l of
declamation, and listened to a sage who discoursed with great energy on
the conquest of the passions, and displayed the happiness of those who
had obtained this important victory, after which man is no longer the
slave of fear, nor the fool of hope; is no more emaciated by envy,
inflamed by anger, emasculated by tenderness, or depressed by grief.
Receiving permission to visit this philosopher--having, indeed,
purchased it by presenting him with a purse of gold--Rasselas returned
home with joy to Imlac.

"I have found," said he, "a man who, from the unshaken throne of
rational fortitude, looks down on the scenes of life changing beneath
him. I will learn his doctrines and imitate his life."

"Be not too hasty," said Imlac, "to trust or to admire the teachers of
morality; they discourse like angels, but they live like men."

Imlac's caution turned out to be wise, for when the prince paid his
visit a few days afterwards, he found the philosopher weeping over the
death of his only daughter, and refusing to be comforted by any of the
consolations that truth and reason could afford.

Still eager upon the same inquiry, and resolving to discover whether
that felicity which public life could not afford was to be found in
solitude, Rasselas determined to visit a hermit who lived near the
lowest cataract of the Nile and filled the whole country with the fame
of his sanctity, Imlac and the princess agreeing to accompany him. On
the third day they reached the cell of the holy man, who was desired to
give his direction as to a choice of life.

"He will most certainly remove from evil," said the prince, "who shall
devote himself to that solitude which you have recommended by your
example."

"I have no desire that my example should gain any imitators," replied
the hermit. "In my youth I professed arms, and was raised by degrees to
the highest military rank. At last, being disgusted by the preferments
of a younger officer, I resolved to close my life in peace, having found
the world full of snares, discord, and misery. For some time after my
retreat I rejoiced like a tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the
harbour. When the pleasure of novelty went away, I employed my hours in
examining the plants and minerals of the place. But that inquiry is now
grown tasteless and irksome, and I have been for some time unsettled and
distracted. I am sometimes ashamed to think that I could not secure
myself from vice but by retiring