no common guests, and spread his table with magnificence. The
eloquence of Imlac caught his attention, and the lofty courtesy of

the Princess excited his respect. When they offered to depart, he
entreated their stay, and was the next day more unwilling to

dismiss them than before. They were easily persuaded to stop, and
civility grew up in time to freedom and confidence.

The Prince now saw all the domestics cheerful and all the face of
nature smiling round the place, and could not forbear to hope that

he should find here what he was seeking; but when he was
congratulating the master upon his possessions he answered with a

sigh, "My condition has indeed the appearance of happiness, but
appearances are delusive. My prosperity puts my life in danger;

the Bassa of Egypt is my enemy, incensed only by my wealth and
popularity. I have been hitherto" target="_blank" title="ad.至今，迄今">hitherto protected against him by the

princes of the country; but as the favour of the great is uncertain
I know not how soon my defenders may be persuaded to share the

plunder with the Bassa. I have sent my treasures into a distant
country, and upon the first alarm am prepared to follow them. Then

will my enemies riot in my mansion, and enjoy the gardens which I
have planted."

They all joined in lamenting his danger and deprecating his exile;
and the Princess was so much disturbed with the tumult of grief and

indignation that she retired to her apartment. They continued with
their kind inviter a few days longer, and then went to find the

hermit.
CHAPTER XXI - 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 pensivemeditation, 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" target="_blank" title="a.决心的；坚定的">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.
CHAPTER XXII - THE HAPPINESS OF A LIFE LED ACCORDING TO NATURE.

RASSELAS went often to an assembly of learned men, who met at
stated times to unbend their minds and compare their opinions.

Their manners were somewhat coarse, but their conversation was
instructive, and their disputations acute, though sometimes too

violent, and often continued till neither controvertist remembered
upon what question he began. Some faults were almost general among

them: every one was pleased to hear the genius or knowledge of
another depreciated.

In this assembly Rasselas was relating his interview with the
hermit, and the wonder with which he heard him censure a course of

life which he had so deliberately chosen and so laudably followed.
The sentiments of the hearers were various. Some were of opinion

that the folly of his choice had been justly punished by
condemnation to perpetualperseverance. One of the youngest among

them, with great vehemence, pronounced him a hypocrite. Some
talked of the right of society to the labour of individuals, and

considered retirement as a desertion of duty. Others readily
allowed that there was a time when the claims of the public were

satisfied, and when a man might properly sequester himself, to
review his life and purify his heart.

One who appeared more affected with the narrative than the rest
thought it likely that the hermit would in a few years go back to

his retreat, and perhaps, if shame did not restrain or death
intercept him, return once more from his retreat into the world.

"For the hope of happiness," said he, "is so strongly impressed
that the longest experience is not able to efface it. Of the

present state, whatever it be, we feel and are forced to confess
the misery; yet when the same state is again at a distance,

imagination paints it as desirable. But the time will surely come
when desire will no longer be our torment and no man shall be

wretched but by his own fault.
"This," said a philosopher who had heard him with tokens of great

impatience, "is the present condition of a wise man. The time is
already come when none are wretched but by their own fault.

Nothing is more idle than to inquire after happiness which Nature
has kindly placed within our reach. The way to be happy is to live

according to Nature, in obedience to that universal and unalterable
law with which every heart is originally impressed; which is not

written on it by precept, but engraven by destiny; not instilled by
education, but infused at our nativity. He that lives according to

Nature will suffer nothing from the delusions of hope or