THE HAPPINESS OF SOLITUDE—THE HERMIT’S HISTORY.
THEY came on the third day, by the direction of the peasants, to the
hermit’s cell. It was a cavern in the side of a mountain, overshadowed
with palm trees, at such a distance from the cataract that nothing more
was heard than a gentle uniform murmur, such as composes the mind to
pensive meditation, especially when it was assisted by the wind whistling
among the branches. The first rude essay of Nature had been so much
improved by human labour that the cave contained several apartments
appropriated to different uses, and often afforded lodging to travellers
whom darkness or tempests happened to overtake.
The hermit sat on a bench at the door, to enjoy the coolness of the
evening. On one side lay a book with pens and paper; on the other
mechanical instruments of various kinds. As they approached him
unregarded, the Princess observed that he had not the countenance of a
man that had found or could teach the way to happiness.
They saluted him with great respect, which he repaid like a man not
unaccustomed to the forms of Courts. “My children,” said he, “if you
have lost your way, you shall be willingly supplied with such
conveniences for the night as this cavern will afford. I have all that
Nature requires, and you will not expect delicacies in a hermit’s cell.”
They thanked him; and, entering, were pleased with the neatness and
regularity of the place. The hermit set flesh and wine before them,
though he fed only upon fruits and water. His discourse was cheerful
without levity, and pious without enthusiasm. He soon gained the esteem
of his guests, and the Princess repented her hasty censure.
At last Imlac began thus: “I do not now wonder that your reputation is so
far extended: we have heard at Cairo of your wisdom, and came hither to
implore your direction for this young man and maiden in the _choice of
life_.”
“To him that lives well,” answered the hermit, “every form of life is
good; nor can I give any other rule for choice than to remove all
apparent evil.”
“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 indeed lived fifteen years in solitude,” said the hermit, “but
have no desire that my example should gain any imitators. In my youth I
professed arms, and was raised by degrees to the highest military rank.
I have traversed wide countries at the head of my troops, and seen many
battles and sieges. At last, being disgusted by the preferments of a
younger officer, and feeling that my vigour was beginning to decay, I
resolved to close my life in peace, having found the world full of
snares, discord, and misery. I had once escaped from the pursuit of the
enemy by the shelter of this cavern, and therefore chose it for my final
residence. I employed artificers to form it into chambers, and stored it
with all that I was likely to want.
“For some time after my retreat I rejoiced like a tempest-beaten sailor
at his entrance into the harbour, being delighted with the sudden change
of the noise and hurry of war to stillness and repose. When the pleasure
of novelty went away, I employed my hours in examining the plants which
grow in the valley, and the minerals which I collected from the rocks.
But that inquiry is now grown tasteless and irksome. I have been for
some time unsettled and distracted: my mind is disturbed with a thousand
perplexities of doubt and vanities of imagination, which hourly prevail
upon me, because I have no opportunities of relaxation or diversion. I
am sometimes ashamed to think that I could not secure myself from vice
but by retiring from the exercise of virtue, and begin to suspect that I
was rather impelled by resentment than led by devotion into solitude. My
fancy riots in scenes of folly, and I lament that I have lost so much,
and have gained so little. In solitude, if I escape the example of bad
men, I want likewise the counsel and conversation of the good. I have
been long comparing the evils with the advantages of society, and resolve
to return into the world to-morrow. The life of a solitary man will be
certainly miserable, but not certainly devout.”
They heard his resolution with surprise, but after a short pause offered
to conduct him to Cairo. He dug up a considerable treasure which he had
hid among the rocks, and accompanied them to the city, on which, as he
approached it, he gazed with rapture.