“True,” replied the other; “he knows our wants, but not our humble applications to him for aid, unless we make such application. Now it is to our prayers, not to our wants, that his gifts are promised. He does not say ‘Need, and ye shall have; want, and ye shall find;’ but ‘Ask, and ye shall have; seek, and ye shall find.’ In the case of false witness, it is otherwise. God will punish the perjurer, in another world at least, whether he calls upon him to do so or not. Of this every man should be reminded whenever he is called upon solemnly to speak truth. Your practice,” he added, “of requiring an oath in each case, arose at that period when it was supposed that God would always interfere by a special judgment. You have given this up as far as trial by single combat is concerned; but you have retained what grew out of the same persuasions, though, in point of fact, you as little believe your principles in this case as in the former. Trial by jury, your great boast, is, as practised by you, a remnant of the superstitious ordeal of your barbarian ancestors. But the strangest part of all is, that, while you require oaths, you proclaim at the same time your belief that every man is ready to perjure himself if he has the smallest pecuniary interest in doing so. Thus, for instance, you do not admit the testimony, even on oath, of any man who may gain or lose a shilling in consequence of his testimony. It is not a bare suspicion that he may bear false witness, and a consequent abatement of confidence in his testimony, but a full confidence that he will be ready to perjure himself, and a total exclusion of his testimony.
“Again, you appear to us to think that oaths may wear out; and you therefore renew them from time to time. When a man is appointed to some situation, you compel him to take certain oaths. Should he continue to hold the same situation, all is well; but if he has so distinguished himself as to be noticed by his superiors, and promoted to a higher office,—as, for instance, when a clergyman is transferred from a curacy, or from an inferior to a better parish,—instantly he seems to fall under the suspicion of the law, and a renewal of his oaths is exacted from him.
“All this,” he said, “appears to us not only unnecessary, but even calculated to weaken the general sense of public duty. To require an oath in any case, is to confess an expectation that men, when not under this obligation, are likely to tell falsehoods: to require an oath on being invested with office, is to state that society does not expect men to perform duties from any sense of their importance, or any obligation arising out of the trust reposed in the individuals, but from a principle of a distinct and different kind. Now, to proclaim such an opinion, has, we think, a strong tendency to make it true. We should apprehend, at least, that in all cases (and, I may add, on all points) when no oaths are required, there would be a less active and conscientious discharge of duties, because the only acknowledged and legally recognised ground of obligation does not exist; just as the oaths of witnesses tend to produce a disregard of veracity in ordinary transactions. This would be the natural result. But, we must say, from what we have observed of your characters, and from many things you have mentioned to us, that you have impressed us with the belief that much public spirit exists amongst you in spite of your system. We apprehend, in fact, that public opinion amongst you is, in many respects, in advance of your legal code. But we should like to know your own opinion. Do you conceive, in general, that those who hold such employments as are guarded by oaths perform their duties in consequence of the oath, or because they conceive that integrity and due attention are right for their own sakes?”
The travellers replied they were of opinion that most men acted from the latter feeling, and that the oath seldom recurred to the memory of any. “In fact,” they said, “most persons amongst us would hold themselves affronted if they were told that they were trusted in any particular, not on account of their general reputation and their own sense of rectitude, but because they had taken an oath.”
“We are anxious,” said Sir Peter, “that law should throw no obstacles in the growth of the feelings you describe, and we therefore exact, not only no promissory oaths, but no promises to perform duties. Of course we allow, and legally enforce, contracts in all cases, when any individual consents to do something he was otherwise not bound to, in consideration of a promise made to him by another; as, for instance, when he lets him land in consequence of a stipulated rent. Promises of this kind are committed to writing, and legally enforced. Or, to take a more important case—marriage. Here the parties enter upon a new course of life, in consequence of an engagement which each makes to the other: we enforce, therefore, by law the fulfilment of that engagement.”
The English travellers asked with a smile, “Do you always find that engagement fulfilled in its spirit? Does your contract secure in all cases mutual kindness and good temper?”
“That,” said Sir Peter, “is beyond the reach of civil law. As far as the civil rights of either party, or of their children, are concerned, we enforce them by a civil contract, undertaken in the presence of civil magistrates. Here the power of the law stops. But we recommend, and public opinion sanctions our recommendation, that every church should add a religious ceremony; not for the purpose of enforcing the civil obligation, for that we make a matter of the civil law, but for the purpose of impressing the minds of both parties with a due sense of the moral obligations they undertake. The forbearance and mutual kindness essential for happiness in the marriage state are the fruits, not of civil contract, (since they are not of a nature to be enforced by coercion,) but of moral principle; and our opinion is, that this should be strengthened by whatever religious service each church may consider most impressive.
“Thus, again, we have no coronation oath. When our king dies, his heir immediately succeeds as a matter of course, and with the full knowledge that he is under an obligation to govern according to the prescribed constitution. So far our customs are like your own. Amongst you, however, after the king has actually entered upon his office, and not unfrequently in some considerable time after, you exact of him an oath. This seems to us very like constituting two different kinds of regal government, namely that of an uncrowned and of a crowned king.”
The English travellers replied, that they regarded the power and duty of the king as precisely the same previously and subsequently to his coronation oath.
“We know that,” said Sir Peter; “and we therefore conclude that you yourselves do not regard the oath as of the least importance.”