Disappointed Men,
Sick Francis Firsts And Vanquished Grand Monarchs, Time Out Of Mind
Have Come Here For Consolation.
Hither perplexed folk have retired
out of the press of life, as into a deep bay-window on some night
of masquerade, and here found quiet and silence, and rest, the
mother of wisdom.
It is the great moral spa; this forest without a
fountain is itself the great fountain of Juventius. It is the best
place in the world to bring an old sorrow that has been a long
while your friend and enemy; and if, like Beranger's your gaiety
has run away from home and left open the door for sorrow to come
in, of all covers in Europe, it is here you may expect to find the
truant hid. With every hour you change. The air penetrates
through your clothes, and nestles to your living body. You love
exercise and slumber, long fasting and full meals. You forget all
your scruples and live a while in peace and freedom, and for the
moment only. For here, all is absent that can stimulate to moral
feeling. Such people as you see may be old, or toil-worn, or
sorry; but you see them framed in the forest, like figures on a
painted canvas; and for you, they are not people in any living and
kindly sense. You forget the grim contrariety of interests. You
forget the narrow lane where all men jostle together in
unchivalrous contention, and the kennel, deep and unclean, that
gapes on either hand for the defeated.
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