Page images
PDF
EPUB

she made no complaint; but mildly answered all my questions by some short sentence, without entering into any detail. Her decay and impending dissolution became obvious to the eye; but to the last moment of her life, her countenance preserved a serenity correspondent to the purity of her mind, and the affectionate tenderness of her heart. Thus I beheld my dear, my only daughter, at the age of five-and-twenty, after a lingering suffering of nine long, long months, expire in my arms. So long and so severe an attack was not necessary to the conquest: she had been the submissive victim of ill health from her earliest infancy; her appetite was almost gone when we left Swisserland; a residence which she quitted with her usual sweetness of temper, and without discovering the smallest regret; although a young man, as handsome in his person as he was amiable in the qualities of his mind, the object of her first, her only affection, a few weeks afterwards put a period to his existence. During the few happy days we passed at Hanover, where she rendered herself universally respected and beloved, she amused herself by composing religious prayers, which were afterwards found among her papers, and in which she implores death to afford her a speedy relief from her pains. During the same period she wrote also many letters, always affecting, and frequently sublime. They were couched in expressions of the same desire speedily to re-unite her soul with the Author of her days. The last words that my dear, my beloved child uttered, amidst the most painful agonies, were these..." To-day I shall taste the joys of heaven!"

How unworthy of this bright example should we be, if, after having seen the severest sufferings sustained by a female in the earliest period of life, and of the weakest constitution, we permitted our minds to be dejected by misfortunes

which courage might enable us to surmount! female who, under the anguish of inexpressible torments, never permitted a sigh or complaint to escape from her lips, but submitted with silent resiguation to the will of heaven, in hope of meeting with reward hereafter. She was ever active, invariably mild, and always compassionate to the miseries of others. But we, who have before our eyes the sublime instructions which a character thus virtuous and noble has here given us; we, who like her, aspire to a seat in the mansions of the blessed, refuse the smallest sacrifice, make no endeavour to stem with conrage the torrent of adversity, or to acquire that degree of patience and resignation, which a strict examination of our own hearts, and a silent com. munion with God, would certainly afford.

Sensible and unfortunate beings! the slight misfortunes by which you are now oppressed, and driven to despair (for light, indeed, they are, when compared with mine), will ultimately raise your minds above the low considerations of the world, and give a strength to your power which you now conceive to be impossible. You now think yourselves sunk into the deepest abyss of suffering and sorrow; but the time' will soon arrive, when you will perceive yourselves in that happy state in which the mind verges from earth, and fixes its attention on heaven. You will then enjoy a calm repose, be susceptible of pleasures equally substantial and sublime, and possess, in lieu of tumultuous anxieties for life, the serene and comfortable hope of immortality. Blessed, supremely blessed, is he who knows the value of retirement and tranquility, who is capable of enjoying the silence of the groves, and all the pleasures of rural Solitude. The soul then tastes celestial delight, even under the deepest impressions of sorrow and dejection; regains its strength, collects new courage, and acts with

THE ADVANTAGES OF SOLITUDE, &c. 165 perfect freedom. The eye then looks with fortitude on the transient sufferings of disease; the mind no longer feels a dread of being alone: and we learn to cultivate, during the remainder of our lives, a bed of roses round even the tomb of death.

These reflections upon the general Advantages resulting from rational Solitude and occasional Retirement, bring me next to this important question. "Whether it is easier to live virtuously in Solitude, or in the World?"

CHAP. V.

The Question, whether it is easier to live virtuously in Solitude, or in the world? considered.

THE virtues, when they are practised in society, are practised merely from a sense of duty. The clergy afford instruction to the ignoraut and consolation to the afflicted. The lawyers protect the innocent and vindicate the injured. The physicians visit the sick, and administer relief to their complaints, whether real or imaginary; but not, as they would insinuate, from charitable feelings, and for the sake of humanity. Instruction, consolation, protection, and health, are in such cases afforded not from any particular bias of the heart towards their respective objects, but from a sense of duty which the professors of law, divinity, and physic, respectively entertain; a duty imposed upon them by their peculiar stations in society; and which it would be disgraceful in them not to perform. The words, your known humanity," words which always hurt my feelings, when they introduce the subjects of the letters I daily receive, are nothing but words of ceremony, a common falsehood, introduced by flattery, and supported only by custom. Hu

66

manity is a high and important virtue, founded on a nobleness of soul of the first species: and how is it to be known whether a man performs certain actions from this warm and generous motive, or from a cold sense of duty? Good works certainly do not always proceed from motives completely virtuous. The bosom of a man whose mind is constantly immersed in the corrupted currents of the world, is generally shut against every thing that is truly good: he may, however, sometimes do good without being virtuous; for he may be great in his actions, though little in his heart. Virtue is a quality much more rare than is generally imagined; and therefore the words humanity, virtue, patriotism, and many others of similar kinds, should be used with greater caution than they usually are in the in. tercourses of mankind. It is only upon parti cular occasions that they ought to be called forth; for by making them too familiar, their real import is weakened, and the sense of those excellent qualities they express, in a great degree destroyed. Who would not blush to be called learned or humane, when he hears the most ignorant complimented on their knowledge, and the well-known humanity" of the most atrocious villain lavishly praised!

Men are,

without doubt, more likely to become really virtuous in the bosom of rational Retirement, than amidst the corruptions of the world.

Virtue, for ever frail as fair below,

Her tender nature suffers in the crowd,
Nor touches on the world without a stain.
The world's infectious: few bring back at eve,
Immaculate, the manners of the morn.
Something we thought is blotted; we resolv'd,
Is shaken; we renounc'd, returns again.
Each salutation may let in a sin

Unthought before, or fix a former flaw.

Nor is it strange: light, motion, concourse, noise,

All scatter us abroad: thought, outward bound,
Neglectful of our home affairs, flies off
In fume and dissipation; quits her charge;
And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe.

Virtue, indeed, of whatever description it may be, cannot be the produce of good example, for virtuous examples are very rarely seen in the world; but arises from a conviction, which silent reflection inspires, that goodness is superior to every other possession, and alone constitutes the true happiness of life. The greater variety, therefore, of virtuous actions, are generally performed in the silence of Solitude, and in the obscurity of Retreat.

The opportunity of doing public good, of performing actions of extensive utility or universal benevolence, is confined to a few characters. But how many private virtues are there which every man has it in his power to perform with. out quitting his chamber! He who can contentedly employ himself at home, may continue there the whole year, and yet, in every day of that year, may contribute to the felicity of other men; he may listen to their complaints, relieve their distress, render services to those about him, and extend his benevolence in various ways, without being seen by the world, or known by those on whom his favours are conferred.

Virtuous actions are certainly more easily and more freely performed in Solitude than in the world. In Solitude no man blushes at the sight of Virtue, nor fears to make her the beloved companion of his thoughts, and the sacred motive of his actions: but in the world she drags on an obscure existence, and, every where neglected, seems afraid to shew her face. The world is the school of vice, and its intercourse the most baneful species of education. Men possessed of the best inclinations are there surrounded by such a multitude of snares, and be.

« PreviousContinue »