that all those nations which have been brought to wretchedness by their
opinions, their manners, or their forms of government, have produced
numerous classes of citizens altogether devoted to solitude and
celibacy. Such were the Egyptians in their decline, and the Greeks of
the Lower Empire; and such in our days are the Indians, the Chinese,
the modern Greeks, the Italians, and the greater part of the eastern and
southern nations of Europe. Solitude, by removing men from the miseries
which follow in the train of social intercourse, brings them in some
degree back to the unsophisticated enjoyment of nature. In the midst of
modern society, broken up by innumerable prejudices, the mind is in a
constant turmoil of agitation. It is incessantly revolving in itself a
thousand tumultuous and contradictory opinions, by which the members of
an ambitious and miserable circle seek to raise themselves above each
other. But in solitude the soul lays aside the morbid illusions which
troubled her, and resumes the pure consciousness of herself, of nature,
and of its Author, as the muddy water of a torrent which has ravaged the
plains, coming to rest, and diffusing itself over some low grounds out
of its course, deposits there the slime it has taken up, and, resuming
its wonted transparency, reflects, with its own shores, the verdure of
the earth and the light of heaven. Thus does solitude recruit the powers
of the body as well as those of the mind. It is among hermits that are
found the men who carry human existence to its extreme limits; such
are the Bramins of India. In brief, I consider solitude so necessary to
happiness, even in the world itself, that it appears to me impossible
to derive lasting pleasure from any pursuit whatever, or to regulate
our conduct by any pursuit whatever, or to regulate our conduct by
any stable principle, if we do not create for ourselves a mental void,
whence our own views rarely emerge, and into which the opinions
of others never enter. I do not mean to say that man ought to live
absolutely alone; he is connected by his necessities with all mankind;
his labours are due to man: and he owes something too to the rest of
nature. But, as God has given to each of us organs perfectly adapted to
the elements of the globe on which we live,--feet for the soil, lungs
for the air, eyes for the light, without the power of changing the use
of any of these faculties, he has reserved for himself, as the Author of
life