Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia | Page 4

that I can want, I find one day and one hour exactly like another, except
that the latter is still more tedious than the former. Let your experience
inform me how the day may now seem as short as in my childhood,
while nature was yet fresh, and every moment showed me what I never
had observed before. I have already enjoyed too much: give me
something to desire." The old man was surprised at this new species of
affliction, and knew not what to reply, yet was unwilling to be silent.
"Sir," said he, "if you had seen the miseries of the world, you would
know how to value your present state." "Now," said the Prince, "you
have given me something to desire. I shall long to see the miseries of
the world, since the sight of them is necessary to happiness."
CHAPTER IV
--THE PRINCE CONTINUES TO GRIEVE AND MUSE.

At this time the sound of music proclaimed the hour of repast, and the
conversation was concluded. The old man went away sufficiently
discontented to find that his reasonings had produced the only
conclusion which they were intended to prevent. But in the decline of
life, shame and grief are of short duration: whether it be that we bear
easily what we have borne long; or that, finding ourselves in age less
regarded, we less regard others; or that we look with slight regard upon
afflictions to which we know that the hand of death is about to put an
end.

The Prince, whose views were extended to a wider space, could not
speedily quiet his emotions. He had been before terrified at the length
of life which nature promised him, because he considered that in a long
time much must be endured: he now rejoiced in his youth, because in
many years much might be done. The first beam of hope that had been
ever darted into his mind rekindled youth in his cheeks, and doubled
the lustre of his eyes. He was fired with the desire of doing something,
though he knew not yet, with distinctness, either end or means. He was
now no longer gloomy and unsocial; but considering himself as master
of a secret stock of happiness, which he could only enjoy by concealing
it, he affected to be busy in all the schemes of diversion, and
endeavoured to make others pleased with the state of which he himself
was weary. But pleasures can never be so multiplied or continued as
not to leave much of life unemployed; there were many hours, both of
the night and day, which he could spend without suspicion in solitary
thought. The load of life was much lightened; he went eagerly into the
assemblies, because he supposed the frequency of his presence
necessary to the success of his purposes; he retired gladly to privacy,
because he had now a subject of thought. His chief amusement was to
picture to himself that world which he had never seen, to place himself
in various conditions, to be entangled in imaginary difficulties, and to
be engaged in wild adventures; but, his benevolence always terminated
his projects in the relief of distress, the detection of fraud, the defeat of
oppression, and the diffusion of happiness.
Thus passed twenty months of the life of Rasselas. He busied himself
so intensely in visionary bustle that he forgot his real solitude; and
amidst hourly preparations for the various incidents of human affairs,
neglected to consider by what means he should mingle with mankind.
One day, as he was sitting on a bank, he feigned to himself an orphan
virgin robbed of her little portion by a treacherous lover, and crying
after him for restitution. So strongly was the image impressed upon his
mind that he started up in the maid's defence, and ran forward to seize
the plunderer with all the eagerness of real pursuit. Fear naturally
quickens the flight of guilt. Rasselas could not catch the fugitive with
his utmost efforts; but, resolving to weary by perseverance him whom

he could not surpass in speed, he pressed on till the foot of the
mountain stopped his course.
Here he recollected himself, and smiled at his own useless impetuosity.
Then raising his eyes to the mountain, "This," said he, "is the fatal
obstacle that hinders at once the enjoyment of pleasure and the exercise
of virtue. How long is it that my hopes and wishes have flown beyond
this boundary of my life, which yet I never have attempted to
surmount?"
Struck with this reflection, he sat down to muse, and remembered that
since he first resolved to escape from his confinement, the sun had
passed twice over him in his annual course. He now felt a degree of
regret with which he had never been