Philosophers are accused of having presented grandeur under an unfavorable aspect in order to console themselves for not having enjoyed it. History reads us another lesson. Aristotle instructed the son of Philip. Plato was received at the courts of kings. Cicero received the title of ‘father of his country’ by a decree of the senate. Boethius, thrice clad with the consular purple, when his locks were hoary, was dragged to a dungeon. He wrote ‘the consolations inspired by philosophy,’ and laid down his book at the foot of the scaffold. Marcus Aurelius honored the throne of the world by those modest virtues which shone still brighter in obscurity. Fenelon was raised to the highest dignities only to experience their bitterness, and, like his great predecessor, to owe his glory and his happy days only to wisdom and retirement. Franklin will be remembered in all time, not as the governor, legislator and ambassador, but as having trained himself to his admirable philosophy of common sense amidst the laborious occupations of a printer. The certainty of acquiring the self-respect of conscious usefulness, a certainty which the great can seldom have, ought alone to determine a wise man to quit his obscurity. But if the emoluments and honors of a high station seduce us, let us value our independence and let us not exchange treasures for tinsel. We have freedom to avoid every culpable action, and to contemplate with pity the chimeras of ambition. Let us see if in misfortune we can preserve tranquillity of mind. LETTER VII. OF MISFORTUNE.