No cause more frequently produces bashfulness than too high an opinion
of our own importance. He that imagines an assembly filled with his
merit, panting with expectation, and hushed with attention, easily
terrifies himself with the dread of disappointing them, and strains his
imagination in pursuit of something that may vindicate the veracity of
fame, and shew that his reputation was not gained by chance. He
considers that what he shall say or do will never be forgotten; that
renown or infamy is suspended upon every syllable, and that nothing
ought to fall from him which will not bear the test of time. Under such
solicitude, who can wonder that the mind is overwhelmed, and, by
struggling with attempts above her strength, quickly sinks into
languishment and despondency?
The most useful medicines are often unpleasing to the taste. Those who
are oppressed by their own reputation, will, perhaps, not be comforted
by hearing that their cares are unnecessary. But the truth is, that no
man is much regarded by the rest of the world. He that considers how
little he dwells upon the condition of others, will learn how little the
attention of others is attracted by himself. While we see multitudes
passing before us, of whom, perhaps, not one appears to deserve our
notice, or excite our sympathy, we should remember, that we likewise are
lost in the same throng; that the eye which happens to glance upon us is
turned in a moment on him that follows us, and that the utmost which we
can reasonably hope or fear is, to fill a vacant hour with prattle, and
be forgotten.
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