ion of agreeable
prospects, a free air, a good appetite, and the health I gained by
walking; the freedom of inns, and the distance from everything that can
make me recollect the dependence of my situation, conspire to free my
soul, and give boldness to my thoughts, throwing me, in a manner, into
the immensity of beings, where I combine, choose and appropriate them to
my fancy, without constraint or fear. I dispose of all nature as I
please; my heart wandering from object to object, approximates and unites
with those that please it, is surrounded by charming images, and becomes
intoxicated with delicious sensations. If, attempting to render these
permanent, I am amused in describing to myself, what glow of coloring,
what energy of expression, do I give them!--It has been said, that all
these are to be found in my works, though written in the decline of life.
Oh! had those of my early youth been seen, those made during my travels,
composed, but never written!--Why did I not write them? will be asked;
and why should I have written them? I may answer. Why deprive myself of
the actual charm of my enjoyments to inform others what I enjoyed? What
to me were readers, the public, or all the world, while I was mounting
the empyrean. Besides, did I carry pens, paper and ink with me? Had I
recollected all these, not a thought would have occurred worth
preserving. I do not foresee when I shall have ideas; they come when
they please, and not when I call for them; either they avoid me
altogether, or rushing in crowds, overwhelm me with their force and
number. Ten volumes a day would not suffice barely to enumerate my
thoughts; how then should I find time to write them? In stopping, I
thought of nothing but a hearty dinner; on departing, of nothing but a
charming walk; I felt that a new paradise awaited me at the door, and
eagerly leaped forward to enjoy it.

Never did I experience this so feelingly as in the perambulation I am now
describing. On coming to Paris, I had confined myself to ideas which
related to the situation I expected to occupy there. I had rushed into
the career I was about to run, and should have completed it with
tolerable eclat, but it was not that my heart adhered to. Some real
beings obscured my imagined ones--Colonel Godard and his nephew could not
keep pace with a hero of my disposition. Thank Heaven, I was soon
delivered from all these obstacles, and could enter at pleasure into the
wilderness