If a man do not first discharge both himself and his mind of the burden with which he finds himself oppressed, motion will but make it press the harder and sit the heavier, as the lading of a ship is of less encumbrance when fast and bestowed in a settled posture.  You do a sick man more harm than good in removing him from place to place; you fix and establish the disease by motion, as stakes sink deeper and more firmly into the earth by being moved up and down in the place where they are designed to stand.  Therefore, it is not enough to get remote from the public; ’tis not enough to shift the soil only; a man must flee from the popular conditions that have taken possession of his soul, he must sequester and come again to himself: 

                         “Rupi jam vincula, dicas
               Nam luctata canis nodum arripit; attamen illi,
               Quum fugit, a collo trahitur pars longa catenae.”

     ["You say, perhaps, you have broken your chains:  the dog who after
     long efforts has broken his chain, still in his flight drags a heavy
     portion of it after him.”—­Persius, Sat., v. 158.]

We still carry our fetters along with us.  ’Tis not an absolute liberty; we yet cast back a look upon what we have left behind us; the fancy is still full of it: 

          “Nisi purgatum est pectus, quae praelia nobis
          Atque pericula tunc ingratis insinuandum? 
          Quantae connscindunt hominem cupedinis acres
          Sollicitum curae? quantique perinde timores? 
          Quidve superbia, spurcitia, ac petulantia, quantas
          Efficiunt clades? quid luxus desidiesque?”

["But unless the mind is purified, what internal combats and dangers must we incur in spite of all our efforts!  How many bitter anxieties, how many terrors, follow upon unregulated passion!  What destruction befalls us from pride, lust, petulant anger!  What evils arise from luxury and sloth!”—­Lucretius, v. 4.]

Our disease lies in the mind, which cannot escape from itself;

          “In culpa est animus, qui se non effugit unquam,”
          —­Horace, Ep., i. 14, 13.

and therefore is to be called home and confined within itself:  that is the true solitude, and that may be enjoyed even in populous cities and the courts of kings, though more commodiously apart.

Now, since we will attempt to live alone, and to waive all manner of conversation amongst them, let us so order it that our content may depend wholly upon ourselves; let us dissolve all obligations that ally us to others; let us obtain this from ourselves, that we may live alone in good earnest, and live at our ease too.