is heavy, like water; in France it is light | for forming new intellectual friendships. Let as air; in both countries it is a medium and us consider, this time, what would be the consequence to Society itself.

no more.

Society talks, by preference, about amuse- If all the cultivated men were withdrawn ments; it does so because when people meet from it, the general tone of Society would infor recreation they wish to relieve their evitably descend much lower even than it is minds from serious cares, and also for the at present; it would sink so low that the practical reason that Society must talk about whole national intellect would undergo a sure what its members have in common, and their and inevitable deterioration. It is plainly the amusements are more in common than their duty of men situated as you are, who have work. As M. Thiers recommended the repub- been endowed by nature with superior facullican form of government in France on the ties, and who have enlarged them by the acground that it was the form which divided quisition of knowledge, to preserve Society by his countrymen least, so a polite and highly their presence from an evil so surely prolific civilized society chooses for the subject of of bad consequences. If Society is less nargeneral conversation the topic which is row, and selfish, and intolerant, and apathetic least likely to separate the different people than it used to be, it is because they who are who are present. It almost always happens the salt of the earth have not disdained to that the best topic having this recommenda- mix with its grosser and earthier elements. tion is some species of amusement; since All the improvement in public sentiment, and amusements are easily learnt outside the busi- the advancement in general knowledge which ness of life, and we are all initiated into them have marked the course of recent generations, in youth. are to be attributed to the wholesome influence of men who could think and feel, and who steadily exercised, often quite obscurely, yet not the less usefully in their time and place, the subtle but powerful attraction of the greater mind over the less. Instead of com

For these reasons I think that we ought to be extremely tolerant of the dulness or frivolity which may seem to prevail in any numerous company, and not to conclude too hastily that the members of it are in any degree more dull or frivolous than ourselves.plaining that people are ignorant and frivoIt is unfortunate, certainly, that the art of general conversation is not so successfully cultivated as it might be, and there are reasons for believing that our posterity will surpass us in this respect, because as culture increases the spirit of toleration increases with it, so that the great questions of politics and religion, in which all are interested, may be discussed more safely than they could be at the present day, by persons of different ways of thinking. But even the sort of general conversation we have now, poor as it may seem, still sufficiently serves as a medium for human intercourse, and permits us to meet on a common ground where we may select at leisure the agreeable or instructive friends that our higher intellect needs, and without whom the intellectual life is one of the ghastliest of solitudes.

And now permit me to add a few observations on another aspect of this subject, which is not without its importance.

lous, we ought to go amongst them and lead them to the higher life. "I know not how it is," said one in a dull circle to a more gifted friend who entered it occasionally, "when we are left to ourselves we are all lamentably stupid, but whenever you are kind enough to come amongst us we all talk very much better, and of things that are well worth talking about." The gifted man is always welcome, if only he will stoop to conquer, and forget himself to give light and heat to others. The low Philistinism of many a provincial town is due mainly to the shy reserve of the one or two superior men who fancy that they cannot amalgamate with the common intellect of the place.

Not only would I advocate a little patient condescension, but even something of the sturdier temper which will not be driven out. Are the Philistines to have all the talk to themselves forever; are they to rehearse their stupid old platitudes without the least Let us suppose that every one of rather fear of contradiction? How long, O Lord? more than ordinary capacity and culture were how long? Let us resolve that even in gento act as you yourself are acting, and with-eral society they shall not eternally have draw entirely from general society. Let us things their own way. Somebody ought to leave out of consideration for the present the loss to their private culture which would be the consequence of missing every opportunity

have the courage to enlighten them even at their own tables, and in the protecting presence of their admiring wives and daughters.

TO A FRIEND WHO KINDLY WARNED THE AU-ship enough to work under the eye of the ad

We need society, and we need solitude also, as we need summer and winter, day and night, exercise and rest. I thank heaven for a thousand pleasant and profitable conversa-merable vanities. tions with acquaintances and friends; I thank Montaigne tells us that at one time he bought heaven also, and not less gratefully, for thou-books from ostentation, but that afterwards sands of sweet hours that have passed in sol- he bought only such books as he wanted for itary thought or labor, under the silent stars.

a piece of charcoal a quotation from De Sén- | in loud dissonance with our sincerest thought. ancour to this effect: "In the world a man It is a great error to encourage in young peolives in his own age; in solitude, in all the ple the love of noble culture in the hope that ages." I observed in him the effects of a it may lead them more into what is called lonely life, and he greatly aided my observa- good society. High culture always isolates, tions by frankly communicating his experi- always drives men out of their class and ences. That solitude had become inexpres- makes it more difficult for them to share sibly dear to him, but he admitted one evil naturally and easily the common class-life consequence of it, which was an increasing un- around them. They seek the few companions fitness for ordinary society, though he cher- who can understand them, and when these ished a few tried friendships, and was grate- are not to be had within any traversable disful to those who loved him and could enter tance, they sit and work alone. Very possiinto his humor. He had acquired a horror of bly too, in some instances, a superior culture towns and crowds, not from nervousness, but may compel the possessor of it to hold opinbecause he felt imprisoned and impeded in his ions too far in advance of the opinions prevathinking, which needed the depths of the lent around him to be patiently listened to or forest, the venerable trees, the communica- tolerated, and then he must either disguise tion with primæval nature, from which he them, which is always highly distasteful to a drew a mysterious yet necessary nourishment man of honor, or else submit to be treated as for the peculiar activity of his mind. I found an enemy to human welfare. Cultivated that his case answered very exactly to the people who live in London (their true home) sentence he quoted from De Sénancour; he need never condemn themselves to solitude lived less in his own age than others do, but from this cause, but in the provinces there he had a fine compensation in a strangely are many places where it is not easy for them vivid understanding of other ages. Like De to live sociably without a degree of reserve Sénancour, he had a strong sense of the tran- that is more wearisome than solitude itself. sitoriness of what is transitory, and a passion- And however much pains you take to keep ate preference for all that the human mind your culture well in the background, it alconceives to be relatively or absolutely per- ways makes you rather an object of suspicion manent. This trait was very observable in to people who have no culture. They perhis talk about the peoples of antiquity, and in ceive that you are reserved, they know that the delight he took in dwelling rather upon very much of what passes in your mind is a everything which they had in common with mystery to them, and this feeling makes them ourselves than on those differences which are uneasy in your presence, even afraid of you, more obvious to the modern spirit. His and not indisposed to find a compensation for temper was grave and earnest, but unfailingly this uncomfortable feeling in sarcasms behind cheerful, and entirely free from any tendency your back. Unless you are gifted with a bitterness. The habits of his life would have been most unfavorable to the development of a nan of business, of a statesman, of a leader in ›ractical enterprise, but they were certainly not unfavorable to the growth of a tranquil And comprehensive intellect, capable of "just udgment and high-hearted patriotism. He ad not the spirit of the newspapers, he did ot live intensely in the present, but he had he spirit which has animated great poets, nd saints, and sages, and far-seeing teachers f humanity. Not in vain had he lived alone rith Nature, not in vain had he watched in plemn twilights and witnessed many a dawn: here is, there is a strength that comes to us solitude from that shadowy, awful Presence at frivolous crowds repel!

Solitude may be and is sometimes deliberely accepted or chosen, but far more freently men are driven into it by Nature and Fate. They go into solitude to escape the ase of isolation which is always most intolable when there are many voices round us

truly extraordinary power of conciliating goodwill, you are not likely to get on happily, for long together, with people who feel themselves your inferiors. The very utmost skill and caution will hardly avail to hide all your modes of thought. Something of your higher philosophy will escape in an unguarded moment, and give offence because it will seem foolish or incomprehensible to your audience. There is no safety for you but in a timely withdrawal, either to a society that is prepared to understand you, or else to a solitude where your intellectual superiorities will neither be a cause of irritation to others nor of vexation to yourself.

Like all our instincts, the instinct of solitude has its especial purpose, which appears to be the protection of rare and delicate natures from the commonplace world around them. Though recluses are considered by men of the world to be doomed to inevitable incompetence, the fact is that many of them have reached the highest distinction in intel

lectual pursuits. If Shelley had not disliked | whatever may have been the defects of his general society as he did, the originality of remarkable mind, and the weakness of its his own living and thinking would have been ultimate decay, it is certain that his amazing less complete; the influences of mediocre peo- command over vast masses of heterogeneous ple, who, of course, are always in the major-material would have been incompatible with ity, would have silently but surely operated any participation in the passing interests of to the destruction of that unequalled and per- the world. Nothing in intellectual history sonal delicacy of imagination to which we has ever exceeded the unshakable firmness owe what is inimitable in his poetry. In the of purpose with which he dedicated his whole last year of his life, he said to Trelawny of being to the elaboration of the Positive phiMary, his second wife, "She can't bear soli- losophy. He sacrificed everything to ittude, nor I society-the quick coupled with position, time, health, and all the amusethe dead." Here is a piteous prayer of his to ments and opportunities of society. He be delivered from a party that he dreaded: found that commonplace acquaintances disMary says she will have a party! There turbed his work and interfered with his mas

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are English singers here, the Sinclairs, and tery of it, so he resolutely renounced them. she will ask them, and every one she or you Others have done great things in isolation know. Oh the horror! For pity go to Mary that was not of their own choosing, yet non and intercede for me! I will submit to any the less fruitful for them and for mankind other species of torture than that of being It was not when Milton saw most of the bored to death by idle ladies and gentlemen. world, but in the forced retirement of a mai Again, he writes to Mary: 'My greatest de- who had lost health and eyesight, and whos light would be utterly to desert all human so- party was hopelessly defeated, that he com ciety. I would retire with you and our child posed the "Paradise Lost." It was durin to a solitary island in the sea; would build a tedious years of imprisonment that Bunya boat, and shut upon my retreat the flood-gates wrote his immortal allegory. Many a geniu of the world. I would read no reviews and has owed his best opportunities to poverty talk with no authors. If I dared trust my because poverty had happily excluded hir imagination it would tell me that there are from society, and so preserved him from one or two chosen companions beside your time-devouring exigencies and frivolities. self whom I should desire. But to this I The solitude which is really injurious is th would not listen; where two or three are severance from all who are capable of unde gathered together, the devil is among them." standing us. Painters say that they cann At Marlow he knew little of his neighbors. work effectively for very long together whe "I am not wretch enough," he said, "to tol- separated from the society of artists, an erate an acquaintance." Wordsworth and that they must return to London, or Pari Turner, if less systematic in their isolation, or Rome, to avoid an oppressive feeling were still solitary workers, and much of the discouragement which paralyzes their pr peculiar force and originality of their per-ductive energy. Authors are more fort formance is due to their independence of the nate, because all cultivated people are socie !people about them. Painters are especial suf- for them; yet even authors lose streng ferers from the visits of talkative people who and agility of thought when too long know little or nothing of the art they talk prived of a genial intellectual atmospher about, and yet who have quite influence In the country you meet with cultivated i enough to disturb the painter's mind by prov-dividuals; but we need more than this, ing to him that his noblest thoughts are surest need those general conversations in whi to be misunderstood. Men of science, too, find every speaker is worth listening to. The li solitude favorable to their peculiar work, be- most favorable to culture would have cause it permits the concentration of their times of open and equal intercourse with powers during long periods of time. Newton best minds, and also its periods of retre had a great repugnance to society, and even | My ideal would be a house in London, not f to notoriety—a feeling which is different, and from one or two houses that are so full in men of genius more rare. No one can light and warmth that it is a liberal educ doubt, however, that Newton's great intel- tion to have entered them, and a solita lectual achievements were due in some meas- tower on some island of the Hebrides, wi ure to this peculiarity of his temper, which no companions but the sea-gulls and permitted him to ripen them in the sustained thundering surges of the Atlantic. One su tranquillity necessary to difficult investiga- island I know well, and it is before my min tions. Auguste Comte isolated himself not eye, clear as a picture, whilst I am writin only from preference but on system, and It stands in the very entrance of a fine sa

water loch, rising above two hundred feet | monplace-book for your benefit rather than out of the water and setting its granite front my own, because the truth it contains has steep against the western ocean. When the been "borne in upon me" by my own experievenings are clear you can see Staffa and ence, so that what Mr. Galton says did not Iona like blue clouds between you and the give me a new conviction, but only confirmed sunset; and on your left, close at hand, the me in an old one. He is speaking to explorgranite hills of Mull, with Ulva to the right ers who have not done so much in that way across the narrow strait. It was the dream as he has himself, and though the subject of his of my youth to build a tower there, with advice is the conduct of an exploring party three or four little rooms in it, and walls as (in the wilds of Australia, for example) the strong as a lighthouse. There have been advice itself is equally useful if taken metamore foolish dreams, and there have been phorically, and applied to the conduct of inless competent teachers than the tempests tellectual labors and explorations of all kinds.

that would have roused me and the calms that would have brought me peace. If any serious thought, if any noble inspiration might have been hoped for, surely it would have been there, where only the clouds and waves were transient, but the ocean before me, and the stars above, and the mountains on either hand, were emblems and evidences of eternity.

NOTE.—There is a passage in Scott's novel, "The Pirate," which illustrates what has been said in this letter about the necessity for concealing superior culture in the presence of es intellectual companions, and I quote it the more willing

that Scott was so remarkably free from any morbid aversan to society, and so capable of taking a sincere interest in every human being.

Cleveland is speaking to Minna:

"I thought over my former story, and saw that seeming more brave, skilful, and enterprising than others had gained me command and respect. and that seeming more gently and hate me as a being of another species. I bargained with mself then, that since I could not lay aside my superiority of intellect and education, I would do my best to disguise, and to sink, in the rude seaman, all appearance of better being and better accomplishments."

artured and more civilized than they had made them envy

A similar policy is often quite as necessary in the society of

kodsmen.

PART X.

INTELLECTUAL HYGIENICS.

LETTER I.

"Interest yourself," says Mr. Galton, "chiefly in the progress of your journey, and do not look forward to its end with eagerness. It is better to think of a return to civilization, not as an end to hardship and a haven from ill, but as a thing to be regretted, and as a close to an adventurous and pleasant life. In this way, risking less, you will insensibly creep on, making connections, and learning the capabilities of the country as you advance, which will be found invaluable in the case of a hurried or a disastrous return. And thus, when some months have passed by, you will look back with surprise on the great distance travelled over; for if you average only three miles a day, at the end of the year you will have advanced 1000, which is a very considerable exploration. The fable of the hare and the tortoise seems expressly intended for travellers over wide and unknown tracts."

Yes, we ought to interest ourselves chiefly in the progress of our work, and not to look forward to its end with eagerness. That eagerness of which Mr. Galton speaks has spoiled many a piece of work besides a geographical exploration, and it not only spoils work, but it does worse, it spoils life also. How am I to enjoy this year as I ought, if I am continually wishing it were over? A truly intellectual philosophy must begin by recognizing the fact that the intellectual paths are infinitely long, that there will always be new

TO A YOUNG AUTHOR WHILST HE WAS WRITING horizons behind the horizon that is before us,

HIS FIRST BOOK.

Ir. Galton's advice to young travellers-That we ought to interest ourselves in the progress of a journey-The same rule applicable in intellectual things-Women in the cabin of a canal boat-Working hastily for temporary purposes-Fevered eagerness to get work done-Begin

ners have rarely acquired firm intellectual habits-Knowing the range of our own powers-The coolness of accomplished artists-Advice given by Ingres-Balzac's method of work-Scott, Horace Vernet, John Phillip-Decided

workers are deliberate workers.

I READ the other day, in Galton's "Art of Travel," a little bit which concerns you and all of us, but I made the extract in my com

and that we must accept a gradual advance as
the law of our intellectual life. It is our busi-
ness to move forwards, but we ought to do so
without any greater feeling of hurry than that
which affects the most stationary of minds.
Not a bad example for us is a bargeman's
wife in a canal-boat. She moves; movement
is the law of her life; yet see is as tranquil in
her little cabin as any goodwife on shore,
brewing her tea and preparing her buttered
toast without ever thinking about getting to
the end of her journey.
For if that voyage
were ended, another would always succeed to