It is true, I thought you might be of use to me; my affection
stood in need of yours: your endeavours might have been serviceable
to me; your understanding might have enlightened me in the most
important concern of my life; if I do not avail myself of it, who
are you to impute it to? Where is it? What {91} is become of it?
What are you capable of? Of what use can you be in your present
condition? What service can I expect from you? A senseless grief
renders you stupid and unconcerned. Thou art no man; thou art
nothing; and if I did not consider what thou mightest be, I cannot
conceive any thing more abject.

     There is need of no other proof than your letter itself.
Formerly I could discover in you good sense and truth. Your
sentiments were just, your reflections proper, and I liked you not
only from judgment but choice; for I considered your influence as an
additional motive to excite me to the study of wisdom. But what do I
perceive now in the arguments of your letter, with which you appear
to be so highly satisfied? A wretched and perpetual sophistry, which
in the erroneous deviations of your reason shews the disorder of
your mind, and which I would not stoop to refute, if I did not
commiserate your delirium. {92}

     To subvert all your reasoning with one word, I would only ask
you a single question. You who believe in the existence of a God, in
the immortality of the soul, and in the freewill of man, you surely
cannot suppose that an intelligent being is embodied, and stationed
on the earth by accident only, to exist, to suffer, and to die. It
is certainly most probable that the life of man is not without some
design, some end, some moral object. I intreat you to give me a
direct answer to this point; after which we will deliberately
examine your letter, and you will blush to have written it.

     But let us wave all general maxims, about which we often hold
violent disputes, without adopting any of them in practice; for in
their applications we always find some particular circumstances
which makes such an alteration in the state of things, that every
one thinks himself dispensed from submitting to the rules which he
prescribes to others; and it is well known, that every man who
establishes {93} general principles deems them obligatory on all the
world, himself excepted. Once more let us speak to you in
particular.

     You believe that you have a right to put an end to your being.
Your proof is of a very singular nature; "because I am disposed to
die, say you, I have a right to destroy myself." This is certainly a
very convenient argument for villains of all kinds: they ought to be
very thankful to you for the arms with which you have furnished
them; there can be no crimes, which, according to your arguments,
may not be justified by the temptation to perpetrate them; and as
soon as the impetuosity of passion shall prevail over the horror of
guilt, their disposition to do evil will be considered as a right to
commit it.

     Is it lawful for you therefore to quit life? I should be glad
to know whether you have yet begun to live? what! was you placed
here on earth to do nothing in this world? did not heaven when it
gave you existence give you some task or employment? If you have
{94} accomplished your day's work before evening, rest yourself for
the remainder of the day; you have a right to do it; but let us see
your work. What answer are you prepared to make the supreme Judge,
when he demands an account of your time? Tell me, what can you say
to him? -- I have seduced a virtuous girl: I have forsaken a friend
in distress. Thou unhappy wretch! point out to me that just man who
can boast that he has lived long enough; let me learn from him in
what manner I ought to have spent my days to be at liberty to quit
life.

     You enumerate the evils of human nature. You are not ashamed to
exhaust common-place topics, which have been hackneyed over a
hundred times; and you conclude that life is an evil. But search,
examine into the order of things, and see whether you can find any
good which is not intermingled with evil. Does it therefore follow
that there is no good in the universe, and can you confound what is
in its own nature evil, with that which is only an evil
accidentally? You have {95} confessed yourself, that the transitory
and passive life of man is of no consequence, and only bears respect
to matter from which he will soon be disencumbered; but his active
and moral life, which ought to have most influence over his nature,
consists in the exercise of free-will. Life is an evil to a wicked
man in prosperity, and a blessing to an honest man in distress: for
it is not its casual modification, but its relation to some final
object which makes it either good or bad. After all, what are these
cruel torments which force you to abandon life? do you imagine, that
under your affected impartiality in the enumeration of the evils of
this life, I did not discover that you was ashamed to speak of your
own? Trust me, and do not at once abandon every virtue. Preserve at
least your wonted sincerity, and speak thus openly to your friend;
"I have lost all hope of seducing a modest woman, I am oliged
therefore to be a man of virtue; I had much rather die."

     You are weary of living; and you tell me, that life is an evil.
Sooner or later you will {96} receive consolation, and then you will
say life is a blessing. You will speak with more truth, though not
with better reason; for nothing will have altered but yourself.
Begin the alteration then from this day; and, since all the evil you
lament is in the disposition of your mind, correct your irregular
appetites, and do not set your house on fire to avoid the trouble of
putting it in order.