He is a good son and a good brother. Who ever heard him betray the faults and follies of his near kindred? And with his friends he proves himself true, and will not betray the trust friendship imposes on him. And with strangers you do not find him too curious about the affairs of others, or too eager to impart information accidentally gleaned by him. Real honor and esteem are not difficult to be obtained in the world. They are best won by actual worth and merit rather than by art and intrigue, which runs a long and ruinous race, and seldom seizes upon the prize at last. Clear and round dealing is the honor of man's nature, and mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it.
Honor, like reputation and character, displays itself in little acts. It is of slow growth. Anciently the Romans worshiped virtue and honor as gods; they built two temples, which were so seated that none could enter the temple of honor without passing through the temple of virtue, thus symbolizing the truth that all honor is founded on virtue. He whose soul is set to do right finds himself more firmly bound by the principle of honor than by legal restraints—much more at ease when bound by the law than when bound by his conscience. He who is actuated by false principles of honor does not feel thus. True honor is internal, false honor external. The one is founded on principles, the other on interests. The one does not ostentatiously proclaim its lofty aims; it prefers that its conduct and actions demonstrate its purposes. He who is moved by false honor is constantly worried lest some one should doubt that he was a man of honor. He is so busily engaged in sustaining his reputation against fancied attacks on his honor that he finds but little time to devote to the exercise of those acts which a fine sense of honor would impel him to do. Such a one may be a libertine, penurious, proud—may insult his inferiors and defraud his creditors—but it is impossible for one possessed of true honor to be any of these.
Honor and virtue are not the same, though true honor is always founded on virtue. Honor may take her tones and texture from the prevailing manners and customs of those around us; this renders her vacillating unless allied to virtue, which is the same in both hemispheres, yesterday as to-day. When honor is not founded on virtue she becomes essentially selfish in design, and is unworthy of her name. She is then unstable and seldom the same, for she feeds upon opinion, and will be as fickle as her food. She builds a lofty structure on the sandy foundation of the esteem of those who are, of all beings, the most subject to change. Combined with virtue she is uniform and fixed, because she looks for approbation only from Him who is the same at all times. Honor by herself is capricious in her rewards. She feeds us upon air, and often pulls down our house to build our monument. She is contracted in her views, inasmuch as her hopes are rooted on to earth, bounded by time, and terminated by death. But, when directed by virtue, her hopes become enlarged and magnified, inasmuch as they extend beyond present things—even to things eternal. In the storms and tempests of life mere honor is not to be depended on, because she herself partakes of the tumult; she also is buffeted by the waves and borne along by the whirlwind. But virtue is above the storm, and gives to honor a sure and steadfast anchor, since it is cast into heaven.
Policy
What is called policy is sometimes spoken of in the same sense as prudence, but its nature is cunning. It is a thing of many aspects and of many tongues; it can appear in any form and speak in any language. It is sometimes called management, but is not worthy of that good name, inasmuch as it is but a compound of sagacity and deceit, of duplicity and of meanness. It puts on the semblance of kindness and concern for your good, but its heart is treachery and selfishness.
This principle, strange as it may seem, is of very extensive influence. It is adopted and acted upon by multitudes, who claim to be respectable and intelligent men, and is not confined to the few or those of the baser sort. Its devotees may not be aware that this is their ruling principle of action. They mistake its meaning by giving it a wrong name. They call it prudence, discretion, wisdom. Alas! it is not guided by the high principles of integrity, which beautify and adorn those noble attributes of perfect manhood. Its appropriate name is policy, the sister of cunning, the child of deception and duplicity.
This principle of double dealing, of artful accommodation and management, is eminently characteristic of the present age. It meets every man on his blind side, and by stratagem makes a tool of him to accomplish its own wily and selfish purposes. If he is weak, it deceives him by its artifices; if he is vain, it puffs up his vanity by flattery; if he is avaricious, it allures him with the prospect of gain; if he is ambitious, it promises him promotion; if he is timid, it threatens him. Its leading maxim is, "The end justifies the means," and, in pursuing its end, it sticks at nothing that promises success. It may be traced in all departments of business and through all grades of society, from the grand councils of the nation to the little town or parish meeting. Instead of acting in open daylight, pursuing the direct and straightforward path of rectitude and duty, you see men extensively putting on false appearances, working in the dark, and carrying their plans by stratagem and deceit; nothing open, nothing direct and honest; one thing is said, and another thing is meant. When you look for a man in one place, you find him in another. With flattering lips and a double heart do they speak. Their language and conduct do not proceed from fixed principles and open-hearted sincerity, but from a spirit of duplicity and selfish policy.