II.

Permitte Divis cœtera * * * * * * * 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_.