XXIII 
  
SOLITUDE 
  
  
A PHILANTHROPIC journalist tells me that 
solitude is bad for man, and, to support this 
thesis, quotes, like all unbelievers, the sayings 
of the Fathers of the Church. 
I know that the devil gladly haunts barren 
places, and that the spirit of murder and of lust 
inflames itself miraculously in solitudes; but it 
is just possible that this solitude is only dan-
gerous for the idle and dispersed soul, which 
peoples it with its passions and chimeras. 
It is certain that a wind-bag whose su-
preme pleasure consists in speaking from a 
platform or a rostrum would run serious trou-
ble of becoming a furious madman on Robin-
son Crusoe’s island. I do not demand from my 
journalist the heroic virtues of that adventure, 
but I do ask that he should not pass sentence 
upon those who love solitude and mystery. In 
our chattering race there are individuals who 
would accept with less repugnance the last 
penalty of the law if they were allowed to make 
a lengthy speech from the scaffold free from