beings, who are victims of long continued errors. Enough will
be ready to assume the office of their accusers. Let us draw
round them the veil of charity. I am aware that gloomy moralists
will object to these views; and call them easy principles, that
encourage the vices, flatter the passions, and excuse disorders.
Believe me, the most easy and successful mode of reclaiming the
wandering, is to carry encouragement and hope to their hearts, and
to have faith in their repentance.[25]
Born in an age when every one professes to applaud toleration, far
from adopting the real spirit, we scarcely know how to practise
indulgence even towards abstract opinions, that differ from our
own. Let us never forget the weakness and error of our own judgment
and understanding; and then we shall possess an habitual temper of
candor towards the views of others. In most instances, when we say
‘that man thinks rightly,’ the phrase, when translated, imports,
‘that man thinks as I do.’
Let us never forget that chance may have given us the opinions
most dear to us. The ardent patron of this party, had he only been
in a house contiguous to his own, would have had opinions and
prejudices, the exact reverse of those he now reveres. It is not
improbable that he might have died in the opposite ranks.
A particular idea, which you formerly deemed correct, at present
seems false. Perhaps you may one day return to your first judgment.
Let us accord, to our antagonist, a right which we frequently
exercise for ourselves, the right to be deceived. During the
contests of party, I have more than once seen the spectacle of two
men changing their principles almost at the same moment, in such
a manner, that one of them takes the place of the other in the
faction, which, but a short time since, he professed to detest.
Taking human nature as it is, into view, this does not astonish me.
What I find strange is, that these two men should hate each other
more than ever, and that it has become impossible to reconcile
them, now that the one has espoused the opinion which the other
held but a moment before.[26]
An essential truth that ought to be constantly announced, is, that
both political and religious opinions have much less influence than
is commonly imagined upon the qualities of the heart. No verity
has been so completely demonstrated to my conviction. I have been
conversant with men of all parties. In every one I have met with
persons full of disinterestedness and integrity. To esteem them, it
was only necessary to remark the noble and unshrinking courage with
which they were willing to suspend everything on the issue of their
convictions.[27]
A crowd of useful reflections upon this subject naturally offer,
upon which it would be easy to enlarge.--The brevity of my plan
impels me to other subjects. There is one quality, difficult to
define, yet easily understood, which always affects us pleasantly.
It is a quality as rare as its effects are useful; and yet we
have scarcely a specific term in our language by which fully to
designate it. An obliging disposition is the common phrase that
conveys it. Examine all the pleasant things of life, and you will
find this disposition the pleasantest of all. There often remains
no memory of the benefits received. Of those we have rendered,
something is always retained.
But what shall we say of the ungrateful? We are told that they
are formidable from their numbers and boldness, and that they
people the whole earth. How eccentric and contradictory are the
common maxims of the world! We admit that we have a right to exact
gratitude; and yet wish that benefits should be forgotten: I hold
it wrong to depend upon gratitude, since the expectation will
generally be deceived.--On the contrary, I approve his course, who
keeps an exact account of his good actions. In reading the record,
he will one day taste a legitimate reward. What reading can be so
useful? To remember that we have done good in time past, is to bind
us to beneficence in time to come. We hear it continually repeated,
that it requires a sublime effort to do good to our enemies.--Men
more zealous than enlightened have advanced, that the morality of
the gospel has alone prescribed the rendering of good for evil.
Evangelical duty is sufficiently elevated by being founded on the
basis of higher sanctions and a future retribution; and rests not
its claims upon new discoveries of what is true, beautiful and
obligatory in morals. They who advocate that the grand maxims of
evangelical morality are found nowhere else than in the gospel,
seem to me to have committed two faults; the one in advancing an
error, the other in tending to estrange men from the virtues they
inculcate, by intimating that their practice exacts more than human
power.
A writer of unquestionable piety, the late Sir William Jones
found the grand maxim, ‘do unto others as you would wish them
to do unto you,’ implied in the discourses of Lysias, Thales and
Pittacus, and, word for word, in the original of Confucius. The
obligation _to render good for evil_, he affirms, is inculcated in
the religious books of the Hindoos and Arabians; in confirmation of
which he cites many passages from them. The sentiment of moralists
has everywhere been graven upon the human heart. It is enough
that our Lord has sanctioned the sublime precepts that belong to
our faith with immortal recompenses; and still more may we rely
upon those sanctions, when we add to them the present pleasure of
performing good actions.[27a]
Let us add, that in enjoining the gospel maxim _to render good
for evil_, we inculcate elevation of mind, the source of all the
virtues. But christian moralists have too often been tempted to
neutralize or destroy the effect of their precepts, by pushing
them to absurd or impracticable lengths. To practise forgiveness,
and to do good, are evangelical commands, as sublime as they are
conformable to our natural views of duty. To enjoin upon us to
degrade ourselves in the estimate of our enemies, by feeling and
acting towards them as though they were our friends, as some have
understood the bearing of the christian precept, would be injurious
and impracticable. Socrates pardoned his enemies, but preserved
an imposing dignity. There was no abasement in the infinitely
higher example of him, who, suffering on the cross, prayed for his
murderers.
If such are our obligations as men and Christians towards our
enemies, what duties ought we not to fulfil to those benefactors
who have steadily sought occasions to be useful to us, to ward off
danger from us, and to repair our misfortunes? To such let us seek
incessant opportunities of acquitting our debt. Gratitude will
prolong the pleasure conferred by their benefits.
Indulgence, and the desire to oblige, seem to me the two principal
means of conciliating to ourselves the affections of our kind.
A virtue which at least commands their esteem is integrity.
Not only is he who practises it, faithful to his engagements,
since he allows no promises of his to be held slight, but his
uprightness makes itself felt in all his actions, and frankness
in all his conversation. The faults that he commits he is prompt
to acknowledge; he confesses them without false shame, and seeks
neither to exaggerate nor extenuate them. Touching the interests
which are common to him and other people, he decides for simple
justice; and, in so awarding, does not deem that he injures
himself, his first possession being his own self-respect. Without
rendering me high services, he obliges me in the lesser charities,
and procures me one of the most vivid pleasures I can taste, that
of contemplating a noble character.
Among the virtues which ought to secure a kind regard, we
universally assign to modesty a high rank. A simple and modest man
lives unknown, until a moment, which he could not have foreseen,
reveals his estimable qualities and his generous actions. I compare
him to the concealed flower springing from an humble stem, which
escapes the view, and is discovered only by its perfume. Pride
quickly fixes the eye, and he who is always his own eulogist,
dispenses every other person from the obligation to praise him.
A truly modest man, emerging from his transient obscurity, will
obtain those delightful praises which the heart awards without
effort. His superiority, far from being importunate, will become
attractive. Modesty gives to talents and virtues the same charm
which chastity adds to beauty.
Let us carry into the world neither curiosity nor indiscretion.
Curiosity is the defect of a little mind, which, not knowing how
to employ itself at home, feels the necessity of being amused with
the occupations of others. In relation to minute objects it is
ridiculous. In important affairs it becomes odious. Let us know
nothing about those debates, piques and parties, which it is not in
our power to settle.
An attribute so precious, that, in my eye, it becomes a virtue, is
a gentle and constant equality of temper.--To sustain it, not only
exacts a pure mind, but a vigor of understanding which resists the
petty vexations and fleeting contrarieties which a multitude of
objects and events are continually bringing. What an unalterable
charm does it give to the society of the man who possesses it! How
is it possible to avoid loving him whom we are certain always to
find with serenity on his brow and a smile in his countenance?
I foresee that our brilliant observers, as they run over these
precepts, will say to me, ‘you resemble those philosophers who
trace the plan of a republic, without taking into the account the
passions of men or the state of society; a thousand times more
unreasonable, than those writers of romance who publish their
dreams as dreams. Your maxims upon indulgence will only awaken for
you the pity due to good natured weakness. The maxim of the world
is, be adroit to seize upon defects, and prompt to censure the
weaknesses of men, that you may intimidate those who can only serve
to annoy you; and give up to ridicule those who can only amuse
you. Make a display of your desire to oblige. Pronounce sentimental
phrases with grace. Make dupes if you can; but take care that you
do not become one yourself, by having your own maxims practised
upon you. Credit is not revenue, but a sum which becomes exhausted
in proportion as you spend upon it, without replacing it. Ought I
to be modest when so many examples prove that talents are a small
thing, if there be not subjoined the happy talent of making them
known. The man who speaks of himself with modesty is believed upon
his word; and when I search for the causes of that admiration which
certain personages have obtained, I can discover no other than the
long obstinacy and persevering intrepidity which they have put in
requisition to praise themselves. There are eulogies which men
give themselves, of which, as of the calumnies that they wipe out,
some traces will always remain. Finally, opinion alone renders our
qualities estimable; and he who, with a view to succeed, should
immediately cultivate the tawdry virtues which you celebrate,
would be as ridiculous as he who should appear in society in the
costume worn a century ago.’ They who say this are as right, in
their views, as I am in mine. If the interest with which our kind
inspires us, if our virtues cannot shield us from injustice, let us
hold ourselves aloof from opinion, and while we allow the multitude
their way of thinking, let it not disturb our repose. Among the
circumstances essential to felicity, I count the attachment of some
individuals, but not popularity.
LETTER XIV.
OF MARRIAGE.
Since we cannot assure ourselves of the general affection, nor even
of the justice of men, it becomes our interest, in the midst of the
great mass, that we cannot move, to create a little world, which we
can arrange at the disposal of our reason and affections.
In this retreat, dictated to us alike by our instincts and our
hearts, let us forget the chimeras which the crowd pursue; and if
the men of fashion and the world stare, ridicule, and even condemn
us, let their murmurs sound in our ears as the dashing of the waves
on the distant shore, to the stranger, under the hospitable roof
which shelters him from the storm.
The universe of reason and affection must be composed of a single
family. Of that universe a wedded pair must be the centre. A wife
is the best and the only disinterested friend, by the award of
nature. She remains such, when fortune has scattered all others.
How many have been recalled to hope by a virtuous and affectionate
wife, when all beside had been lost! How many, retrieved from
utter despondency, have felt in an ineffable effusion of heart,
that conjugal heroism and constancy were an ample indemnity for
the deprivation of all other good things! How many, undeceived by
external illusions, have in this way been brought home to their
real good! If we wish to see the attributes of conjugal heroism,
in their purest brilliancy, let us suppose the husband in the last
degree of wretchedness. Let us imagine him not only culpable, but
so estimated, and an outcast from society. Repentance itself, in
the view of candor, has not been available to cloak his faults.
She alone, accusing him not, is only prodigal of consolations.
Embracing duties as severe as his reverses, she voluntarily shares
his captivity or exile. He finds still, on the faithful bosom of
innocence, a refuge, where remorse becomes appeased; as in former
days, the proscribed found, at the foot of the altar, an asylum
against the fury of men.
Marriage is generally assumed as a means of increasing credit
and fortune, and of assuring success in the world. It should be
undertaken as a chief element of happiness, in the retirement of
domestic repose.[28] I would wish that my disciple, while still in
the freshness of youth, might have reason and experience enough
to select the beloved person, whom he would desire one day to
espouse. I would hope, that, captivated with her dawning qualities,
and earnestly seeking her happiness, he might win her tenderness,
and find his satisfaction in training her to a conformity to his
tastes, habits and character.
The freshness of her docile nature demands his first forming cares.
As she advances in life she is moulded to happy changes, adapted
to supply his defects. She is reared modest, amiable, instructed,
respectable, and respected; one day to govern his family, and
direct his house, by diffusing around the domestic domain, order
and peace. Let neither romances, metaphysics, pedantry nor fashion
render a qualification for these important duties, either trifling
or vulgar in her view. Still, domestic duties are by no means to
occupy all her hours. The time which is not devoted to them will
flow quietly on in friendly circles, not numerous, but animated
by gayety, friendship and the inexplicable pleasures which spring
from intercourse with rational society. There are, also, more
unimportant duties, which we expect her not to neglect. We wish
her to occupy some moments at a toilet; where simplicity should be
the basis of elegance; and where native tact might develope the
graces, and vary, and multiply, if I may so say, the forms of her
beauty. In fine, the versatility of her modes of rendering herself
agreeable, should increase the chances of always escaping ennui in
her presence.
But train women to visit a library as _savans_, and they will be
likely to bring from it pedantry without solid instruction; and
coquetry without feminine amiability. I would not be understood to
question the capability of the female understanding. I am not sure
that I would wish the wife of my friend to have been an author,
though some of the most amiable and enlightened women have been
such. But I deem that in their mental constitution, and in the
assignment of their lot, providence has designated them to prefer
the graces to erudition; and that to acquire a wreath of laurels,
they must ordinarily relinquish their native crown of roses.[28a]
When we see a husband and wife thus united by tenderness, good
hearts and simple tastes, everything presages for them a delightful
futurity. Let them live contented in their retirement. Instead of
wishing to blazon, let them conceal their happiness, and exist for
each other. Life will become to them the happiest of dreams.
Perhaps the world will say, ‘you speak, it may be, of such a wife
as you would be understood to possess yourself. But you do not
paint marriage in the abstract, while you thus describe happiness
as finding a habitation within the domestic walls, and pain and
sorrow without: how many people find eternal ennui at home, and
respire pleasure, only when they have fled their own threshold.’
There are few wives so perfect, says La Bruyere, ‘as to hinder
their husbands from repenting at least once in a day, that they
have a wife; or from envying the happiness of him who has none.’
This sentence, instead of containing a just observation, is only
an epigram. In looking round a circle of individuals, ridiculously
called the world, we shall find happy family establishments less
rare than we imagine. Besides, it would be absurd to count among
unhappy unions, all those which are not wholly exempt from stormy
passions. Not only is perfect felicity a chimerical expectation
on the earth, but we meet with many people who would be fatigued
into ennui in a perfect calm, and who require a little of the spice
of contrariety to season the repast of life. I would not covet
their taste; but there are modes of being singular, which, without
imparting happiness, procure pleasures. Finally, supposing the
number of unhappy marriages to be as immense as is contended, what
is the conclusion? The great majority adopting, as maxims of life,
principles so different from mine, it would be strange if they
obtained such results as I desire.
In these days, the deciding motive with parents, in relation
to marriage, is interest; and, what seems to me revolting in
the spirit of the age, is, that the young have also learned to
calculate. When a man marries simply on a speculation of interest,
if he sees his fortune and distinction secured, reign disorder and
alienation in his house as they may, he is still happier than he
deserves to be.
Our marriages of inclination guaranty happiness no more than our
marriages of interest. What results should be anticipated from
the blind impulse of appetite? Let there be mutual affection,
such as reason can survey with a calm and severe scrutiny. Such
love as is painted in romances is but a fatal fever. It is
children alone who believe themselves in love, only when they feel
themselves in a delirium. They have imagined that life should be
a continual ecstasy; and these indulged dreams of anticipation
spoil the reality of wedded life. I have supposed the husband
older than his wife. I have imagined him forming the character of
his young, fair and docile companion; and that, so to speak, they
have become assimilated to each other’s tastes and habits. The
right combination of reason and love assures for them, under such
circumstances, as much as possible, a futurity of happiness.
I might here speak of the misery of jealousy and infidelity, and
the comparative guilt of these vices in the husband and the wife.
But these are sources of torment only in unions contracted and
sustained by the maxims and the spirit of the world. According
to my views these crimes could not mar the marriages which were
undertaken from right motives, and under the approving sanction of
severe reason. I, therefore, pass them by, as not belonging to my
subject; and as supposing that when marriage is the result of wise
foresight and regulated choice, and when its duties are discharged
from a proper sense of their obligation, such faults can not occur.
Another cause of disunion springs from the proud temper of some
wives. They erroneously and obstinately persuade themselves
that fidelity includes all their duty. More than one husband,
incessantly tormented by an imperious and capricious wife, feels
almost disposed to envy the gentle spouse who sleeps pleasantly
under deceitful caresses. As much as an honest man ought to avoid
crimes, in order to merit his reputation and sustain it, ought
the highest meed awarded to women to be bestowed, not on those
alone who are chaste, but on those who know how to watch over the
happiness of their family by eager attentions and studious cares.
This petulance of temper is commonly supposed to be a conjoined
attribute of conjugal fidelity. I have sometimes seen wives
both peevish and coquettish, and I cannot imagine a more odious
combination. If we despise the man who is rough and slovenly at
home, and becomes charming in society, what sentiment does that
wife merit who wears out her husband’s patience with her arrogance,
and puts on seducing graces, and affects sensibility, in the
presence of strangers?
I have often heard men who were sensible upon every other subject,
express their conviction that the orientals, in excluding their
women from all eyes but their own, had established the only
reasonable domestic policy. There is no more wit than humanity in
this barbarous sentiment, however frequently it is uttered. No one
could be in earnest, in wishing to copy, into free institutions,
this appalling vestige of slavery. But my inward respect for
women withholds me from flattering them. Authority ought to
belong to the husband; and the influence of tenderness, graces and
the charms of constancy, gentleness and truth, constituting the
appropriate female empire, belongs of right to the wife. I take
leave to illustrate this phrase. Masculine vigor, and aptitude
to contend and resist, clearly indicate that nature has confided
authority to man. To dispossess him of it, and control him by a
still more irresistible sway, it is necessary that the feeble
sex should learn patience, docility, passive courage, and the
management of their appropriate weapons in danger and sorrow, and
to become energetic for the endurance of the peaceful cares of the
domestic establishment. Man is formed by nature for the calls of
active courage; and woman, for the appalling scenes of pain and
affliction, and the agony of the sick and dying bed. In a word,
all argument apart, nature has clearly demonstrated to which sex
authority belongs.
I discover that the defects of man spring from the tendency of his
natural traits, in which force predominates, to run to excess. I
see his gentle companion endowed with attributes and qualities
naturally tending to temper his defects. The means she has received
to reach this end announce that it is the purpose of nature that
she should use them with this view. She has charms which, when
rightly applied, none can resist. Her character is a happy compound
of sensibility, wisdom and levity. She has superadded a felicity of
address which she owes to her organization, and which the reserve,
that her education imposes, serves to develope. Thus the qualities,
and even the imperfections of the two sexes serve to bring them
together. It follows, that man should possess authority, and woman
influence, for their mutual happiness.
When the wife commands, I cease to behold a respectable married
pair. I see a ridiculous tyrant, and a still more ridiculous slave.
It is vain to urge that she may be most capable of authority, and
that her orders may be conformable to wisdom and justice. They
are absurd, from the very circumstance that they are orders. The
virtues which the husband ought to practise towards his wife must
have their origin in love, which can only be inspired, and which
flies all restraint. In a single position, the wife honors herself
in assuming authority. It is when reverses have overwhelmed and
desolated her husband, so that, ceasing to sustain her and changing
the natural order, she supports him. Grant that he receives hope
as her gift; grant that he is compelled to blush in imitating her
example of courage; she aspires to this power no longer than to
be able to restore him to the place whence misery had cast him
down.[30]