AT FONTAINEBLEAU 
37 
The place admirably favoured the then condition 
of my soul. All the painful circumstances of the time, 
by driving me back upon myself, increased my con¬ 
centration. We constituted for ourselves a perfect 
solitude. Our chamber became for us an entire city. 
And outside there was nothing but a ring of wood, 
then tolerably small, which we traversed on foot: 
This ring oppressed me a little in the great heats, 
when the sun shone reflected on the sandstone. But 
in these dry hot days the thought does not grow 
enfeebled. I could follow up and investigate mine 
with sequence and perseverance, enjoying—what is 
rare enough in life—a grand harmonious unity of ideas 
and sentiments, which I was by no means anxious to 
vary, but rather to deepen. 
I went forth alone at noonday, and walked some 
distance into the dull, dumb, and sandy forest, which 
was without whisper and without voice. I carried 
thither my theme, and trusted to attain its meaning 
in that infinite of sand overlaid by an infinite of 
leaves. But how much vaster that infinite of animated 
life, the abyss of imperceptible organisms into which 
I was fain to descend ! 
All that Senancour says of Fontainebleau is true 
so far as relates to the vague dreamer who brings 
with him no prevailing thought. Yes; the landscape 
“ is generally on a small scale, dull, low, and solitary 
without being wild.” Animals are seldom met with, 
except in a few kids whose number is easily counted. Birds are not 
numerous. Few or no springs are visible; and the apparent absence of 
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