To Mrs. Fitzgerald.
Bellfield, Oct. 12.
I am very conscious, my dear Bell, of not meriting the praises my
Rivers lavishes on me, yet the pleasure I receive from them is not the
less lively for that consideration; on the contrary, the less I deserve
these praises, the more flattering they are to me, as the stronger
proofs of his love; of that love which gives ideal charms, which
adorns, which embellishes its object.
I had rather be lovely in his eyes, than in those of all mankind;
or, to speak more exactly, if I continue to please him, the admiration
of all the world is indifferent to me: it is for his sake alone I wish
for beauty, to justify the dear preference he has given me.
How pleasing are these sweet shades! were they less so, my Rivers's
presence would give them every charm: every object has appeared to me
more lovely since the dear moment when I first saw him; I seem to have
acquired a new existence from his tenderness.
You say true, my dear Bell: heaven doubtless formed us to be happy,
even in this world; and we obey its dictates in being so, when we can
without encroaching on the happiness of others.
This lesson is, I think, plain from the book providence has spread
before us: the whole universe smiles, the earth is clothed in lively
colors, the animals are playful, the birds sing: in being chearful with
innocence, we seem to conform to the order of nature, and the will of
that beneficent Power to whom we owe our being.
If the Supreme Creator had meant us to be gloomy, he would, it seems
to me, have clothed the earth in black, not in that lively green, which
is the livery of chearfulness and joy.