ſunſhine, conſpicuous in the virtues of great men, ſet off each other; and though they afford envious weakneſs a fairer mark to ſhoot at, the real character will ſtill work its way to light, though beſpattered by weak affection, or ingenious malice[1].
With reſpect to that anxiety to preſerve a reputation hardly earned, which leads ſagacious people to analyze it, I ſhall not make the obvious comment; but I am afraid that morality is very inſidiouſly undermined, in the female world, by the attention being turned to the ſhew inſtead of the ſubſtance. A ſimple thing is thus made ſtrangely complicated; nay, ſometimes virtue and its ſhadow are ſet at variance. We ſhould never, perhaps, have heard of Lucretia, had ſhe died to preſerve her chaſtity inſtead of her reputation. If we really deſerve our own good opinion we ſhall commonly be reſpected in the world; but if we pant after higher improvement and higher attainments, it is not ſufficient to view ourſelves as we ſuppoſe that we are viewed by others, though this has been ingeniouſly argued, as the foundation of our moral ſentiments[2]. Becauſe each by-ſtander may have his own prejudices, beſide the prejudices of his age or country. We ſhould rather endeavour to view ourſelves as we ſuppoſe that Being views us who ſeeth each thought ripen into action, and whoſe judgment never ſwerves from the eternal rule of right. Righteous are all his judgments—juſt as merciful!
