(brt'rctte tub fNo. LXXXIII.] THE TABLET No. LXXXUI " Delight is ever greatsfl at a diflauce ; when we arrive at it, we dejtroy it; and our hopes, when they are gratified, are killed. IN drawing a pidture of human life, we are apt to exhibit too great a proportion of dark hades. The melancholy afpecl, which is usually ;iven to such a portrait, forms an image too gloo my for any refcinblance in nature. Those who moralize 011 the evil vicifluudes of life, give ft ftron"- a coloring to their reprefentations,as woulc lead us to imagine that bitter indeed is the por tion of mail. One of the most fruitful to pics of complaint amongmoral declaimers, is the misery that results from disappointed hopes. This however is not more common than fallacious. It we examine the effects of hope, we shall find it, not only one of the most active springs of exertion, but a libe ral source of happiness. Though the ardor and extravagance of this pallion may cherifli expecta tions, wTiich can never be realized, yet the delight of ftich anticipations is incomparably greater than the pains of disappointment. There is no point discussed by moi alifts, in which they depart so widely from the truth, as in ranking disappoint ments so high in the catalogue of mifcries. The author of my motto, in faying that our hopes, -when they are gratified, are killed, gives too severe a tone to his expressions. It is true that gratification, equally with disappointment, puti an end to hone, and perhaps convinces us that we had indulged too lively a profpecfl. That particular anticipation, to be (ure, is extinguish ed ; but probably a more pleasing, if not a more rational one springs from it. Or, upon the fup polition that the matter ended here, there isftill no ground of complaint If the anticipation is so flattering as .to promise more than can be real ized by actual enjoyment, the deception atones for itfelf. If it yields too little happiness at the close of the pursuit, it is only because it yielded too much 111 the progress of it. Why should it be thought material in what stage of the affair we find ourfelvcs happy, when happiness is confefled to be the mark at which we afe aiming ? Is the felicity of man any more incomplete because his delight is greatelt at a diftauce; or because lie takes more pleasure in pursuing than in overtak ing his game ? Can it be a matter of importance in what exact points happiness coniifts, so that we by any means attain large portions of it ? The object we pursue may elude our gralp, or if we get poflefiion, it may afford less fatistadtion than we expected. But he mult be a weak or an ill natured man who feels or exprefles much anxiety from such a cause. Every man who conceives liimfelf aggrieved by disappointed hopes, lhould indemnify himfelf by the pleasure lie derives in opening new scenes of hope. I do not mean by such suggestions to recom mend it to my readers to encourage an habit of forming prospects thai are alluring and deceitful. Prudence rather directs that we estimate things justly, and govern our views and passions, as much as polfible, by the dictates of truth and reason. It is hardly worth while to fuffer ourselves to be del uded, merely for the pleasure that may be felt in the course of the delusion. Still however I can suppose a man of a vigorous imagination may perpetually amuse himfelf with falfe hopes, and yet be less unhappy and deserve less pity, than the canting morallft, who reproves the follv and grieves over the disappointment of such a fclf-de ceiving mortal, (To be cor.tir.ue~i.) FOR TFIE GAZETTE OF THE USITED STATES. A REVERIE, (Concluded.) PERHAPS Providence never chastises the folly of men more justly than by granting the in dulgence of their requests. Upon this occasion 1 observed their wishes were accompli/lied, and they were relieved from a tyranny of which they had so heavily complained. Upon an appointed day the Godilefii of Love tool: her flight to the higher regions, from which ihe had deicended; her in fluence was at once withdrawn, and all her en chantments were broken up. I thought nothing could equal the joy that was exprefled upon this occasion. The air ruijg with acclamations, and fcvery man was in haste to congratulate his neigh bouron theirdeliveranrefroin a thraldom, which Jiad funk the spirits and degraded the dignity of *j 6 urnar ' race - They seemed all to be lighten ed of a load, and to break forth with frefh viva-. WEDNESDAY January 27, 1790, city and spirit. Every one imagined he was en tering upon quite a neW career, and tliat the world was laid iVefh open before him. I could not help feeling an inward delight in feeing my fellow creatures made at once (o happy. At the fame tune I was anxious to k now what would follow upon this new revolution ; and particularly, whe ther it would answer the high expectations that weie formed from it. Upon looking around 1 was a witness to appearances which filled me with melancholy and regret, a total change had taken place in the whole train of human affairs, and I observed, to my sorrow, the change was every where for the worse. It was melancholy now to enter into company, for inltead of conversation enlivened by vivacity and wit, there was nothing heard of but a droufy humming to the last degree tirei'ome and insipid. In the social intercourse of men, the heart had no place ; pleasure, and the desire of pleasing, were equally unknown. Those that 1 had an opportunity of observing, I thought very much resembled the loungers and cox combs of our day, who without any view of receiv ing pleahire, mingle iu a croud, and engage in conversation, not to enjoy time, but to kill it. I now fought in vain for those friendly meetings at vhich I had often bi-en present, where every one, desirous of adding 1 something to the pleasure of the world, drew forrh the faireftideas of his mind, and by the dilf py of tender sentiments melted the heart, and 'ootlied the imagination. \V itli what regret did i recollect those conversa tion parties, in which my heart was wont to be full, and to pour itfelf forth, as we talked our selves alternately into ladnefs and into joy. I had an opportunity of correcting a miflake into which 1 had fallen in imagining that love reached only to courtlnip and marriage ; I saw that it insensibly mingles with our most trifling actions, refining our thoughts and polifliing our manners when we are the least aware of it. The men, had now entirely thrown aside that tender ness and gallantry which are the great ornaments of hutnan nature, and a r e (opeculiary needful to temper and foften the rudeness of masculine strength. Men and are now placed quite upon a level, so thatthe foftnefs of the female voice was dro**Ti >d. in turbulence and noise. The nzr was filled",'but the fTe'art was left empty, l'olitenefs was changed for a tame civili ty ; wit formeriinent ; and sincerity for dulnefs. 1 began to think more highly than ever of the lair sex, and regarded them iu a new light, as a beautiful mirror, lying in the fancy of a lover, for him to dress his thoughts by. People were every where falling a prey to dejection and complain ing of the faintnefs of human enjoyments as might well be expected, when the influence of love was withdrawn froin them, which by in spiring romantic hopes, and romantic fears, keeps the mind always in motion, and makes it run clear and bright. Youmay be sure, nothing could make a more ridiculous appearance than courtfliip at a time when women retained their vanity, after they had loft their charms. Such is the force of habit, that you might often fee a pretty creature twirling her fan and playing off her little enchant ing airs before her lover, who perhaps fat all that time perfectly insensible, and fingering his buttons or picking his teeth. Vanity I perceived is a kind of instinct in women, that made them employ the wholeartillery of their charms, when they knew they could do no execution. Indeed their airs appeared so ridiculous now in the eyes of the men, that they had often much ado to refrain from laughter. The coquettes parti cularly, in their flutterings to and fro, made as odd a figure as fiili who fliould be frozen around in the very act of swimming. Out of respect to the ladies however, I would compare them to the Grecian Chiefs, who according to the representations of the poets, carried with them so lively an impression of their former employ ments,that they would be marflialing their troops, and brandishing their swords, even in the fliades below. However the fair sex were soon relieved from this fort of ridicule. They no longer took any pains to smooth their brow, to foften their features into a smile, or to light up the beam*bf brightness in their eye. Careless of offending where they knew they could not please, they be came negligent in their persons, and vulgar in their air. I cannot express the regret I felt up on heholding the faireft and most beautiful part of the creation thus thrown into fliade. I thought, I perceived that the fine arts began to languish ; the paintings, that made their ap pearance at this time, were neither so boldly or so brightly colored, as those I was wont to survey ; they were chiefly confined to still life. I observed however, that the extinction of love afFe&ed poetry still more than painting.—lt no longer regaled £>Uks. [.Piiblifheit (in IVednefday ami Saturday.] the mind with descriptions of beauty, or foften ed it with tender dillrels. Its enchantments were entirely dillolved ; that enchantment which will carry us frbm \vorld to world without mov ing from our feats, will raise a creation around us, will make us rejoice when their ii no thing to rejoice in, -and tremble when there is nothing to alarm us. Thele interesting situa tions, which awaken the attention, and enchain the mindin foleinn fHrprife, till it breaks furth into agony or rapture ; now no longer existed in nature, and were no longer described by tins poet; he wrote rather from memory than feel *ng> f or tke breath of iiifpirat'tort had ceased ! Upon this occasion Iwas not ai* all surprised at the decline of eloquence. I have often thought love thenurfeof fenfibility,and that i/it were not clierifhed by thispaflion it would grow'cold, and give way to a felfifh indifference. My conjecture was now abundantly confirmed, 1 fitw ma ny difcoui fes composed at this time, that \vere well argued,elegant and correct ; they all want ed those eflential touches that give language it? power of perluading. One thing a good deal surprised me, and that was, to observe that even the profound parrs of learning were less attended to than ever. I was well aware that few apply themselves closely to lludy, but with the hope of sometimes displaying their acquisitions to the public ; and I had ima gined fame was a fufficient recompence, for anv toil human nature could sustain ; but I was sur prised to find that in all great and noble underta kings, the desire of appearing respectable in the eyes of a beloved object was of more consequence than the general admiration of mankind. These, I thought, were not the only melancho ly consequences that flowed from the departure of love. It may be fuflicient however to observe in general, that human nature was becalmed, and all its fineft emotions frozen into torpid insensi bility. The situation ofmankind was truly pitia ble. Strangers to the delicate pleasures of the heart, every thing round them looked cheerless and barren. Calamity left them nothing to hope, and prosperity gave them nothing to enjoy. ' I observed that they were now as delirous of bringing hgy had befcn bertfr? to exclude it. 7fflehgtK,7 J, " Jupiter was touched withcompalhon at their un happy situation, and appointed a day in which Love was to revisit the abodes of men. An im mense number ofpeople of all orders and ranks ; and of every age and condition ; aflembled thern felves as you may suppose, to behold the descent of the Goddess, and to hail her approach. The Heavens I thought glowed as she descended, and so many beautiful streaks of light glanced along the furface of the Iky, that they divided it into separate tradts, brightened up every cloud within it, and turned the whole into an aerial landscape. The birds at the fame time leaped among the branches, and warbling their fprightlieft notes, filled the air with a confufed melody of founds, that was iuexpreffibly delightful. Every thing looked brighter than before—every thing fmelled sweeter, and seemed to offer up frelh incense to the Goddess. The face of nature was changed, and the creation seemed to grow new again. My heart glowed with delight. I rejoiced in the re novation of nature, and was revived through my inmost powers. There thrilled through me a de lightful sensation of freflinefs and novelty, similar to what a happy spirit may be supposed to feel, when he firft enters a new state of existence, and opens his eyes on immortality. I thought 1 had but a very confufed idea of the person of the Goddess herfelf, for her raiment was so full of light and lustre, that I could scarce ly take a steady view of her. I observed however that her complexion was ra.her too glowing, and the motions of her eye too piercing and fiery, for perfed feminine beauty. Her beauty, I thought, was too railed and had too much glory in it, to be entirely attractive. I was very much aston ished to observe, that whoever she glanced her eye upon, immediately fell under the influence of the passion over which (he presided. It was a very Angular fight, to fee a whole afl'embly, one after another falling into love ; and I were much entertained in observing the change it occasioned in the looks of each of them, according to their different temper and constitution. Some appear ed wild and piercing—others deje<fted and melan choly. The features of several glowed\vith ad miration, while others looked down with a timid and bafhful refpedi. A trait of affectation was plainly to be discerned in all of them, as might well be expe&ed from a passion, the very firft effedl: of which, is to malse one lose the pofTeftion of one's felf. Several ladies in particular seeming ly careless and gay, were whispering to those who
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