Solitude. Johann Georg Zimmermann

of a common beggar. Being informed that part of the current of the Danube, above Regensberg, was so strong and rapid, that no one dared to swim across it; he made the attempt, and ventured so far that he nearly lost his life. A great statesman and profound philosopher at Hanover related to me, that during the war in which the count commanded the artillery in the army of prince Ferdinand of Brunswick against the French, he one day invited a number of Hanoverian officers to dine with him in his tent. While the company were in the highest state of festive mirth and gayety, a succession of cannon balls passed directly over the head of the tent. “The French cannot be far off!” exclaimed the officers. “Oh! I assure you,” replied the count, “they are not near us;” and he begged the gentlemen would make themselves perfectly easy, resume their seats, and finish their dinner. Soon afterwards a cannon ball carried away the top of the tent, when the officers again rose precipitately from their seats, exclaiming, “The enemy are here!” “No, no,” replied the count, “the enemy are not here; therefore I must request, gentlemen, that you will place yourselves at the table, and sit still, for you may rely on my word.” The firing recommenced and the balls flew about in the same direction: the officers, however, remained fixed to their seats; and while they ate and drank in seeming tranquillity, whispered to each other their surmises and conjectures on this singular entertainment. At length the count, rising from his seat addressed the company in these words: “gentlemen, I was willing to convince you how well I can rely upon the officers of my artillery. I ordered them to fire, during the time we continued at dinner, at the pinnacle of the tent; and you have observed with what punctuality they obeyed my orders.”

      Characteristic traits of a man anxious to inure himself and those about him to arduous and difficult exploits will not be useless or unentertaining to curious and speculative minds. Being one day in company with the count at fort Wilhelmstein, by the side of a magazine of gunpowder, which he had placed in the room immediately under that in which he slept, I observed to him, that I should not be able to sleep very contentedly there during some of the hot nights of summer. The count, however, convinced me, though I do not now recollect by what means, that the greatest danger and no danger, are one and the same thing. When I first saw this extraordinary man, which was in the company of two officers, the one English the other Portuguese, he entertained me for two hours upon the physiology of Haller, whose works he knew by heart. The ensuing morning he insisted on my accompanying him in a little boat, which he rowed himself, to fort Wilhelmstein, built under his direction in the middle of the water, from plans, which he showed me of his own drawing. One Sunday, on the great parade at Pyrmont, surrounded by a vast concourse of men and women occupied in music, dancing, and gallantries, he entertained me during the course of two hours on the same spot, and with as much serenity if we had been alone, by detailing the various controversies respecting the existence of God, pointing out their defective parts and convincing me that he surpassed every writer in his knowledge of the subject. To prevent my escaping from this lecture, he held me fast the whole time by one of the buttons of my coat. At his country seat at Buckebourg, he showed me a large folio volume, in his own hand-writing, upon “The Art of defending a small town against a great force.” The work was completely finished and intended as a present to the king of Portugal. There were many passages in it, which the count did me the favor to read relating to Swisserland, a country and people which he considered as invincible; pointing out to me not only all the important places they might occupy against an enemy, but discovering passes before unknown, and through which even a cat would scarce be able to crawl. I do not believe that any thing was ever written of higher importance to the interests of my country than this work; for it contains satisfactory answers to every objection that ever has or can be made. My friend M. Moyse Mendelsohm, to whom the cont read the preface to this work while he resided at Pyrmont, considered it as a master-piece of fine style and sound reasoning; for the count, when he pleased, wrote the French language with nearly as much elegance and purity as Voltaire: while in the German he was labored, perplexed, and diffuse. I must, however, add this in his praise, that, on his return from Portugal, he studied for many years under two of the most acute masters in Germany: first, Abbt; and afterwards Herder. Many persons who, from a closer intimacy and deeper penetration, have had greater opportunities of observing the conduct and character of this truly great and extraordinary man, relate of him a variety of anecdotes equally instructive and entertaining. I shall only add one observation more respecting his character, availing myself of the words of Shakspeare; the count Guilaume de Schaumbourg Lippe

      “… carries no dagger.

      He has a lean and hungry look;

      … but he’s not dangerous:

      … he reads much:

      He is a great observer: and he looks

      Quite thro’ the deeds of men. He loves no plays

      … he hears no music;

      Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort,

      As if he mock’d himself, and scorn’d his spirit,

      That could be mov’d to smile at any thing.”

      Such was the character, always misunderstood, of this solitary man; and such a character might fairly indulge a contemptuous smile, on perceiving the mistaken sneers of an ignorant multitude. But what must be the shame and confusion of the partial judges of mankind, when they behold the monument which the great Mendelsohm has raised to his memory; and the faithful history of his life and manners which a young author is about to publish at Hanover; the profound sentiments, the elegant style, the truth, and the sincerity of which will be discovered and acknowledged by impartial posterity?

      The men who, as I have frequently observed, are disposed to ridicule this illustrious character on account of his long visage, his flowing hair, his enormous hat, or his little sword, might be pardoned, if, like him, they were philosophers or heroes. The mind of the count, however, was too exalted to be moved by their insulting taunts, and he never smiled upon the world, or upon men, either with spleen or with contempt. Feeling no hatred, indulging no misanthropy, his looks beamed kindness on all around him; and he enjoyed with dignified composure the tranquillity of his rural retreat in the middle of a thick forest, either alone or in the company of a fond and virtuous wife, whose death so sensibly afflicted even his firm and constant mind, that it brought him almost to an untimely grave. The people of Athens laughed at Themistocles, and openly reviled him even in the streets, because he was ignorant of the manners of the world, the ton of good company, and that accomplishment which is called good breeding. He retorted, however, upon these ignorant railers with the keenest asperity: “It is true,” said he, “I never play upon the lute; but I know how to raise a small and inconsiderable city to greatness and to glory.”

      Solitude and philosophy may inspire sentiments which appear ludicrous to the eye of worldly folly, but they banish all light and insignificant ideas, and prepare the mind for the grandest and most sublime conceptions. Those who are in the habit of studying great and exalted characters, of cultivating refined and elevated sentiments, unavoidably contract a singularity of manners which may furnish ample materials for ridicule. Romantic characters always view things differently from what they really are or can be; and the habit of invariably contemplating the sublime and beautiful, renders them, in the eyes of the weak and wicked, insipid and unsupportable. Men of this disposition always acquire a high and dignified demeanor, which shocks the feelings of the vulgar; but it is not on that account the less meritorious. Certain Indian philosophers annually quitted their solitude to visit the palace of their sovereign, where each of them, in his turn, delivered his advice upon the government of the state, and upon the changes and limitations which might be made in the laws; but he who three successive times communicated false or unimportant observations, lost for one year, the privilege of appearing in the presence-chamber. This practice is well calculated to prevent the mind from growing romantic: but there are many philosophers of a different description, who if they had the same opportunity, would not meet with better success.

      Plotinus requested the emperor Gallienus to confer on him a small city in Campania, and the territory appendant to it, promising to retire to it with his friends and followers, and to realise in the government of it the Republic of Plato. It happened then, however, as it frequently happens now in many courts, to philosophers much less chimerical