<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0102" id="link2H_4_0102"></SPAN></p>
<h2> 1750 </h2>
<p>LETTER C</p>
<p>LONDON, January 8, O. S. 1750</p>
<p>DEAR BOY: I have seldom or never written to you upon the subject of
religion and morality; your own reason, I am persuaded, has given you true
notions of both; they speak best for themselves; but if they wanted
assistance, you have Mr. Harte at hand, both for precept and example; to
your own reason, therefore, and to Mr. Harte, shall I refer you for the
reality of both, and confine myself in this letter to the decency, the
utility, and the necessity of scrupulously preserving the appearances of
both. When I say the appearances of religion, I do not mean that you
should talk or act like a missionary or an enthusiast, nor that you should
take up a controversial cudgel against whoever attacks the sect you are
of; this would be both useless and unbecoming your age; but I mean that
you should by no means seem to approve, encourage, or applaud, those
libertine notions, which strike at religions equally, and which are the
poor threadbare topics of halfwits and minute philosophers. Even those who
are silly enough to laugh at their jokes, are still wise enough to
distrust and detest their characters; for putting moral virtues at the
highest, and religion at the lowest, religion must still be allowed to be
a collateral security, at least, to virtue, and every prudent man will
sooner trust to two securities than to one. Whenever, therefore, you
happen to be in company with those pretended 'Esprits forts', or with
thoughtless libertines, who laugh at all religion to show their wit, or
disclaim it, to complete their riot, let no word or look of yours intimate
the least approbation; on the contrary, let a silent gravity express your
dislike: but enter not into the subject and decline such unprofitable and
indecent controversies. Depend upon this truth, that every man is the
worse looked upon, and the less trusted for being thought to have no
religion; in spite of all the pompous and specious epithets he may assume,
of 'Esprit fort', freethinker, or moral philosopher; and a wise atheist
(if such a thing there is) would, for his own interest and character in
this world, pretend to some religion.</p>
<p>Your moral character must be not only pure, but, like Caesar's wife,
unsuspected. The least speck or blemish upon it is fatal. Nothing degrades
and vilifies more, for it excites and unites detestation and contempt.
There are, however, wretches in the world profligate enough to explode all
notions of moral good and evil; to maintain that they are merely local,
and depend entirely upon the customs and fashions of different countries;
nay, there are still, if possible, more unaccountable wretches; I mean
those who affect to preach and propagate such absurd and infamous notions
without believing them themselves. These are the devil's hypocrites.
Avoid, as much as possible, the company of such people; who reflect a
degree of discredit and infamy upon all who converse with them. But as you
may, sometimes, by accident, fall into such company, take great care that
no complaisance, no good-humor, no warmth of festal mirth, ever make you
seem even to acquiesce, much less to approve or applaud, such infamous
doctrines. On the other hand, do not debate nor enter into serious
argument upon a subject so much below it: but content yourself with
telling these APOSTLES that you know they are not, serious; that you have
a much better opinion of them than they would have you have; and that, you
are very sure, they would not practice the doctrine they preach. But put
your private mark upon them, and shun them forever afterward.</p>
<p>There is nothing so delicate as your moral character, and nothing which it
is your interest so much to preserve pure. Should you be suspected of
injustice, malignity, perfidy, lying, etc., all the parts and knowledge in
the world will never procure you esteem, friendship, or respect. A strange
concurrence of circumstances has sometimes raised very bad men to high
stations, but they have been raised like criminals to a pillory, where
their persons and their crimes, by being more conspicuous, are only the
more known, the more detested, and the more pelted and insulted. If, in
any case whatsoever, affectation and ostentation are pardonable, it is in
the case of morality; though even there, I would not advise you to a
pharisaical pomp of virtue. But I will recommend to you a most scrupulous
tenderness for your moral character, and the utmost care not to say or do
the least thing that may ever so slightly taint it. Show yourself, upon
all occasions, the advocate, the friend, but not the bully of virtue.
Colonel Chartres, whom you have certainly heard of (who was, I believe,
the most notorious blasted rascal in the world, and who had, by all sorts
of crimes, amassed immense wealth), was so sensible of the disadvantage of
a bad character, that I heard him once say, in his impudent, profligate
manner, that though he would not give one farthing for virtue, he would
give ten thousand pounds for a character; because he should get a hundred
thousand pounds by it; whereas, he was so blasted, that he had no longer
an opportunity of cheating people. Is it possible, then, that an honest
man can neglect what a wise rogue would purchase so dear?</p>
<p>There is one of the vices above mentioned, into which people of good
education, and, in the main, of good principles, sometimes fall, from
mistaken notions of skill, dexterity, and self-defense, I mean lying;
though it is inseparably attended with more infamy and loss than any
other. The prudence and necessity of often concealing the truth,
insensibly seduces people to violate it. It is the only art of mean
capacities, and the only refuge of mean spirits. Whereas, concealing the
truth, upon proper occasions, is as prudent and as innocent, as telling a
lie, upon any occasion, is infamous and foolish. I will state you a case
in your own department. Suppose you are employed at a foreign court, and
that the minister of that court is absurd or impertinent enough to ask you
what your instructions are? will you tell him a lie, which as soon as
found out (and found out it certainly will be) must destroy your credit,
blast your character, and render you useless there? No. Will you tell him
the truth then, and betray your trust? As certainly, No. But you will
answer with firmness, That you are surprised at such a question, that you
are persuaded he does not expect an answer to it; but that, at all events,
he certainly will not have one. Such an answer will give him confidence in
you; he will conceive an opinion of your veracity, of which opinion you
may afterward make very honest and fair advantages. But if, in
negotiations, you are looked upon as a liar and a trickster, no confidence
will be placed in you, nothing will be communicated to you, and you will
be in the situation of a man who has been burned in the cheek; and who,
from that mark, cannot afterward get an honest livelihood if he would, but
must continue a thief.</p>
<p>Lord Bacon, very justly, makes a distinction between simulation and
dissimulation; and allows the latter rather than the former; but still
observes, that they are the weaker sort of politicians who have recourse
to either. A man who has strength of mind and strength of parts, wants
neither of them. Certainly (says he) the ablest men that ever were, have
all had an openness and frankness of dealing, and a name of certainty and
veracity; but then, they were like horses well managed; for they could
tell, passing well, when to stop or turn; and at such times, when they
thought the case indeed required some dissimulation, if then they used it,
it came to pass that the former opinion spread abroad of their good faith
and clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible.</p>
<p>There are people who indulge themselves in a sort of lying, which they
reckon innocent, and which in one sense is so; for it hurts nobody but
themselves. This sort of lying is the spurious offspring of vanity,
begotten upon folly: these people deal in the marvelous; they have seen
some things that never existed; they have seen other things which they
never really saw, though they did exist, only because they were thought
worth seeing. Has anything remarkable been said or done in any place, or
in any company? they immediately present and declare themselves eye or ear
witnesses of it. They have done feats themselves, unattempted, or at least
unperformed by others. They are always the heroes of their own fables; and
think that they gain consideration, or at least present attention, by it.
Whereas, in truth, all that they get is ridicule and contempt, not without
a good degree of distrust; for one must naturally conclude, that he who
will tell any lie from idle vanity, will not scruple telling a greater for
interest. Had I really seen anything so very extraordinary as to be almost
incredible I would keep it to myself, rather than by telling it give
anybody room to doubt, for one minute, of my veracity. It is most certain,
that the reputation of chastity is not so necessary for a women, as that
of veracity is for a man; and with reason; for it is possible for a woman
to be virtuous, though not strictly chaste, but it is not possible for a
man to be virtuous without strict veracity. The slips of the poor women
are sometimes mere bodily frailties; but a lie in a man is a vice of the
mind and of the heart. For God's sake be scrupulously jealous of the
purity of your moral character; keep it immaculate, unblemished,
unsullied; and it will be unsuspected. Defamation and calumny never
attack, where there is no weak place; they magnify, but they do not
create.</p>
<p>There is a very great difference between the purity of character, which I
so earnestly recommend to you, and the stoical gravity and austerity of
character, which I do by no means recommend to you. At your age, I would
no more wish you to be a Cato than a Clodius. Be, and be reckoned, a man
of pleasure as well as a man of business. Enjoy this happy and giddy time
of your life; shine in the pleasures, and in the company of people of your
own age. This is all to be done, and indeed only can be done, without the
least taint to the purity of your moral character; for those mistaken
young fellows, who think to shine by an impious or immoral licentiousness,
shine only from their stinking, like corrupted flesh, in the dark. Without
this purity, you can have no dignity of character; and without dignity of
character it is impossible to rise in the world. You must be respectable,
if you will be respected. I have known people slattern away their
character, without really polluting it; the consequence of which has been,
that they have become innocently contemptible; their merit has been
dimmed, their pretensions unregarded, and all their views defeated.
Character must be kept bright, as well as clean. Content yourself with
mediocrity in nothing. In purity of character and in politeness of manners
labor to excel all, if you wish to equal many. Adieu.</p>
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