“… Where solitude, sad nurse of care, To sickly musing gives the pensive mind, There madness enters: and the dim-eyed fiend, Lorn melancholy, night and day provokes Her own eternal wound. The sun grows pale; A mournful visionary light o’erspreads The cheerful face of nature; earth becomes A dreary desert; and the heavens frown above. The various shapes of cursed illusion rise; Whate’er the wretched fear, creating fear Forms out of nothing; and with monsters teems Unknown in hell. The prostrate soul beneath A load of huge imagination heaves: And all the horrors that the guilty feel, With anxious flutterings wake the guilty breast. From other cares absolved, the busy mind Finds in itself a theme to pore upon; And finds it miserable, or makes it so.” To enable the mind, however, to form an accurate judgment of the probable consequences of solitude, it is, perhaps, necessary to have seen instances both of its advantageous and detrimental effects. The consequences vary with the subject on which it operates; and the same species of solitude which to one character would be injurious, will prove to another of the highest benefit and advantage. The same person, indeed, may at different periods, as his disposition changes, experience, under similar circumstances of retirement, very different effects. Certain, however, it is, that an occasional retreat from the tumultuous intercourses of society, or a judicious and well arranged retirement, cannot be prejudicial. To have pointed out the train of virtues it is capable of producing, and to have been silent upon the black catalogue of vices that may result from extreme seclusion, would have been the more pleasing task; but I have undertaken to draw the character of solitude impartially, and must therefore point out its possible defects. Man in a sate of solitary indolence and inactivity, sinks by degrees like stagnant water into impurity and corruption. The body suffers with the mind’s decay. It is more fatal than excess of action. It is a malady that renders every hope of recovery vain and visionary. To sink from action into rest, is only indulging the common course of nature; but to rise from long continued indolence to voluntary activity, is extremely difficult, and almost impracticable. A celebrated poet has finely described this class of unhappy beings in the following lines: “Then look’d, and saw a lazy lolling sort, Unseen at church, at senate, or at court, Of ever listless loiterers, that attend No cause, no trust, no duty, and no friend. Thee, too, my Paridel! she mark’d thee there, Stretch’d on the rack of a too easy chair, And heard the everlasting yawn confess The pains and penalties of idleness.”