_Worthy_ to _Harrington_.
_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 your brain 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 mention ST.
EVREMOND as 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 false and 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—_Charles_ the Fifth, of _Spain_,
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, when compared 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!