PARIS, August 10, 1787.
DEAR PETER,--I have received your two letters of December the 30th and
April the 18th, and am very happy to find by them, as well as by
letters from Mr. Wythe, that you have been so fortunate as to attract
his notice and good will; I am sure you will find this to have been one
of the most fortunate events of your life, as I have ever been sensible
it was of mine. I enclose you a sketch of the sciences to which I would
wish you to apply, in such order as Mr. Wythe shall advise; I mention,
also, the books in them worth your reading, which submit to his
correction. Many of these are among your father's books, which you
should have brought to you. As I do not recollect those of them not in
his library, you must write to me for them, making out a catalogue of
such as you think you shall have occasion for, in eighteen months from
the date of your letter, and consulting Mr. Wythe on the subject. To
this sketch, I will add a few particular observations:
1. Italian. I fear the learning this language will confound your French
and Spanish. Being all of them degenerated dialects of the Latin, they
are apt to mix in conversation. I have never seen a person speaking the
three languages, who did not mix them. It is a delightful language, but
late events having rendered the Spanish more useful, lay it aside to
prosecute that.
2. Spanish. Bestow great attention on this, and endeavor to acquire an
accurate knowledge of it. Our future connections with Spain and Spanish
America, will render that language a valuable acquisition. The ancient
history of that part of America, too, is written in that language. I
send you a dictionary.
3. Moral Philosophy. I think it lost time to attend lectures on this
branch. He who made us would have been a pitiful bungler, if he had
made the rules of our moral conduct a matter of science. For one man of
science, there are thousands who are not. What would have become of
them? Man was destined for society. His morality, therefore, was to be
formed to this object. He was endowed with a sense of right and wrong,
merely relative to this. This sense is as much a part of his nature, as
the sense of hearing, seeing, feeling; it is the true foundation of
morality, and not the [Greek: to kalon], truth, &c., as fanciful
writers have imagined. The moral sense, or conscience, is as much a
part of man as his leg or arm. It is given to all human beings in a
stronger or weaker degree, as force of members is given them in a
greater or less degree. It may be strengthened by exercise, as may any
particular limb of the body. This sense is submitted, indeed, in some
degree, to the guidance of reason; but it is a small stock which is
required for this: even a less one than what we call common sense.
State a moral case to a ploughman and a professor. The former will
decide it as well, and often better than the latter, because he has not
been led astray by artificial rules. In this branch, therefore, read
good books, because they will encourage, as well as direct your
feelings. The writings of Sterne, particularly, form the best course of
morality that ever was written. Besides these, read the books mentioned
in the enclosed paper; and, above all things, lose no occasion of
exercising your dispositions to be grateful, to be generous, to be
charitable, to be humane, to be true, just, firm, orderly, courageous,
&c. Consider every act of this kind, as an exercise which will
strengthen your moral faculties and increase your worth.
4. Religion. Your reason is now mature enough to examine this object.
In the first place, divest yourself of all bias in favor of novelty and
singularity of opinion. Indulge them in any other subject rather than
that of religion. It is too important, and the consequences of error
may be too serious. On the other hand, shake off all the fears and
servile prejudices, under which weak minds are servilely crouched. Fix
reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every
opinion. Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because,
if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than
that of blindfolded fear. You will naturally examine first, the
religion of your own country. Read the Bible, then, as you would read
Livy or Tacitus. The facts which are within the ordinary course of
nature, you will believe on the authority of the writer, as you do
those of the same kind in Livy and Tacitus. The testimony of the writer
weighs in their favor, in one scale, and their not being against the
laws of nature, does not weigh against them. But those facts in the
Bible which contradict the laws of nature, must be examined with more
care, and under a variety of faces. Here you must recur to the
pretensions of the writer to inspiration from God. Examine upon what
evidence his pretensions are founded, and whether that evidence is so
strong, as that its falsehood would be more improbable than a change in
the laws of nature, in the case he relates. For example, in the book of
Joshua, we are told, the sun stood still several hours. Were we to read
that fact in Livy or Tacitus, we should class it with their showers of
blood, speaking of statues, beasts, etc. But it is said, that the
writer of that book was inspired. Examine, therefore, candidly, what
evidence there is of his having been inspired. The pretension is
entitled to your inquiry, because millions believe it. On the other
hand, you are astronomer enough to know how contrary it is to the law
of nature that a body revolving on its axis, as the earth does, should
have stopped, should not, by that sudden stoppage, have prostrated
animals, trees, buildings, and should after a certain time have resumed
its revolution, and that without a second general prostration. Is this
arrest of the earth's motion, or the evidence which affirms it, most
within the law of probabilities? You will next read the New Testament.
It is the history of a personage called Jesus. Keep in your eye the
opposite pretensions: 1, of those who say he was begotten by God, born
of a virgin, suspended and reversed the laws of nature at will, and
ascended bodily into heaven; and 2, of those who say he was a man of
illegitimate birth, of a benevolent heart, enthusiastic mind, who set
out without pretensions to divinity, ended in believing them, and was
punished capitally for sedition, by being gibbeted, according to the
Roman law, which punished the first commission of that offence by
whipping, and the second by exile, or death _in furea_. See this law in
the Digest, Lib. 48. tit. 19. § 28.3. and Lipsius Lib. 2. de cruce.
cap. 2. These questions are examined in the books I have mentioned,
under the head of Religion, and several others. They will assist you in
your inquiries; but keep your reason firmly on the watch in reading
them all. Do not be frightened from this inquiry by any fear of its
consequences. If it ends in a belief that there is no God, you will
find incitements to virtue in the comfort and pleasantness you feel in
its exercise, and the love of others which it will procure you. If you
find reason to believe there is a God, a consciousness that you are
acting under his eye, and that he approves you, will be a vast
additional incitement; if that there be a future state, the hope of a
happy existence in that increases the appetite to deserve it; if that
Jesus was also a God, you will be comforted by a belief of his aid and
love. In fine, I repeat, you must lay aside all prejudice on both
sides, and neither believe nor reject anything, because any other
persons, or description of persons, have rejected or believed it. Your
own reason is the only oracle given you by heaven, and you are
answerable, not for the rightness, but uprightness of the decision. I
forgot to observe, when speaking of the New Testament, that you should
read all the histories of Christ, as well of those whom a council of
ecclesiastics have decided for us, to be Pseudo-evangelists, as those
they named Evangelists. Because these Pseudo-evangelists pretended to
inspiration, as much as the others, and you are to judge their
pretensions by your own reason, and not by the reason of those
ecclesiastics. Most of these are lost. There are some, however, still
extant, collected by Fabricius, which I will endeavor to get and send
you.
5. Travelling. This makes men wiser, but less happy. When men of sober
age travel, they gather knowledge, which they may apply usefully for
their country; but they are subject ever after to recollections mixed
with regret; their affections are weakened by being extended over more
objects; and they learn new habits which cannot be gratified when they
return home. Young men, who travel, are exposed to all these
inconveniences in a higher degree, to others still more serious, and do
not acquire that wisdom for which a previous foundation is requisite,
by repeated and just observations at home. The glare of pomp and
pleasure is analogous to the motion of the blood; it absorbs all their
affection and attention, they are torn from it as from the only good in
this, world, and return to their home as to a place of exile and
condemnation. Their eyes are forever turned back to the object they
have lost, and its recollection poisons the residue of their lives.
Their first and most delicate passions are hackneyed on unworthy
objects here, and they carry home the dregs, insufficient to make
themselves or anybody else happy. Add to this, that a habit of
idleness, an inability to apply themselves to business is acquired, and
renders them useless to themselves and their country. These
observations are founded in experience. There is no place where your
pursuit of knowledge will be so little obstructed by foreign objects,
as in your own country, nor any, wherein the virtues of the heart will
be less exposed to be weakened. Be good, be learned, and be
industrious, and you will not want the aid of travelling, to render you
precious to your country, dear to your friends, happy within yourself.
I repeat my advice, to take a great deal of exercise, and on foot.
Health is the first requisite after morality. Write to me often, and be
assured of the interest I take in your success, as well as the warmth
of those sentiments of attachment with which I am, dear Peter, your
affectionate friend.