LETTER LXI.
WorthytoHarrington.
Belleview.
I THANK you for your letters, but I wish you had something better for the subject of them—the sad repetition of your feelings and sorrows, pains me exceedingly—I promise to be with you soon—perhaps before you can receive this letter.
WHATEVER concerns my friend, most sensibly affects me—You,Harrington, are the friend of my heart, and nothing has so much grieved me as the story of your misfortunes.
IT is a maxim well received, and seems to be admitted an article in the moral creed of mankind, “that the enjoyments of life do not compensate the miseries.” Since, then, we are born to suffer, and pain must attend us in all the stages of our journey, let us philosophically welcome our companion. The most eligible plan we can adopt, is to be contented in the condition that Providence hath assigned us. Let us trust that our burden will not be heavier than we can bear—When we adopt this plan, and are sensible we have this trust, our lesson is complete—we have learned all—we are arrived to the perfection of sublunary happiness.
DO not think I am preaching to you a mere sermon of morality—let me impress your mind with the folly of repining, and the blessing of a contented mind.
LET me intreat you not to puzzle yourbrain with vain speculations—if you are disposed to argue, do not put foolish cases that never existed—take the light of facts, and reason from them.
WHEN we are surrounded with miseries of life—the baseness of false friends—the malice of enemies—when we are enveloped in those anxious fears, the result of too much sensibility, human nature feels a degree of oppression, which, without a manly exertion of reason and this practical philosophy, would be intolerable. I have heard you mentionSt. Evremondas a philosopher of this kind. Arm yourself with his prudence and fortitude—he, though in exile—though reduced almost to penury, and labouring under the disadvantages of a bad constitution, lived to be a very old man; he established a course of rational pleasures—for when the mind is employed, we regret the loss of time—we become avaricious of life.
WHEN misfortunes come upon us without these consolations, it is hard, I acknowledge, to buffet the storm—it is then human frailty is most apparent—there is nothing left to hope—Reason is taken from the helm of life—and Nature—helpless, debilitated Nature—lost to herself, and every social duty, splits upon the rocks of despair and suicide. We have seen several examples of this—By exploring and therefore shunning the causes, let us avoid the catastrophe.
THE pensive and melancholy will muse over the ordinary accidents of life, and swell them, by the power of imagination, to the heaviest calamities. Hence we find a treacherous friend will sensibly affect some men, and a capricious mistress will destroy a real lover: Hence people in misfortune frequently construe the slightest inattention into neglect and insult, and deem their best friends falseand ungrateful. The sting of ingratitude, deeply pierces the heart of sensibility.
THE passions and affections which govern mankind are very inconsistent. Men, confined to the humble walks of life, sigh for the enjoyment of wealth and power, which, when obtained, become loathsome—The mind unaccustomed to such easy situation, is discontented, and longs to be employed in those things in which it was formerly exercised.
THE greatest rulers and potentates become unhappy—they wish for the charms of solitude and retirement, which, when attained, become more irksome than their former condition—Charlesthe Fifth, ofSpain, resolved to taste the pleasures of a recluse life, by abdicating the throne—he soon found his imagination had deceived him, and repented of the step he had taken. This lazy life, whencompared to the business and grandeur of a court, became tasteless and insipid.—“The day,” says a historian, “he resigned his crown to his son, was the very day in which he repented making him such a present.”
IT is a great art to learn to be happy in the state in which we are placed—I advise you to mingle in the concerns of your acquaintances—be cheerful and undisturbed, nor give yourself up to those gloomy ideas which lend only to make you more wretched—If such obtrude themselves, avoid being alone—I had rather been a dupe to my imagination than sacrifice an hour’s calmness to my sensibility or understanding. Determine to be happy, and you will be so—
God be with you!
God be with you!
God be with you!
God be with you!