loft, were I to forget the paft in the prefent, 
 and to return his peevifhnefs with ill-humour ! 
 Vexations will occafionally render the mildefl 
 temper petulant, and obfcure for a moment the 
 brightnefs in which my friend is accu domed to 
 appear before me, whofe prefence always raifed 
 fuch delightful fenfatious in my heart, diffufed 
 felicity and pleafure over my life, charmed 
 eveiy vexation from my bread, banifhed my ill- 
 humour, and who, until the prefent moment, has 
 ever concealed his ill-humour from my view. 
 This condud is thought by fome to be the pri- 
 vilege
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 343 
 
 Vilege of intimacy. But friends ought not to 
 wreak their difcontents on each other; friends 
 who have heretofore fhared together in all the 
 misfortunes of life, who have mutually fuffcrcd 
 for and endeavoured to relieve the feelings of 
 each other's bread. Friendfhip demands fin- 
 Cerity : but fhe alfo, in common benevolence, 
 demands a mutual indulgence and accommo- 
 dation ; and requires that mildnefs mould be 
 oppofed to anger, and patience to ill-humour. 
 This, however, can never happen where, crofled 
 by the embarraflments of life, each indulges the 
 peevifli afperities of his temper; and, forgetting 
 every attention and civility himfelf, complains 
 that they are not obferved to him. How 
 quickly do all thefe inconveniences difappear 
 in Solitude ! Solitude fanftifies the memory 
 of thofe we love, and cancels all recolleftion 
 but that which contributes to the enjoyments 
 of friendfhip! Conftancy, fecurity, confidence, 
 there appear again in all their brightnefs, 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 preferve, as facred to 
 our friendfhip, all the flowers that he ftrews over 
 Z 4 the
 
 344 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 the thorny path of my life; and all thofe which I 
 
 perceive I gather for him. 
 
 SOLITUDE not only refines the enjoyments 
 of frienclfhip, but places us in a fituation to 
 gain friends whom neither time nor accident 
 can take away, from whom nothing can alien- 
 ate our fouls, and to whofe arms we never fly 
 in vain. 
 
 The friends of PETRARCH fometimes wrote 
 apologies to him for their abfence. " It is 
 " impoflible to live with you," fay they; " the 
 " life which you lead at Vaucluje is repugnant 
 " to human nature. In winter you fit, like 
 " an owl, with your face over the fire; in the 
 " fummer you are inceffantly running about the 
 * c fields : feldom do we find you feated under 
 " the made of a tree." PETRARCH fmiled at 
 thefe reprefentations : Thefe people," faid he, 
 u confider the pleafures of the world as their 
 " fupreme good, and not to be renounced. -But 
 *' I have friends of a different defcription, whofe 
 " fociety is extremely agreeable to me. They 
 " arc of all countries, and of all ages; they are 
 " diflinguifhed in war, in politics, and in the 
 " fciences. It is very eafy to fee them; they 
 " arc always at my fervice : I call for their 
 
 " company^
 
 Oft THE MIND AND THE HEART. J4^ 
 
 tt company, and fend them away whenever I 
 "pleafe; they are never troublefome, and im- 
 96 mediately anfwer all my queftions. Some 
 44 relate to me the events of ages paft: others 
 " reveal the fecrets of nature : thefe teach me 
 44 how to live with happinefs; and thofe how to 
 K die in quiet: thefe drive away every care by 
 ' the enjoyment they afford me, and increafe 
 " my gaiety by the livelinefs of their wit; while 
 " others harden my heart againft fufferings, teach 
 65 me to reftrain my defires, and enable me 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 fafely 
 * 6 rely. In return for thefe great fervices, they 
 ic only require of me a chamber in one corner 
 " of my final! manfion, where they may repofe 
 " in peace. In mort, I carry them with me 
 " into the fields, with the tranquillity of which 
 " they are much better plcafcd than the tumults 
 " of the town." 
 
 LOVE ! the moft precious gift of Heaven, that 
 happy fenfibility from which arifes every emo- 
 tion of the heart, appears to merit a diflinguiflied 
 rank among the advantages of Solitude, provided 
 we manage this powerful paflion fo as to render 
 it auxiliary to happinefs. 
 
 LOVE
 
 346 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 LOVE aflbciates itfelf willingly with the afpeft 
 of beautiful nature. The view of a pleafmg 
 profpeft infpires the heart with the tendereft 
 emotions. The lonely mountain, the filent 
 grove, and the ftillnefs of a fine evening, increafe 
 the fufceptibility of the female bofom, infpire 
 the mind with rapturous enthufiafm, and, like all 
 warm and violent emotions, fooner or later draw 
 afide and fubjugate the heart. 
 
 WOMEN moft certainly feel the pure and 
 tranquil pleafures of rural life with more ex- 
 quifite fenfibility than men. They enjoy in a 
 much higher degree the beauties of a lonely 
 walk, the frefhnefs of a fhady foreft, and ad- 
 mire with higher extacy the charms and gran, 
 deur of nature. Minds apparently infenfible in 
 the atmofphere of a metropolis open themfelves 
 with rapture in the country. This is the reafon 
 why the return of fpring fills every tender breaft 
 with LOVE. " What can more refemble LOVE," 
 faid a celebrated German philofopher, " than 
 ** the feeling with which my foul is infpired at the 
 u fight of this magnificent valley thus illumined 
 " by the fetting fun 1 " 
 
 ROUSSEAU felt an inexprefllble pleafure on 
 viewing the early bloffoms of the fpri'ng : the 
 arrival of that gay feafon gave new life to his 
 
 jnind;
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 347 
 
 mind; increafed the tender inclinations of his 
 foul; and affimilated the charms of his miftrefs 
 with the beauties that furrounded him. The 
 forrows of his heart were lightened by the view 
 of an extenfivc and pleafing profpecl:; and he 
 fighed with pleafure among the flowers of a gar- 
 den, or the fruits of the orchard. 
 
 LOVERS feek retirement to indulge in unin- 
 terrupted quietude the contemplation of that 
 objecl for whom alone they live. Of what 
 importance to them are all the tranfa&ions of 
 cities, or any thing indeed that does not tend to 
 indulge their paflion? Obfcure chambers, black 
 forefts of firs, or lonely lakes, are the only con- 
 fidants of their fouls. Forefts filled with gloomy 
 fhades, and echoing to the tremendous eagle's 
 cry, are the fame to their minds as the livelieft 
 champaign country. A lovely fhepherdefs of- 
 fering her foitering bofom to the infant fhe 
 is nurfing, while at her fide her well-beloved 
 partner fits, dividing with her his morfel of 
 hard black bread, is a hundred times more 
 happy than all the fops of the town. Love 
 infpires the mind in the higheft degree with 
 all that is elevated, pleafant, and affeQing in 
 nature, and warms the coldeft bofoms with fen- 
 fibility and rapture, 
 
 LOVE'S
 
 348 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 LOVE'S fofteft images fpring up anew in So- 
 litude. The remembrance of thofe emotions 
 which the firft blufh of confcious tendernefs, 
 the firft gentle preflure of the hand, the firft 
 dread of interruption, create, are there indeli- 
 ble ! Time, it is faid, extinguishes the flame of 
 LOVE ; but Solitude renews the fire, and calls 
 forth thofe agents which lie long concealed, 
 And only wait a proper moment to difplay their 
 power. The whole courfe of youthful feeling 
 again beams forth; and the mind, delicious 
 recollection! fondly retracing the firft affeftion 
 of the heart, fills the bofom with an indelible 
 fenfe of thofe high extacies, which a connoifleur 
 has faid, with as much truth as energy, proclaim 
 for the firft time that happy difcovery, that 
 fortunate moment, when two lovers firft perceive 
 
 their mutual fondnefs*. 
 
 
 
 A MIND fond of reflecting in retirement ori 
 the paflion of love, and which has experienced 
 its pleafures, feels again in thefe ever-recurring 
 
 * No perfon has defcribed the recolleftion of that precious mo- 
 ment with fo much harmony, fweetnefs, tendernefs, and fentiment, 
 as ROUSSEAU. " Precious moments, fo much regretted! Oh, 
 " begin again your delightful courfe ; flow on with longer duration 
 " in my remembrance, if it be poffible, than you did in reality in 
 " your fugitive fucceflion. " 
 
 thoughts
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 340 
 
 thoughts the moft delicious enjoyments. HER- 
 DER fays, he does not know who the people in 
 Afia were, whofe mythology thus divided the 
 epochs of the moft remote antiquity: That 
 ** men, once more become celeftial fpirits, were 
 t immediately beloved during a thoufand years, 
 C4 firft by Iooks 3 then by a kifs, afterwards by 
 " alliance." 
 
 WIELAND, during the warmcft moments of 
 his youth, fublimely enjoyed this noble paflion 
 for a lady of Zurich, handfome, amiable, and 
 fenfible: for that great genius well knew that 
 love, myfterious love ! begins in the firft figh, 
 and expires, in a certain degree, with the firft 
 kifs. I one day afked this young lady, when 
 WIELAND had kifled her for the firlt time? 
 " WIELAND," replied the lovely girl, " kiffed 
 * e my hand, for the firft time, four years after 
 "our acquaintance commenced." 
 
 YOUNG perfons, in general, however, do not, 
 like WIELAND, adopt the myftic refinements 
 of LOVE. Liftening to thofe fentiments which 
 the paflions infpire, lefs familiar with their ab- 
 ftraftions, and their minds unoccupied by other 
 ideas, they feel at an earlier age, in the tranquil- 
 lity of Solitude, that irrefiftible impulfe to the 
 6 union
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 union of the fexes, which nature has implanted 
 in the breaft. 
 
 A LADY who lived upon the banks of the 
 Lake of Geneva, folitary and feparated from all 
 connexion with the world, had three daughters, 
 Irunes piquantes, as beautiful in their perions as 
 they were amiable in their manners. When the 
 elded was about fourteen years of age, and the 
 youngeft about nine, they were prefented with a 
 tame bird, which hopped and flew about the 
 chamber the whole day, and formed the fole 
 amufemcnt and pleafure of their lives. Placing 
 themfelves on their knees, they offered with un- 
 wearied delight their lovely little favourite a 
 piece of bifcuit from their fingers, in order to 
 lure him to their bofomsj but the bird, the mo- 
 ment he had gotten the bifcuit, with cunning coy- 
 nefs difappointed their expectations, and hopped 
 away. The bird, however, foon died. A year 
 after this event the youngeft of the three fitters 
 faid to her mother, " Oh the dear little bird, 
 <r mamma ! if we could but procure fuch an- 
 " other!" " No," replied her eldeft lifter, " what 
 u I mould like better than any-thing elfe in the 
 ** world is a little dog. I could catch a little dog, 
 ' take him upon my knee, and hug him in my 
 *' arms ; but a bird is good for nothing; he 
 
 " perches
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 35 I 
 
 " perches a little while on your finger, flies, away, 
 14 and there is no catching him again. But a 
 ft little dog, Oh how charming!" 
 
 m 
 
 I SHALL never forget the poor religleufe in 
 vrhofe apartment I found a breeding-cage of 
 canary-buds; or forgive myfclf for having burfl 
 into a fit of laughter at the fight of this aviary. 
 Alas! it was the fuggeftion of nature; and who 
 can refift what nature fuggefts ? This myftic 
 wandering of religious minds, this celeftial epi- 
 lepfy of LOVE, this premature fruit of Solitude, 
 is only the fond application of one natural in- 
 clination raifed fuperior to all the others. 
 
 ABSENCE and tranquillity appear fo favour- 
 able to the paflion of love, that lovers frequently 
 chufe to quit the beloved objecl, and to reflect 
 in Solitude on her charms. Who does not recol- 
 Ie6l to have read in the Confeflions of ROUSSEAU 
 the ftory related by MADAME DE LL-XEMBERG, 
 of the man who quitted the company of his 
 miilrefs only that he might have the pleafure 
 of writing to her ! ROUSSEAU told MADAMS 
 Li'XEMBERG, that he wifhed he had been that 
 man; and he was right : for who has ever loved, 
 and does not know, that there are times when 
 the pen exprefies the feelings of the heart infi- 
 nitely better than the voice with its miferable 
 
 organ
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 prgaa of fpeech ? The tongue has no eloquence-, 
 jt expreifes nothing ; but when lovers in filcnt 
 extacy gaze on each otherj where is greater 
 eloquence to be found? 
 
 LOVERS not only feel with higher extacy, but 
 cxprefs their fentiments with greater happinefs, 
 in Solitude, than in any other fituation. What 
 famionable lover has ever painted his parTion 
 for an imperious miftrefs with the fame felicity, 
 as the chorifter of a village in Hanover for a 
 young and beautiful country girl ? On her death, 
 the chorifter raifed, in the cemetery of the cathe- 
 dral, a fepulchral ilone to her memory j and carv- 
 ing, in an artlefs manner, the figure of a ROSE 
 on its front, infcribed thefe words underneath: 
 " Ceft amfi quelle fut." 
 
 UNDER the rocks of VAUCLUSE, or in retire- 
 ments ftill more folitary, PETRARCH compofed 
 his fineft fonnets; deploring the abfence, or 
 complaining of the cruelty of his beloved LAU- 
 RA. Upon the fubjecl of LOVE he is, in the 
 opinion of the Italians, fuperior to every other 
 poet in the world, before or fince his time, whe- 
 ther in the Greek, Latin, or Tufcan languages. 
 <c Ah ! that pure and tender language of the 
 " heart ! " fay they ; " nobody poflefled any 
 " knowledge of it but PETRARCH, who added to 
 
 " the
 
 ON THE MIND AMD THE HEART. 353 
 tf the three Graces a fourth the Grace of Di- 
 
 " LICACY." 
 
 LOVE, however, in the ardency of a youthful 
 imagination, and affifted by the infpiration of a 
 lonely and romantic place, frequently aflumes 
 a more outre and extravagant character; and 
 when blended with religious enthufiafm, and 
 a melancholy difpofition, makes a whimfical com- 
 pound of the feelings of the heart. A lover 
 of this defcription, when he is inclined to be fe- 
 rious, takes from the text of the Apocalypfe his 
 firft declaration of love; and exclaims, that it 
 is but an eternal melancholy; but when he is incli- 
 ned to fharpen the dart within his breaft, his 
 infpired mind views the beloved objet as the 
 faired model of divine perfection. 
 
 Two lovers, of this divine angelic caft, placed 
 in fome ancient, folitary, romantic caftle, foar 
 far beyond the common tr^be; and their paflion 
 grows fublime in proportion to the refinement of 
 their ideas. The beloved youth, furrounded by 
 ftupendous rocks, and imprefled by the awful 
 ftillnefs of the fcene, pofiefles not only the moral 
 qualities of humanity in their higheft degree, but 
 raifes his mind to the celeftial attributes of Go D*. 
 
 The 
 
 * " When the paflion of LOVE is at its height," fays 
 ROUSSEAU, " it arrays the beloved objeft in every poflible 
 
 A a " F cr -
 
 354 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 The infpired mind of the fond female fancies her 
 bofom to be the fanftuary of love, and conceives 
 heraffeftion 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, write by 
 every poft, feize all occafions to converfe with 
 or to hear from each other, but our more fub- 
 lime and exalted female introduces into the ro- 
 mance of paffion every butterfly fhe meets with, 
 and all the feathered fongflers of the groves; and 
 except in the obje6l of her love, no longer fees 
 any thing as it really is. Reafon and fenfe no 
 longer guide; the refinement of love directs all 
 her movements ; fhe tears the world from its 
 poles, and the fun from its axis ; eftablifhes a 
 new gofpel ; adopts a new fyftem of morality for 
 herfelfand her lover; and is convinced that every 
 thing fhe does is right. 
 
 THESE effects of LOVE cannot be avoided by 
 any of the advantages of Solitude. 
 
 LOVE even of the moft tranquil kind, thai 
 fpecies which lies filent in the bread, which docs 
 
 " perfe&ion; makes it an idol, places it in heaven ; and as the 
 (f enthufiafm of devotion borrows the language of love, the 
 *' enthuliafm of love alfo borrows the language of devotion. 
 <( The lover beholds nothing but paradife> angels, the virtues of 
 ** faints and the felicities of heaven." 
 
 not
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 not raife chimeras in the mind, which docs not 
 refign itfelf to the delirium of an ardent imagina- 
 tion, and which is not carried into thefe excefles, 
 in time confumes the lover, and renders him 
 miferable. 
 
 THE lover's mind occupied by the idea of one, 
 object, whom he adores beyond all others, all the 
 faculties of the foul become abforbed, and when 
 he finds himfelf feparated for ever from the lovely 
 objeft, who has made even the higheft facrifice 
 to him in her power; who adminiftered confola- 
 tion under all his afflictions, afforded happinefs 
 under the greateft calamities, and fupported him 
 when all the powers of his foul were (led ; who 
 continued a fincere friend when every other 
 friend had left him, when oppreffed by domeftic 
 forrowsj when rendered incapable of either 
 thought or aftion j he abandons a world which 
 for him no longer pofiefies any charms, and to 
 languifh in a flothfuf Solitude becomes his only 
 
 o 
 
 pleafure. The night is pafied in fleeptefs ago- 
 nies; while a difguft of life, a defire of death, an 
 abhorrence of all fociety, and a love of the moft 
 frightful deferts, drive him day after day, wan* 
 dering, as chance may -direft, through the moft 
 folitary retirements, far from the hateful trace* 
 of mankind. Were he, however, to wander 
 from the ELB* to the lake of GENEVA; to feek 
 A a
 
 3.56 THE INFLUENCE OF .SOLITUDE 
 
 relief from the north to the weft, even to the 
 mores of the fea : he would ftill be like the bind 
 defcribedin VIRGIL, 
 
 " Stung with the ftroke, and madding with the pain, 
 " She wildly flies from wood to wood in vain ; 
 " Shoots o'er .the Cretan lawr.s with many a bound, 
 " The cleaving dart ftill rankling in the wourd !" 
 
 VIRGIL, Book IV, line no. 
 
 PETRARCH experienced the accumulated tor- 
 ments of love in his new refidence at VAUCLUSE. 
 Scarcely had he arrived there, when the image 
 of LAURA inceffantly haunted his mind. He 
 beheld her at all times, in every place, under a 
 thoufand different forms. " Three times," fays 
 he, " in the dead of night, when every door 
 K was clofed, me appeared to me at the feet of 
 " my bed with a certain look which announced 
 " the power of her charms. Fear fpread a chil- 
 u ling dew over all my limbs. My blood thril- 
 66 led through my veins towards my heart. If 
 6i any one had then entered my room with a can- 
 " die, they would have beheld me as pale as 
 6i death, with every mark of terror on my face. 
 t; Before day-break I rofe trembling from my 
 ct bed, and hafiily leaving my houfe, where 
 Ci every thing excited alarm, 1 climbed to the 
 < ; fummit of the rocks, ran through the woods, 
 l ' cafting my eyes continually around to fee if the 
 
 " form
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 357 
 tfi form that had difturbed my repofc ftillpurfued 
 56 me. I could find no afylum : in the moll fe- 
 " quedered places, where I flattered myfelf that 
 " I fhould be alone, I frequently faw her ifluing 
 " from the trunk of a tree, from the head of a 
 6t clear fpring, from the cavity of a rock. Fear 
 66 rendered me infehfible, and I neither knew 
 " what I did nor where I went." 
 
 To an imagination fubjeft to fuch violent con- 
 Tulfions, Solitude affords no remedy. OVID, 
 therefore, has very juftly faid, 
 
 " But Solitude muft never be allow 'd ; 
 
 " A lover's ne'er fo fafe as in a crowd ; 
 
 " For private places private griefs increafe ; 
 
 " What haunts you there in company will ceafe; 
 
 ft If to the gloomy defert you repair, 
 
 " Your miftrefs' angry form will meet you there." 
 
 OVID'S Remedy nf Love. 
 
 PETRARCH learned, from the firft emotions of 
 his paflion, how ufelefs are all attempts to flee 
 from LOVE ; and he fought the rocks and forefts 
 in vain. There is no place 9 however favage and 
 forlorn, where LOVE will not force its way. 
 The pure and limpid ftrcam of VAUC-LUSE, the 
 fhady woods adorning the little valley in which 
 the ft ream arofe, appeared to him the only 
 places to abate the fiercenefs of thofe fires which 
 confumed his heart. The moft frightful deferts, 
 Aa the
 
 358 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 the deepeft forefts, mountains almoft inacceflible, 
 were to him the moft agreeable abodes. But 
 Lov- purfued his fteps wherever he went, and 
 left him no place of refuge. His whole foul flew 
 back to AVIGNON. 
 
 SOLITUDE alfo affords no remedy for LOVE 
 when it is injurious to VIRTUE. To an honeft 
 mind the prefence of the beloved objcft is never 
 dangerous, although the paffion may have taken 
 a criminal turn in the heart. On the contrary, 
 while abfence and Solitude foment all the fecret 
 movements of the fenfes and the imagination, the 
 fight of the beloved obje&deilroys, in a virtuous 
 breaft, every forbidden defire; for in abfence 
 the lover thinks himfelf fecure, and confequently 
 indulges his imagination without restraint. Soli- 
 tude, more than any other fituation, recals to 
 the mind every voluptuous idea, every thing that 
 animates defire and inflames the heart : no dan- 
 ger being apprehended, the lover walks boldly 
 on in the flattering paths of an agreeable illufion, 
 until the paffion acquires a dangerous empire in, 
 his breaft. 
 
 THE heart of PETP ARCH was frequently ftimu- 
 lated by ideas of voluptuous pleafure, even 
 among the rocks of VAUCLUSE, where he fought 
 
 an
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 359 
 an afylum from LOVE and LAURA*. Buthefoon 
 banifhed fenfuality from his mind : the paflion of 
 his foul then became refined, and acquired that 
 vivacity and heavenly purity, which breathe 
 in every line of thofe immortal lyrics he com- 
 pofed upon the rocks. The city of AVIGNON, 
 where his LAURA refided, was, however, too 
 
 * We read In a variety of books now no longer known, that 
 PETRARCH lived at VAUCLUSE with LAURA, and that he had 
 formed a fubterraneous paflage from her houfe to his own. 
 PETRARCH was not fo happy. LAURA was married, and 
 lived with her hufband HUGUES DE SADES, at AVIGNON, the 
 place of her nativity, and where flie died. She was the mother 
 of eleven children, which had fo debilitated her conftitution, 
 that at five-and- thirty years of age no traces of her former 
 beauty remained. She experienced, alfo, many domeftic forrows. 
 Her hufband was ignorant of the ralue of her virtue*, and the 
 propriety of her conduct. He was jealous without caufe, and 
 even without LOVE, which to a woman was ftill more mortify, 
 ing. PETRARCH, on the contrary, loved LAURA during the 
 courfe of twenty years ; but he was never fuffered to vifit her 
 at her own houfe ; for her hufband feldom, if ever, left her 
 alone. He therefore had no opportunity of beholding his charm- 
 ing, his amiable LAURA, except at church, at affcmblies, or in 
 the public walks, and then never alone. Her hufband fre- 
 quently forbad her to walk even with her deareft friends, and 
 his mind was rendered furious whenever (he indulged in the 
 flighteft pleafure. LAWRA was born in the year 1307 or 1308, 
 and was two or three years younger than PETRARCH. She died 
 of the plague in the 1348. Seven years after her death her 
 hufband married again. PETRARCH furvived her till about the 
 Commencement of the year 1374. 
 
 A a 4 near
 
 360 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 near to him, and he vifited it too frequently, 
 A love like his never leaves the heart one mo- 
 ment of tranquillity; it is a fever of the foul, 
 which afflifts the body with a complication of the 
 mod painful diforders. Let a lover therefore, 
 while his mind is yet able to controul the emo- 
 tions of his heart, feat himfelf on the banks of a 
 rivulet, and think that his paffion, like the flream 
 which now precipitates itfelf with noife down the 
 rocks, may, in peaceful fhades and folitary 
 bowers, flow acrofs the meadows and the plains 
 in filence and tranquillity. 
 
 LOVE unites itfelf to tranquillity, when the 
 mind fubmits with humility to all the difpenfa- 
 tions of Heaven. If, when death bereaves a lover 
 of the objeft of his affection, he be unable to 
 live, except in thofe places where me was u fed 
 to dwell, and all the world befide looks defert 
 and forlorn, death alone can flop the torrent of 
 his tears. But it is not by yielding himfelf to the 
 prefiure of his affliction, that he can be faid to 
 devote himfelf to GOD. The lover, when op- 
 preffed by forrow, conftantly attaches himfelf 
 to the objeft 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 3 produced in mental 
 
 vifion
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 361 
 
 vifion by his heated imagination. lie gathers 
 rofes from the tomb of her on whom all the hap- 
 pinefs of his life depended ; he waters them with 
 his tears, cultivates them with the tendered care, 
 places them in his bofom, kifles them with rap- 
 ture, and enjoys their foothing fragrance with 
 melancholy tranfport; but thefe pleafures alfo 
 vanifh; the rofes droop their heads, and die. It 
 is not until the lover has long wreftled with the 
 rigours of fate, until the arms have long been 
 in vain extended to embrace the beloved object, 
 until the eye has long fixed its view upon the 
 cherifhed fliade, until all hope of a re-union is 
 gone, that the mind begins gradually to feel its 
 returning powers, affumes an heroic courage 
 againft its misfortune, and, by endeavouring to 
 conquer the weaknefs of the heart, feels the re- 
 turn of its former tranquillity. Thefe cures, 
 however, can only be effected in vigorous minds, 
 which alone crown whatever they undertake with 
 fuccefs : vigorous minds alone find in Solitude 
 that peace, which the whole univerfe, with all its 
 pleafures and diffipations, cannot procure. 
 
 THE viclory which the virtuous PETRARCH 
 acquired, over the' paflion which affailed his 
 heart, muft afford pleafure to every mind. When 
 he fought refuge in Italy from LOVE and LAURA, 
 his friends in France ufed every endeavour to in- 
 duce.
 
 362 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 duce him to return. One of them wrote to him: 
 4 What daemon poffefies you ? How could you 
 *' quit, a country, where you enjoyed all the de- 
 u lights of youth, and where that graceful perfon, 
 * fc which you formerly adorned with fo much care, 
 procured you fo many pleafures ? How can 
 " you live thus exiled from LAURA, whom you 
 ** love with fo much tendernefs, and whofe heart 
 44 is fo deeply afflicted by your abfence?" 
 
 PETRARCH replied: '< Your anxiety is vain; 
 " 1 am refolved to continue where I am. I am 
 " here at anchor; and neither the impetuofity of 
 " the RHONE, nor the powers of eloquence, 
 ' (hall ever drive me from it. To perfuade me 
 " to change this refolution, you place before my 
 * c eyes the deviations of my youth, which I 
 sc ought to forget; a paflion which left me no 
 *' other refource than a precipitate flight, and 
 " the contemptible merit of a handfome perfon, 
 " which too long occupied my attention. The 
 <s period is arrived when 1 muft no longer think 
 " of thofe follies; J have left them behind me; 
 cc and I rapidly approach to the end of my ca- 
 " reer. My mind is now occupied by more 
 (t ferious and important objects. God forbid, 
 *' that, liftening to your flattering counfel, I 
 * ; mould again throw myfelf into the fnares of 
 <; LOVK; again put on a yoke I have already fo 
 3 feverely
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 363 
 * feverely felt! It was confident with the age 
 " of youth, but I mould now blufh to be a fub- 
 " jeft f converfation to the world, and to fee 
 " myfelf pointed at as I walk along. I conGder 
 " all your folicitations, and, indeed, all you tell 
 C me, as a fevere cenfure upon my conduct. 
 " My love of Solitude takes root in this place*; 
 ts I fly from town, and {troll at random about 
 * the fields, without care, without inquietude, 
 u In fummer I ftretch myfelf beneath the fhade 
 " upon the verdant turf, or faunter on the bor- 
 * f dersof a purling dream, and defy the heats of 
 ft Italy On the approach of autumn I feek the 
 " woods, and join THE MUSES train. This 
 V mode of life appears to me preferable to a life 
 
 * LORD BOLINGBROKE, after having experienced all the 
 pleafures and pains of ambition, retired, on his return from 
 exile, into rural Solitude at lord Tanker ville's feat at Dawley* 
 In communicating the extreme happinefs he felt in the purfuit of 
 moral tranquillity, he thus exprefles himfelf in the exultation 
 of his heart :. " I am in my own farm, and here I (hoot flrong 
 '< and tenacious roots ; I have caught hold of the earth, to ufo 
 " a gardener's phrafe, and neither my enemies nor my friends 
 " will find it an eafy matter to tranfplant me again." But his 
 lordihip, like PETRARCH, miftook his paffion for Solitude, 
 and fuppofed that to be the fruit of philofophy, which was only 
 the effea of fpleen. He foon quitted this delightful abode, and. 
 once more eritered into the buftk of public bufmefs ; but he had 
 occafion to lament this conduct : He again retired, at the age of 
 fixty, to France, far from the noife and hurry of party ; for he 
 found that his feat at Dawley was too near the theatre of his 
 ambition, to permit him to devote the reft of his life to ftudy 
 and retirement. TRANSLATOR,
 
 364 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 " at court; a life occupied only by ambition and 
 " envy. I walk with pleafure on the plains of 
 " Italy ; I feel the climate to be fcrene and pure. 
 " When death terminates my labours, I only afk 
 " the confutation of repofing my head upon the 
 bofom of a friend, whofe eyes, while he clofes 
 " mine, will deplore my lofs, and whofe kind 
 ** care will convey me to a tomb in the bofom of 
 " my country." 
 
 THESE were the fentiments, the philofophic 
 fentiments of PETRARCH; but he returned foon 
 afterward to AVIGNON. 
 
 PETRARCH himfelf acknowledges, with a 
 franknefs natural to his character, that his un- 
 fettled foul wavered between LOVE and REA- 
 SON. He wrote from VAUCLUSE to his friend 
 PASTRENGO, " Perceiving that there is no other 
 " way to effeft my cure than to abandon AVIG- 
 " NON, I have determined to leave it, notwith- 
 " {landing all the efforts of my friends to detain 
 " me. Alas ! their friendfhip only tends to 
 " render me unhappy ! I fought this Solitude as 
 " an afylum againft the tempefts of life, and to 
 " live a little while retired and alone before I 
 " .die. I already perceive that I am near my 
 " end; but I feel with infinite pleafure that my 
 w mind is free; and I here enjoy the life- of 
 6 " the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 36^ 
 
 the blefled in Heaven. Obferve, however, the 
 n prevalence of habit, and the force of paflion ; 
 * for without having any bufmefs, I frequently 
 " return to that hateful city. I run voluntarily 
 " into the fame fnares by which I was firft caught. 
 " An adverfe wind drives me from the port 
 " which I have entered, upon that troubled ocean 
 " where I have fo frequently been fhipwrecked. 
 " I am no fooner there than I feel myfelf tofled 
 " by the tempeft; the heavens feem on fire, the 
 " fea rages, and dangers attack me on every fide. 
 " I perceive the period of my days : but alas! 
 " though I turn from life with averfion, yet, 
 " worfe than death, I dread that which is to 
 come." 
 
 PASTRENGO replied like a friend who knew 
 not only what PETRARCH pra&ifed, but the kind 
 of fentiments which would make him feel that 
 which he was delighted to perform : " It is with 
 6< pleafure I learn," fays he, " that you have 
 " burft open the doors of your prifon, fhakcn-ofF 
 " your chains, and fet yourfelf free; that after a 
 " violent tempeft 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 diftance 
 " difcover every-thing you do, day after day, 
 " in your retreat at VAUCLUSE. At the earlieft 
 " dawn of day, awakened by the warblers of 
 
 " vour
 
 366 THE INFLUENCE Of SOLITUDE 
 
 " your groves, and the murmurs of your fpring$ 
 " you climb the hills yet covered with the 
 " dew, and thence view the fertile plains and 
 " cultivated vallies fmiling at 'your feet, dif- 
 " covering now and then the diftant fea bearing 
 the freighted vefiels to their ports. The ta- 
 ** blets are ready in your hand, to note down 
 tc the thoughts which fill your mind. When the 
 " fun rifes above the horizon, you feek your 
 " humble cot, partake of a frugal repaft, and 
 V enjoy undifturbed repofe. To avoid the me- 
 * ridian heat of the day, you retire into the 
 vales, where your delightful fpring, precipi- 
 " tating 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; 
 44 and where, even in the hotteft day of fum- 
 " mer, there breathes fo frefh an air. Within 
 " the made of that grotto, the arched and lofty 
 16 roof of which hangs o'er the moving cryftal of 
 ** the ftream, I perceive you enjoying with ra- 
 " vifhed eyes the enchanting view which lies 
 ' before you: your imagination warms, your 
 44 foul takes its intellectual flight, and then you 
 " produce your choiceft works. Thus retired, 
 '" the vanities of this world appear like a light 
 46 and tranfient fhadow, and you quietly furren- 
 
 " der
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 367 
 
 c{ der them to a more ufeful employment of your 
 < time. When you quit the grotto your tablets 
 " are full. Do not, however, flatter yourfelf 
 " that you alone enjoy thefe treafures of your 
 " foul ; for mine, which never quits you, par- 
 ticipates with you in all your delights." 
 
 THE felicity which, in the midft of fo many 
 dangers, PETRARCH thus tailed at VAUCLUSE, 
 the impatience of his paflion would have dc- 
 ftroyed; but Solitude, judicioufly emploved, 
 diffipates all the pangs with which LOVE afflicts 
 the heart, and affords full compenfation for the 
 pleafures it takes away. Solitude, however, 
 does not deprive the bofom of the unhappy lover 
 of its ufual comforts; he reviews his paft plea- 
 fures without danger, and laments their tranfitory 
 nature without regret; he ceafes in time to weep 
 and fuffer; and when death arrives, exclaims with 
 a tranquil figh, " Oh lovely object of my foul I 
 < 6 if you mould learn my fate, a love like mine 
 " may well deferve the tribute of a tear, and call 
 " one gentle figh from your relenting heart. 
 " Forget my faults, and while my virtues live, 
 ** let my follies die, within your bofom!" 
 
 IT was thus, in flruggling againft the preva- 
 lence of his paffion, that PETRARCH rofe to that 
 fublimity, and acquired that richnefs of imagi- 
 nation,
 
 368 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 nation, which diftinguifhed his character, and 
 gave him an afcendancy over the age in which 
 he lived greater than any individual has fince, 
 in any country, been able to obtain. His mind 
 palled with the happicft facility from grave to 
 gay; and he was enabled, when the occafion 
 required, to adopt the boldefl refolutions, and 
 perform the mod courageous aftions. He who, 
 at the feet of his miftrefs, wept, fighed, and fob- 
 bed like a child ; who only wrote foft and ten- 
 der verfes in her praife ; no fooner turned his 
 eyes towards ROME, than his mind affumed a 
 bolder tone, and he wrote with all the ftrengtb 
 and fpirit of the Auguflan age. Monarchs*, in 
 reading his lyric poetry, have forgotten the calls 
 of hunger and the charms of deep ; but he was 
 then no longer the fighing Mufe of Love, chaunt- 
 ing only amorous verfes to the relentlefs fair : 
 he no longer effeminately kiiTed the enflaving 
 chains of an imperious female, who treated him 
 with averfion and contempt; but with republi- 
 can intrepidity he regenerated, by his writings, 
 the fpirit of liberty throughout Italy, and founded 
 a loud alarm to tyranny and tyrants. Great as a 
 ftatefman, profound and judicious as a miniftcr, 
 
 * ROBERT king of Naples frequently relinquifhed the moft 
 ferious affairs to read the works of PETRARCH, without think- 
 ing either of his meals or his bed. 
 
 he
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 369 
 he was confulted upon every important tranf- 
 action of Europe* and frequently engaged in the 
 inoft arduous negotiations. A zealous friend to 
 humanity, he endeavoured upon all occafions to 
 extinguifh the torch of difcord. Princes foli- 
 cited his company, revered his genius, formed 
 their minds from his precepts, and learned from 
 his good fenfe and humanity the noble art of ren- 
 dering their fubjecls happy. 
 
 PETRARCH therefore, notwitftanding" the vio- 
 lence of his paffion, enjoyed all the advantages 
 of Solitude. His vifits.to Vauclufe were not, as 
 is generally conceived, that he might be nearer 
 to LAURA; for LAURA refided altogether at 
 Avignon-, but that he might avoid the frowns of 
 his miftrefs and the corruptions of the court. 
 Seated in his little garden, which was fituate at 
 the foot of a lofty mountain and furrounded by 
 a rapid ftream, his foul rofe fuperior to the ad- 
 verfities of his fate. He was, indeed, by nature, 
 reftleis and unquiet; difpleafed becaufe he was 
 not at fome diitant place, to which k was im- 
 poiTible he could ever go; anxious to attain 
 every thing the inflant he wiflied for it; looking 
 continually for what it was impoffible .to find; 
 troubled, in fhort, by that folicitude which ge- 
 nerally accompanies genius. But in his moments 
 of tranquillity, a found judgment, joined to an 
 B b exquifite
 
 370 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 cxquifite fenfibility, enabled him to enjoy the 
 delights of Solitude fuperior to any mortal that 
 ever exifted either before or fince his time; and 
 in thefe moments, Vauclufe was, to his feelings, 
 the Temple of Peace, the refidence of calm re- 
 pofe, and a fafe harbour againft all the tempefts 
 of the foul. 
 
 SOLITUDE therefore, although it cannot con- 
 quer LOVE, purifies itsmoft ardent flame. Man, 
 alt-hough he cannot extirpate the paffions which 
 the God of Nature has planted in his breaft, may 
 direft them to their proper ends. If, therefore, 
 you feel an inclination to be happier than PE- 
 TRARCH, (hare the pleafures of your retirement 
 with fome amiable character, who, better than 
 the cold precepts of philofophy, will beguile or 
 banifh, by the charms of converfation, all the 
 cares and torments of life. A truly wife man 
 has faid, that the prefcnce of one thinking being 
 like ourfelves, whofe bofom glows with fympathy 
 and love, fo far from deftroying the advantages 
 of Solitude, renders them more favourable. Jf, 
 like me, you owe your happinefs to the fond 
 affeftion of a wife, (he will foon induce you to 
 forget the fociety of men, by a tender and unre- 
 ferved communication of every fentiment of her 
 mind, of every fecret feeling of her heart; and 
 the employments, the bufmefs, the viciflhudcs 
 
 of
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 of life will render, by their variety, the fubjefts 
 of confidential difcourfe and fsveet domeftic con- 
 verfc proportionably diverfified. The orator, 
 who fpeaks upon this fubjetl with fo much truth 
 and energy, muft have felt with exquih'te fenfi- 
 
 bility the pleafures of domeftic happinefs. 
 
 " Here," fays he, " every kind expreflion is 
 <c remembered; the emotions of one heart re-acl 
 " with correfpondent effecls upon the other; 
 " every thought is treafured up; every teftimony 
 " of affe&ion returned; the happy pair enjoy in 
 " each other's company all the pleafures of the 
 M mind, and there is no feeling which does not 
 " communicate itfelf to their hearts. To beings 
 " thus united by the fincereft affection and the 
 c; clofeft friendfhip, every thing that is faid or 
 " done, every wifh, and every event, become 
 " mutually important. Beings thus united, and 
 <e they alone, regard the advantages, which they 
 ct feverally poffefs, with a joy and fatisfaclion 
 tc untinclured by envy. It is only under fuch an 
 <f union that faults are pointed out with cautious 
 " tendeirnefs, and without ill-nature; that looks 
 " befpeak the inclination of the foul ; that the 
 " gratification of every wifh' and defire is anti- 
 " cipated; that every view and intention is afli- 
 t; milated ; that the fentimcnts of the one con- 
 *' form to thofe of the other ; and that each 
 B b 2 " rejoices
 
 372 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 " rejoices with cordiality at the fmalleft advantage 
 " which the other acquires*." 
 
 THUS it is that the Solitude which we fhare 
 with an amiable object procures us tranquillity, 
 fatisfaftion, heartfelt joy ; and makes the hum- 
 bleft cottage a dwelling-place of the pureft plea- 
 fure. LOVE in the retreats of Solitude, while 
 the mind and the heart are in harmony with 
 each other, is capable of preferving the nobleft 
 fentiments in the foul, of raifing the underftand- 
 ingto the higheft degree of elevation, of rilling 
 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 thefe means fubdued, the violence 
 of the paflions moderated, and the bitter cup of 
 affliction fweetened. It is thus that a happy love 
 
 * On reading this defcription of the cffcfts of virtuous love, 
 it is impoffibie not to recolleft thofe beautiful lines in Mr. Pope's 
 Eloifa to Abelard : 
 
 " Oh happy (late! when fouls each other draw, 
 " When Love is Liberty, and Nature Law ; 
 " All then is full, poflfefling and pofleft, 
 f< No craving void left aching in the breaft ; 
 " Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it parf, 
 . (l And each warm wiih fprings mutual from the heart. 
 " This furc is blifs, if blifc on earth there be, 
 " And once the lot of ABELARD and Ms." 
 
 renders
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 37* 
 
 renders Solitude (erene, alleviates all the fuffer- 
 ings of the world, and ftrews the fweeteft flowers 
 along the paths of life. 
 
 SOLITUDE frequently converts the deep an- 
 guifh of diftrefs into a foothing melancholy. 
 Gentlenefs is a balm to the wounded heart. 
 Every malady therefore, both of the body and 
 the mind, feels fenfible effects from the confola- 
 tory expreffions, the kind affability, theintereft- 
 ing anxieties of a virtuous wife. When, alas ! 
 the buffets of the world had broke down my 
 mind; rendered every tiling around me difplea- 
 Cng ; deftroyed all the vigour and energy of my 
 foul ; extinguifhed even the hope of relief; and, 
 concealing the beauties of nature from my eyes, 
 rendered the whole univerfe a lifelefs tomb ; the 
 kind attentions of a WIFE conveyed a fecret 
 charm, a filent and confolatory virtue to my 
 mind. Oh ! nothing can fo fweetly foften all 
 our fufiferings as a conviction that WOMAN is not 
 indifferent to our fate. 
 
 THE varieties of rural fcenery afford to the 
 diftraded bofom the fame tranquillity, which the 
 attentions and converfation of an amiable wife 
 procure to a fick and fuffering hufband, and 
 change unutterable affliction into foft torrow and 
 plaintive grief. 
 
 B b 3 PSR-
 
 374 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 PERSONS even of the tendered years, young 
 females from fifteen to eighteen years of age, 
 who pofiefs fine fenfibilities and lively imagina- 
 tions, frequently experience the tender melan- 
 choly which Solitude infpires, when, in the re- 
 tirement of rural life, they feel the firft defires pf 
 LOVE; and wandering every where in fearch of 
 a beloved objeft, figh for one alone, although 
 unconfcious of any particular objeft of affeftion. 
 This fpecies of melancholy is not fymptomatic ; 
 for I have frequently feen it an original malady. 
 ROLSSEAU was attacked with it at VEVAI upon 
 the banks of the Lake of GENEVA. ^ My 
 *' heart," fays he, " rufhed with ardour from my 
 " bofom into a thoufand innocent felicities ; 
 " melting to tendernefs, I fighed and wept like a 
 " child. How frequently, flopping to indulge 
 <'' my feelings, and feating myfelf on a piece of 
 4S br'oken rock, did I amufe myfelf with feeing 
 <f my tears drop into the ftream !" I cannot tranf- 
 cribe thefe lines without fhedding tears on re- 
 colle&ing, that in the feventeenth year of my age 
 I frequently feated myfelf with fimilar agitation 
 under the peaceful fhades of thofe delightful 
 ihore's. Love relieved my pains; love, fo Tweedy 
 enjoyed among the groves which adorn the banks 
 of the Lake of GENEVA*; love, the only 
 
 difeafe 
 
 * There is no native, or indeed any perfon poflefling fen- 
 fibility, of whatever country he niay be, who has ever beheld, 
 
 without
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 3-; 
 
 difeafe which Solitude cannot cure ; and which 
 indeed we willingly endure without wifhing for 
 relief. To fufFer with fo much foftnefs and tran- 
 quillity; to indulge in tender forrow without 
 knowing why, and ftill to prefer retirement; to 
 love the lonely margin of a limpid lake; to wan- 
 der alone upon broken rocks, in deep caverns, 
 in dreary forefts; to feel no pleafures but in the 
 fublime and beautiful of nature, in thofe beauties 
 \vhich the world defpife; to defire the company 
 of only one other being to whom we may commu- 
 nicate the fenfations of the foul, who would par- 
 ticipate in all our pleafures, and forget every thing 
 elfe in the unjverfe; this is a condition for which 
 every young man ought to wifh, who wifhes to fly 
 from the mercjlefs approaches of a cold content- 
 lefs old age*. 
 
 IT is not, however, to every fpecies of affliction 
 that Solitude will afford relief. Oh my beloved 
 
 without feeling the tendered emotion, the delightful borders of 
 THE LAKE OF GENEVA ; the enchanting fpec"lacle which nature 
 there exhibits ; and the vaft and majeftic horizon which that 
 maf> of water prefents to the view. Who has ever returned 
 from this fcene without cafting back his eyes on this interefting 
 pidure, and experiencing the fame affliction with which the heart 
 feparates from a beloved friend whom we have no expectation 
 ever to fee again ? 
 
 * This reflection of PETRARCH is very affefting and very 
 juft. " lllos annas egi tan fa in requie t tantdtjue dulcedint, ut illud 
 ''/errne temfus jolum mihi vitafuerit } reliquum mnefupplicium." 
 
 B b 4 HIRSCH-
 
 376 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 HIRSCHFELD ! I can never reftrain my tears from 
 flowing with increafed abundance, whenever I 
 read, in thy immortal work upon the pleafures of 
 a country life, the following affecting paffage, 
 which always finks deeply into my heart : " The 
 " tears of affliction dry up under the fympa- 
 " thizing breath of Zephyrs : the heart expands, 
 c and only feels a tranquil forrow. The bloom 
 <; of nature prefents itfelf to our eyes on every 
 < f fide ; and in the enjoyment of its fragrance we 
 " feel relief from woe. Every fad and forrowful 
 cc idea gradually difappears. The mind no Ion- 
 s' ger rejects confolatory meditations; and as the 
 ct evening fun abforbs the damp vapours of a 
 * ; rainy day, a happy tranquillity diffipates the 
 c; troubles of the foul, and difpofos us to enjoy 
 " the peaceful charms of rural life.'* 
 
 THERE are, however, bofoms fo alive to mif- 
 fortune, that the continual remembrance of thofe 
 \vho 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 intole- 
 rable to their eyes. On fuch beings, alas! the 
 Heavens fmile in vain. The early violet and 
 the twittering groves, proclaiming, with the ap- 
 proach
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 377 
 proach of fpring, the regeneration of all nature, 
 bring to them no charms. The garden's varie- 
 gated hues irritate their feelings, and, during the 
 remainder of their lives, they behold with horror 
 thofe retreats, to which they were kindly invited 
 to footh the violence of their diftrefs. They 
 refufe to follow the compaffionate hand extended 
 to lead them from their houfe of forrow to the 
 verdant plains of happinefs and peace. Such 
 characters generally pofiefs warm and ftrong 
 paffions; but the finenefs of their feelings be- 
 comes a real malady; and they require to be 
 treated with great attention and with conftant 
 kindnefs. 
 
 SOFTER minds, under circumftances equally 
 diftrefsful, derive a very powerful charm from 
 Solitude. The misfortunes they feel partake of 
 the tranquillity of their nature : they plant upon 
 the fatal tomb the weeping willow and the ephe- 
 meral rofe, as flriking emblems of their forrow 
 and misfortune; they ereft inaujolea and com- 
 pole funeral dirges; their hearts are continually 
 occupied by the idea of thofe whom their eyes 
 deplore, and they exift, under the fenfations of 
 the trueil and moft fincere 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, provide^ 
 3 they
 
 378 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 they are undifturbed, appear to me of the hap r 
 pieft kind. I do not pretend to fay their for- 
 rows are infincere, or that their grief is lefs than 
 that of thofe who give themfelves up to fits of 
 violence, and fink under the prefiure of their 
 misfortunes j this would be a fpecies of ftupidity, 
 an enormity, of the confequences of which I am 
 fully fenfible : but I call them happy mourners, 
 becaufe their conftitutions are fo framed, that 
 their grief and forrow do not decreafe the force 
 and energy of their minds. They find enjoy- 
 ments in thofe things from which minds of a dif- 
 ferent texture would feel averfion. 1 hey feel 
 celeftial joys in the unceafing recollection of thofe 
 perfons whofe lofs they deplore. 
 
 EVERY adverfity of life is much more eafily 
 overcome in SOLITUDE than in THE WORLD, 
 provided the foul will nobly bend its flight to- 
 wards a different object. When a man thinks 
 that he has no refources but in DESPAIR or DEATH, 
 he deceives himfelf ; for defpair is no refource. 
 Let him retire to his fludy, and there ferioufly 
 trace out the confequences of fome fettled truth, 
 and his tears will no longer fall, the weight of his 
 misfortunes will grow light, and the pangs of for- 
 row fly from his breaft.
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEAHT. 370 
 IN Solitude the moft trifling emotion of the 
 heart, every appearance of domeflic felicity or 
 rural pleafure, drives away impatience and ill- 
 humour. ILL-HUMOUR is an uneafy and infup- 
 portable condition, into which the foul frequently 
 falls, when foured by a number of thofe petty 
 vexations, which we daily experience in every 
 ftep of our progrefs through life ; but we need 
 only to fhut the door in order to avoid this 
 fcourge of happinefs. IMPATIENCE is a ftifled 
 anger, which men (ilently manifeft. by looks and 
 gcftures, and weak minds ordinarily reveal by a 
 ihower of complaints. A grumbler is never far- 
 ther from his proper fphere than when he is in 
 company; Solitude is his only afylum. 
 
 VEXATIONS, however, of almofl every kind 
 are much fooner healed in the filence of retire- 
 ment than in the noife of the world. When we 
 have attained a cheerful ^ifpofition, and do not 
 luffer any thing to thwart, reftrain, or four the 
 temper of our minds ; when we have learned 
 the art of vanquifhing ourfelves ; no worldly 
 vexations can then obftruclour happinefs. The 
 deepeft melancholy and moft fettled wearinefs of 
 life have, by thefe means, been frequently ba- 
 nifhed 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 
 
 imme-
 
 380 'THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 immediately to happinefs, while that of a me- 
 lancholy man ftill creeps on with pain. The 
 foft bofoms of the fair are eafily elevated or de- 
 preffed; but thefe effects mull be produced by 
 means lefs abftra&ed than Solitude; by fome- 
 thing that will ftrike their fenfes, and by their 
 afiiftance penetrate to the heart. On the con- 
 trary, the mental difeafes of men augment by 
 flow degrees, take deeper root, lay ftronger 
 hold of the breaft ; and to drive them away it 
 is neceflary to apply the moft efficacious reme- 
 dies with unfhaken conftancy ; for here feeble 
 prefcriptions are of no avail. The only chance 
 of fuccefs is by exerting every endeavour to 
 place the body under the regimen of the mind. 
 Vigorous minds frequently banifh the moft inve- 
 terate evils, or form a powerful fhield againft all 
 the darts of fate, and by braving every danger 
 drive away thofe feelings by which others are 
 irritated and deftroyed. They boldly turn their 
 eyes from what things are, to what they ought to 
 be; and with determined resolution fupport the 
 bodies they are defigned to animate, while weaker 
 minds furrender every thing committed to their 
 care. 
 
 THE foul, however, always yields to thofe 
 circumftances which are moil agreeable to its 
 peculiar chara&er. The gaming-table, luxu- 
 rious
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 381 
 
 rious feafts, and brilliant aflcmblies, are the 
 mofl palatable aliments, the moft pleafing com- 
 forts to the generality of men ; while the bofoms 
 of thofe who figh for Solitude, from a confciouf- 
 nefs of all the advantages it affords^ feel no tran- 
 quillity or enjoyment but in peaceful fliades. 
 
 THESE reflexions upon the advantages which 
 the heart derives from Solitude bring me, at 
 laft, to this important queftion : Whether it be 
 eafier to live VIRTUOUSLY in SOLITWDE or in 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 IN fociety, the virtues are frequently praftifed 
 from a mere fenfe of duty. THE CLERGY feel 
 it their duty to afford inftruclion to the igno- 
 rant and confolation to the afflicted. THE 
 JUDGES think it their duty to render juftice to 
 the injured or opprefied. THE PHYSICIAN pays 
 his vifit to the fick, and cures them, ill or well : 
 and all for the fake of HUMANITY, fay thefe 
 gentlemen. But all this is falfe; the clergy 
 afford confolation, the lawyer renders juftice, 
 the phyfidan cures, not always from the decided 
 inclination of the heart, but becaufe he muft, 
 becaufe his duty requires it; becaufe the one 
 muft do honour to his gown, the other is placed 
 in the feat of juftice, and the third has pledged 
 
 his
 
 382 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 his (kill on fuch and fuch prognoftics. The 
 words " your known humanity," which always 
 fhock my feelings, and are introductory to the 
 contents of a thoufand letters I have received, 
 are nothing more than the ftyle of cuftom, a 
 common flattery and falfehood. HUMANITY 
 is a virtue, a noblenefs of foul of the higheft 
 rank ; and how can any one know whether I do 
 fuch and fuch things from the love 'of virtue, 
 or becaufe I am bound by duty to perform 
 them ? 
 
 GOOD WORKS, therefore, are not always afts 
 of VIRTUE. The heart of that man, who never 
 detaches himfelf from the affairs of the world, is 
 frequently (hut againft every thing that is good. 
 It is pofiible 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 generally imagined. It is therefore 
 neceflary to be frugal of the words humanity, vir- 
 tue, fatriotifat and others of the fame import ; 
 they ought only to be mentioned upon great oc- 
 cafions; for by too frequent ufe their meaning 
 is weakened, and the qualities they defcribe 
 
 * " Virl foteflatilus fublimes^' fays lord chancellor BACOK, 
 " ijfi till ignotifunt. Et dum negotiis dijirahuntur, ttmpore ca- 
 rfntf quojanitati aut cor par is ant animtejua cenjulant." 
 
 6 brought
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 383 
 brought into contempt. Who would not blufh 
 to be called learned or humane, when he hears the 
 knowledge of fo many ignorant perfons boafled 
 of, and " the well-known humanity of fo many 
 villains praifed ? 
 
 THE probability is, that men will do more 
 good in the retreats of Solitude than in the world. 
 In fai, a virtuous man, of whatever defcrip- 
 tion he may be, is not virtuous in confequencc 
 of example, for virtuous examples are unhap- 
 pily too rarely feen in the world, but becaufe in 
 the filence of reflection he feels that the pleafures 
 of a good heart furpafs every other, and confti- 
 tute the true happinefs of life. The greater part, 
 therefore, of virtuous aciions are exercifed in 
 filence and obfcurity. 
 
 VIRTUOUS ACTIONS are more eafily and more 
 freely performed in Solitude than in the world. 
 In Solitude no man blufhes at the fight of Vir- 
 tue, but in the world me drags on an obfcure 
 exiftence, and feems afraid to mew her face in 
 public. The inlercourfe of the world is the 
 education of vice. Men poffelfed of the bed in- 
 clinations are furrounded by fo many fnares and 
 dangers, that they all commit fome fault every 
 day of their lives. One man who plays a firft- 
 cate character upon the theatre of the world, is 
 
 deficient
 
 384 THE INPLUEN.CE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 deficient in virtuous inclinations ; in another of 
 the lame clafs, his inclinations are good while 
 his actions are vicious. In the chamber, before 
 we engage in the complicated bufmefs of the 
 day, we are, perhaps, kind, impartial, and can- 
 did, for then the current of our tempers has re- 
 ceived no contradiction ; but with the greateft 
 attention, with the mod fcrupulous vigilance, it 
 is impoflible to continue through the day com- 
 pletely matters of ourfelves, oppreffed as we are 
 with cares and vexations, obliged to conform 
 to a feries of difgufting circumftances, to give 
 audience to a multitude of men, and to endure 
 athoufandabfurdand unexpected accidents which 
 di draft the mind. The folly, therefore, of myftic 
 .minds was in forgetting that their fouls were fub- 
 je6led to a body, and aiming, in confequence of 
 that error, at the higheft point of fpeculative vir- 
 tue. The nature of human beings cannot be al- 
 tered merely by living in a hermitage. The ex- 
 ercife of virtue is only eafy in thofe fituations 
 where it is not expofed to danger, and then it 
 lofes all its merit. God created many hermits too 
 weak ta favc themfelves when plunged into the 
 abyfs, becaufe he rendered them ftrong enough 
 not to fall into it. 
 
 I SHALL here fubjoin an excellent obferva- 
 tion of a celebrated Scottifli philofopher " It is 
 
 " the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 385 
 
 <6 the peculiar effeft of virtue to make a man's 
 
 " chief happinefs arife from himfelf and his own 
 
 <c conduft. A bad man is wholly the creature of 
 
 the -world. He hangs upon its favour; lives 
 
 * c by its fmiles; and is happy or miferable in 
 
 < s proportion to his fuccefs. But to a virtuous 
 
 " man, fuccefs in wordly matters is but a fe- 
 
 s condary object. To difcharge his own part 
 
 c with integrity and honour is his chief aim; 
 
 having done properly what was incumbent 
 
 " on him to do, his mind is at reft; and he 
 
 ** leaves the event to Providence. His witnefs 
 
 " is in Heaven, and his record is on high. Satisfied 
 
 *' with the approbation of God, and the tefti- 
 
 <{ mony of a good confcience, he enjoys himfelf, 
 
 <c and defpifes the triumphs of guilt. In pro- 
 
 <f portion as fuch manly principles rule your 
 
 Cf heart, you will become independent of the 
 
 <c world, and will forbear complaining of its 
 
 te difcouragements." 
 
 To recommend this independence of the world 
 is the firft aim and only end of the little philo- 
 fophy which may be found in this Treatife upon 
 SOLITUDE. It is not my doftrine to lead men into 
 the deferts, or to place their refidence, like that of 
 owls, in the trunks of hollow trees; but I would 
 willingly remove from their minds the exceflive 
 fear of men and of the world. I would, as far 
 
 C c as
 
 386 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 as is practicable, render them independent ; I 
 would break their fetters, infpire them with a 
 contempt of public ibciety, and leave them to 
 devote their minds to Solitude, in order that they 
 may be able to fay, at leafl during the courfe of 
 two hours in a day, " We are free" 
 
 SUCH a ftate of independence cannot be dif- 
 pleafing even to the greateft enemies of LIBERTY; 
 for it fimply carries the mind to a rational ufe of 
 Solitude. It is by intellectual collection, by the 
 mind's (trengthening itielf in thefe pure and noble 
 fentiments, that we are rendered more able and 
 more anxious to fill our refpective 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 we adopt firm and lolid 
 * f refolutions to govern our minds and guide our 
 " actions. It is there only that we can quietly 
 " reflect upon the tranfaclions of life, upon the 
 " temptations to which we are molt expofed, 
 <f upon thofe weaker fides of the heart which 
 " we ought to guard with the mofl unceafing 
 <c care, and. previoufly arm ourlclves againft 
 t( whatever is dangerous in our commerce with 
 ff mankind. Perhaps though virtue may appear, 
 Q " at
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 ** firft fight, to contract the bounds of enjoy- 
 " ment, you will find, upon reflexion, that in 
 " truth it enlarges them; if it reftrain the excefs 
 " of fome pleafures, it favours and increafes 
 " others; it precludes you from none but fuch 
 " as are either fantaftie and imaginary, or per- 
 " nicious and deftrudive. The rich proprietor 
 " loves to amvife himfelf in a contemplation of 
 " his wealth, the voluptuary in his entertain- 
 " ments, the man of the world with his friends 
 " and his aflemblics; but the truly good man 
 " finds his pleafure in the fcrupulous difcharge 
 * f of the auguft duties of life. He fees a new 
 " fun fhining before him; thinks himfelf fur- 
 ct rounded by a more pure and lively fplcndour; 
 " every object is embellifhed, and he gaily 
 * c purfues his career. He who penetrates into 
 ei the fccret caufes of things, who reads in the 
 t; refpeclable obfcurity of a wife Solitude, will 
 * 5 return us public thanks. We immediately 
 * ; acquit ourfclves more perfectly in bufmeis, 
 64 we refift with greater eafe the temptations of 
 * vice, and we owe all thefe advantages to the 
 <s pious recollection which Solitude infpires, to 
 " our feparation from mankind, and to our in- 
 " dependence of the woild." 
 
 LIBERTY, leifure, a quiet confcience, and a 
 
 retirement from the world, are therefore the 
 
 C c 2 fureft
 
 388 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 fureft and moft infallible means to arrive at 
 virtue. Under fuch circumftances, it is not ne- 
 cefTary to reftrain the paffions merely to prevent 
 them from difturbing the public order, or to 
 abate the fervour of imagination; 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 battle to every bafe and brutal paflion ; 
 the dwelling of envy, vexation, and ill-humour. 
 PEACE and HAPPINESS inhabit thofe bofoms that 
 renounce the poifonous fprings of pleafure ; 
 and the mind is thereby rendered capable of 
 communicating its pureft joys to all around. 
 He who fhuns the contaminated circles of the 
 .vicious; who flies from the infolent looks of 
 proud ilupidity, and the arrogance of fuccefsful 
 villainy; who beholds the void which all the 
 idle entertainments and vain pretenfions of pub- 
 lic life leave within the breaft, is never difcon- 
 fontcd or diilurbed at home. 
 
 THE pleafures of the world lofe their charms 
 on every facrifice made in Solitude at the altar 
 of virtue. " I love lather to fhed tears myfelf, 
 " than to make others fhed them," faid a Ger- 
 man lady to me one day. She did not feem 
 that it is almoft impoffiblc either to 
 
 fay
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 389 
 
 fay or do any-thing more generous. Virtue like 
 this affords more real content to the heart than all 
 the enjoyments of the world, and all the amufe- 
 ments which are hourly fought to deftroy time, 
 and to fteal the bofom from itfelf. The mind is 
 always happy in finding itfelf capable of exer- 
 cifing faculties which it was not before confcious 
 it poffeffed. Solitude opens the foul to every 
 noble pleafure ; fills it with intelligence, ferenity, 
 calmnefs and content, when we expected nothing 
 but tears of forrow; it, in fhort, repays every 
 misfortune by a thoufand new and unalterable 
 delights. 
 
 THERE is not a villain in exiftence whofe mind 
 does not filently acknowledge, that VIRTUE is the 
 corner-done of all felicity, in the world, as well as 
 in Solitude. VICE, however, is continually fpread- 
 ing her filken nets to enfnare multitudes of every 
 rank and every ftation. To watch all the fedu&ive 
 inclinations of the heart, not only when they are 
 prefent, but while they yet lie dormant in the breaft, 
 to vanquifh every defire by employing the mind in 
 the purfuit of noble pleafures, has ever been confi- 
 dered the greateft conqueft which the foul is ca- 
 pable of gaining over the world and itfelf and in- 
 ward peace 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 
 
 C c 3 pre-
 
 39O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 preferves it unaltered. Of what fervice would it 
 be to leave the town, and feek the calmnefs and 
 tranquillity of retirement, if mifanthropy ftill 
 lurk within the heart, and we there continue our 
 facrifices to this fatal paffion? . Divine content, 
 a calm and open countenance, will, under fuch 
 circumftances, be as feldom found in the flower- 
 enamelled meadows, as in the deepeft night of 
 Solitude, or in the filent fhades of obfcure cells. 
 To purify and proteft the heart, is the firft and 
 laft duty which we have to perform in Solitude : 
 this talk once accomplimed, 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 caufe 
 of our leaving the world; we may fhun their 
 fociety, and ftill maintain our wifhes for their 
 felicity. 
 
 AN eflential portion of the happinefs which we 
 tafle in Solitude arifes from our ability to appre- 
 ciate things according to their true value, inde- 
 pendently of the public opinion. When ROME, 
 after the conqueft of the pirates, removed Lu- 
 CULLUS from the head of the army, in order to 
 give the command of it to POMPEY, and refigned 
 by this aft the government of the empire to the 
 flifcretion of a fingle man, that artful citizen beat 
 his breaft, as a fign of grief, at being inverted 
 
 . with
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 39! 
 
 with the honour, and exclaimed : " Alas ! is 
 <c there no end to my conflicls. How much bet- 
 " ter would it have been to have remained one of 
 " the undiflinguifhed Many, than to be perpetu- 
 " ally engaged in war, and have my body con- 
 " tinually locked in armour! Shall I never be 
 ts able to fly from envy to a rural retreat, to do- 
 " medic happinefs, to conjugal endearments!" 
 POMPEV fpoke the fentiments of truth in the 
 language of diflimulation ; for he had not yet 
 learned really to efteem that, which all men pof- 
 iefled of native ambition and the luft of power de- 
 fpife ; nor did he yet contemn that which at this 
 period of the republic every Roman, who was 
 eager to command, efteemed more than all other 
 things: unlike MANIUS CURIUS, the greateft 
 Roman of his age, who, after having vanquifhed 
 feveral warlike nations, driven PYRRHUS out of 
 Italy, and enjoyed three times the honours of a 
 triumph*, retired to his cottage in the country, 
 and with his own victorious hands cultivated his 
 
 * MANIUS CURIUS DENTATUS triumphed twice in his firft 
 confulate in the 463d year of Rome ; firft over the Samniies, and 
 afterwards over the Sabines ; and eight years afterwards, in hit 
 third confulate, he triumphed over PYRRHUS. After this he led 
 up the Icfs triumph, called Ovation, for his vi&ory over the 
 Lucanians. TR.A NSL A TOR. 
 
 C c 4 little
 
 392 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 little farm, where the ambafiadors 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 
 drefling his turnips. Princes know too well, that 
 under many circumftances they are deprived of 
 friends; and this is the reafon why they afk the 
 advice of many, but confide in none. The honeft 
 fubje&s of a nation, every man of reflection and 
 good fenfe, pity the conditions of virtuous fo- 
 vereigns; for even the beft of fovereigns are not 
 altogether exempt from fears, jealoufies, and 
 torments. Their felicity never equals that of a 
 laborious and contented hufbandman ; their plea- 
 fures are not fo permanent ; they never expe- 
 rience the fame tranquillity and content. The 
 provifion of a peafant is coarfe, but to his appe- 
 tite it is delicious ; his bed is hard, but he goes 
 to it fatigued by the honeft labours of the day, 
 and fleeps founder on his mat of ftraw, than mo r 
 narchs on their beds of down. 
 
 * DENTATUS abfolutely refufed the prefent, and gave the 
 ambaffadors this anfwer: "A man who can be fatisfied with 
 " fuch a fupper has no need of gold ; and I think it more glo- 
 " rious to conquer the owners of it, than to poflefs it myfelf." 
 TRANSLATOR. 
 
 THE
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 393 
 
 THE pleafures of Solitude may be enjoyed by 
 every defcription of men, without exception of 
 rank or fortune. The frelhnefs of the breeze, 
 the magnificence of the forefts, the rich tints of the, 
 meadows, the inexhauftible variety which fum- 
 mer fpreads over the face of all nature, enchant 
 not only philofophers, kings, and heroes, but 
 the beautiful pi&ure ravifhes the mind of the 
 moft ignorant fpeftator with exquifite delight. 
 An Englifh author has very juftly obferved, < ; It 
 ** is not neceflary that he who looks with pleafure 
 cc on the colours of a flower mould fludy the 
 " principles of vegetation, or that the Ptclemaick 
 < 6 and Copsrnican fyftems mould be compared, be- 
 " fore the light of the fun can gladden, or its 
 " warmth invigorate. Novelty is itfclf a fource 
 " of gratification; and MILTON juftly obferves, 
 " that to him who has been long pent up in ci- 
 44 ties no rural objeft can be prefented, which 
 V will not delight or refrefh fome of his fenfes." 
 
 EXI'.ES themfelves have frequently felt the 
 advantages and enjoyments of Solitude. To fup- 
 ply the place of the world from which they are 
 baniflied, they create in retirement a new world 
 for themfelves; forget thofe factitious pleafures 
 cxclufively attached to the condition of THE 
 GREAT; habituate themfelves to others of a no- 
 feler kind, more worthy the attention of a rational 
 
 being;
 
 394 THE INFLUENCE DF SOLITUDE 
 being* ; and, to pafs their days in tranquillity, 
 find out a thoufand little felicities, which are only 
 to be met with at a diftance from all fociety, far 
 removed from all confolation, far from their coun- 
 try, their family, and their friends. 
 
 BUT to procure happinefs, exiles, like other 
 men, muft fix their minds upon fome one ob- 
 ject; 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 (till 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 ambition and love of glory. During his fer- 
 vice in the Ruffian army, he fell under the dil- 
 pleafurc of the emprefs, and was fent into exile. 
 The nature of exile in Rufliais well known; but 
 
 * CICERO fays, " Multa pra-clare DYONISIVS PHALEREUS 
 ' * hi illo exilio Jcripjit, non in ujum altquem Juum, quo erat crba- 
 " tui ; fen aaitai cuitis ills erat 64 qua/i qitidam bumanitatit 
 '* cifnti" 
 
 he
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 
 
 he contrived to render even a Ruffian banifh- 
 ment agreeable. At firft, his mind and his 
 body were oppreffed by the forrows and difquie- 
 tude of his iituation; and he became a mere 
 fhadow. The little work written by LORD 
 BOLINGBROKE upon EXILE fell accidentally into 
 his hands. He read it feveral times; and 
 " in proportion to the number of times I read," 
 faid THL PRINCE, in the preface of the elegant 
 and nervous tranflation which he made of this 
 work, " I felt all my forrows and difquietudes 
 vanifh." 
 
 i 
 
 THIS treatife of LORD BOLINGBROKE upon 
 the fubjecl of EXILE is a mailer-piece of ftoic 
 philofophy and fine writing. He there boldly 
 examines all the adverfities of life. " Let us," 
 fays he, " fet all our paft and our prefent afflic- 
 66 tions at once before our eyes. Let us refolve 
 " to overcome them, inftead of flying from them, 
 * c or wearing out the fenfc of them by long and 
 " ignominious patience. Inftead of palliating 
 " remedies, let us ufe the incifion knife and the 
 " cauftic, fearch the wound to the bottom, and 
 '*' work an immediate and radical cure." 
 
 THE mind, without doubt, ftrengthens its 
 powers under the circumltances of perpetual l>u- 
 mmment in ;he fame manner as in uninterrupted 
 
 Solitude ;
 
 396 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 Solitude; and habit fupplies the neceflary power 
 to fupport its misfortune. To exiles who are in- 
 clined to indulge all the pleafing emotions of the 
 heart, Solitude, indeed, becomes an c-, r } fitua. 
 tion ; for they there experience pleaiures which 
 were before unknown; and from that moment 
 forget thofe which they tafted in the happier 
 fituations of life. When BRUTUS faw MARCEL- 
 LUS in exile at MYTELENE, he found him fur- 
 rounded by the highefl felicity of which human 
 nature is fufceptible, and devoted, as before his 
 banifhment, to the ftudy of every ufeful fcience. 
 The fight made fo deep an impretfion on his mind, 
 that when he was again returning into the world, 
 he felt that it was BRUTUS who was going into 
 exile, and not MARCELLUS, whom he lef; 
 behind. 
 
 QUINTUS METELLUS NUMIDICUS had fuffered 
 the fame fate fome years before. While the 
 people were laying, under the conduct of MARIUS, 
 the foundations of that tyranny which CAESAR. 
 afterwards creeled, METELLUS fingly, in the 
 midft of an alarmed fenate, and furrounded by 
 an enraged populace, refuted to take the oath 
 impofed by the pernicious laws of the tribune 
 SATURNINUS. His conftancy became his crime, 
 and exile his punifhment; he was dragged from 
 his feat like the vileft of criminals by the licen- 
 6 tious
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 397 
 tious rabble, and expofed to the indignity of a 
 public impeachment. The moft virtuous of the 
 citizens ftill offered to fhare his fortunes, and 
 protect his integrity by force; but he generoufly 
 declined to increafe the confufion of the com- 
 monwealth by aflerting his innocence ; for he 
 thought it a duty which he owed to the laws not 
 to fuffer any fedition to take place; he judged 
 in the frenzy of the Roman commonwealth, as 
 PLATO had before judged in the dotage of the 
 Athenian : " If the times mould mend," faid he, 
 <c I mall recover my ftation; if not, it is a hap- 
 " pinefs to be abfent from Rome." He went 
 therefore voluntarily into exile, and wherever 
 he pafied he carried the fure fymptom of a fickly 
 ftate, and the certain prognoftic of an expiring 
 republic*. 
 
 RUTILIUS 
 
 * This event took place during the fixth confulate of Marias 
 U. C. 653. Saturninus, to fatisfy his hungry followers, had 
 propofed that thofe lands on the Po, which had been defolated 
 by the irruptions of the Barbarians, fhould be feized, and dif- 
 tributed by the direction of Marias ; but when he had affembled 
 the people to confirm this projeft, Quintus Servilius Cifpio t with 
 a band of faithful attendants, broke the rails, overfet the urns, 
 and difperfed the multitude. This refiftance, however, only 
 ferved to impel Saturninus to more dccifive meafures ; and among 
 a variety of new regulations it was declared treafcn for any one 
 to interrupt a tribune in putting a queftion to the people; that 
 the afts of the tribes (hould be tcnGdered as laws ; and that c very 
 
 fer.ator
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOtlTUDE 
 
 RUTILIUS alfo, feeling equal contempt for 
 fentiments and manners of the age, withdrew 
 from the corrupted city. He had defended Afia 
 againft the extortions of the publicans, according 
 to the ftrift juftice of which he made profeflion, 
 and to the particular duty of his office. This 
 generofity irritated the equeftrian order, and 
 motives equally bafe exafperated MARIUS'S party 
 againft him. The moft virtuous and innocent 
 citizen of the republic was accufed of corruption, 
 and profecuted by the vile and infamous APIC i us. 
 The authors of this falfe aecufation fat as judges; 
 
 fenator on pain of expulfioh mould fwear to confirm thefe ads 
 within five days after they had been fanftioned by the approba- 
 tion of the people. Mariui, however, artfully propofed to rr- 
 jecl the oath demanded ; the majority of the fenators applauded 
 fcis fentiments ; and Metelltu declared his refolution never to fub- 
 mit to the degrading engagement. But Marias was no fooner 
 allured of the firmnefs of this noble Roman, againft whom he 
 entertained an implacable hatred, than he changed the languag e 
 he had fo lately held ; and when the moment of trial arrived, he 
 demanded and received the oath, amidft the acclamations of 
 Saturninus and his adherents. The aftonifned and trembling 
 fenate followed his example. METELLUS, bold in confcious 
 virtue, alone refufed to retraft from his former declaration, and 
 while he rejected the importunities of his friends, who reprefented 
 the danger to which he was expofed> " To aft ill in any cir- 
 cumftance," faid he, " is the effect of a corrupt heart ; to aft 
 " well when there is nothing to fear, is the merit of a common 
 " man; but to act well when a man expofes himfelf to thcgreateft 
 " hazards i> peculiar to the truly virtuous." TRANSLATOR. 
 
 and
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. - 396. 
 
 and RUTILIUS was of courfe condemned; for he 
 fcarcely condefcended to defend the caufe. Re- 
 tiring into the eaft, the Roman virtue, which 
 Rome was too degenerate to bear, was received 
 with every mark of affeftion and refpetl. Before 
 the term of his banifhment expired, he fliewcd 
 ftill greater contempt to ROME : for when SVLLA 
 would have recalled him, he not only refufcd to 
 return, but removed the place of his rcfidcnce 
 to a greater diftance. 
 
 To all thefc inftances t of happy and contented 
 exiles CICERO is a memorable exception. 
 
 t Thcfe inftances are alfo adduced in that tnily great and 
 philofophic work, <f Reflections upon Exile," by LORD Bo- 
 LINGBROKE. " I propofe by thcfe examples," fays his lord- 
 fhip, " to fhw that as a change of place, fimply confidered, 
 t( can render no man unhappy, fo the other evils which are 
 " objected to exile either cannot happen to wife and virtuous 
 " men, or if they do happen to them, cannot render them 
 " miferable. Stones arc hard, and cakes of ice cold, and all 
 " who feel them feel alike : but the good or the bad events, 
 <c which fortune brings upon us, are felt according to the qua- 
 " lities that iue not they poflTefs. They are in themfelves in. 
 " different and common accidents, and they acquire ftrength by 
 " nothing but our vice or our weaknefs. Fortune can dilpenfe 
 " neither felicity nor infelicity, unlefs we co-opf ; her. 
 
 " Fc\v men v, ho are unhappy under the lofs of an crt;:te would 
 " be happy in the poiTelHon of it ; and thofe who uefcivc to 
 " enjoy the advantages which exile takes away will not be 
 " unhappy when they ;tre deprived of them." TRANSLATOR. 
 
 lie
 
 4CO THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 He pofTeffed all the refources, all the fentiments 
 neceffary to draw the greateft advantages from 
 Solitude; but he had not fufficient ftrength of 
 mind to fupport himfelf under the adverfity of 
 banifhment. This great man, who had been the 
 faviourof his country, who had feared, in the fup- 
 port of that caufe, neither the menaces of a dan- 
 gerous faftion, nor the poignards of aflaflins, when 
 he came to fuffer for the fame caufe funk under 
 the weight. He had before lamented the weak- 
 nefs of his conftitution, but after exile he be- 
 came quite deje&ed, and when that once hap- 
 pens, all power of mind is gone ; the foul imme- 
 diately lofes all its energies, and becomes equally 
 incapable of fuggefting vigorous meafures, or of 
 performing heroic actions. CICERO difhonoured 
 that banifhment which indulgent Providence 
 meant to be the means of rendering his glory 
 complete. Uncertain whither he fliould go, or 
 what he fhould do, fearful as a woman, and fro- 
 ward as a child, he lamented thelofs of his rank, 
 of his riches, and of his fplendid popularity. His 
 eloquence ferved only to paint his ignominy in 
 ftronger colours. He wept over the ruins of his 
 fine houfe which CLODIUS had demoliflied : and 
 his feparation from TERENTIA, whom he repu- 
 diated not long afterwards, was perhaps an af- 
 fliclion to him at this time. Every thing be- 
 comes intolerable to the man who is once fub- 
 
 dued
 
 Oft THE MIND AND THE HEART. ,40! 
 
 dued by grief. He regrets what he took no 
 pleafure in enjoying i and, over loaded already, 
 he ftirinks at the weight of a feather. CICERO'S 
 behaviour, in fhort, was fuch, that his friends, as 
 well as his enemies, believed him to have loft his 
 fenfes. C^SAR beheld, with fecret fatisfa&ion, 
 the man who had refuted to be his lieutenant 
 weeping under the fcourge of CLODIU$. POM- 
 PEY hoped to find fome excufe for his own in- 
 gratitude, in the contempt to which. the friend 
 whom he had abandoned expofcd himfelf, 
 Nay ATTICUS judged him too meanly attached 
 to his former fortune, and reproached him for 
 it. ATTICUS, whofe great talents were ufury 
 and trimmfng, who placed his principal merit in 
 being rich, and who would have been noted with 
 infamy at Athens for keeping well with all fides 
 nd venturing on none; even ATTICUS blufhed 
 for TULLY, and the mod plaufible man alive 
 iffumed the ftyle of CATO. SoHtu^fc loft all its 
 influence over CICERO; becaufe weak and me- 
 lancholy fentiments continually deprefled his 
 mind, and turned the word fide of every objeft 
 to his view. He died however, like a hero, and 
 not like a dejefted coward. " Approach, old 
 " foidier,'* cried he from his litter, to POMPILIUS 
 LOKNAS, his client and his murderer; " and, if 
 " you have the courage, take my life." 
 
 D d A MA*
 
 4O2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 A MAN under the adverfity of banifhment 
 cannot hope to fee his days glide quietly away in 
 rural delights and philofophic repofe, except he 
 has honourably difchargcd thofe duties which he 
 owed to the world, and given that bright example 
 to -future ages, which every character exhibits 
 who is as great after his fall as he was at the moft. 
 brilliant period of his profperity. 
 
 SOLITUDE affords an unalterable felicity under 
 the preffures of old age, and in the decline of life. 
 The life of man is a voyage of fhort duration, 
 and his old age a fleeting day. The mind is 
 enabled by Solitude to forget the tempefts of 
 which it Was fo long the fport : OLD AGE there- 
 fore, if we confider it as the time of repofe, as an 
 interval between the affairs of this world and the 
 higher concerns of death, a harbour whence we 
 quietly view the rocks on which we were in 
 danger of being wrecked, is, perhaps, the moft 
 agreeable period of our lives. 
 
 w 
 
 THE human mind, anxious to increafe its Hores 
 of knowledge, reforts in general to outward and 
 diftant objects, inflead of applying to its own in- 
 ternal powers, and to thofe objects that are more 
 immediately within 'its reach. We wander to 
 foreign mores in fearch of that which might per- 
 haps be bettei* found at home. True and ufeful 
 
 WISDOM
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 403 
 WISDOM, fuch as will give difcretion to youth 
 and the advantages of experience to a^e, can 
 only be learned in Solitude, and taught by felf- 
 examination. Solitude will reprefs the levity 
 of youth, render manhood chearful and ferene, 
 and banifh the deprefiion which too frequently 
 accompanies old age. 
 
 YOUTH enters gaily on the fea of life; and 
 fondly dreams each wind and flar his friend, 
 until the ftorm of forrow makes his fluttered 
 bark, and experience teaches him to guard againfl 
 the rock by which he was furprifed. Acquainted 
 with the fhoals and dangers by which he is fur- 
 rounded in the world, caution infures fuccefs; 
 he no longer complains of the tempeft which ob- 
 ftrucled his voyage, but looks with happy omens 
 towards the haven of tranquillity and repofe ; 
 and relies for happinefs upon that knowledge 
 which at an early period of his life he has gained 
 of himfelf. 
 
 A CELEBRATED German has fagely obfervedj 
 that there are political as^well as religious cbartreu?. ; 
 and that both the one and the other order are 
 frequently the befl and moft pious of men. fc In 
 " the deepeft receffes of the foreft," fays this 
 writer, " dwells the peaceful fagc, the tranquil 
 " obfcrver, the friend of truth, the lover of his 
 D d 2 " countrv.
 
 404 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ' 
 
 " country. .His yffdom excites the admiration 
 
 - 
 
 " of mankind: they derive luftre from the beams 
 
 j . ' 
 
 <c of his knowledge, adore his love of truth, 
 <f and feel his affe&ion to his fellow creatures. 
 " They, are anxious to gain his confidence and 
 "'his friendfhip; and are as much aftonifhed 
 " at the wifdom which proceeds from his lips, 
 " and the r-eftitude which accompanies all his 
 f a&ions, as they are at the ohfcurity of his 
 " name, and the mode of his exiftence. They 
 <f endeavour to draw him from his Solitude, and 
 " place him on the throne; but they immediately 
 " perceive infcribed upon his forehead, beaming 
 " with fecred fire, Odi -profanum viilgus et arceo-, 
 " and, inftead of being \iisjeducers, they become 
 
 " his PROSELYTES." 
 
 ' 
 
 BUT, alas! this political cbartreux is no more. 
 I faw him formerly in WI-TERAVIA. His ani- 
 mated figure, announcing the higheft degree of 
 wifdom and 'tranquillity, filled my bofom with 
 refpeft and filial love. There did not, perhaps, 
 at that time exift a character more profound in 
 any court; he was intimately acquainted with all, 
 and corre (ponded perfonally with fome of the 
 mofl: celebrated fovereigns of Europe. I never 
 found a man who penetrated with fo much fkill 
 and certainty into the thoughts and aclions of 
 others; who had' formed fuch true opinions of 
 
 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 405 
 
 the world in general, and of the moft important 
 characters on its theatre : never was a mind more 
 free, more open, more energetic, or more mild; 
 an eye more lively and penetrating : I never in 
 fliort knew a man, in whole company I could 
 have lived with higher pleafure, or died with 
 greater comfort. The place of his retirement 
 was modeft and fimple; his grounds without art; 
 and his table frugal. The charm which I felt in 
 the rural retreat of WETERAVIA, the refidence 
 of the venerable BARON DE SCHAUTZNBACH, is 
 inexpreflihle. 
 
 DID youth ever pofiefs more energy and fire, 
 were the hours of Solitude ever better employed, 
 than by ROUSSEAU during the latter years of his 
 life ? It was in his old age that he wrote the 
 greater and the bed parts of his works. The 
 poor philofopher, when he felt himfelf verging 
 to the period of his. cxiftcnce, endeavoured to 
 find tranquillity of heart among the fhades of Soli- 
 tude; but his endeavours were in vain. ROUSSEAU 
 had experienced too frequently the fury of thofe 
 who are enemies to truth ; his feelings had been 
 too frequently expofcd to the fevered and moft 
 unremitted perfecutions. 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 pain- 
 D d 3 ful
 
 406 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 ful ficknefs. In the laft years of his life, the ef- 
 feBs of melancholy and chagrin were more appa- 
 rent than ever. He frequently fainted, and talked 
 mildly when he was ill. " All that ROUSSEAU 
 ct wrote during his old age," fays one of our re- 
 fined critics, " was.nonfenfe." "Yes," replied 
 his fair friend, with great truth, " but he wrote 
 6 honfenfe fo agreeably, that we fometimes like 
 " to talk nonfenfe with him." 
 
 OLD AGE appears to be the propereft feafon of 
 meditation. The ardent fire of youth is ftifled; 
 the meridian heat of life's fhort day is paffed, 
 and fucceeded by the faft tranquillity and re- 
 frefhing quietude of evening. It is therefore 
 ufeful. to devote fome time 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 firfl fine day of fpring, after a, long and 
 dreary winter. 
 
 PETRARCH fcarcely perceived the approaches 
 of old age. By conftant aftivity he rendered his 
 retirement always happy, and every year paffed, 
 in pleafure and tranquillity, unperceived away. 
 FrOm a little verdant arbour in the neighbour- 
 hood of a Carthufian monaltery, he wrote to his 
 friend SETTIMO with a naivete unknown to mo- 
 dern
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 407 
 dern manners : " Like a wearied traveller, I 
 " increafe my pace in 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 pleafures. I lie 
 " awake a great part of the night. I labour; I 
 " divert my mind; and make every effort in my 
 <c power: the more difficulties I encounter the 
 " more my ardour increafes : novelty incites ; 
 " obflacles fharpen me: the labour is certain; 
 *' but the fuccefs precarious. My eyes are 
 " dimmed by watchings ; my hand tired of hold- 
 *' ing the pen, my wifh is, that poilerity may 
 c< know me. If I do not fucceed in this wifh, the 
 " age in which I live, or at leaft the friends who 
 " have known me, will do me juftice, and that is 
 " fufficient. My health is fo good, my confti- 
 " tution fo robuft, my temperament fo warm s 
 " that neither the maturity of age, the mod 
 " ferious occupations, the habit of continency, 
 " nor the power of time, can vanquifh the rebel- 
 t; lious enemy which I am obliged inceflantly to 
 attack. I rely upon Providence, without 
 " which, as'it has frequently happened before, I 
 " mould certainly become its viClim. At the 
 " end -of winter*! frequently take up arms againft 
 "the flefh; and am even at this moment fight- 
 s ing for my liberty againll its moft dangerous 
 " enemy."
 
 408 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 IN old age, the moft obfcure retirement in>the 
 country adds dill greater glory to thofe ardent 
 and energetic minds who fly from the world to 
 terminate their career in Solitude. Though far 
 xemoved from the theatre of their fame, they 
 ihine with higher luftre than in the days of their 
 youth. <f It is in Solitude, in exile, on the bed 
 " death," lays POPE, "that the nobleft cha- 
 " rafters of antiquity flione with the greateft 
 " fplendour; it was then that they performed the 
 " greateft fervices; for they then communicated 
 *' their knowledge to mankind." 
 
 ROUSSEAU may be included in this obfervation. 
 * { It is certainly doing fome fervice," fays he, 
 " to give men an example of the life which they 
 " ought to lead. It is certainly ufeful, when aH 
 " power of mind or ftrength of body is decayed 
 * c boldly to make men Uften to the voice of 
 " truth. It is of fome fervice to inform men 
 " of the abfurdity of thofe opinions which render 
 *' them miferable. I fhould be much more 
 <4 ufelefs to my countrymen living amongft them, 
 * { than I can be in the occafion of my retreat. 
 " Of what importance is it where I live, if I aft 
 " as I. ought?" 
 
 BUT a young lady of Germany did not under- 
 ftand things in this way. She mairitained that 
 
 ROUSSEAU
 
 Otf THE MIND AHD THE HEART. ^ 
 ROUSSEAU was a dangerous feducer of the youth- 
 ful mind ; and that he had aclcd extremely wrong 
 in difcovcring in his Confeffims all his faults, his 
 vicious inclinations, and the word fide of his 
 heart. " Such a work written by a man of virtue," 
 faid flie, " would be immediately decried; but 
 " ROUSSEAU, by whole writings the wicked arc fo 
 <c captivated, in his ftory of the rub an vole evinces 
 ' a heart of the blacked dye ! There are a thou- 
 *' fand paflages in that book from which we may 
 " clearly fee that his pen was guided by vanity 
 4 alone, and others where we feel that lie utt 
 " fentiments againft his own conviction. There is" 
 " nothing, in ihort, throughout the work which 
 *' bears the mark of truth : all that we learn 
 " from it is, that MADAME DE WAK.ENS was the 
 
 X. 
 
 ^ original from which ROUSSEAU copied his 
 " JULIA. The Confeflions of ROUSSEAU, generally 
 " fpeaking, contain a great many fine words with 
 " very few good thoughts. If, inflead of re- 
 <4 jecling every opportunity of advancing himfelf 
 " 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 ROUSSEAU 
 merits prefervation, becaufe'I believe it is the 
 only one of its kind. lili^ConfeJJlons of ROUSSEAU 
 certainly not proper for the eye of youth ; bu t 
 6 to
 
 41O THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 to me they are works as replete with philofophy, 
 and as worthy of attention, as any the prefent 
 age has produced. Their inimitabe flyle and 
 enchanting tints are their leaft merit. The re- 
 moteft pofterity will read the ConfeJJions of ROUS- 
 SEAU, without afldng how old the author was 
 vhen he gave to the age in which lived this laft 
 inftance of the fincerity of his heart. 
 
 THE days of a virtuous old man, who has at- 
 tained to the perfection of his pleafures, flow on 
 -with uninterrupted gaiety; he then receives the 
 reward for the good aftions he has performed, 
 and carries with him the benedictions of all 
 around him. The eye is never afraid to review 
 the tranfa&ions of an honourable and virtuous 
 life. The energetic mind never fhudders at 
 the fight of the tomb. The emprefs 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 can 
 bear: me points it out to the obfervation of her 
 children, and fays, " Is it poflible for us to be 
 " arrogant, when we here behold what, in the 
 " courfe of a few years, will become the depo- 
 " fitary of emperors ?" 
 
 THERE are few men who think with fo much 
 fublimity. Every-one, however, may retire from 
 
 the
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 41 I 
 the world; appreciate the paft by its juft value; 
 and during the remainder of his days cultivate 
 and extend the knowledge he has acquired. The 
 TOMB will then lofe its menacing afpel; and 
 man will look upon death like the calm clofmg 
 of a fine day. 
 
 THE pure enjoyments of the heart frequently 
 engender religious ideas, which reciprocally 
 augment the pleafures of Solitude. A fimple, 
 innocent, and tranquil life qualifies the heart to 
 raife itfelf towards God. The contemplation of 
 nature difpofes the mind to religious devotion, 
 and the highefl effel of religion is tranquil- 
 lity, 
 
 WHEN the heart is penetrated with true fend- 
 ments of religion, the world lofes all its charms, 
 and the bofom feels with lefs anguifh themiferies 
 and torments attached to humanity. You live 
 continually in verdant meadows, and fee your- 
 felf furrounded by the frefh fprings, upon the 
 borders of which the fhepherd of ISRAEL fed 
 his flocks. The tumultuous hurry of the world 
 appears like thunder rolling at a diftance ; like 
 the murmuring noife of diftant waters, the courfe 
 of which you perceive, while its waves break 
 againft the rock upon which you are fafely 
 teated. When ADDISON perceived that he was 
 
 given
 
 jtI2 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 given over by his phyficians, and felt his end 
 approaching, he fent for a young man of a dif- 
 pofition naturally good, and who was fenfible of 
 the Iqfs with which he was threatened. He 
 arrived; but AQ.DISQN, who was extremely 
 feeble, and whofe life at this moment hung 
 quivering on his lips, obferved a profound 
 jflence. After a long paufe the youth at length 
 addrefled him, "Sir, you defired to fee me; 
 " fignify. your commands, and I w\ll execute 
 <c them with religious punctuality.'' ADDISON 
 took him by the hand, and replied in his dying 
 
 voice, " obferve with what tranquillity a chriT- 
 
 . . j 
 
 " tian can die*." 
 
 SUCH is the confolation and tranquillity which 
 religion affords; fuch 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 
 
 / + 
 
 * The perfon here alluded to was lord WARWICK, a young 
 man of very irregular life, and perhaps of loofe opinions* 
 ADDISON, for whom he did not want refped, had very dili- 
 gently endeavoured to reclaim him; but his 'arguments and 
 expoftulations had no effeft ; when he found his life near its 
 end, therefore, he direfted the young lord to be called, and 
 made this laft experiment to reclaim him. What efFecl this 
 awful fcene had on the earl is unknown ; he likewife died, 
 himfelf in a fliort time. THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 remove
 
 Otf THE MIND AND THE HEART. 413'* 
 Jremove the obflacles to this inward peace ; to ' 
 oppofe upon all occafions the vi&ory of the 
 world ; the idea of facrificing to God is very- 
 natural and affecYmg to every warm and virtuous 
 heart. Why, therefore, are we fo continually 
 difconlented and miferable? Why do we fo 
 frequently 'complain of the want of happinefs 
 and enjoyment, if it be not becaufe we permit 
 the mind to be impofcd upon by falfe appear- 
 ances; becaufe fenfuality frequently predomi- 
 nates over reafon; becaufe we prefer deceitful 
 gifts and fleeting pleafures to more effential and 
 permanent enjoyments; becaufe, in one word, 
 the bofom is infenfible of the auguft. precepts of 
 our holy religion ? 
 
 BUT he who has ftudied the doftrines of the 
 Gofpel, and meditated upon them in filence* 
 has nothing more to defire. He is at laft 
 fenfible of the kind of character which he forms 
 in the world; of that which he may acquire in 
 Solitude; and of that which it is his duty to 
 attain. If he be inclined to think like a philo- 
 fopher, and live like a chriftian, he will re- 
 nounce the poifoned pleafures of that world, 
 which enervate his mind, banifh every ferious 
 thought, and prevent the heart from rifing to it 
 God. Difgufted with the frivolous chimeras 
 of vanity and folly, he retires to a diitance from 
 
 them
 
 414 T1IE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 them to contemplate his own character; to ele- 
 vate his mind to virtuous refolutions, and to re- 
 fign himfelf ftedfaftly and entirely to the emotions 
 of his heart. If he continue to fail upon that 
 tempeftuous fea, flill 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 i 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 
 furround him. 
 
 To the man who has accuftomed his mind 
 filently to collect its thoughts the hours which 
 he confecrates to GOD in Solitude are the hap- 
 pieft of his life. Every time we filently raife 
 our minds to God, we are carried back into 
 ourfclves. We become lefs fenfible of the ab- 
 fence of thofe things on which we placed our 
 happinefs ; and experience' much lefs pain in 
 retiring from the noife of the world to the filence 
 of Solitude. We acquire, by degrees, a more 
 intimate knowledge of ourfelves, and learn to 
 look into the human breaft with a more philor 
 fophlc eye. We fcrutinize our character with 
 greater feverity; feel with higher fenfibility the 
 necedity of reforming our conduft; and reflect 
 more maturely on that which is the end of 
 our lives. Confcious that our actions become 
 2 more
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 4!^ 
 more acceptable in the fight of GOD, in propor- 
 tion to the virtuous motives from which they 
 fpring, men ought benevolently to fuppofe that 
 we do good for virtue's fake; but every good 
 work admits of fo many fecondary views, that 
 the real motive is not always perhaps- under the 
 direction of the heart. Every good a6tion, with- 
 out doubt, conveys quietude to the breaft ; but 
 is this quietude always pure? Was not the mind 
 merely actuated by the confideration of profane 
 and wordly views to gratify a tranfient paflion ; 
 or influenced by felf-love, rather than by the 
 feelings 'of brotherly affe&ion ? We certainly 
 difcufs our thoughts and aftions much better, 
 and probe the emotions of the heart with greater 
 fincerity, when we felecl for the examination of 
 great and important truths thofe hours when we 
 are alone before Gob. 
 
 IT is thus that in Solitude we renounce our 
 intimate connection with men, to look back upon 
 the tranfactions of life; to difcufs our conduft 
 in the world; to prepare for ourfelves a more 
 rational employment in future; and to render an 
 account of thofe actions we have yet to perform. 
 It is thus that the wounds which we have re- 
 ceived in the hoftilities of life are healed. In 
 the intervals of a religious retirement, virtuous 
 refolutions are more eafily. acquired ; the heart 
 is more ea'fily appeafed; and we difcover with 
 
 greater,
 
 c INT- . :: OF sdLitUl- 
 
 ak-r certainty the fafe road through all the : 
 formidable perils of life. It is -thus that we are 
 never lef* alone than when no human being is 
 near .us..- becaufe we are then in the prefence of 
 HiM-wftofe will it is of the higheft importance 
 to our happincis to obey. 
 
 always calls Us from tveaknefs to 
 power, from feduction to refiftance, from that 
 which is prefcnt to that which is to come. Men, 
 it is true:, do not always enter into Solitude to 
 commune with God; but they willingly quit noify 
 and tumultuous aifemblies for the quietude which 
 cver.reigns in his tranquil houfe^and rejoice that 
 they are no longer obliged to lend themfelves to 
 plcafures which poffefs neither .delicacy nor mo- 
 rality. In every peaceful moment of our exifU 
 cnce, we are more immediately under the eye of 
 Him whom it is fo important to us to pleafe, 
 and whofe eye is not unmindful of our fage and 
 itlcnt meditations. 
 
 
 
 THE apoftles of fociety raife eVery-where a 
 .continual clamour, as if. they had matters of 
 very high importance to tranfaft in the world. 
 Every one ought certainly to do han the 
 
 Uriel line of duty calls upon him to perform j 
 but r unhappily, we ail do lefs than our duty, and 
 jeave the affairs of the world to go ou 'as they 
 
 may,
 
 ON THE MIND AND THE HEART. 417 
 
 may. The energy ncceffary to the performance 
 of great aBions, elevation of character, and (la- 
 bility and firmnefs in virtue, are no where fo eafily 
 acquired as in Solitude, and never fo efficacU 
 oufly as by RELIGION. Religion difengages the 
 heart from every vain defire, renders it tranquil 
 under the preffure of misfortunes, humble before 
 God, bold before men, and teaches it to rely 
 with confidence upon the protection of Provi- 
 dence. Solitude and religion refine all our moral 
 fentiments while we remain uninfefted \\ith the 
 leaven of fanaticifm; and at the conclufion of a 
 life patted in the pradice of every virtue, we re- 
 ceive the reward for all the hours which we L,_ve 
 confecrated to God in filence ; of that conftant 
 and religious zeal with which we have raifed to- 
 wards him pure hands and a chafte heart. 
 
 THE low defires of this world difappear when 
 we have courage enough to think that the aftual 
 ftate of lading content has fome analogy to the 
 joys of eternity. A complete liberty to be and 
 to do whatever we pleafe, becaufe that in Heaven, 
 in thofe regions of love and kindnefs, we can- 
 not poffefs an unjuft or improper inclination; 
 a life of innocence; a juftification of the ways 
 of Providence ; an implicit confidence in God ; 
 an eternal communion with thofe whom our fouls 
 loved on earth; are, at leaft, the wifhes and the 
 
 E c hopes
 
 418 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE 
 
 hopes which we may be, I truft, permitted, in 
 our worldly apprehenfions, to indulge, and 
 which fo agreeably flatter our imagination. But 
 thefe hopes and wifhes, which at prefent fhed a 
 glimmering light, muft remain like dreams and 
 vifions of the mind, until the tomb, thick clouds, 
 and darknefs, no longer hide eternity from 
 human eyes ; until the veil mail be removed, 
 and THE ETERNAL reveals to us thofe things 
 which no eye has ever feen, which no ear has 
 ever heard, which have never entered into the 
 heart of man ; for with filent fubmiflion I ac- 
 knowledge, that eternity, to human forefight, is 
 like what the colour of purple appeared to be in 
 the mind of a blind man, who compared it to the 
 found of a trumpet*. 
 
 * Men, in general, fondly hope in eternity for all that is flat- 
 tering to their tafte, inclinations, defires, and paffions on earth. I 
 therefore entirely concur in opinion with a celebrated German 
 philofopher, M. GARVE, that thofe perfons cannot poflefs hu- 
 mility of heart who hope that God will hereafter reward them 
 with riches and honour. It was thefe fentiments which occa- 
 fioned a young lady of Germany, extremely handfome, to fay, 
 Ihe hoped to carry with her into the next world a habit of fine 
 filver tiflue, zoned with feathers, and to walk in Heaven on car- 
 pets of rofe-leaves fpread upon the firmament. This alfo was the 
 reafon why, in a full aflembly of women of fafliion, where the 
 queftion was agitated, Whether marriages were good to all eter- 
 nity ? they all unaniraoufly exclaimed, God prtjerve us from it !
 
 fcN THE MIKD AND THE HEART. 
 
 IN this world, full of reftraints and embarrafT- 
 ftients, of troubles and of pains, the enjoyment! 
 of liberty, leifure, and tranquillity, are of in- 
 eftimable 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 fen- 
 lible of their worth, it is neceflary to have felt 
 the want of them. We refemble the inhabitant 
 of Terra Firma, 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 tranquillity, although I perfectly 
 feel that it is not poflible to form any idea of the 
 nature of that enjoyment which is produced by a 
 happinefs without end. An eternal tranquillity 
 is the higheft happinefs of my imagination, for I 
 know of no felicity upon earth that can equal 
 peace of mind. 
 
 SINCE therefore internal or external tranquil- 
 lity is upon earth an incontellible commence- 
 ment of beatitude^ it may be extremely ufeful to 
 believe, that in a rational and moderate abfence 
 from the tumults of fociety we may highly reftify 
 the faculties of the foul, and acquire elements of 
 that happinefs we expe6l to enjoy in the world to 
 come. 
 
 i I :. ? ow
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE, &C. 
 
 I NOW conclude my reflections upon the Ad- 
 vantages of Solitude to the heart. May they give 
 greater currency to ufcful fentiments, 'to confo- 
 latory truths, and contribute, in fome degree, to 
 diffufe the enjoyment of a happinefs, which is fo 
 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 chufe fuch PLEASURES as he 
 likes beft; in the enjoyment of which he will be 
 certain of receiving, both here and hereafter, the 
 approbation of God and his own conference. 
 
 THE END,
 
 3 1158 00421 8201 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL UBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 443 796 8