Being in a humour for complete solitude and uninterrupted meditation this autumn, I have
taken a lodging for six weeks in the most unfrequented part of England - in a word, in
London.
The retreat into which I have withdrawn myself, is Bond-street. From this lonely spot I
make pilgrimages into the surrounding wilderness, and traverse extensive tracts of the
Great Desert. The first solemn feeling of isolation overcome, the first oppressive
consciousness of profound retirement conquered, I enjoy that sense of freedom, and feel
reviving within me that latent wildness of the original savage, which has been (upon the
whole somewhat frequently) noticed by Travellers.
My lodgings are at a hatter's - my own hatter's. After exhibiting no articles in his window
for some weeks, but sea-side wide-awakes, shooting-caps, and a choice of rough
waterproof head-gear for the moors and mountains, he has put upon the heads of his
family as much of this stock as they could carry, and has taken them off to the Isle of
Thanet. His young man alone remains - and remains alone in the shop. The young man
has let out the fire at which the irons are heated, and, saving his strong sense of duty, I
see no reason why he should take the shutters down.
Happily for himself and for his country the young man is a Volunteer; most happily for
himself, or I think he would become the prey of a settled melancholy. For, to live
surrounded by human hats, and alienated from human heads to fit them on, is surely a
great endurance. But, the young man, sustained by practising his exercise, and by
constantly furbishing up his regulation plume (it is unnecessary to observe that, as a
hatter, he is in a cock's- feather corps), is resigned, and uncomplaining. On a Saturday,
when he closes early and gets his Knickerbockers on, he is even cheerful. I am gratefully
particular in this reference to him, because he is my companion through many peaceful
hours.
My hatter has a desk up certain steps behind his counter, enclosed like the clerk's desk at
Church. I shut myself into this place of seclusion, after breakfast, and meditate. At such
times, I observe the young man loading an imaginary rifle with the greatest precision, and
maintaining a most galling and destructive fire upon the national enemy. I thank him
publicly for his companionship and his patriotism.
The simple character of my life, and the calm nature of the scenes by which I am
surrounded, occasion me to rise early. I go forth in my slippers, and promenade the
pavement. It is pastoral to feel the freshness of the air in the uninhabited town, and to
appreciate the shepherdess character of the few milkwomen who purvey so little milk that
it would be worth nobody's while to adulterate it, if anybody were left to undertake the
task. On the crowded sea-shore, the great demand for milk, combined with the strong
local temptation of chalk, would betray itself in the lowered quality of the article. In
Arcadian London I derive it from the cow.
