When at home, I a little more frequent my library, whence I overlook at once all the concerns of my family.  ’Tis situated at the entrance into my house, and I thence see under me my garden, court, and base-court, and almost all parts of the building.  There I turn over now one book, and then another, on various subjects, without method or design.  One while I meditate, another I record and dictate, as I walk to and fro, such whimsies as these I present to you here.  ’Tis in the third storey of a tower, of which the ground-room is my chapel, the second storey a chamber with a withdrawing-room and closet, where I often lie, to be more retired; and above is a great wardrobe.  This formerly was the most useless part of the house.  I there pass away both most of the days of my life and most of the hours of those days.  In the night I am never there.  There is by the side of it a cabinet handsome enough, with a fireplace very commodiously contrived, and plenty of light; and were I not more afraid of the trouble than the expense—­the trouble that frights me from all business—­I could very easily adjoin on either side, and on the same floor, a gallery of an hundred paces long and twelve broad, having found walls already raised for some other design to the requisite height.  Every place of retirement requires a walk:  my thoughts sleep if I sit still:  my fancy does not go by itself, as when my legs move it:  and all those who study without a book are in the same condition.  The figure of my study is round, and there is no more open wall than what is taken up by my table and my chair, so that the remaining parts of the circle present me a view of all my books at once, ranged upon five rows of shelves round about me.  It has three noble and free prospects, and is sixteen paces in diameter.  I am not so continually there in winter; for my house is built upon an eminence, as its name imports, and no part of it is so much exposed to the wind and weather as this, which pleases me the better, as being of more difficult access and a little remote, as well upon the account of exercise, as also being there more retired from the crowd.  ’Tis there that I am in my kingdom, and there I endeavour to make myself an absolute monarch, and to sequester this one corner from all society, conjugal, filial, and civil; elsewhere I have but verbal authority only, and of a confused essence.  That man, in my opinion, is very miserable, who has not at home where to be by himself, where to entertain himself alone, or to conceal himself from others.  Ambition sufficiently plagues her proselytes, by keeping them always in show, like the statue of a public, square: 

“Magna servitus est magna fortuna.”

               ["A great fortune is a great slavery.” 
               —­Seneca, De Consol. ad.  Polyb., c. 26.]

They cannot so much as be private in the watercloset.  I have thought nothing so severe in the austerity of life that our monks affect, as what I have observed in some of their communities; namely, by rule, to have a perpetual society of place, and numerous persons present in every action whatever; and think it much more supportable to be always alone than never to be so.