To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Aug. 26, at Sea.
We have just fallen in with a ship from New York to London, and, as
it is a calm, the master of it is come on board; whilst he is drinking
a bottle of very fine madeira, which Fitzgerald has tempted him with on
purpose to give me this opportunity, as it is possible he may arrive
first, I will write a line, to tell my dear Lucy we are all well, and
hope soon to have the happiness of telling her so in person; I also
send what I scribbled before we lost sight of land; for I have had no
spirits to write or do any thing since.
There is inexpressible pleasure in meeting a ship at sea, and
renewing our commerce with the human kind, after having been so
absolutely separated from them. I feel strongly at this moment the
inconstancy of the species: we naturally grow tired of the company on
board our own ship, and fancy the people in every one we meet more
agreable.
For my part, this spirit is so powerful in me, that I would gladly,
if I could have prevailed on my father and Fitzgerald, have gone on
board with this man, and pursued our voyage in the New York ship. I
have felt the same thing on land in a coach, on seeing another pass.
We have had a very unpleasant passage hitherto, and weather to
fright a better sailor than your friend: it is to me astonishing, that
there are men found, and those men of fortune too, who can fix on a sea
life as a profession.
How strong must be the love of gain, to tempt us to embrace a life
of danger, pain, and misery; to give up all the beauties of nature and
of art, all the charms of society, and separate ourselves from mankind,
to amass wealth, which the very profession takes away all possibility
of enjoying!
Even glory is a poor reward for a life passed at sea.
I had rather be a peasant on a sunny bank, with peace, safety,
obscurity, bread, and a little garden of roses, than lord high admiral
of the British fleet.
Setting aside the variety of dangers at sea, the time passed there
is a total suspension of one's existence: I speak of the best part of
our time there, for at least a third of every voyage is positive
misery.