ESSAYS-1 [32]
to action. And it is this sentiment, not pity, or compassion, which I would wish to excite.
Pity is always attended with pain; and if our sufferings at being witnesses of the distresses of others, sometimes force us to relieve them, we can neither have much merit, nor any lasting satisfaction, from such involuntary acts of charity; but the enjoyments which result from acts of genuine benevolence are as lasting as they are exquisitely delightful; and the more they contribute to that inward peace of mind and self-approbation, which alone constitute real happiness. This is the "soul's calm sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy," which is virtue's prize.
To induce mankind to engage in any enterprise, it is necessary, first, to show that success will be attended with real advantage; and secondly, that is may be obtained without much difficulty. The rewards attendant upon acts of benevolence have so often been described and celebrated, in every country and in every language, that it would be presumption in me to suppose I could add any thing new upon a subject already discussed by the greatest masters of rhetoric, and embellished with all the irresistible charms of eloquence; but as EXAMPLE OF SUCCESS are sometimes more efficacious in stimulating mankind to action, than the most splendid reasonings and admonitions, it is upon my SUCCESS in the enterprise of which I have undertaken to give an account, that my hopes of engaging others to follow such an example are chiefly founded; and hence it is, that I so often return to that part of my subject, and insist with so much perseverance upon the pleasure which this success afforded me. I am aware that I expose myself to being suspected of ostentation, particularly by those who are not able to enter fully into my situation and feelings; but neither this, nor any other consideration, shall prevent me from treating the subject in such a manner as may appear best adapted to render my labours of public utility.
Why should I not mention even the marks of affectionate regard and respect which I received from the poor people for those happiness I interested myself, and the testimonies of the public esteem with which I was honored?--Will it be reckoned vanity, if I mention the concern which the Poor of Munich expressed in so affecting a manner when I was dangerously ill?--that they went publicly in a body in procession to the cathedral church, where they had divine service performed, and put up public prayers for my recovery?--that four years afterwards, on hearing that I was again dangerously ill at Naples. they, of their own accord, set apart an hour each evening, after they had finished their work in the Military Work-house, to pray for me?
Will it be thought improper to mention the affecting reception I met with from them, at my first visit to the Military Work-house upon my return to Munich last summer, after an absence of fifteen months; a scene which drew tears from all who were present?--and must I refute myself the satisfaction of describing the fete I gave them in return, in the English Garden, at which 1800 poor people of all ages, and above 30,000 of the inhabitants of Munich, assisted? and all this pleasure I must forego, merely that I may not be thought vain and ostentatious?--Be it so then;-- but I would just beg leave to call the reader's attention to my feelings upon the occasion; and then let him ask himself, if any earthly reward can possibly be supposed greater;--any enjoyments more complete, than those I received. Let him figure to himself, if he can, my situation, sick in bed, worn out by intense application, and dying, as every body thought, a martyr in the cause to which I had devoted myself;--let him imagine, I say, my feelings, upon hearing the confused noise of the prayers of a multitude of people, who were passing by in the streets, upon being told, that it was the Poor of Munich, many hundreds in number, who were going in procession to the church to put up public prayers for me:--public prayers for me!--for a private person!--a stranger!--a protestant!--I
Pity is always attended with pain; and if our sufferings at being witnesses of the distresses of others, sometimes force us to relieve them, we can neither have much merit, nor any lasting satisfaction, from such involuntary acts of charity; but the enjoyments which result from acts of genuine benevolence are as lasting as they are exquisitely delightful; and the more they contribute to that inward peace of mind and self-approbation, which alone constitute real happiness. This is the "soul's calm sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy," which is virtue's prize.
To induce mankind to engage in any enterprise, it is necessary, first, to show that success will be attended with real advantage; and secondly, that is may be obtained without much difficulty. The rewards attendant upon acts of benevolence have so often been described and celebrated, in every country and in every language, that it would be presumption in me to suppose I could add any thing new upon a subject already discussed by the greatest masters of rhetoric, and embellished with all the irresistible charms of eloquence; but as EXAMPLE OF SUCCESS are sometimes more efficacious in stimulating mankind to action, than the most splendid reasonings and admonitions, it is upon my SUCCESS in the enterprise of which I have undertaken to give an account, that my hopes of engaging others to follow such an example are chiefly founded; and hence it is, that I so often return to that part of my subject, and insist with so much perseverance upon the pleasure which this success afforded me. I am aware that I expose myself to being suspected of ostentation, particularly by those who are not able to enter fully into my situation and feelings; but neither this, nor any other consideration, shall prevent me from treating the subject in such a manner as may appear best adapted to render my labours of public utility.
Why should I not mention even the marks of affectionate regard and respect which I received from the poor people for those happiness I interested myself, and the testimonies of the public esteem with which I was honored?--Will it be reckoned vanity, if I mention the concern which the Poor of Munich expressed in so affecting a manner when I was dangerously ill?--that they went publicly in a body in procession to the cathedral church, where they had divine service performed, and put up public prayers for my recovery?--that four years afterwards, on hearing that I was again dangerously ill at Naples. they, of their own accord, set apart an hour each evening, after they had finished their work in the Military Work-house, to pray for me?
Will it be thought improper to mention the affecting reception I met with from them, at my first visit to the Military Work-house upon my return to Munich last summer, after an absence of fifteen months; a scene which drew tears from all who were present?--and must I refute myself the satisfaction of describing the fete I gave them in return, in the English Garden, at which 1800 poor people of all ages, and above 30,000 of the inhabitants of Munich, assisted? and all this pleasure I must forego, merely that I may not be thought vain and ostentatious?--Be it so then;-- but I would just beg leave to call the reader's attention to my feelings upon the occasion; and then let him ask himself, if any earthly reward can possibly be supposed greater;--any enjoyments more complete, than those I received. Let him figure to himself, if he can, my situation, sick in bed, worn out by intense application, and dying, as every body thought, a martyr in the cause to which I had devoted myself;--let him imagine, I say, my feelings, upon hearing the confused noise of the prayers of a multitude of people, who were passing by in the streets, upon being told, that it was the Poor of Munich, many hundreds in number, who were going in procession to the church to put up public prayers for me:--public prayers for me!--for a private person!--a stranger!--a protestant!--I