From a letter to J. C. Lavater.

PURSUANT to the principles of my religion, I am not to seek to convert any one who is not born according to our laws. This proneness to conversion, the origin of which some would fain tack on the Jewish religion, is, nevertheless, diametrically opposed to it. Our rabbins unanimously teach that the written and oral laws, which form conjointly our revealed religion, are obligatory on our nation only. “Moses commanded us a law, even the inheritance of the congregation of Jacob.” We believe that all other nations of the earth have been directed by God to adhere to the laws of nature and to the religion of the patriarchs. Those who regulate their lives according to the precepts of this religion of nature and of reason are called virtuous men of other nations, and are the children of eternal salvation.

  Our rabbins are so remote from Proselytomania, that they enjoin us to dissuade, by forcible remonstrances, every one who comes forward to be converted. We are to lead him to reflect that, by such a step, he is subjecting himself needlessly to a most onerous burthen; that, in his present condition, he has only to observe the precepts of a Noachide, to be saved; but the moment he embraces the religion of the Israelites, he subscribes gratuitously to all the rigid rites of that faith, to which he must then strictly conform, or await the punishment which the legislator has denounced on their infraction. Finally, we are to hold up to him a faithful picture of the misery, tribulation, and obloquy, in which the nation is now living, in order to guard him from a rash act, which he might ultimately repent.

  Thus, you see, the religion of my fathers does not wish to be extended. We are not to send missions to both the Indies, or to Greenland, to preach our doctrine to those remote people. The latter, in particular, who, by all accounts, observe the law of nature stricter, alas! than we do, are, in our religious estimation, an enviable race. Whoever is not born conformable to our laws has no occasion to live according to them. We alone consider ourselves bound to acknowledge their authority; and this can give no offense to our neighbors. Let our notions be held ever so absurd, still there is no need to cavil about them, and others are certainly at liberty to question the validity of laws, to which they are, by our own admission, not amenable; but whether they are acting humanely, socially, and charitably, in ridiculing these laws, must be left to their consciences. So long as we do not tamper with their opinions, wrangling serves no purpose whatsoever.

  Suppose there were amongst my contemporaries a Confucius or a Solon, I could consistently with my religious principles love and admire the great man, but I should never hit on the extravagant idea of converting a Confucius or a Solon. What should I convert him for? As he does not belong to the congregation of Jacob, my religious laws were not legislated for him; and on doctrines we should soon come to an understanding. Do I think there is a chance of his being saved? I certainly believe that he who leads mankind on to virtue in this world cannot be damned in the next. And I need not now stand in awe of any reverend college, that would call me to account for this opinion, as the Sorbonne did honest Marmontel.

  I am so fortunate as to count among my friends many a worthy man who is not of my faith. We love each other sincerely, notwithstanding we presume, or take for granted, that, in matters of belief, we differ widely in opinion. I enjoy the delight of their society, which both improves and solaces me. Never yet has my heart whispered, “Alas! for this excellent man’s soul!” He who believes that no salvation is to be found out of the pale of his own church must often feel such sighs rise in his bosom.

  It is true, every man is naturally bound to diffuse knowledge and virtue among his follow-creatures, and to eradicate error and prejudice as much as lies in his power. It might therefore be concluded that it is a duty publicly to fling the gauntlet at every religious opinion which one deems erroneous. But all prejudices are not equally noxious. Certainly, there are some which strike directly at the happiness of the human race; their effect on morality is obviously deleterious, and we cannot expect even a casual benefit from them. These must be unhesitatingly assailed by the philanthropist. To grapple with them, at once, is indisputably the best mode, and all delay, from circuitous measures, unwarrantable. Of this kind are those errors and prejudices which disturb man’s own, and his fellow-creatures’ peace and happiness, and canker, in youth, the germ of benevolence and virtue, before it can shoot forth. Fanaticism, ill-will, and a spirit of persecution, on the one side; levity, epicureanism, and boasting infidelity, on the other.

  Yet the opinions of my fellow-creatures, erroneous as they may appear to my conviction, do sometimes belong to the higher order of theoretical principles, and are too remote from practice to become immediately pernicious; they constitute, however, from their generality, the basis on which the people who entertain them have raised their system of morality and social order; and so they have casually become of great importance to that portion of mankind. To attack such dogmas openly, because they appear prejudices, would be like sapping the foundation of an edifice, for the purpose of examining its soundness and stability, without first securing the superstructure against a total downfall. He who values the welfare of mankind more than his own fame will bridle his tongue on prejudices of this description, and beware of seeking to reform them prematurely and precipitately, lest he should overset what he thinks a defective theory of morality before his fellow-creatures are firm in the perfect one, which he means to substitute.

  Therefore, there is nothing inconsistent in my thinking myself bound to remain neutral, under the impression of having detected national prejudices and religious errors amongst my fellow-citizens,—provided these errors and prejudices do not subvert, directly, either their religion or the laws of nature, and that they have a tendency to promote, casually, that which is good and desirable. The morality of our actions, when founded in error, it is true, scarcely deserves that name; and the advancement of virtue will be always more efficaciously and permanently effected through the medium of truth, where truth is known, than through that of prejudice or error. But where truth is not known, where it has not become national, so as to operate as powerfully on the bulk of the people as deep-rooted prejudice—there prejudice will be held almost sacred by every votary of virtue.

  How much more imperative, then, does this discretion become, when the nation, which in our opinion fosters such prejudices, has rendered itself otherwise estimable through wisdom and virtue, when it contains numbers of eminent men, who rank with the benefactors of mankind! The human errors of such a noble portion of our species ought to be deferentially overlooked by one, who is liable to the same; he should dwell on its excellences only, and not insidiously prowl to pounce upon it, where he conceives it to be vulnerable.

  These are the reasons which my religion and my philosophy suggest to me for scrupulously avoiding polemical controversy.