Permitte Divis cœtera * *
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Quid sit futurum cras, fuge quœrere.—_Horat._
All the miseries and infelicities to which human nature is subject,
are of three classes. Those to which we are immediately exposed from
the imperfect state of our existence—those which are the concomitants
of vice, folly and obstinacy, and those which by restlessness,
impatience and apprehensions, we have portioned out to ourselves.
The first, as they are inseparable from our nature, will always yield
to the remedies of reason and philosophy; and instead of fruitless
complaints and unavailing wishes for an amendment of that condition in
which the divinity has thought fit to place us, we shall be enabled to
support it with fortitude and thankfulness that it is not more
intolerable.
The second, as they are the immediate effects of our deviations from
the paths of virtue, in direct opposition to sense and reflection,
will cease when they become intolerable either from pain, remorse or
disappointment; since we cannot suppose that a rational being will
persist in the commission of actions repugnant to justice, goodness
and truth, when he finds the happiness, pleasure or profit which he
had in view, so far from being accomplished, that those very means
which to him appeared the fairest and most likely to insure success,
have been the chief instruments of disappointment.
The first two general causes of human infelicity, we see then, may be
obviated by the dictates of philosophy and the application of rational
remedies, but we shall find the third much more obstinate.
This impatience, this restlessness, this not dissatisfaction with our
present condition, but frivolous apprehensions of the future, this
disposition which changes that which nature has made so excellent,
overturns the beautiful fabric of human happiness, mingles the
bitterest ingredients with the cup of felicity, or dashes it from the
lips of those for whom it has been prepared, this I say, is of such an
unaccountable and inexplicable nature as would lead one to suppose no
remedy could be found to remove. Who but a fool or hypochondriac could
we suppose, when basking in the genial beams of a summer sun, and
fanned by the cooling zephyrs, or sailing on a smooth sea under a
serene sky, would torment himself with the apprehensions of storms and
tempests? Who, but a madman would destroy the pleasures of a
delightful landscape by reflecting, that in the course of a few months
the fields will be stripped of their verdure, the groves of their
shade, and the rivulet arrested in its course by the nipping breath of
winter winds?
Did this infelicity arise from a consciousness of our own
unworthiness, in possessing enjoyments superior to what we deserve,
and the fear of being stripped of them in consequence thereof, it
would carry some shadow of reason along with it—but this is not the
case, since few can bring themselves to think that their portion of
happiness is equal, if not superior to their merit; or was it the
result of a comparison of our own situation with those around us, we
should have some hopes of a cure; {771} since, if we take a true and
impartial survey of our own condition, and those of our fellow
creatures, we shall certainly have more cause for thankfulness than
murmuring. Do we see one possessed of immense wealth?—perhaps heaven
has denied him a soul capable of enjoyment. Look we down and behold
his counterpart, oppressed with poverty and want—to him, perhaps,
heaven has been bountiful in its gifts of resignation and contentment.
The rich are not happy in proportion to their possessions, neither are
the poor wretched in proportion to their wants. Through every
inequality of life, the same conclusions may justly be drawn. Have we
from a state of affluence been reduced to want, or from a state of
power to that of dependency?—are we deprived of our liberty and cut
off from society to drag out a part of our existence in dreary
confinement?—have we been robbed of those whom we had treasured up in
our hearts as the better half of ourselves, and left to tread the
rugged paths of life disconsolate and forlorn?—the means of happiness
are still in our power—that substantial happiness which arises from
the steady and uniform practice of virtue, the testimony of an honest
conscience and thoughts of self-approbation.
A disposition to murmur, is to accuse the Deity of injustice; a
disposition to despondency is an imputation of disregard to that Being
who has so liberally provided for the wants of all his creatures. To
anticipate miseries which, perhaps, may never come to pass, is to
wrest the keys of futurity from the hands of the Almighty, to plunder
his decrees of what cannot possibly belong to us till he shall think
proper to bestow them, and to fly in the face of him who has declared
that he will withhold no good thing from the virtuous and deserving
part of his creatures.
Would we then wish to dry up this source of infelicity and be happy in
the enjoyment of our present lot, without which we can never, with
tranquillity, look forward to the future, let us consider that in the
state in which we are placed by the hand of Providence, though our
wishes may be many, our real wants are but few—that happiness or
misery do not depend on the trifling contingencies of sublunary
affairs—that the ways of Providence are impervious to mortal eyes, so
that we can neither foresee nor prevent whatever portion of good or
evil may be in store for us—and that a rational use of whatever means
of happiness we may have received, is not only to prolong them, but to
heighten the enjoyment and prepare us for what may further be added to
our happiness, or what pain may in future be inflicted. To act in this
manner is to deserve the rank in which we are placed, whether as men
or philosophers—by which all unjust murmurings will be effectually
removed, and the cause of our greatest share of infelicity will be
done away.
_Literary Society, December 2, 1779_.